Sorry about the long wait. But, well, shit happens. And then you die, right? Or does shit only happenbecause we allow shit to happen? Does that mean if we canstop shit, we can in turn, stop death? I believe this matter requires additional thinking. But for now, enough philosophy.
Before we begin though, there are some things I would like to say. I have gotten a few reviews were peoplevoiced their concerns that I was making Harry 'evil' or 'too powerful'. I assure you, that is not my intent. Harry is going to be powerful, as he comes from two powerful parents.As a child, hispower was also augmented by Voldemort, who is probably the most powerful person on the planet.
This, along with the vast knowledge he stole from the Dark Lord, will obviously make Harry a force to be reckoned with.
Now,for those who are concerned that I am making Harry evil. Well, let me ease your worries. I AM NOT MAKINGHIM EVIL. The thing with the house elf heads? That was a joke people. A wonderful little thing I call sarcasm. Harry would not actually sell house elf heads. I assure you, he has better things to do with his time.
Now, enough low level ranting. On to the story.
Torches flickered in their brackets as he passed, the bright flames showing off his expensive attire. The purple Wizengamot robe flowed to his basilisk boots, the Potter and Black shields displayed on his back and over the heart.
He walked gracefully through the stone corridor, ignoring the mass of journalists and reporters who were gathered outside the council chambers. He didn't miss the wide eyes and loud whispers that followed him though, and knew his name would be mentioned in their articles the following day.
No one ever missed the chance to praise or ridicule the Boy Who Lived. As they had deemed him the savior once more, Harry figured praise it would be.
The door to the council chambers was of heavy oak, the Wizengamot insignia carved into the middle. Paying no mind to the nosy woman who tried approaching him, Harry raised his Occlumency shields, and turned the brass door knob.
The chamber he entered was circular in shape, with stadium seats that rose from the center. It reminded him disturbingly of the court room where he had been tried the summer before. There was a raised platform in the center, with a podium and a dozen seats set upon it.
The Wizengamot consisted of three bodies. The largest was made up of about seventy families, though the count had dwindled somewhat over the years. These families were represented by lords and heirs, who carried the powerful names of old.
The Blacks and Potters were among them, and the Tenaroe name had been dragged forth once more. The death of Bellatrix Lestrange was front page news. A member of a notorious dark family, the Lestranges, having been murdered by a member of perhaps the oldest family in wizarding Britain. A family that was supposedly dead.
It was ample reason for the whirlwind of rumors and speculations that had arisen.
The second largest body of the Wizengamot was made up of the councillors. There were fifty five in all, making up the High Wizard Court. Seats on the court were not inherited, but appointed to those who were deemed worthy. Or who had enough gold to their name. It was this branch that tried Harry the summer before, and that had sentenced Bellatrix Lestrange and her three companions all those years ago.
The third, and smallest, body of the Wizengamot was the hierarchy. The platform in the center of the chamber was reserved for these twelve members, who were generally considered the creme de la creme of the Wizengamot. It consisted of the Mugwump, the Minister of Magic, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and several other prominent members of wizarding Britain. The hierarchy oversaw the entire Wizengamot, and only the best and most respected were appointed to it.
What puzzled him is how Cornelius Fudge ever got such a position.
Predictably, silence occurred when Harry's presence in the chamber was finally noticed. The usual expressions flashed across the faces of those present, ranging from awe to contempt on some parts. He even saw a few suspicious looks coming from some, while others sported ones of appraisal.
He supposed appraisal was better than hate, but in all honesty, he didn't give a shit. The majority of them were docile lambs, and their opinions meant nothing. Especially to him.
He took a seat in the very back row, distancing himself from the other lords. The significance of the move would not be lost on them. They would come to realize that Harry Potter's loyalties lay only to himself.
Among the gathered, were a few he recognized. Either from the Daily Prophet, or having seen them in person. He had dug around a little in the past week, so he knew some of the stories behind the faces.
The aristocratic man a few rows down was Jonathan Greengrass. He was one of the twelve Hogwarts governors, and had a daughter that was in Harry's year. There was a brown haired man sitting next to him, who Harry recognized as Michael Zabini. He was a wealthy businessman, and rumored to be a candidate for the next Minister of Magic. He had a son named Blaise, who was also in Harry's year.
Neither Zabini or Greengrass had ever supported the Dark Lord, nor were they fans of Albus Dumbledore. Which was why Harry knew their names.
A few rows down from the two Slytherin alumni, was a stocky man with greying hair. Taylor Hopkins was the senior Healer at St. Mungo's, and a highly respected member of the wizarding community. His grandson was Wayne Hopkins, who Harry had shared Herbology lessons with over the past five years.
He didn't recall ever actually speaking with the Hufflepuff though.
