CHAPTER 45: The King's Gambit (Part 2)

May 1993

"Give it up."

The voice was cold and silky, barely above a whisper, and yet it drowned his screams effortlessly. It flew alluringly straight into his ears as his back screeched in agony. Months. Years. Decades? An eternity in hell as his back was carved open over and over and over again.

"You can't do this forever. Why keep suffering needlessly? This is it, the last thing you do before you finally rest. Can you even remember what resting means? Can you recall a time when you felt peaceful, truly peaceful?"

"AHHHHHH!" The blade was plunged deeper into him, he could almost feel it scrapping against his bones.

"You will feel no pain. Once I take over, you'll see what I see. But I can't do that until you accept."

The knife was yanked fully out of his back, forcing another scream from him as his body shook in pain. The chains holding him rattled, tightened against his wrists as they held him upright. And then… he saw him.

The man had the face of Graham Montague… but he was not him. His eyes red flames that were somehow cold. He was half bald and his skin was falling off, revealing a scaly, monstrous body underneath. He slithered on the ground, and the two slits where his nose used to be made him look so much like a snake. The monster grabbed Harry's chin, his long nails scrapping against his face, as he smiled.

"Accept."

And he wanted to. Fuck, he wanted to. He wanted the pain to end. He wanted a life without suffering, a life where he didn't have to constantly look behind his back to stop all the knives people were trying to jam inside. He wanted it all to end, however that may take, he'd gladly die if it meant the end of his miserable life.

But he couldn't. His parents had died, and he had lived, and what a way to waste their deaths if he jumped straight for his own. The death of his parents, his time with the Dursleys, Montague. It would all have been for nothing if, for a moment, he just… accepted.

His spit was filled with blood and mucus, a nauseous combination of red and brown. But he couldn't help but feel a surge of pride as he saw it stain the monster's face. When researching his parent's death, he had learnt they were both tortured beyond recognition. He would make sure to look a lot worse than that before he allowed himself to give in.

"Your defiance, while amusing at first, has grown tiresome." He tightened his grip on his face while he scrubbed his face clean of the spit. "You will give in. In time. You all do. Weak-willed and pitiful creatures you are. Emotional. Impulsive. Pathetic. What use is it to resist when you know you're going to break eventually?"

Harry cringed as his jaw exploded in pain and blood dripped down to the ground. It was a tame pain, much lighter than anything the monster had done before. But it did not last, for soon enough he felt the knife against his skin once more. It stabbed at his forehead and slowly, oh so very slowly, began trailing downwards. His world exploded in pain as it cut against his eye before it continued downwards and met his lips.

He hated the sounds of his own screams, hated the reactions it brought out of him more than the pain itself. He felt helpless as his weakness was forced out of him for everyone to witness. But no one else was here, and the monster didn't seem to take any joy of his pain.

He wanted it to end, too. Wanted him to give up his body, to give him the reign he needed.

Too bad, he had no plans on doing so.

And suddenly, the pain stopped. The screams continued, only they weren't his own. Harry opened his eyes, feeling the blood dropping out of his right eye in the process. The monster was there, but he didn't look like a monster. He saw him. Tom.

No red eyes, no tattered skin or oozing malice. He looked small, smaller than he'd ever seen him look. He was writhing on the ground, screaming in pain as a blinding light began emanating from the massive gash spreading all over his chest.

Tom. A part of him knew, or suspected at least. He didn't want to believe it, not at first, but it became clear. He could still feel it. The pull of the diary, that overwhelming force that compelled him to write. But it was so much weaker, and fading by the second.

His body felt stronger, but his mind was shattered. For the pull of the diary had nothing to do with the camaraderie he felt for Tom. He was his friend, he had seen into his mind and seen his own self reflected. And he had betrayed him… just like Montague.

He screamed, not in pain, but in heartbreak. A guttural sound that came straight from his soul, rawer than any other cream he had given the boy who had been torturing him.

