Alright, here is chapter two in the story, originally this was chunked together with chapter one but I thought it would be better like this so the information wouldn't be too much at once. Read on.
Around dawn that morning as Laurits carried his masters breakfast tray up the stairwell, he couldn't shrug off this foreboding thought that maybe he'd pushed Lord Potter too much last night. No matter how many years would go by the butler was worried his master would remain a broken man, gridlocked in his isolation with little care for what was going on in the world outside Potter manor. Knocking two times on his master's bedroom door, he twisted the knob and went in to deliver tea and porridge. His brows furrowed in confusion at the site of the empty state of the ornate four poster bed, noting the twisted mess of sheets and pulled back curtains. Concerned and a bit perturbed he hurried to the next place his master was likely to be, correct he was when he barged straight into the office forgoing the customary polite knock.
"Ah, there you are! Breakfast this morning is a cuppa tea and porridge, extra cre-." He stopped mid-sentence to gawk at his lord.
Sitting tall, ramrod straight posture quill scribbling at a furious pace to complete the contents on his ripped slip of parchment paper and face in concentrated focus was Harry. Dressed in smart voluminous black robes and facial hair taken care of, Laurits had to blink four times to get a grip on his master looking like a cleverly powerful and imposing wizard.
"Good morning Laurits, please place the tray by my right." Noticing his butler's astonishment out of the corner of his eye, an amused, inward smile broke out on his face. He'd had paced circles in the library for three hours last night thinking on his butler's words and the nagging desire to do something that had suddenly been awakened. He had come to a final decision before going to sleep- there would be no chance in hell of him making a full blown return, just a small blip in his isolation. The plan would be he'd show up on the front steps of the Ministry ten minutes before the vote would take place, go in, cast his votes, and immediately duck out hopefully bypassing any old faces. The last thing he needed was to see faces from his old school, he had zero desire to have any reunions. This would go against his present structure of life but this was something so major that he couldn't stay out of it. This was something that only he could do, hardly any wizarding families had seats in the Wizengamot and if the side voting against the pureblood faction did not have the needed amount of votes to prevent the anti-muggleborn legislation then it was up to him. As much as he despised leaving the pleasant solitude, he reminded himself it would only be this one time then it returned to business as usual.
Returning to kick the doors back open to the wizarding community of Great Britain and faced with the possibility of going toe to toe against some old foes and bigots meant that he had to look and act as a strong force to be reckoned with. He could not afford to display himself as a broken, weary minded man but as the Lord of House Potter and Black, as Harry Potter the-Boy-Who-Lived, as the defeater of the darkest wizard of their age who would present a strong outward front to the Wizengamot and anyone else there. Harry Potter is back, those pureblood maniacs were in for a hard lesson to be learned.
Crack!
A house elf appeared. Even Kreacher was momentarily stunned by Harry's cleanup act then ran to his master, waving a shiny object around.
"Master will be going to vote in Wizengamot today, yes?" The locket of Regulus Black skimmed the floor by how low Kreacher bowed at the waist before Harry. "The glory of House Black will be restored!"
"I'm just heading there to cast my vote and obliterate any further thought on passing anti-muggleborn laws Kreacher. Then I'm returning to the manor and keeping my nose out of it."
"Even still master will be representing the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, must carry the tradition he must!" Kreacher bent into a second bow and revealed the shiny object to Harry. A silver pin shaped as a raven with the words Toujours Pur inscribed in tiny letters etched into it gleamed. Kreacher clearly polished it after removing it from amongst the last of the Black family heirlooms. "Although it has words master thinks is bad, the person that sits on House Blacks' seat has always worn it!"
Harry paused, not sure if it would be a good idea to wear a relic of ancient pureblood mania to the Wizengamot. Then again, he reasoned it would be a little ironic to appear inside the Wizengamot wearing this symbolic pureblood heirloom then cast a vote against the pureblood blokes. Besides, it meant a great deal to his loyal house elf who he had grown a soft spot for, so he'd accommodate Kreacher's insistence on wearing the pin. Taking his lack of objections as permission the proud house elf carefully pinned the heirloom to the lapel of his robes, stepping back as he began to sadly sniffle at the long awaited site of seeing someone as the head of the house.
"Master must go now! Quick Wizengamot is strict on time! You mustn't be late!"
"Kreacher before you go- make sure when the voting's over you have a glass of firewhiskey ready for me, okay?"
" Master's wish is my command."
Crack!
