Author's Note: One more chapter to go after this one, I think. Your feedback today is my birthday gift to myself.
For this chapter I would like to thank Jimbocous, MoKR, Ciaran Boyle, Shalon Wood, Joey Zoot, Cal., and drwho13.
Chapter Twenty Be Merciful to Us
Albus Dumbledore opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. Or at least it was unfamiliar at first. The arches above him were not the gray stone of Hogwarts, but white and cream. It was obviously a hospital of some sort, with the same scents that he would have smelled under Poppy's domain. There was a soft cry of a baby, cooing as its mother softly whispered undecipherable words. Albus looked toward the source of the sound, and spotted a row of hospital beds filled with pregnant young girls, and at least one young mother.
"Need some water, Headmaster?" Albus looked to his right to discover Harry Potter. Albus sat up and took the glass of water. "Drink it slowly, or Doctor Pulaski will never let me back. His threats were kind of refreshing, as usually I'm trying to get out, not stay in."
"What day is it?" Albus asked.
"August First," Harry replied, sitting down next to Albus's bed.
"I'm sorry I missed your birthday," Albus replied.
"It wasn't the best birthday I've ever had," Harry said, running his hand through his hair. The boy was dressed a t-shirt that had a drawing of the White Tower and something that he couldn't read without his spectacles. "Three executions and the closing of the Summer Wizengamont Session. You've really got to stop hiding things from me."
"I do not intent to do so any more, Harry. You are an adult now, if not in body, in soul and law. Though I'm not quite sure what I forgot to tell you," Albus said.
"Does the title Chief Warlock Pro Tem trigger your memory," Harry said. "Because if doesn't I might get stuck with it longer, and I would rather not, thank you very much."
Albus lowered his head, recalling the rule of merit member succession. "I hadn't considered your seniority in merit. In fact I thought that the Earl of Marchmont would have been my acting successor as the senior member in succession. I was the lone merit member for the last decade, before this past session's increase. How many do we have now?"
"You, me, Snowdon, Percy, Dirk Cresswell, Neville's gran ... six, I think," Harry said. "The Queen wants the Wizengamot back up to it's statutory maximum of three hundred thirty-three, though I really don't see how she's going to accomplish that, at least not quickly."
"Probably not in her lifetime," Albus acknowledged. "Now, what was this about executions. Last I remember I was fighting off Tom in front of Buckingham Palace."
"Well, Headmaster, maybe I should start there," Harry said. "I understand that Prince Edward was already involved in the fight, and the Snowdon had just joined the fight when you were knocked out. It seems that they were too much for him, though Peter Philips seems to like to tease his great-aunt that Tom Riddle didn't run until he arrived. Something about a fake Merlin's Staff. In any case, he brought you here to recover, and I got an early morning visit from the Queen informing me that I had to take up where you left off.
"It was a good thing that you let me preside a bit, so I wasn't a total fish out of water. We captured a few Death Eaters, and then Saturday at Midnight in the Lower Ward's ritual circles we reversed Tom Riddle's call of his Death Eaters to bring them all within what Hermione called the null point. They couldn't do magic for the next thirty-nine hours, which was a good thing, when we put them all on trial.
"They were all convicted of something, and most got a death sentence. Tom Riddle was put to death before sunset the day the Wizengamot convicted him, and three more joined him yesterday. There will be three more tomorrow, those that we allowed time to settle their affairs."
"Who?" Albus asked.
"Yesterday, Amycus Carrow, Alecto Carrow, and Thorfinn Rowle. Tomorrow will be Corbin Yaxley, Pius Thickness, and Owain Selwyn. Well, it would have been Yaxley, but he died this morning. They say it looks like natural causes, but the aurors are looking into it. Merula Snyde got off with a fine and time served due to the work of Owain Selwyn as her defense."
Albus bowed his head and softly said, "May the Lord have mercy on their souls, for thy forgiveness is beyond our comprehension, and may he have mercy on the souls of those of us forced to judge and sentence our fellow man."
"Amen," Harry replied after a moment's silence.
"So on more pleasant notes, did Arthur's bill pass?"
"With just six votes against it," Harry said. Albus's eyebrows rose. "I blame the Member from Lincolnshire, though he seems to think that my asking for the discharge petition on his advice sealed the fate of the bill. I still think Neville is underestimating himself."
