Alright chapter 3 is here readers, please enjoy and watch how the next part of this story unfolds!

Anticipation beat soft yet rapidly, similar to a hummingbird's wings in his chest beneath the mask of indifference composed on the outside. Palms were thankfully not sweaty plus there was no fluttery nervous feeling coiling around his belly. Breathing exercises to settle himself into a tranquil state of mind assisted with decreasing the iron grip hold on his trapped nerves, he was prepared as he would ever be. He just hoped that they wouldn't cause as big a fuss as he was inwardly dreading. Laurits had a funny phrase for when a person must answer for the price of their actions, what was it again? Ah yes, time to face the music.

Feeling a surge of confidence, squaring his shoulders back, and giving the Black heirloom a tap for good luck he scooped a handful of floo powder and tossed it in. Shouting his destination loud and clear, he closed his eyes for the dizzying segment in limbo. His feet landed and he ducked out from the bottom of the chimney, bracing for what came ever may come next. He possessed approximately three seconds to become familiarized with his whereabouts.

Every square inch of the floors inside the atrium of the Ministry of Magic was firmly packed down to a staggering number of witches and wizards from all over Great Britain. Lights beamed as the snapping sound of cameras could barely be heard over the sheer volume of murmurings, mild boos, and cheering. His eyelids closed then opened, refocusing on the narrowing path barely being held open by two lines of aurors. Right then. Gliding forward as though walking on water he caught a peek of the marble stairs that led to the front doors of the Grand Chamber of the Wizengamot. It wouldn't take long. Three seconds had come to pass when members of the press corps and the closest crowd realized who the latest arrival was. Excited murmurs ran rampant through the crowd before all hell broke loose.

"Harry Potter!" Came the first of hundreds of shouts from who Harry recognized as Rita Skeeter's dumpy photographer, Bozo. Overexcited screams and gleeful shouts started spreading like wildfire to all corners of the atrium. The gaggle of reporters and photographers held back by aurors took advantage of chaos brewing and dispersed from the sidelines free of the aurors and onto the empty path dashing towards Harry. They swarmed him, buzzing bees honing in on the sweetest of pollen from the freshly bloomed flower. His jaw stiffened a touch and he gave a sideways glance to shield his eyes from the blinding flashing lights and odor of burnt magnesium threatening to overwhelm his senses.

Time to move, he didn't come here to bandy pointless words with people who thought they were entitled to his time, there were bigger fish to fry. Subtly increasing the pace of his stride, he tactfully ignored the reporters peppering him with inundated questions.

"HARRY POTTER!"

"Harry, why have you returned?!"

"Can you inform us of the purpose regarding your arrival?!"

"Harry can you tell us why you're showing your face now?!"

"Harry, where have you been all this time?!"

"Harry Potter, as the Lord of House Potter and Black do you intend to become the next political heavyweight in the Wizengamot?!"

"Mr. Potter, can you articulate your opinion on the legislation being voted on ten minutes from now?"

"Have you really spent the last seven years locked away for intensive mental treatment in St. Mungo's hospital?!"

A book saga could have easily been written on the spot if you included all the words being used in the list of countless questions asked as they closely followed his walking form amidst the uproar occurring amongst the assembly of magic folk present. Men and women screamed their lungs hoarse as he passed with the press hot on his heels intent on snapping a photo of the Chosen One at every angle. They begged him to stop and bless them with a handshake, others joyously cheered content with showering praises and hellos on him. A wavy-haired witch asked for his hand in marriage, leading to five other witches near her to squeal and ask the same.

Midway to the marble stair an even thunderously louder section of the horde piqued his attention, there seemed to be a to and fro between a protest and its members versus the group yelling in retort. Continuing his cold shoulder towards the reporters still dogging his footsteps and the doors nearing closer, the aurors guarding the group of reporters earlier emerged to herd them into the frenzy and away from Harry. His march to the stairs almost complete, his concentrated gaze was torn away from the tall double doors as wizards from the crowd parallel to the protesters rained down a heavy hail of boos and confused, hesitant cheers. He felt his heart skip a beat at the view of Weasley hair facing backwards to him, knowing instantly it was his old best mate Ron.

Look away, he willed his head to turn a little to the left and more or less internally groaned at the new view- Hermione Granger and his ex, Ginevra Weasley. Feigning ignorance as though they weren't there, he completely ignored them like everyone else present and climbed the stairs forcing himself not to break pace. As if this whole madhouse couldn't get any madder, he reached the top step and was met with the blank, calculating stares of Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. His path was blocked by none other than John Dawlish, who had been tasked with overseeing security and held up his hand in a stop gesture.

