Author's Note:
I'm off all of this week, and the muse is working. Assuming that the muse doesn't decide that my vacation is her vacation, expect more by next weekend.
Chapter Eight
Harry Potter's day at the Wizengamot was over. The first part of his day had been interesting, and he thought that he'd done well in the run up to the vote for the next minister. Minister Fudge's traditional resignation speech, however ... he could have done without. Fudge was only cheered when he said "in conclusion," thirty minutes into the speech, which unfortunately was followed by ten more minutes of drivel.
Harry carefully placed the mulch around the newly planted lilies in the memorial water garden. Much to his surprise, he'd found his aunt carefully planting the lilies around the water feature, the design carefully consulted between each planting, when he'd returned from the Wizengamot. Aunt Petunia's hands were darkened by the rich planting soil that she was putting around each plant. He'd never really seen Aunt Petunia get her hands so dirty. Even when it came to her beloved roses, Uncle Vernon did the planting, she did the pruning.
Of course, the real thing that has really surprised Harry was that both his Aunt Petunia and his headmaster were apparently Peter, Paul, and Mary fans. So far he'd been treated to Puff the Magic Dragon, If I had a Hammer, and at the moment, Blowin' in the Wind. It was a song that was really making Harry think, especially since it seemed that they didn't want to end the song.
"How many times can a man turn his head, pretending he doesn't see?"
Despite Harry's testimony, despite the testimony of the Three Wizengamot Death Eaters, despite Cedric's death, Fudge was still denying the return of Voldermort.
"Yes, how many ears must one man have, before he can hear people cry?"
If the Daily Prophet's coverage of Cedric's death did not change Fudge's mind, then what would. If the cries of the victims, the cries of the poor, the cries of the sick did not move him, then what would? Since Harry had taken his seat in the Wizengamot he had heard chapter and verse on what Fudge had ignored, what the bigotry of him and those he associated with had done.
"How many deaths will it take till he knows that too many people have died?"
"The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind. The answer is blowin' in the wind."
Harry put the thoughts of Fudge aside. As of this afternoon, he no longer was Minister, having even given his resignation speech. As he turned to get more mulch, he had to ask Dumbledore, "Professor, does it usually take six rounds to chose a minister?"
"It took sixteen over four days to chose Fudge back in 1990," Dumbledore replied. "This time the candidates were much more polarized than then, and the lesser candidates dropped out quicker. There were twenty-one nominated that time, four from ministry departments, none of which received the necessary votes to become members."
"Then I guess we did a lot better than I could have expected it would, with both of them getting in," Harry said.
"Oh yes," Dumbledore said. "And I think that the exchange of withdrawn nominations between yourself and Mr. Malfoy hid the introduction of your new faction quite well."
"What new faction?" Harry replied. "I haven't finished all of Hermione's briefing on the other members, and she keeps adding to them. I'm not ready to create a faction. Oh, and Draco has decided that for now at least, he's going to use his title, Amesbury, as his last name."
"Draco ... that's the boy who turned in his father, causing him and two other members to be hung?" Aunt Petunia asked, looking up from where she was planting the flowers she was named after. Harry nodded. "Invite him over to dinner, sometime. Vernon and I own him a debt of gratitude."
Harry looked at his aunt like she had grown two heads. The idea that she didn't really hate him was still new to him. The idea that she'd invite a pureblood wizard to dinner was just to much. He was simply speechless.
"I shall send the Baron Amesbury the required forms to update the rolls," Dumbledore replied, as he shoveled more mulch into the barrow. "Petunia, the kitchen staff at Hogwarts tell me that Mr. Amesbury is quite found of custard tarts, and yours are simply divine."
"Mum's old recipe," Petunia dismissed. "Close your mouth, Harry, you're attracting flies."
"I'm afraid that Harry and Mr. Amesbury are somewhat contentious rivals at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, as Harry started to move mulch again. "Their encounters tend to go, more often than not, to Harry's favor, though it looks like the two have come to a truce and are working together in the Wizengamot."
"I assure you, that Draco's nomination of me was merely an attempt to provide him ammunition this fall," Harry replied, with a smile. The exchange of nominations had actually been the best part of the day's session.