Sitting three seats away from Hopkins, was an attractive, raven haired woman. Harry couldn't remember her face, but he recognized the shield on her robes as that of the Ackerly family. They were noted scholars, and had made several breakthroughs in the area of Transfiguration. Most of them were Masters or Mistresses in the field, and if Harry remembered correctly, there was an Ackerly who had been sorted into Ravenclaw a few years previous.
The other faces in the crowd were mostly unfamiliar, but a few popped out here and there. To Harry's disgust, he spotted Severus Snape among those in attendance. The Potions Master was standing next to a tall male, with a long, pale face. Memory of Antonin Dolohov came to mind as Harry studied the man, and he assumed this to be the Azkaban escapee's father.
The Slytherin Prince was lurking near them, having taken his father's place as Lord Malfoy. The later couldn't represent the family from his current residence, one of the drawbacks to being a resident of Azkaban Island. The pampered prat had been all too eager to take Daddy's place.
Draco would soon learn what the Dark Lord's Cruiciatus Curse felt like.
Feeling eyes upon him, Harry turned his gaze to the platform in the center of the chamber. Emerald green met a familiar blue, and a smirk spread across his face. The Mugwump seemed rather surprised that the Lord of Potter and Black was in attendance. And slightly angry as well.
Harry resisted the urge to flip the old coot off. That would probably make front page news. Boy Who Lived Gives Mugwump Finger! The Quibbler would no doubt print it.
Also sitting on the hierarchy platform, a few seats down from Dumbledore, was a man with piercing ice green eyes. His hair was shoulder length, and nearly as dark as Harry's. He couldn't name the man off the top of his head, so his eyes went to the family shield. The blue and silver colors, with an exquisite eagle spread in flight, gave him a clue.
"Charles Morgan," a voice said from beside him.
Harry's head snapped around at the noise, his holly wand appearing in hand. There was a man sitting next to him, where seconds before there had been none. His black hair was streaked with silver, and pulled back in a pony tail. A tanned face gave off a sense of youth, but the steel grey eyes betrayed the man's age.
And the shield with a silver dragon gave away his identity.
"Lord Flamel," Harry said neutrally, as he slowly re-holstered his wand.
"Lord Potter," the man replied, a smile playing at mouth. He was clearly enjoying the situation.
"I was unaware that you attended Wizengamot sessions," Harry said smoothly, as he raised an eyebrow in question.
It appeared that he was not the only one though. Several people, including Dumbledore and the aforementioned Charles Morgan, were watching the two with interest or shock. Interest from those who recognized the Boy Who Lived, and shock from those who recognized the great alchemist beside him.
"Oh, I haven't attended in many years," Nicholas Flamel said, a disturbingly familiar twinkle in his grey eyes. "But with the events that have transpired of late, well, I just couldn't stop myself."
The twinkle in his eyes may have been familiar, but Harry was glad to note that was the only similarity between the Headmaster and the man next to him. Dumbledore's eyes were a kind and alluring azure, which enticed people into trusting him.
Those of Nicholas Flamel though, were steel grey, with a slightly cold look the Mugwump certainly did not possess. There was a hardness to them as well, which revealed things that a man like Flamel never would.
"A rather exciting age we live in, wouldn't you say young serpent?" he asked Harry innocently, as he scanned the seats. The smile on his face was spreading though.
"Indeed," Harry answered slowly, his emerald eyes narrowing at the play of words.
From the books in his ancestral vault, he had learned of the extensive work Theden Tenaroe did in alchemy. And the man sitting beside him would no doubt remember what others did not. He would also recognize what others did not, and Harry had the emerald eyes of Salazar Slytherin.
"I wonder," he continued, "are you trying to get yourself obliviated Lord Flamel? I doubt if I can do all six hundred and sixty years, but I'm pretty sure I can manage the past few days."
A laugh like a bark greeted his warning.
"Fear not, young Potter," Flamel said. "Your secret is safe. The situation is far too exciting for an old man like me to ruin it."
"I find it rather amusing," he continued as his smile grew once more, "that you continue to be the topic of conversation. Though this time, they speak of you unknowingly."
It was an irony that had not been lost on Harry. These lambs searched for the identity of the Lord Tenaroe, and little did they know, that the answer was right in front of them.
"Amusing, indeed," Harry muttered to himself.
The Wizengamot session was rather uneventful. A member of the International Magical Trading Standards Body spoke about the knew laws related to the sale of dragon hide. It was quite meaningless for Harry, as none of the Potter, Black, or Tenaroe ventures were involved in that particular commodity.
The Tenaroe name had been brought up by one of the hierarchy members, and the reaction of the assembled was rather predictable. Murmurs of questioning and excitement had broken out at the mention of the mysterious lord.