And then the world around him was gone, consumed by a bright light, before he felt an ace unlike anything he'd ever felt before crash against his chest. He surged forward, his eyes adapting to the sullen, muck-filled place. The ground was cold, damp with water. He was cold, his skin deadly pale. He felt like a corpse, and his body reflected that.

This wasn't like any room he'd seen at Hogwarts. Unkept and dreary, with a stench that smelt like the shit of a thousand horses. His eyes roamed to it, as if called by it. The black diary on the ground. Its cover tarnished by the massive fang stabbed deep within it, bits and pieces of its paper had scattered all over the floor. The thing that had consumed him, taken away his freedom for the better part of a semester.

And now as he looked at it, he felt no magic oozing, but that didn't stop the dread that crawled all over his body. How such a little thing could've caused so much damage. How he had let a small diary overpower him… and he hadn't even been the one who had destroyed it. He hadn't broken out of its spell, hadn't saved himself from its clutches. He'd been useless, worthless, pathetic. Just as Tom had told him he was. Just as Montague had told him he was. Just like the Dursleys and every other person he had ever met told him he was.

"Are you okay?" The voice was soft and kind, there was a touch of concern behind it.

Harry quickly turned and saw the boy standing above him. His face was filled with dirt and grime, the scar on his face the only thing kept clean. He held a massive sword that made the boy look younger than he was. And behind him lay the massive corpse of an enormous snake. Its jaw was open, and its eyes were torn out. There was a phoenix laying on his shoulder, and he could see the genuine worry in his face.

Neville Longbottom. The bloody Boy Who Lived. Of course, he had been the one that had been forced to come and save him. He had been the one that had killed an impossibly huge creature. He had been the one that had ultimately stabbed the diary and freed the poor, little Slytherin that had gotten caught up in something so much bigger than himself.

And as he looked at the boy, Harry felt nothing but hatred flow through him.

Wizengamot Chamber

12:00 p.m.

The Wizengamot Chamber was a sizable room of a hexagonal shape. The insignia of the Wizengamot - a W with two scales balanced by a wand imposed upside down over the letter, the words Law, Order, and Justice encircling it while being separated by three distinct runes Harry didn't recognise - was imprinted upon the centre of the room where the visitors - lawyers, accusers, accused, or other - would present their business to the Lords of the Wizengamot.

Said Lords sat above them. Sixteen levels tall with a near blinding light coming from beyond the glass that was the ceiling, the Wizengamot chamber was something to be admired. When he'd asked Theo to prepare him for his Wizengamot meeting, he hadn't bothered explaining its history. "It's a long and convoluted tale of selfish wizards and their vie for power," he'd said. However, he had explained some basic details.

The Wizengamot began as an alliance between eight houses who allied together at the beginning of the fifteenth century with the intent of ruling Britain. Long before the Ministry, it was the alliance of Britain's fifty greatest houses that united the population in the Great Rebellion - one of the marking points of the Dark Wizarding Age. A subject not taught by Binns, but one Theo knew much about, over twenty of the original fifty families went extinct during this time. The remaining twenty-nine became the pillars of the British Wizarding World, as the Wizengamot became integral to the Ministry of Magic.

Twenty-seven of the original twenty-nine remained to this day, with the Gaunts perishing around fifty-years prior and the last of the Burkes dying in Azkaban after a mere year of imprisonment following the Dark Lord's fall. Those remaining still held on to their positions of power, the founding houses of the Wizengamot could not be removed unless their line had gone extinct. With twenty-three of the original families defunct, their spots were filled with nominated families - constantly changing as they rose and fell through the wheel of power.

They all displayed their banners proudly; flora and biota, beasts and creatures, magical weapons and artefacts. The dull black of the Wizengamot was opaqued by the endless bright colours behind their sigils. Near the bottom, occupying two levels, sat the recently nominated Houses - those whose station within the Wizengamot was young and still on treacherous ground. The Noble Houses sat above them, Houses that had spent over a century ruling over the decisions of the country, they occupied ten levels in the middle.