"Sir, would you prefer to apparate just outside the ministry and take the car or will it be the floo network today?"
"I think I'll take the floo network today. Aside from running into any old faces, my top priority after this is done is avoiding any paparazzi photographers and reporters." Visibly shuddering at the horrendous annoyance that was the press he shoveled the last spoonful of porridge in his mouth. Letting the spoon fall into the bowl with a clatter he stood up and re-straightened his robes.
"Lord Potter, you do you so remind me of your father and grandfather right now your resemblance to them is shocking. I believe they would be most proud of you for finding the strength to do this again even if it is the last thing you want to do. I have never told you but when I was a butler in training I was young enough to meet both of them."
"Don't I always?" He replied grimly. His heart fluttered a little at the comparison to Fleamont and James Potter. "Now, I must be on my way. Please tell me your stories about them when I get back I cannot wait to hear it."
The Ministry of Magic atrium was teeming with what appeared to be the whole bunch of Great Britain's Wizarding population. Higher maximum capacity then when the second Wizarding war ended and the post-war celebrations. The white marble stairs leading to the grand doors of the main chamber of the Wizengamot had a line of aurors stationed on each side to barricade the arriving members of the Wizengamot from the throngs of the masses, press and photographers included.
A sizable portion of that massive crowd was a pro-Muggleborn protest happening right before the vote would begin, its protesters ranging from old to young all determinedly waving posters with pro-Muggleborn and anti-pureblood slogans. Many yelled their fervent disapproval of the anti-Muggleborn legislation, noticeably making more of their disapproval known whenever a prominent pureblood member of the Wizengamot would pass, hissing and booing. Other members of the protest who were not hissing or booing were shouting their support for a more equal, less prejudiced wizarding society. As for the rest of the people present who were not partaking in the protest all were loudly chatting amongst themselves and eagerly looking on as each member of the Wizengamot walked down the narrow path from the floo networks and apparition points to the marble steps.
Being a member of the Wizengamot was considered a high privilege and accessible to the very few- hereditary seats inherited by the very few were often envied after. The inner workings and political intrigues of the Wizengamot were a mystery still to many, all conversations were recorded but none apart from the Wizengamot were allowed to go in and watch the debates and voting, as per ancient tradition.
Hermione Granger stood nearby the protest, keeping a watchful eye out for Ron Weasley. The fiery haired man was included in the line of aurors to the right holding back the supporters of the pureblood faction who took amusement in shouting blood traitor vermin in his face. She felt a hand clasp her shoulder and spun around, face to face with Ginny Weasley. They hugged before words were exchanged between them, Ginny appeared a little irate and tense but still sported her usual energetic spunk.
"How's he holding up?" She said in a hushed voice, placing her mouth near Hermione's ear so she could hear her above the raucous noises of the crowd. "Merlin this place has gone to craziness!"
"He's holding it well, but I can't imagine having those vile words spewed in your face with nothing to do about it helps."
"At least they have not realized it's you yet Hermione, otherwise they would have switched from yelling blood traitor to filthy mudblood at the drop of a hat."
" That doesn't have the same effect that it used to. If I can put up with that ferret Malfoy calling me that name for almost my entire school years at Hogwarts I can put up with these dense fools and their nonsense." Hermione's face shifted into a hardened, determined expression. She was no longer masking herself with the face of controlled emotion now that the remaining minutes leading up to the vote were ticking. As one of the organizers of this protest she would be the one taking credit for it. Although she did not approve of the anti-pureblood rhetoric coming out of some of the protesters' mouths since she wanted a primary focus on pro-muggleborn minutia she knew it would be futile to try to get the protesters to hush their anti rhetoric down and support the pro rhetoric instead. "Look at them. They're having an absolute field day, hoping something amiss is going to happen to add more fuel to the fire."
Reporters, accompanied by their newspapers' photographers were getting visibly frustrated with being barricaded from all the action like the rest of the crowd. Many of them were hoping for some more side action – a clash between some protesters and supporters of the pureblood faction would make for some good old fashioned drama to add, the more sensational a story is the more eye-catching it is after all.
"Ugh, speaking of which, it's the cockroach." The fiery haired woman pointed to the fidgety group of witches and wizards angling to get better shots of the Wizengamot members as they passed. Speak of the devil. Rita Skeeter, the Daily Prophet's most prolific, infamous correspondent stood by her plump photographer quick quill at the ready. Her beady eyes roamed over the masses, scanning for any possible leads on juicy drama she could include for her column tomorrow. Her eyes zeroed in on Hermione's recognizable bushy brown hair and she started anxiously patting on her photographer's back to make sure he didn't mistakenly shoot a photo of Hermione.