Harry hadn't failed to notice though, the looks of worry and slight apprehension coming from the dark faction. A servant of Voldemort, who many of the people in that faction supported, had been cruelly murdered. And for all they knew, the Lord Tenaroe was sitting next to them.
The man who Harry was most interested in, Charles Morgan, did not speak. Cornelius Fudge did though, dispensing a few words about the Tenaroe incident. According to the Minister, Aurors were working around the clock, and would soon solve the murder of Bellatrix Lestrange.
Harry briefly wondered about the thought process behind it. Solving the case would not bring Bellatrix back to life. The ministry should really thank him, Harry thought, for taking care of the problem himself.
He was far from worried about Fudge's words. The man was bluffing, and to those who understood the power hungry politician, it was rather obvious. The Aurors had no clue as to the identity of Lord Tenaroe, and they were unlikely to get one.
The Goblin Laws were older than those of the Ministry, and Fudge had done nothing but alienate the gold keepers. They would not volunteer information, nor would Dumbledore be able to coax it out of them.
Ripthor was too smart to believe the Mugwump just had a 'harmless interest' in Lord Tenaroe, and the old man was not foolish enough to try intimidating a goblin. It was a well known fact that possessed a vicious streak, and they weren't opposed to using it.
Ludo Bagman would need more than prayers, if the goblins ever found him.
Charles Morgan was intrigued. The Wizengamot session had ended less than an hour ago, and he was currently sitting in the study at his family manor. That was not what intrigued him though.
What intrigued him was sitting in the chair on the opposite side of his desk. It was in the form of a young man with messy black hair, piercing green eyes, and a famous scar on his forehead.
He had watched young Potter during the session, and had not been the only one. Most eyes had flown toward the Boy Who Lived when he entered, and Charles had seen Dumbledore's stiff reaction.
He had been as surprised as any when he saw Nicholas Flamel sit next to young Potter. Charles had met the famous alchemist more than once, and he knew it took a lot to bring the man out of his quiet life. They had spoken after the session, and Nicholas said that young Potter was interested in meeting him. His interest had been piked when Flamel told him the meeting would prove most beneficial.
That brought them to the present, with Charles Devlin Morgan, Lord of Morgan, and Harry James Potter, Lord of Potter, Lord of Black, evaluating each other from across an oak desk.
"I am rather curious," Charles said, breaking the silence, "as to why you would be interested in meeting with me.
Interested was an understatement. Charles was nearly bursting with questions, but he was a Ravenclaw, which meant he could hide his emotions like a Slytherin.
"Lord Flamel did not tell you the nature of this meeting?" Potter asked smoothly. Charles tried reading the young lord, but his face was an expressionless mask.
"He did not. I was merely told it would prove beneficial," Charles said, raising an eyebrow in question.
"Beneficial indeed, if all goes well," the messy haired young man said. "I know we are in similar positions, and I believe we can help each other out."
If Charles's interest had not been caught by then, it certainly was now. Help each other out? What did the young lord possibly mean?
"You have made your position in this conflict clear," Potter continued, taking a sip of his tea. "You believed the rumors that the Dark Lord was back, and have publicly denounced Voldemort since then. I know as well, that you have denied Dumbledore's recruitment attempts."
"Who told you that?" Charles asked, more than a little surprised. "It's not exactly common knowledge that Dumbledore tried getting me to join his Order."
It had been nearly a year ago when the Headmaster approached Charles, and he had turned the old man down. Dumbledore had recruited him during the first war as well, and his attempts had been futile then too.
"I have my sources," the young man replied.
Sources? Charles was rather curious as to what kind of sources a sixteen year old could have at their disposal. But then again, this sixteen year old was Lord of two of the wealthiest families in wizarding Europe.
"I see," Charles said, not wanting to push the subject. "As you stated, I have denounced Voldemort, and refused to join Dumbledore. I believe you said you were in a similar position?"
"I am," Potter replied. "I believe my thoughts on Voldemort are common knowledge."
That was a bit of an understatement, Charles thought dryly.
"And Dumbledore?" he asked.
The young man paused at this point, and appeared to be thinking his words over.
"Dumbledore is the leader of the light," Potter said after a few seconds. "I have no interest in his rigid ideals or his righteous moral code. I have neither faith nor trust in him, and I do not believe he can win this war."
Emerald eyes burned with unnatural fire as the young Lord said this, and Charles wondered what exactly happened between Dumbledore and the Boy Who Lived. There was a hint of anger and loathing beneath the spoken words.
"Nor do I," Charles said. "I am rather curious as to what you plan to do though."
In response, the young man took an object out of his pocket. It flashed silver in the light of the fire, and Potter placed it on the desk between them. It was a ring, and Charles frowned slightly as he studied it. There was an beautiful emerald engraved with a regal snake, and he was certain he had seen it before.