And above them sat eight houses. Each occupying half the stands, split into four levels, the Ancient and Most Noble Houses didn't attempt to hide the superiority they held above all others. The Heroes of Britain, the Leaders of the Great Rebellion - it was only natural they enforced the war accolades they had earnt and transformed them into political power. These were the Houses who had the most influence over the Wizengamot, the most wealth in the country, and the biggest target in their backs. A target he knew very well, one that Montague had hoped to take advantage of in the case of their long-lasting friendship.

The Black House's sigil was a jet-black dog the size of a horse, looming with its teeth bared and the full moon above it. The House of his father's traitor, the man who sentenced his parents to death when he sold them out to the Death Eaters. It shouldn't have surprised him to see the blond, long-haired woman that had accompanied Draco Malfoy to Platform 9 and 3/4 for the past five years. Opposite them yellow banners were displayed, within them a black hammer and anvil atop which a silver sword with a large, purple gen on its pommel. Theo had told him about it, a mythical sword of the Flint family, created by the Goblins it was said it had magical properties unparalleled to any sword in existence - one that would make the need of a wand useless. If it did exist, it hadn't been seen for centuries, but the Flints never strayed from using it as their sigil.

House Malfoy, a dementor over a gray banner, and House Slughorn, a set of three potion vials - one pink, one green, and one orange, surrounding a black cauldron over a white backdrop, sat on the level above them. Followed by House Greengrass, a purple rose over a red banner, and House Crouch, whose sigil was a chimera standing over a cracked, human skull. But it wasn't those houses he was paying attention to, it was the two above the others.

He spotted his House easily, the banners were there, a burning phoenix over a golden backdrop, but no one sat on the seat. The torches beside it were extinguished, though the lack of life within was more prominent than anything else in the court. Theo had told him about it earlier, one of the perks only the Ancient and Most Noble Houses had - inactivity. The first thing his father had done when he'd taken the reins of the House, in the case of his death and the death of his wife, the House would turn inactive until his son would come of age. While inactivity was not something done often, given the deficits it could bring upon the House, it had been a necessary evil in times of war - one which guaranteed it didn't fall on the wrong hands once he was gone.

It was a good thing as well, for Harry would've hated to kill the poor Bastard who had sat on his chair and dared speak for him.

Opposite his side was a large green banner with a white winged-horse that flew proudly over an emerald backdrop. Even from below he could see them, the old, short woman towering over all the Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot, with a hunched over boy, looking more like a berated child, beside her. Yes, House Longbottom was surely a force to be reckoned with. Even after all the slander pieces and attacks the Daily Prophet had taken against Neville, they had never once even mentioned Augusta's name, and he could see why.

He sat with the rest of the visitors, most of them thirty to forty year men with stoic faces so hard it seemed they had been set that way for decades. They peered into the centre of the room, their place below all the Lords, behind a glass pane. Across them sat the Heads of the eight departments behind tall wooden podiums. And in between them was a taller podium, one that nearly reached the first level where the Lords sat, but not quite. Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic and interim Chief Warlock, who would remain so until a new one was chosen during next summer.

He saw Bedivere across the room, sitting in the place of the Head of the Department of Mysteries - the only Unspeakable whose identity was public knowledge. There was a coldness in his eyes as they exchanged looks, and his face hardened slightly. He spotted Kieran above, it was hard to fully see him, but he sat in the Parkinson space, an older man with a disgruntled expression beside him. He kept staring, hoping to catch his eyes, but when the doors to the chamber closed and a wave of magic so hard that it nearly knocked Harry backwards spread across the room, he relented and focused his gaze on Fudge, who was banging the gavel, earning everyone's attention.

"As Chief Warlock, I hereby call the Yule session of the year nineteen ninety-five in order."

The next four hours were nothing but dull to Harry. The Chief Warlock went down his list of priorities as he spoke of the situation at Hogwarts and his pleased status on Umbridge's work, the attack at Hogsmeade as well as the findings of the DMLE and the opening of an investigation as to who hired the men to attack, among other less interesting matters.