"State your name and business-"

"Come now Dawlish," Malfoy chuckled coldly, sliding his hands into the deep pockets of his robes and settling into a relaxed posture. "You cannot speak to the prince of wizarding Great Britain that way. Besides, if you wanted proper identification I'm sure he would have no qualms showing his scar."

"The Lord of Houses Potter and Black is here to vote, as it is my right." He spoke a firm, commanding voice that made Dawlish look doubly embarrassed at his mistake. An auror of his experience was supposed to be above such mistakes let alone identifying the wizarding world's most famous citizen.

"Of course- right through Mr. Potter, my sincerest apologies."

Passing Dawlish he ambled over to Malfoy and beat him to the punch.

"See you inside." In his Hogwarts days he'd have immediately bitten out a retort, however as he stated he was the lord of two noble houses that had to be represented in the most professional of circumstances in public. Nevertheless, that didn't rule out him having the last word. The emphasis on and Black was not lost on Malfoy who aside from Teddy Lupin would've had the next best claim at gaining the Black lordship.

Aurors standing guard at the doors opened them for his entry. Hardening his resolve, Harry pushed on past the superbly cleaned lobby nodding a thanks to the administrative assistant pointing towards the last set of doors. The grand chamber of the Wizengamot was not so likewise in terms of design to the chamber where he had his expulsion trial during fifth year. Round and furnished with high-back wooden chairs each with the letter of the family house painted in gold at the top were set in a semicircle facing a podium on an upraised dais. The chamber consisted of three tiered levels, the front row level with the bottom floor, the second raised higher, and the third row of chairs by the edges of the chamber. Imposing marble pillars circled the chamber, the members of different factions were dressed in formal, expensive robes and each person present in the chamber gave off a demeanor stretching from arrogance, pompousness, stern seriousness, and composed expressions cool as a cucumber giving any newcomer a sense of intimidation.

In contrast to the rabble-rousing commotion caused over his presence outside the walls of the grand chamber, the lords and ladies acknowledged him with stares and arched brows. A young blond man gave a shout.

"Potter! It's been a while has it not?" Ernie Macmillan broke away from the group he'd been chatting to and gave Harry a hearty half-hug. The Hufflepuff gave him a once over. "You are looking in fitter shape than I'd thought you'd be, if we weren't in the presence of these old bags you'd have everyone trembling before you. It seems your vacation did you a wonderful good."

"You can definitely say that, although it was more of a retreat than a vacation. I decided to partake in today's session." He found himself struck with a rush of merry nostalgia in Ernie's presence, unsure what to make of it. He'd not expected him to be here in his father's stead knowing from Laurits who was a friend to the Macmillan's butler that the elder Macmillan was still alive and well. The Macmillan family was a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight after all and would be naturally given a seat in the Wizengamot.

"Ah, I figured you would be housed in Potter Manor, my parents used to tell me stories about the legendary parties hosted there when they were around our age. Do you ever think you will host?"

"I prefer peace and solitude. If you ever see me attend a party it won't be at the manor." He opted for a change in subject. "Where is Lord Macmillan? Not that I don't enjoy catching up with an old friend, I guess I expected to be one of the only few young folk here."

"Oh, he's fine and dandy." Ernie shrugged, unconcerned. "He wants me to obtain some experience, get that under my belt so I signed myself in his place, plus I've always had an interest in taking up family duties such as this. I mean you've got to think that we're amongst the minuscule slice of the population that gets to have this privilege. This isn't something you can naturally take for granted and I intend to make good of it."

"As do I." Ears perking at the sound of footsteps entering, Harry politely ended the conversation making his excuses to avoid dealing with Malfoy again. Ernie clapped him on the shoulder, which he returned in kind. The combined seat of House Potter and Black was positioned in the front row of the grand chamber directly seated across from the podium area. Two silk sashes embroidered in gold were tied underneath the gold lettering of his two houses, one black the other crimson red.

"Excuse me, Lord Potter-Black."

Seven wizards stood before Harry, most of them checking to see if it really was him in the flesh. The one who had spoken was old and touted a clipped, brisk accent, the signet ring he wore meant he was head of House Fawley.

"I am Lord Sullivan Fawley of the Light faction once led by Albus Dumbledore. We have all been curiously wondering when you would join the rest of us Wizengamot members, I do hope your solitary life you now lead has treated you well as can be. Now I do not mean to approach this topic in such a forthcoming manner yet, your presence here could change the impending circumstances we have gotten ourselves into."

