Author's Note 1: This is, in practice, an exercise of the Fair Use Doctrine, but needless to say I don't actually own Harry Potter or any of the characters created by JK Rowling.

Author's Note 2: This has probably been done before, but the notion struck me as an amusing one-shot. Feel free to differ. Doesn't directly contradict the epilogue, as far as I can tell, but might explain some of the attitudes in it.

No Social Conscience

Sunday 23rd April 2000

Grimmauld Place, London

"Why would you do this, Harry?" Hermione asked plaintively, as he showed her into the comfortable lounge he used when his friends came around. "I thought you were my friend! I thought you felt the same way as I do about it?"

It was nearly two years removed from his defeat of Tom Riddle, and Harry had learned a lot of things in that time that he had never picked up at Hogwarts. Perhaps if he'd been raised in the Wizarding world he might have become aware of them sooner, but ten years (and multiple summers) living with the Dursleys wasn't conducive to learning about his heritage.

He had learned that the public were extremely fickle, blowing whichever way the Daily Prophet directed them, but had become even more aware of that after fulfilling the prophecy.

Everyone had wanted a piece of him. From the Minister of Magic down to the lowest hedge witch. They all felt entitled to make demands of him, as if he hadn't already made enough sacrifices.

It had started with the assumption that he would join the Auror corps. Although the Ministry waived the academic standards required for him (and for Ron), it was soon clear to him that he wasn't really cut out for either the boring scut work that the Auror cadets got lumbered with or for dealing with the swathes of people who seemed to flock to him whenever he appeared in public, even when he was supposed to be working.

Far from being awed by his achievements, the older cadets ensured that Harry was subjected to the most severe of the hazing rituals, and was routinely verbally assaulted, perhaps aggrieved that he wasn't qualified for the job.

Then there were the huge gaps in his knowledge of how the Wizarding world worked. Time after time he was brought up on matters of etiquette, and shown up as not being a 'proper wizard'.

Eventually he called it quits, and turned to restoring what he could of the Houses of Potter and Black.

Grimmauld Place had been a mess when he had returned to it, but both Molly Weasley and Andromeda Tonks had been absolute stars in helping him sort it out and return it to habitability. Molly's household skills, especially in cleaning, came to the fore, and Harry learned masses of useful little everyday charms and tricks from her that would make keeping the place in reasonable condition so much easier.

Meanwhile, Andromeda had helped him go through the finances of the two Houses, and sort out where his priorities needed to lie in ensuring that both of his lines were solvent and politically active. This had resulted in long days learning about how the Wizarding world actually worked, how the Ministry functioned, and how he could use his hereditary votes on the Wizengamot to direct business the way he wanted it to go. It also included a lot of information about other Houses and the political and social alliances that lay between them, and where the Potters and Blacks fitted amongst them.

This naturally brought in Neville, as the Longbottoms had long been allied with the Potters, and Harry learned that he was considered to be in somewhat bad odour by House Longbottom for not recognising the alliance when he had started at Hogwarts. Harry was embarrassed to learn that some of the bullying that Neville had suffered in his first couple of years at Hogwarts had been because Harry had not immediately stood by him and officially acknowledged the ties between their Houses.

Profuse apologies to both Neville and his imposing grandmother, Augusta, had to be made publicly, but both forgave him, realising now that he'd gown up ignorant of the traditions that he was supposed to have followed.

This had all, however, led to Harry taking a much greater interest in his political obligations and he learned as much as he could from Andromeda, Augusta and even Professor McGonagall, who occasionally dropped in to assist with his lessons.

Now, nearly two years on, Harry was much more confident in his appearances in the Wizengamot, and had even co-sponsored with House Longbottom the rebuttal and amendments to a Bill that the Ministry had put forward.

But this was also what had led to the current argument with his long-time friend, Hermione.

"You'll need to rewind a little bit for me, Hermione," he said as they sat in the decadently soft armchairs that faced one another flanking the large, currently-unlit, fireplace. "Why would I do what? And feel the same way about what?"

"The Equality Bill, Harry! How could you oppose it! I've spent weeks with the Ministry lawyers drafting it and getting a Department to support it!"

"Well," he said with a deep breath. "Firstly, it's far too radical for even the lightest members of the Wizengamot to vote for – insisting on equal representation in all branches of Government? That's like asking the turkeys to vote for Christmas, isn't it?"

"But the Wizengamot is horribly outdated, Harry! Surely you can see that?"

"Of course I can, but that doesn't mean that turning it inside out within months is going to make it any better. Think of the upheaval. If you want to propose something that gradually introduces some element of representation, you might stand some chance of getting it through, but you'd probably need to spend months lobbying the various interests within the Wizengamot to get enough support for it."

"Can't you do that?"

"Hermione, I don't have anywhere near the level of influence among the other members that you think I do."

"But you're the Saviour of the Wizarding world! Surely they'll listen to you?"