Once the Chief Warlock was done, he moved onto the Heads of the Ministry Departments. Some were there to merely report on their activities over the past trimester, others made petitions of the Wizengamot Lords. With every passing moment, Harry only grew more tired. He could feel the claws of weariness grip him, and it became a struggle to even stay awake.

However, there was a matter that easily caught his attention, one that seemingly restored his energy along with the energy of every person in the Chamber. Emmeline Vance, interim Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures in the stead of Amos Diggory, stood up and gazed at the Wizengamot Lords with nothing but shining confidence.

"Lord of the Wizengamot," she spoke, her tone biting even from the start. "Over the past sixteen years, people with Lycanthropy have been hunted down and slaughtered. This wartime law - one similar to the Death Eater laws that allowed the Aurors use of any magic, including Unforgivable Curses - may have been necessary at the time, but now is enabling discrimination and genocide. With the help of my team, I have developed an extensive report on this issue with the urge that justice is done, and this outdated law is reverted and people with Lycanthropy can return to our shores without the fear of an unjust and brutal death."

"Lord Crouch," Fudge nodded to the Head of the Crouch family, one of many who stood up to speak.

"You call these laws outdated and useless. However, Britain has not experienced such a peaceful lack of werewolf attacks in all its existence. Besides two or perhaps three attacks per year and the discovery of a werewolf teaching within Hogwarts and attacked a group of students, there has been nothing. All the packs escaped to Europe, the presence of werewolves has decreased immensely, and with it bringing an age of thriving to Britain. And you would have us revert that? Allow the beasts back into the country and allow innocents to die? Has it been so long since the past war that you've forgotten the rampage these monsters wrought to our nation?"

"I haven't, as I have not forgotten the brutality necessary to achieve this. You had babes, not even old enough to speak, murdered in their cribs, you flayed and displayed the corpses of innocents with no allegiance to Greyback's pack - or any pack for that matter."

"They would have turned to the packs eventually." Crouch said coldly. "They all do. It's in their nature. They may attempt to resist, they may even attempt to think themselves as much human as we are - but it would be a lie. One which they know deeply, for the hunger of the wolf is one none resist forever. Amos Diggory knew that well."

"Amos Diggory is not the Head of the Department anymore. If we can't change and evolve from his views, there would be no point to my position."

"Perhaps, but remember your place as Interim Head."

Many other Lords and Ladies had doubts and disagreements to Vance's proposal, and it wasn't surprising when they voted against her motion.

Soon after that, the matters of the Heads of the Departments were settled, and Fudge passed the word to the Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot. This would be it, as soon as Parkinson House had the word, they'd call him to the stand like many of his fellow visitors had been, and the Parkinsons would become his magical guardians. Bedivere would emancipate him soon after, in the meeting at Parkinson Cottage with the other allies Harry hadn't had the chance of meeting.

The newly appointed Court Scribe, Percy Weasley, went by the names of the Houses in alphabetical order - starting with House Abbot. It wasn't long before his attention was caught once more as Amelia Bones, still in her seat as Head of the DMLE, stood once Bones House was called.

"Lords and Ladies," she spoke tightly, as if forcing the words out of her mouth. "It saddens me to say that my niece, Susan Bones, was one of the victims of the attack at the Three Broomsticks. With this, I have no other choice than to formally remove her as my heir and declare House Bones as officially extinct. With my passing, whenever that may be, my House shall release the seat for the judgment of the Wizengamot. So mote it be."

A small, almost unnoticeable wave of magic spread from the Bones seat, as its orange banner turned black and the sigil - a white staff made of bones - turned gray. He quickly tore his eyes away from it, as a feeling of coldness settled in his gut.

And soon, the Weasley boy resumed reciting names as the Lords announced their own matters to the Wizengamot. But Harry did not hear them, he barely felt himself in the place. The crude reminder of Susan's death was not something he had expected for the day, and he'd gone over it twice.