"Yes, and the notes that your page dropped off on the Dunbretane, Wiltshire, Lincolnshire, and Lancashire desks had nothing to do with the nominations," Dumbledore replied. "How did the American Magic Secretary put it ... oh yes, I have bridge to sell, very nice view of Brooklyn."
"I have no idea what Ocie gave to her proxy," Harry claimed. He was fairly certain that it did include a reminder about nominating Percy, but he also expected that it had something to do Cornwall's vote change in the fourth round.
"And you didn't tell Percy that it might be a good idea for him to be in the building?" Dumbledore asked. "One more petunia left to plant."
"I was hoping we could talk about playing professionally," Harry replied. He was due to practice with Percy Thursday afternoon, when none of the committees he was on were due to meet. On Mondays the session was in the afternoon, but the rest of the week there was a morning session, and the afternoon was devoted to committees.
"Play professionally? Play professionally, what," Aunt Petunia asked. There was a bit of dirt on her cheek now.
"Your nephew is quite the Quidditch Seeker at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said. "He's only missed the snitch once."
"Hmmph," Petunia replied. "At least it's not on the telly."
"About those factions," Harry asked, as he put more mulch down. "Hermione hasn't covered them in her briefing yet. You'd think it would at least be in the candidates for minister briefs."
"The factions are not really spoken of much, and many of them are quite small," Dumbledore said. "The biggest is the dark faction, and it consisted of just sixteen members at the beginning of the session. After today, I'd say it's down to twelve members, and I'm not sure who has replaced Lucius Malfoy as the leader of that faction.
"The next biggest is the Ministry faction, which is basically every Wizengamot member who works in the Ministry, though I would not expect Mr. Cresswell to join. It's lead by Director Bones, and I'm afraid those two have been at each other's throats since at least the food fight in their third year.
"Elphias Doge has his own little faction. He usually can pull in four or five votes to his side. It's a very traditional faction, that sometimes carries the traditionalist label, but is more focused on Elphias's own objectives, which according to legend were originally written in between hangman games in History of Magic.
"There is the Welsh Light faction. You may have noticed that Caredigion, Drefaidwy, Meirionnydd, and Gaernarfon all voted with the Dark faction? Well Fynwy, Morgannwg, and Benfro can be counted on voting against them. All seven Irish votes are loosely affiliated with them.
"I have my own faction, though you seem to have stolen Augusta from me." Dumbledore put up his hand, just as Harry was about to protest. "I have no issues with that. I would ask you to join my faction, but perhaps it is best to let you organically work more to your side. None of the other arrangements you are likely to seen in the Wizengamot are more than temporary issues, and I don't think Minister Snowdon is a part of any, yet."
Harry tried to place each of those factions in his mind. Some where easy. The Ministry faction was obviously Bones from Kent, Diggroy from Devon, Scrimgeour from Inverness, and Marchbanks from Aberdeen. The count of the Dark votes was a bit more tricky. "Wait, you said there were sixteen in the Dark faction at the beginning of the session," Harry said. "It's obvious that Malfoy, Macnair and Goyle were three of the departures, but whose's the fourth."
"I believe that Baron Amesbury brought Malcolm Kerr, the member from Dumfries over to your faction, at least temporarily," Dumbledore said, as he began to examine the plantings. "By my count, your faction appears to have six seats currently in it's corner. Dunbretane, Dumfries, the Mearns, Lincolnshire, Wiltshire, and of course Surrey. I could be wrong, of course."
Harry nodded. It did not surprise him that Dumbledore knew exactly who Harry had counted on for the vote for the new members. He had been a bit unsure about Dumfries, but Draco had said that he could deliver that vote. He was pretty sure that Cornwall was at least leaving the Dark faction, as Dumbledore had named it. Harry preferred Neville's name for Voldemort's supporters. Dark Mulchers.
"Petunia, am I correct in that this angel is an incredibly good likeness of Lily?" Dumbledore asked after a minute's silence. "And Harry, the mischievous grin on this one is just like your father's"
Harry watched his aunt move towards the angels to examine them closely. "It is an very good likeness," Petunia said, her voice a bit wavering. "I don't know where you found them, but I know that you really found Dahlia and Lily."