"Pleased to meet you Lord Fawley, Lord Potter will be just fine." Laurits had taught him that outside the Wizengamot and formal social gatherings the lords and ladies of the Wizengamot referred to each other as Mr, Ms., or Mrs. their last names but as they were in the Wizengamot they used formal hereditary titles whenever conversing. This is an exclusive nook of wizarding society that he had postponed belonging to where such traditional formalities were both necessary and expected. "I suppose you are alluding to the anti-Muggleborn law the pureblood faction is attempting to pass?"

"Oh good," Lord Fawley looked relieved as did his colleagues. "You are up to date with the current state of the Wizengamot and magical Britain."

At first he was inclined to feel a twinge of annoyance at the assumption of his lack of knowledge but recognized it rang true. Not that they needed to know.

"A deal of it yes." He affirmed. "I want to stamp out the prolonged prejudice against muggleborns by voting against this law and force the pureblood faction to back down. I came to offer my votes, which is precisely the very reason why I came here today. If there are others who need convincing to vote against the purebloods, I can try speaking with them."

"My Lord Potter this is great news! I am so relieved as are members of our faction to actually have a solid chance at striking this barbaric law." He glanced over his shoulders to the lords and ladies, mainly lords who shared restrained smiles of hope at the news. "At the moment this permits us sufficient votes to tie the pureblood faction and the other Wizengamot members they have brought over to their side. The only downside to this is that by my calculations we would need at least two more votes to cement the victory."

"Why is that? If my combined seat gives us a tie, why can there not be one more vote needed?"

"That is because of outdated rules." A wizard dressed in russet robes behind Lord Fawley piped up. "Wizengamot rules state that if there is no majority then an allowance for a demand to recount and revisit the law in a month's time will happen. We would not be able to overcome this law and it would drag out longer. We need to persuade the swing votes in the chamber to vote alongside us, with at least two of them the pureblood faction would not be entitled to demand the recount rule. We cannot leave room for doubt, they must not think they have a chance to try and put this law on the floor again a year or twenty years from now."

Harry absorbed the information forming a quick strategy. "Tell me the names of two swing votes most likely to vote in our favor are. I'll speak to them and use whatever persuasive means I have." He wasn't one-hundred percent sure on what he could do to persuade the swing votes, he'd given his word though and wanted to produce results.

"We have already tried talking to them but they have refused to take any side for now standing behind the curtain of neutrality. The swing votes do not reveal who they vote with until the votes are tallied, that is why we do not count them amongst our voting favors. Anything you could do Lord Potter to win them over would be terrific in ridding ourselves of this anti-muggleborn business."

"For now" Lord Fawley vocalized the last words of the conversation. "We take our seats and listen to formal proceedings then we have time to discuss off record, and voting is underway. Good luck Lord Potter, we are depending on you. Perhaps you will be able to give them something or inspire them in a way that we could not." He pressed a folded piece of parchment and Harry memorized the name from the slip.

The Lord of House Potter nodded and sat in his chair. A half hour passed and the formal proceedings of reading the components of the law ended. Fifteen minutes of listening to the proclamations of justifying the creation of the law were heard and spoken on behalf of the pureblood faction by Lord Barden Selwyn. The same amount of time was allotted to Lord Fawley for a rebuttal on behalf of the opposing faction. For the duration of it all, Harry listened intently and found mild relaxation as words were spoken and time passed all the while sneaking glances out of the corner of his eye to the person he would planned on meeting with. Soon enough, a gavel struck the podium by the interim supervisor of the Wizengamot signaled the commencement of the discussion segment.

At the sound, the Wizengamot chamber turned into a flurry of activity- men and women crossing to opposing factions, groups formed, and individuals discussed a tad distance near the third row from resounding voices encompassing the front. Jumping out of his seat and striding around the semicircle like a man tasked with a mission of utmost importance, he quickly studied the man coming into closer view.

Lord Cyrus Greengrass, if you asked anyone in the wizarding community, upheld quite a reputation as a shrewd businessman and rich pureblood scion. Well-known as a person who valued family over all, it came as a bombshell when he chose to remain neutral in the Second Wizarding War, putting his family at risk. The Greengrass family were all Slytherins with Slytherin traits, but disagreed with the violent methods of the Dark Lord's cause. Surrounded by a cluster of other lords who counted themselves amongst the notorious swing votes he must've seen Harry making his approach for the lords around him opened their circle to the last Potter. Cyrus was a tall man and broad-shouldered, chocolate brown hair fading into gray but no thinning of the hair. From the outside he was an intimidating figure with hawk-like eyes.