But it wasn't her death that was bothering him, no. It was the cold feeling that had begun to spread around him whenever he thought of her. He'd felt anger, he'd felt sorrow, he'd even forced himself not to feel her death - hoping she would somehow step back into his arms and tell him she was alright. And he would've rather felt all that and more than the vacant hollowness that her name now brought.

This was acceptance, he supposed. He'd raged, he'd wept, and now he didn't feel anything - nothing but a cold air inside him that would remain through even the brightest of flames. But if this was acceptance, he'd rather go back to mourning. Go back to having her torture him endlessly for letting her die - for killing her.

Perhaps that was his penance, to live knowing it only took a little over a month to forget her. Granger had called him a monster, he'd heard Susan say it too. And now he knew.

"Harry Potter."

He heard his name vaguely, a whisper on the other side of the room. It took a moment for him to realise the person had not stopped speaking, He looked, fully looked for the first time in a long time. He looked at Bedivere, whose face had not lost its hardness. He looked at Kieran, whose eyes nearly seemed to be bulging out of their sockets. And he looked at Augusta, who was standing and had earnt the full attention of the court, with Neville Longbottom gaping at her unabashedly.

"Adoption, Lady Augusta?" Fudge asked, hands shaking as he put on his glasses.

"Yes, Chief Warlock."

The Court erupted as many Lords and Ladies screamed. None were happy, but no one less than Harry, who could only stare in shock as he felt his entire future being robbed from him. Torn away as he could do nothing but watch behind a glass.

"It's been nearly fifteen years since the Potters were murdered. Why are you only now deciding upon this matter? He's almost of age, isn't he?"

"Indeed he is, and had it not been for recent events I wouldn't have interfered. My daughter-in-law, Alice Longbottom, was a close friend to Lily Potter and godmother to her son. Once I learnt the implications of the attack at the Three Broomsticks, along with their true target, I find House Longbottom honour bound to adopt and protect the child from any future threats against him."

"His current guardians could protect him!" One of the Lords shouted, further devolving the court to chaos.

"This is outrageous!"

"The Longbottoms just want the Potter votes!"

"Silence!" Fudge yelled as he banged the gavel.

"I have no care for the Potter votes," Augusta scoffed. "And even if I did, I would not be allowed to use them, stupid boy. They are only released once the Potter boy comes of age and by then, I will have no regency over him. As for his guardians, they are muggles. In the event of another attack, they would serve as nothing more than sacks of meat for the attackers to chop through. It is the duty of the godfather and godmother to aid their godson in times of need. And as his godfather betrayed his vows by selling them out to the Death Eaters and their godmother is dead - that duty falls on me."

"And me," Lady Malfoy spoke as she stood - not bothering to wait for Fudge to give her the word. "As you said, his godfather was a Black, and while he may have betrayed the Potters it shouldn't reflect the status of the House."

"May I remind the court that it was not just Sirius Black who was involved in the torture, maiming, and murder of the Potters, but also his cousin Bellatrix Lestrange née Black. Not only that, but House Black and House Malfoy have both stood against much of what House Potter represents - unlike my own House. Somehow I doubt your interests are benevolent."

"I'm not my cousins, I bear no ill will towards the Potters or the Potter boy."

"Nevertheless, it is I who made the request in the first place, and I who has the greatest claim. It was your cousin who was Harry Potter's godfather, but it was my daughter." The woman turned to downwards towards the Chief Warlock. "The Potter boy must be protected and with Hogwarts students returning home tomorrow, there is no time."

Fudge's eyes looked between the two women before sighing with a look of defeat. "The Blacks and the Longbottoms are two Ancient and Noble Houses, both who had familial connections to the Potters - both would be suitable places for the Potter heir. However, I must stand with Lady Augusta over the regent of House Black. Due to the treachery instilled by Sirius Black and his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, I must side with granting the adoption to House Longbottom. However, given as he's the last Potter of his line, I cannot grant you an adoption. I cannot, in good conscience, allow the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter to turn more or less defunct."