Nervously he looked at his aunt, spying the tears in her eyes. She was crying a lot lately. Uncle Vernon said it was the pregnancy. He looked down at his feet before admitting, "I found some pictures and transfigured them a bit."
"Well done Harry," Dumbledore said, but before he could say more, Harry found himself engulfed in his aunt's hug.
Harry stood there stiff, as his aunt hugged him. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear, barely heard above the breeze, as tears went down her face.. He was in shock. Sure, his aunt had been treating him better since the beginning of the summer. This was the woman who favored Dudley over him. The woman that had confined him to the cupboard under the stairs, and even once taken a swing at him with a frying pan. Harry had to admit, though, that the frying pan swing was well out possibly hitting him. Still, she hated him. This was a touchstone of his life. His aunt and uncle hated him, and only let him live with them because he was related.
The stone cracked, as Aunt Petunia continued to hug Harry. His stiffness disappeared with his aunt's arms pulling him close. Harry wanted to keep believing that his aunt hated him, but with her arms around him, tears going down her face, as she whispered her thanks in his ears, he couldn't believe it anymore. "You're welcome," he whispered back.
...
As the sun slid into mid-afternoon, Pansy found herself out on the grounds of Windsor Castle, within the Upper Ward. She'd been told that the magical wards were strongest there, and as the clouds blew over the castle as she sat in on a patch of short cut grass, she thought she could feel the wards.
The doctors had kicked her out of the room the pregnant girls from Malfoy Manor were in, admonishing her to get some fresh air, walk around a bit, and not come back until after supper. Pansy had to admit that she needed the fresh air. Aside from that night on the balcony at Malfoy Manor, she hadn't really been outside for three months, and that had been the night. Her and Draco's first time had been that night, under the stars after Astronomy.
The smell of fresh cut grass, wafted across the ward, reminding her of the loose hay under Draco's cloak. She felt heat in her cheeks as she remembered that night, how they'd snuck back into the Slytherin dorms, his clothes askew, her panties lost somewhere on the journey. They'd been caught by Professor Snape, resulting in several detentions, many of which ended with them returning to the dorms in exactly the same manner, but before curfew. She was hoping that Draco would be up to repeating it tonight. It had been too long.
"I do not know how you young people manage to do that." Pansy looked up to discover an old lady. Pansy was not entirely familiar with the British Royal Family, but knowing that she was living in one of their residences, she had taken the time to look over some pictures and check the proper styles of address. As she and Draco were living under the personal protection of Her Majesty, the Queen, it was important. Since she had arrived on Friday, though, she had not actually met any of them. She moved to stand. "Please, stay seated. I think I shall attempt the same. Though I may have to call for assistance to stand."
As the old lady moved to take a seat on the grass, Pansy responded to Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother, "You don't have to, your Majesty."
"No, and these ninety-four year old bones will protest, later, perhaps," the Queen Mother. "But it is a nice day, with a fairly good breeze, so I thought I might enjoy having tea out on the lawn, in a while."
"Tea?" Pansy smiled. "I haven't had tea in a long time. It's not served to students at Hogwarts."
"That, we must change," the Queen Mother said, sitting down next to Pansy. "My youngest was tutored instead of going to Hogwarts. With the press now days, I don't think we'll be able to get Charles's youngest to go, either. My late husband's brother John did go, but it was a different time. Henry wants to go, my great grandson is unlikely to get his wish, in a couple years. Though, if he hears that there is no tea at Hogwarts, he may change his mind."
Pansy tried to put the names to faces in her mind. The Queen Mother's youngest was easy. Pansy actually was the proud owner of a nearly complete set of the Snowdon comics. Like many young pure bloods girls, the Countess of Snowdon was a hero to her. The boys may have their made up comic book heroes, but the girls had a real one. The name Henry didn't immediately her memory, but she new that Charles was the heir to the throne, and that made his youngest, Prince Harry, the Henry the Queen Mother was referring to. He had been the one to escort her to Windsor.
"That's a shame, because I'm pretty sure he'd replace Potter as the heart throb of Hogwarts, at least among the younger years," Pansy replied. "I know that Hester Thickness, Juliet Yaxley, and Nerissa McNair all thought that he was cute at the Wizengamot Friday. They'll be starting Hogwarts not this fall but next year. Not that they realized that he was a prince."