"It seems I have attracted the attention of our distinguished Lord Potter." He stared at Harry over the steeple of his fingers staying put to his chair. "I must admit I too, like my colleagues, have curiously wondered when you would be joining our little society club. Do tell, what brings you to me?"

"I am here to talk with you about the legislation we are voting on."

"A negotiation then?" He leaned forward, Harry thought he caught concealed interest glinting in his eyes.

"Of a sort, yes." Harry would have to be careful- Lord Greengrass had his shrewd reputation for a reason, so he would have to tread mindfully.

"Now, why do you think that would interest me? I'm assuming old Lord Fawley told you that he and the rest of his faction have fruitlessly discussed this topic extensively with my colleagues. So by that logic, that leads me to think that you have approached to use alternative means to persuade me to vote with your cause." The cool expression on his face stubbornly remained, not allowing Harry to gauge him.

"If you would be so kind gentlemen," Harry imperiously addressed the group with the exception of Lord Greengrass to gain back some leverage. "I'd like a word with Lord Greengrass alone."

Cyrus nodded in agreement as the group departed and removed himself from his seat.

"Shall we?"

The pair ascended the stairs to a private alcove to eliminate possible eavesdropping.

"Let us drop the titles for now, we are out of listening range and our time is ticking away by the minute." The head of House Greengrass looked at him expectantly.

"As you've mentioned, you know why I came to you. I know that Mr. Fawley must have already tried to reason with you, make offerings, and so on."

"That he has."

"Why can you not just vote against this anti-muggleborn law? You did not side with Voldemort in the war and a person who has a wealthy business such as yours would not be threatened.

"If you are planning on using righteousness to pull on my heartstrings Mr. Potter, I am afraid it will not work. You see, I am a businessman, and when negotiating terms with someone who is not a part of my family I prefer the business approach." Cyrus pulled out his gold pocket watch. "If there is anything, anything you wish to offer me Mr. Potter, we're running out of time."

Harry tried to come up with something, hoping a sudden thought would pop up and give him a suggestion for this. Cyrus was a rock that refused to budge from its place. "What exactly are you hoping I can offer you? You have been playing the waiting game this whole time so that I'll grow desperate as the vote draws nearer. I have the wealth of two ancient bloodlines and a load of investment properties to boot, what if I signed a few expensive ones off the books to you?"

"I do want it in a sense, but not in the manner of which you are probably thinking."

"Then what." He frustratingly bit out, his composed facade forgotten and patience gone out the window. The man had not wouldn't give him a single clue! "Enough of this parrying, you would have turned me away from the start had you not wanted anything from me. So what do you want that the others could not entice you with, and do not evade the answer."

Cyrus's slight smile told him they'd finally arrived at that point. Leaning closer to Harry his voice dropped to a whisper. "Look towards the dais, move your eyes to the left. What do you see?"

His eyes found the person Cyrus pointed out. "What's this got to do with Malfoy not so subtly trying to sneak glances at us?"

"You see Harry Potter" He blinked at the sound of the man using his first name for the first time in their conversation. "Young Draco Malfoy is my future son-in-law, he is betrothed to my youngest daughter Astoria. Lucius is serving his sentence in Azkaban but his wife Narcissa Malfoy freely resides at Malfoy Manor. All of them have placed their hopes in winning the vote today and are depending on me to deliver the swing votes. I value family above all else. Why should I be persuaded by you to potentially cause tensions between my family and the Malfoy family?"

Harry focused, thoughts running through his head. The man obviously did not want to outright name the offer he desired. He kept dropping hints and clues to push Harry towards asking him, rather than asking Harry himself. Cyrus constantly reiterated his value on family, how much it meant to the older lord and how he would hold Malfoy to a higher importance based on the impending marriage. Then the answer struck him.

"You want me to marry your daughter."

"Correct you are, it is not my youngest but my oldest daughter I would see you wed to. She is your age, do you recall Daphne from your years at Hogwarts?" A girl with light blonde hair that had her name frequently mentioned around all the boys dormitories in different houses flashed in his memory.

So that was it then. Cyrus Greengrass was as slick as people gave him credit for, all this time he'd kept his eldest daughter tucked away in the wings waiting for the right moment to strike. He could ensure his daughter caught the biggest fish in the pond. Slimy as it may be, it was a cunning move on his part uniting the Greengrass family to the enormous wealth of two houses and political influence to be gained in such a union. Plus, with his younger daughter marrying into the Malfoy wealth he would have strong connections to bind his house should all else fail.

"Based on the reaction I take it you remember her." He said as a twinkle appeared in his eye. "She is my darling girl, my pride and joy."

Oh great, not only the heir to his house but to top it off his favorite daughter is who he might be tying the knot with. Hold it.