The memory of an ancient tome flashed across his mind, and Charles Morgan's eyes widened in dawning recognition.
The ring of Tenaroe.
Harry closely watched the man's reaction. He had been confident that Morgan would recognize the Tenaroe ring, and this reassured him of the decision he made. Trusting Morgan with his secret was a risk, but Flamel had said the man could help.
And help Harry would need.
What he planned to do, could not be done alone. He couldn't defeat Voldemort by himself, no matter how much knowledge he stole from the Dark Lord. Allies were what Harry Potter needed in this war, and Charles Morgan was both powerful and influential.
He also held no love for ministry, Dumbledore, or Dark Lord.
"You killed Bellatrix Lestrange," Morgan said at last. It was not a question. The man across from him possessed a razor sharp mind, and could no doubt sense Harry's power.
"I did," he confirmed, though there was no need.
Emerald met ice green eyes, and the two stared at each other, neither backing down. Harry felt a slippery sensation enter his mind, and raised his Occlumency shields. The probe hit a solid wall, struggled for a moment, and was forcefully shoved out.
Harry's face had remained expressionless during the brief mind battle.
Surprise was evident in Morgan's eyes though, and he could understand why. Occlumency was an obscure art, and for a sixteen year old to be a master Occlumens, was abnormal to say the least.
Harry had long ago given up on being normal though.
Morgan's surprise was quickly replaced with appraisal, and after a few seconds, a smile spread across his face.
"I see," he said shortly. "May I ask why?"
"Did I need a reason?" Harry countered, raising an eyebrow in question.
Morgan's smile grew wider. It seemed the elder lord approved.
"Generally," he said, "there is a rational motive when murder occurs. You don't appear to be the type that would take a life without just cause. And the rather unpleasant way in which Lestrange died gives me reason to believe you held a grudge against her."
"Call it vengeance," Harry said with a twisted smile.
"Vengeance?" Morgan asked, both eyebrows raising.
"She killed a friend of mine," Harry said after a few seconds.
That was a slight understatement. Harry didn't feel like going into detail though.
Understanding flashed across Morgan's face, and a soft 'ah' escaped his mouth. This was apparently an ample reason in his mind. There were times when one must take the law into their own hands, and Charles Morgan knew that well.
"So the Lord of Tenaroe, Heir of Slytherin, sits before me," he said, as he ran a hand through his long hair. "You still haven't answered my question though."
Harry smirked slightly, the man didn't miss a thing.
"It's rather simple really," he said. "The wizarding world is at war, and naturally, people will be forced to choose sides."
"Naturally," Morgan agreed.
"At this moment," Harry continued, "there are two factions. We have the light, led by Albus Dumbledore, and the dark, led by Voldemort. Many people though, will not wish to join either."
"You mean the neutral families?" Morgan asked.
The man sure caught on quick, Harry thought dryly
"The majority of them are neutral," he said, nodding his head. "There are people in both camps who will be open to change though. And some of them will change, if given the opportunity."
Harry paused there, carefully thinking his next words over.
"All they need is another option," he said. "A third faction which they can side with or join."
"And I suppose you intend to lead this faction?" Morgan asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Not exactly," Harry said, staring the man in the eyes. "You are going to lead it with me."
There it is folks. Not an incredibly long chapter, but I wanted to get it out there.
SlashGoddessConnlaFlame: Harry will tell Dumbledore that he is the Lord of Tenaroe the same time he tells everyone else. Additional information on the Tenaroe family will be provided in the next chapter. I think.
Maddy143ded: I'm not quite sure what Harry will do about the other known Death Eaters. He's not just going to hunt them down though, and kill them all in a few days. He has to be methodical about it. I assure you though, that Bellatrix will not be the lastvictim to fall to Harry's cause.
HeWhoComeWithTheDawn: The reason I didn't have Harry go after the students is rather simple. As of now, they do not carry the dark mark. And if he did hand them over to the Aurors, it would raise questions that he doesn't want to answer. The next chapter willshow how much Dumbledore and Voldemort know about Tenaroe, and what their reactions will be.
Wavefunction: I'm not sure if Neville is going to havea larger role. If you go back to OotP, you will notice thathe has a Great Uncle Algie that is still alive. That meansthat Nevilleis not the eldest Longbottom male, and would not be the lord of his family. He would be the heir instead. I do think that Nicholas Flamel will be Harry's mentor though. It would be interesting, and he could learn a lot from someone who is six hundred and sixty years old. Albus does know about the Tenaroe family. How much will be answered in the next chapter.
HazelWolf: I believe this chapter answered your question about Flamel making an appearance.
Please review. And remember, just because you're paranoid, that doesn't mean they're not after you.