Harry raised his hand to his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on already.

"Hermione, please, don't even bring that up again," he said painfully. "Of all people, I though you would realise that I hated being the centre of attention or using my supposed fame for my own ends. Don't you remember our first Potions lesson? Snape introduced me as 'our new celebrity', regardless of the fact I never even spoken to him before."

"Sorry, Harry. I didn't mean it like that. I know you don't like the fame."

"Well, quite."

"But what about your allied Houses? Surely they listen to the Head of the Houses of Potter and Black?"

He looked incredulously at her.

"Hermione, the Houses allied with the House of Black are the sort of people who quietly supported Voldemort: the Notts, the Bulstrodes, the Blackmores - those sort of people. They might not have been Death Eaters themselves, but they certainly agreed with his agenda if not his methods. They were the smart ones – they didn't get themselves killed off by either side. That's why the alliance still has so many members."

"Umm.. well, yes. I knew that."

"So, it doesn't matter what I say to any of them, they aren't going to support your Bill."

Hermione huffed. "Okay. But what about the Houses allied with House Potter? Surely they're all light-sided!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "They're mostly light families, yes. But they're also traditionalists. They believe in maintaining the status quo. Even by Wizarding standards they're conservative. Why do you think so little changed between Voldemort's first defeat and him being re-born? It wasn't just because some of the darker families had survived, but because any significant changes were opposed by the light-leaning traditionalist as well.

"Dumbledore's faction was the only one that was really pressing for better treatment of creatures, sentient rights, and more equality for muggleborns, and even his allies weren't trying to push an agenda anything like as radical as your Bill."

"Why not?"

"Because they knew that it wouldn't even get a reasonable hearing. It's only a small bloc, anyway, about 15 votes."

"But Dumbledore was Chief Warlock. Surely he could do something?"

"He didn't have the power to compel the Wizengamot to vote in a particular way, Hermione. He only had his reputation, a prominent platform, and honeyed words with which to convince people, some of whom would have voted against him even if he'd been giving Galleons away to them for free."

"So you're saying there's no hope?"

"In the short term? Not much," Harry acknowledged. "Did you read my counter-proposals and amendments?"

"Yes," Hermione replied grumpily, "but they water down the whole proposal so much that it's hardly recognisable. I was hoping to convince you to retract them and write something more supportive!"

"Sorry Hermione, but that's not happening."

"Why not?"

"Well, why would I?"

Hermione's mouth was agape.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what's in it for me? I doubt that even my watered down version will get passed by the Wizengamot, for starters, but I'm not even necessarily convinced that it's the right thing to do. And to upset my allies would be a big mistake this early in our relationships."

"What! Don't you believe in muggleborn rights?" Hermione asked.

"Not necessarily," Harry said, to her shock. "I'm not a muggleborn, don't forget. I'm essentially head of two Houses with Wizengamot votes and associated alliances. I have a vested interest in retaining my power in the Wizengamot."

"I thought you had a social conscience? What about the way House Elves are treated? I thought you liked Dobby? Isn't this exactly what we defeated Voldemort to achieve?"

"He was out to kill me, Hermione," Harry said flatly. "I defeated him to save myself and my friends, not out of any obligation to or love of the Wizarding population as a whole. I didn't kill him with any reformist agenda in mind, no matter what you might want."

"But keeping the purebloods in power was exactly what Voldemort wanted!"

"No it wasn't," he disagreed. "What he wanted was to be in power himself. He didn't care about pureblood power, he just used their ideology as a recruiting tool and a rallying point for those who were inclined to follow him in the first place. He was a half-blood himself, don't forget?

"But anyway," Harry continued, "you asked about my social conscience? I don't think I ever had one."

"But what about the Stone? Ginny and the Chamber of Secrets? Gabrielle in the lake? Trying to save Sirius?"

"Nothing to do with society, Hermione. That was about individuals. Party, I guess, also about feeling like nobody else was doing anything. But I wasn't raised to have a social conscience. I was just raised without being allowed to develop any sense of self-esteem. I protected myself when I had to, but mostly I didn't even have to think about it.

"Certainly Vernon never instilled any such qualities in me. Vernon? The Daily Mail-reading, xenophobe, who thought that 'hanging was too good' for criminals? There was never any chance of him setting an example to follow.

"And the Wizarding world simply buys into the sort of 'might makes right' attitude that he would have approved of anyway – provided he was the one with the might, of course."

Hermione's face crumpled.

"I thought I'd be able to count on your support," she said weakly.

"Sorry, Hermione, but I have other responsibilities these days, beyond being a friend. I have to do what is right for the House of Potter, and to some degree the House of Black. None of that involves massive reform to the Wizengamot, even if I can personally support individual sets of rights."

Hermione pouted at him.

"You've changed," she said.

"I've had to. I was thrown in at the deep end and it was 'sink or swim'. You'll excuse me if I choose to swim."