Since when was I ever going to plan to marry? He desperately considered. He hadn't contemplated marriage when he was in a relationship with Ginny. This is too odd. Cyrus is one of those man with the plan types, he doesn't just make random decisions based on his whim. Then again, even the most well-planned out men could be tempted by a spur of the moment chance. Besides, he couldn't have been waiting all these years saving his daughter for marrying me, hinging his bets on the tiny chance that I'd come out. That seems ridiculous, too risky.

"What's your game then?"

"Mr. Potter, the moment you stepped into this chamber you entered the biggest game of them all– politics. This isn't just my game, it's everyone's game. Call it my Slytherin ambitions, but I know an opportunity when I see one." The volume of noise in the chamber sounded quiet, despite the ceaseless amount of talking. "Mr. Potter, try to weigh out your options before it's too late- for the next direction this path will turn is up to you. Will you wed my heiress or pass up the light faction's final opportunity to beat the pureblood faction? Be assured, the rest of the swing votes will follow me."

The interim supervisor of the Wizengamot slammed the gavel down, calling members back to retake their seats.

"How do I know you'll keep your word?"

"A businessman must always keep his word in order to maintain his reputation. Besides, as you probably have not noticed I haven't made you sign a contract or perform the unbreakable vow so that after this I trust that the rumors I have heard about your honorable character will be true enough that you will not go back on your word."

"You heard right, I never do."

Damn it all to hell, he'd deal with the consequences later.

Breaking away from the alcove Harry returned to his seat, pretending not to see the questioning, yet hopeful expression on Lord Fawley's face or the intrigued, if not slightly worried looks shot at him from members of the pureblood Faction. If all went well maybe he'll stop for a quick chat with Lord Fawley.

"The Wizengamot is now back in session!" the interim supervisor loftily proclaimed. "Lords and ladies, you shall cast your votes momentarily.

Harry caught Cyrus Greengrass looking at him, eyebrow raised as if to say what is your answer?

He nodded and slowly mouthed a yes.

"All those against the Concerned Wizarding Act?" All hands of the Light Faction raised their hands. Harry's hand flew up immediately, he glanced over to the swing voters. He was greeted by the sight of Lord Greengrass raising his hand in a deliberately slow motion, copied by the swing votes loyal to him. The interim supervisor appeared baffled, then quickly recovered to complete his duties.

"All those in favor?" The looks of pure loathing and betrayal emanating from the Pureblood faction could have been cut open by a dull knife. Cyrus Greengrass was a marked traitor and Harry Potter was responsible for foiling their plans.

"Then it is henceforth voted down by the majority of this Wizengamot!"

The gavel struck a final time, Harry stood as members of the Light faction wholeheartedly embraced in relief before a line of their members formed to graciously thank Harry for using his influence and giving a light embrace. The accomplished feat of convincing Lord Greengrass, included the deliverance of his allies to the Light faction which had effectively denied the Pureblood faction. During his embrace with Lord Fawley, he caught Malfoy watching him closely, glaring at him as bad as he did in their Hogwarts days. Harry triumphantly smirked at him, flashing a wink.

"My dear Lord Potter, how did you do it?"

"I may have made a small sacrifice. Nothing bad though, don't worry."

Desiring to have no possible inquiries over how he achieved what was now believed to be his "master stroke" of miraculous luck working on Cyrus. Itching to depart, he bid the lord and ladies good-bye.

"Lord Potter."

Cyrus Greengrass tipped his head in what might be regarded as a sign of respect, but the solemn tone erased any thought of that from Harry's mind. A sharp cornered card pressed into his hand and he met Cyrus's eyes.

"Remember-"

"I haven't forgotten, Cyrus." He said tonelessly, mental walls protecting his emotions. He'd already dropped his guard once in front of the older man today. Seizing the initiative he clasped his hand around Cyrus's and gave him a formal handshake. "Rest assured, Daphne and I will marry. When I give my word, I keep it. I'll find an appropriate date to propose, from there we'll sort out the rest. In the meantime, what I came here for is over and done with."

Welp, this story took the direction of a Harry/Daphne fanfiction after all. Just kidding, I was planning on them being the featured couple or love interests of this story. Snuck in the engagement, it had to happen somehow. Finally ended chapter 3! I struggled a bit on the dialogue and what direction I wanted the Wizengamot segment to go. Chapter 4 has a good head start so hopefully it won't take me as long as it did with chapter 3 to complete. Harry shouldn't hold his breath, hehe he's got some reunions coming his way. Please leave a review and hold on for the upcoming chapter 4!