"That might be an advantage in Henry attending Hogwarts," the Queen Mother mused. "He and his brother have had several issues with being treated differently because of being princes over the years. A place where that is not an issue, is an advantage."
"If it weren't for the Dark Lord, maybe," Pansy said.
"Another Dark Lord," the Queen Mother said exasperated. "I suppose that Margaret is going after this one too. I swear that my daughter can't enter a county without some dark wizard or witch going after her."
Pansy smiled at the Queen Mother's exasperation. "You know, I have a nearly complete set of Snowdon comics."
"Nearly complete?" the Queen Mother asked. "I know she is a comic book hero in the wizarding world, but I expected that it would be more with young wizards than witches."
"No, the boys tend to go for the Martin Muggs comics," Pansy replied. "I collect them. I'm missing the first ten issues, number fifty-two, which is really annoying because that's the last of the South African arc, number one sixty through one seventy-three, three ninety-eight, and the last one, five thirty-eight, I haven't gone to purchase yet."
"We will have to arrange a visit to Diagon Ally later this week," the Queen Mother proclaimed. "I shall have to get a copy myself. Margaret deserves a little something after what the Queen has planned for today."
Pansy had to wonder what the Queen had planned, but she wasn't going to ask. Since she was betrothed to Draco when she was seven, she had attended the Wizengamot regularly with him. She had heard the opening of every session that she attended, "Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye, the Wizengamot stands ready to open the day of its Session on this the day of the year on the reign of her majesty, Queen Elizabeth, the second of that name to reign over the British Isles, Defender of Faith, Lord of all that is Magical." She believed that the Queen had to be the most powerful woman in the British Isles. Of course, she'd also thought that the Queen was a witch at first.
"I see the staff has decided to bring us chairs and a table for tea," the Queen Mother said. Pansy followed her gaze to discover a group of men carrying a pair of wicker chairs, a low table, and a tea setting their way. "Help me up, dear."
Pansy helped the Queen Mother to stand. "In a few months, you'll probably need as much assistance as I do to stand," the Queen Mother said. "Don't push it off. If your man wants to make things easy for you, let him. You will miss it, and regret not letting him, when he's gone." There was a bit of a tear in the Queen Mother's eye as she said that, and her gaze seemed to be focused far away, momentarily.
"I'll remember that, ma'am," Pansy said as tea was poured.
"Yes, well, I hear you have been helping out with the victims of the Death Eaters we are housing. Do you think they would be ready for a visit from myself?"
Pansy considered it for a moment. The girls were still a bit jumpy, especially with the male healers. Around herself and other females they came into contact with though... "Well, I'm not their Healer, or anything, but maybe tomorrow."
"I shall consult with the doctors to be sure, first, of course. Now while we enjoy this lovely day and tea, perhaps you can explain the latest arc of the Snowdon comics. I feel I'm missing something."
...
Percy Weasley carefully cleaned his new broom. He'd never actually had his own broom before. His father had offered to get him one after his fourth year, but Percy had already resigned as Gryffindor's Seeker following the loss against Slyterin, and he didn't believe that his family could actually afford to get a broom for him. Instead he'd asked for his own owl and passed Scabbers off to Ron. If he'd know what he knew now, he would have passed Scabbers off to the DMLE.
He hadn't wanted to believe Ron when he said that Scabbers was Peter Pettigrew. Harry had supported him, and that had been the first real time that he'd split with his father's opinion of Harry Potter. His father had been right. His father deserved the Wizengamot seat more that Percy did.
Percy had grown over the past year to believe that Harry Potter was an attention seeking glory hound. Cedric's last letter, written to be delivered in the event of his death, had set him straight. Ginny had helped hammer that point in. He was sure that some people would see Potter's actions as buying off Percy. It was because of Harry Potter, and a bit of promotion from his good friend Oliver Wood, that Percy was the Seeker for Puddlemere United. He'd been hired as a reserve, but after he was put in during Sunday's game, they had traded the regular seeker to the Arrows. The proxy for the member from Durbretane may have placed Percy's name in nomination and thus arranged for Percy to join the Wizengamot, but it didn't take long for Percy to figure out that Harry was behind that.