'Mione, don't look now but I think Skeeter's got you on her radar, keep staring at Ronald." Hermione disregarded her warning rotating her stance to catch Skeeter's attention to remind her about the deal they made years ago. Unexpectedly, Hermione held the detestable woman's attention for only a few minutes before being diverted to a newly arrived member of the Wizengamot. Ginny couldn't help but huff that her friend was getting all the attention, an action that went unnoticed by Hermione.
"Of course." Hermione muttered to Ginny under her breath. "Well, looks like I won't have to keep reminding Skeeter that I won't hesitate to out her secret now that she's finally got her hot take for tomorrow's newspaper."
As arrogant looking as ever, emerald green robes sashaying behind him and silky blond hair shining under the bright lights of the atrium Draco Malfoy strutted past a sea of supportive cries and boos in direction of the stairs, his expression looking bored and lazy like he was assigned to do another one of Professor Binn's long History of Magic essays. To the wizards voicing their support for him he gave the slightest of smirks in response and began climbing the steps to stop at the grand doors. On his way upwards he passed near her almost making an awkward jerk of movement when realizing who stood there. His cold eyes briefly met Hermione's soft brown ones. This juicy opportunity was unmissed by Rita Skeeter's photographer who observed the interaction between the ex-enemies in the split second it lasted. Hermione shot the frumpy lump of a man a nasty glare and restrained herself from hitting him with a stinging hex.
Blaise Zabini came next, receiving the same chorus of support and boos from the crowd accompanied by a loosely distributed amount of ooosss and aaaahhhhs from blushing younger witches at his handsomeness. Like his mother, he too was known around the wizarding world for his devastatingly good looks.
Speaking of, as he passed the protesters he sent a snide glare in Hermione's direction which she blatantly ignored. "Top of the morning Granger!"
"Well whaddya ya know, didn't think we'd be having a Hogwarts reunion with the snakes so soon." Ginny joked, striving to lighten the mood seeing her friend's taut face. "I mean who knew that Malfoy would actually become a snake, dressing up in those pompous robes fit for a prat as big as him!"
The brightest witch of her age snorted out a giggle, glad for Ginny's company despite them not visiting each other as they once did. They'd grown apart for a while, Ginny like her older brother had become overly enamored with enjoying the fame of being a widely known celebrity while the one witch of the Golden Trio hid herself behind mounds of parchment paper in her ministry job after the war. The redhead girl had even gone as far as doing an exclusive interview with Witch Weekly on a Valentine's Day for a lengthy insight on her short-lived relationship with the Chosen One. That interview had really upset Hermione who although had felt very hurt and distraught over Harry's disappearance did not think he deserved to have intimate pieces of his private life put under the public magnifying glass and could remember the long fight Ginny and her had when she confronted her about that debacle.
"The long stares from those two would make most people think they had the hots for you, don't you think?"
Hermione snapped out of her reverie and fought to stop the oncoming pink spots dusting her cheeks. "It's a strange thought for sure." She said in a clipped tone, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at Ginny. "if other news outlets want to do a column on it then I'll have no issue with digging up dirt on them too. I've had enough media pageantry to last me a whole lifetime."
The volume of the crowd suddenly turned up as loud as ever with people jumping to glimpse the commotion from the location of the disapparating point. Aurors guarding the gaggle of press members broke, reporters and their photographer sidekicks dashed for it. Everyone furthest from the chamber entrance began to go absolutely berserk, cheering and screaming dominated the atrium. Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini who were in the middle of taking their leave paused in their tracks at the source of the commotion, catching sight and eyes widened in disbelief before schooling their features into a composed expression that expressed nothing beyond boredom. Hermione craned her neck, trying to figure out just what in Morgana's name was going on but got blocked by Ginny's red tresses. She saw the girl's body stiffen, knuckles white and lips pursed.
"Ginny, what is it?!"
"I-" Ginny melted into shock, eyes glassy and looking faint. She couldn't put words together. "It's him."
At last the crowds began moving aside for her to see. Hermione above all else found it hard to do nothing but freeze with her mouth wide open. She squinted and felt a stone drop at the bottom of her stomach.
It couldn't be….
Oh you bet it will be! Tune in for the next chapter. Coming soon to a fanfiction near you:)