A jittery laugh left Harry unbidden, but it was cut short by the Minister's following words.

"I will, however, grant you magical guardianship over the boy. It is clear that recent events push for Harry Potter's protection. I must meet with the boy first, though, before I can allow you guardianship over the boy. This can't be done without him here."

"He's here, Chief Warlock." The triumphant tone Augusta held made would've made Harry's stomach drop, if it didn't allow him the chance to defend himself. To take reins of his life before the Longbottoms could. "He's currently in our visitor gallery."

This is it, he thought. That's how I get out of this.

He ran towards the door. Damn decorum, damn any sense of restraint or propriety. He wasn't about to let either of the crows to feast on him for rewards. He could feel every eye on him as he stepped into the centre of the room and stared at Fudge. His heart was beating in his ears as he faced the very possibility of losing his freedom.

"Harry Potter?"

"Yes," he gritted out, hands shaking.

"Lady Augusta is offering to adopt you, bring you into her House until you are of age, and giving you the same protections as if you were a born Longbottom."

"I don't want it." He blurted out.

"I'm afraid it's not that easy," Fudge said. "The attack at the Three Broomsticks proves you are not safe without protection."

"I can stay at Hogwarts for the winter break."

"You could, but what of the summer? How can you be sure any man who means you harm wouldn't wait until the end of the school year to attack you in your own home? Besides, living with muggles, an heir to an Ancient and Most Noble House should live in a wizarding house. However did that come to happen in the first place?"

"Not with the Longbottoms," he said fiercely, ignoring the question, for he did not have an answer. He'd stopped looking for one many years ago.

Murmurs spread across the court, but they were quickly silenced by Fudge.

"Why not?"

"I don't have a particularly good relationship with the Lady's grandson," Harry sneered in their direction.

"A child's squabble, you can't expect us to prioritize that over your safety."

"Some other House then. Any of them, I don't care."

"Many here would be honoured with taking you in for the next couple of months, but House Longbottom has a better claim. It' what your parents would have wanted, and frankly, it's a responsibility Longbottom House should have assumed ever since your parents' deaths."

"I don't care! Anyone! House-" He turned to Bedivere, but the words were swallowed before he could even say anything. The man was staring at him calmly, but his eyes held an intensity he hadn't seen before.

"Yes?" Fudge queried.

He wanted to talk, to scream, to run and leave before they could take the last thing he had left. This couldn't be happening, how could Bedivere have been so stupid? Why wasn't he fighting back? Why wasn't he keeping his word and delivering on the freedom he had promised him?

"Nothing," he forced out, feeling his very soul tear itself with the words.

"Then I see no reason this adoption should not proceed." The man picked up his quill, and signed upon a parchment Harry hadn't noticed until now. The moment he finished, Harry could feel it - the wave of magic that had become common with every decision made, only this time it felt much stronger. He could feel it slowly roaming his body before settling in his wrists, as he felt a tight chain go over them.

"Harry Potter, you are now, until you reach your majority of age, a ward of House Longbottom."

Aaaaand Harry gets fucked… again. Poor guy, hopefully he'll get a break some time soon. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! This was one of the moments that sold me on writing this fic, something I've been planning for a little over a year now. Things are about to become very, very interesting.

Next chapter will focus on the immediate aftermath of this, so stay tuned to that! It'll come out on the 16th… more or less. If you guys can't tell by now, I'm shit with due dates. But I do my best.

By the time I'm posting this, I'm three chapters ahead and have finished writing the full arc. If you are interested in learning how to get early access to them, join my discord server using the following link: discord . gg / jyPfbGqhJT

I'm also working on two fanfiction related surprises that should be revealed fairly soon! (Maybe?) I know I've been saying it for like two months now, but things just keep coming up, and I have little time to work on them. But they are coming! Eventually… More info on that on discord as well!

As always, thank you for reading, favouriting, and commenting! I appreciate all of you! :)