It was not what Harry had done for him, unasked, unsought, unplanned for. No, it was Cedric writing about how Harry had told him about the dragons. About how Harry had been there and made sure how all the hostages in the second task were rescued. And it was Harry's tale, obviously heart wrenching, of how Voldermort had killed Cedric as nothing more than an unnecessary spare. No, it was Ginny, reminding him, recounting her first year, recriminating him for forgetting what Harry had done for her, reminding him that if it wasn't for Harry Potter, he would not have his favorite, his only sister.
Now, thanks to Harry, Percy had options that he'd never dared to dream for. The best he'd thought he could be, some day was an assistant to the Minister of Magic. It was something that he would have grabbed with both hands and a permanent sticking charm. Now he had a job that had only been in his most fleeting fantasies in his fourth year. Starting Seeker for the Puddlemere United. Percy smiled. Who would have thought that four eyed perfect prefect Percy, the big head boy, would end up with that job?
As he completed his check and cleaning of his new personal broom, his little sister came down the stairs, having changed out of the dressier clothes that she'd worn to the Surrey Wizengamot Office. Percy could now claim his own seat at any time. As Countess Snowdon had discovered, there was no limit as to how long, and the Queen had to approve the withdrawal of the offer. Given the fact that Percy's bank account was now over 500 galleons richer just because of the Queen's orders, he didn't expect that to happen any time soon. Percy's foot hit a box he'd hidden under the table. He smiled.
Waiting for his sister to pick up her usual snack and glass of pumpkin juice first, he spoke up. "Say, Ginny, would a Firebolt help keep me as your favorite brother?" Percy knew that his sister didn't play favorites with her brothers. They were always her favorite whenever she greeted them. It was a long running joke between Percy and his older brothers that each of them were her favorite, and she knew of it, taking particular glee at working each of them with that line. He pulled out the brand new Firebolt, with her name literally embossed in its handle. The snack and pumpkin juice fell to the floor as he found his sister suddenly in his lap, hugging him.
"Thank you! Now I can actually give Harry a challenge for his job!" Ginny said.
"You're a Weasley, Ginny. Quidditch is in your blood. Harry Potter doesn't stand a chance against you," Percy replied. "Of course, I'm hoping he doesn't go pro any time soon. There are not many who escape Hogwarts with just one lost game, and Krum thinks Harry might be able to beat him, someday."
"Want to play catch the snitch?" Ginny asked. "If it doesn't violate your contract, of course."
"Not a problem, I had Weasley family Quidditch games written into my contract," Percy said, heading for the door. "I'm also allowed to play against Harry and Cho anytime. Of course, we'll be playing with the professional grade snitch, so don't expect it to be easy."
"That sounds like a challenge, Percival," Ginny replied, following him, looking at the handle of her new broom.
"Oh it is, Ginevra, oh it is," Percy replied, mounting his broom. "You, me, professional grade snitch, and equal brooms. I intend to make sure you've got no excuses when I beat you this time."
"That assumes that you're going to win, and you know what they say about that," Ginny shot back, as the two of them shot into the air.
Percy smiled at his sister. He took the snitch, spelled to stay within the property, and released it. "On three," he said as soon as he lost sight of it. "One, two, three."
Ginny dove, and Percy followed her. The wind blew his robes outward, and tousled his hair. With no pressure to catch the snitch, he could let himself go, enjoy the feeling of the wind buffeting him, as he turned into it. Spotting the snitch he turned into a new direction, and his sister reached out with her foot and used a passing tree to make a sharper turn. Together they were neck and neck, heading after the snitch, laughter on their lips as they closed on the elusive winged ball. It escaped from their grasp, as their hands tangled. Separating, laughing they spun around, and the chase resumed.
It was dark before the game was over and Percy reentered the Burrow, arm around his little sister. Hot plates with dinner awaited them. Their mother had not called them in for it. Percy wondered why, but did not ask. Instead he enjoyed dinner with his little sister. As the wind rose, his thoughts briefly passed his earlier musing on Harry Potter. He would have to thank Harry for saving his sister.