"Augusta stepped aside in his favor?" Albus said surprised. He was sure that the Longbottom Regent had intended on staying in the Wizengamot until Neville was of age, and certainly wouldn't petition the Queen to allow the early ascension of her grandson.
"I think it was the Saint Mungo's funding that convinced her."
"I personally found the Auror funding quite impressive," Albus said. "He had Amelia putting forth a budget that she would have never in her wildest dreams believed she could get."
"Oh, that, well, don't credit that to Neville. Ron got that budget from Madam Bones's desk at home via Susan. She didn't know it was even going to be introduced until Draco introduced it as an amendment in committee. I really wished I'd been in that committee hearing to see her expression when the 'Real Funding That I Need But Will Never Get' amendment passed. I was in the Subcomittee on School Sports hearing with Sparky and Earl Marchmont, and missed it."
"Are we finally getting new brooms this year?" Albus asked.
"Complete replacement, and the girl's locker rooms are getting redone, too," Harry said. "I even got a bit of funding for a couple other sports. I'm hoping we can put together a decent football team together so we won't at least not embarrass ourselves when Eton comes to play."
"Eton?" Albus said, trying to keep his shock out of his voice. "That's a muggle school. The Statue of Secrecy prevents such interaction."
"Not quite, or at least not according to the Queen and Prince William," Harry said with a smile. "The Queen wants Hogwarts to be a little less isolated, ahead of William's little brother coming in ninety-six. It will be William's hand picked team of those in the know coming to play, and I think we might be getting some royal visitors this autumn, possibly very early in the term."
Albus thought on that a bit. It might be a good idea actually to have a bit more interaction, especially with the Royal Family. If the Queen came to Hogwarts, well that would certainly throw a few more cats among the ravens. Some of the more pureblood students could use a little more shaking up, and since Tom Riddle had been executed, perhaps now was one of the best times for it to happen.
Of course there were still questions. "Harry, how was Tom Riddle captured?"
"Did you know that Her Majesty the Queen has an Outstanding NEWT in Arithmancy? That an Ancient Runes, too. I had to have Hermione explain it to me, because I didn't take either of those classes. The Queen had the Upper Ward set up as a trap here at Windsor. The Queen just required enough captured Dark Marked wizards and witches to pull Voldemort into it. She had the wards at Findlater Castle brought down, and then triggered forced apparition into the ritual lines and runes that she'd set up. It drained them of their magic in the process. I was told none of them would be able to use magic for a week after the Queen caught them.
"The Queen might not be actively magical, but I don't think anyone would consider going after her, especially after looking at what that drained magic did to Windsor's wards. It might be the most well protected Castle, except for maybe Hogwarts, in the British Isles, now."
"That is good to hear," Albus said, laying back against his pillows. "I've long worried about the Queen's protection. There never seem to be enough wands around to protect her. Oh, the Countess Snowdon is good, and the Queen Mother should not be underestimated, but I've never quite felt they were enough. Do not, however, tell her I said that. I'm afraid I complained a bit too much about that in her presence a few too many times."
"I'm more worried about Prince William," Harry said. "He spent the whole summer as the Herald of the Wizengamot. He actually got a six page spread in Witch Weekly. I heard him begging Prince Charles to visit Diagon Alley."
Draco Amesbury watched as the last of the seven heads of the traitors were placed before the Traitor's Gate at the Tower. Technically they should have gone on the top of Saint Thomas Tower, but then again, the old sentence used to say that they would have been placed on London Bridge. The current London Bridge was entirely unsuitable for such a revival, as was the nearby Tower Bridge.
Draco had managed to get most of Slytherin House to join him on this trip to the Tower. While the heads of the traitors were bit of an object lesson that he hoped that some of his classmates would remember, that wasn't all that they were there for. After spending a lot of time at Windsor Castle, and with recent higher involvement of the Royal Family at the Wizengamot, Draco had come up with an idea and had managed to sell it to the Royal Family.
So now about a fifth of the current enrolled students of Hogwarts were gathered on the Tower Wharf, watching the head of Pius Thickness join the other six heads. It was a just a few minutes later that there was a pop of an arriving wizard, but not one in typical wizarding robes. This one was dressed in what Draco had learned was a typical modern suit of some quality. The only way you would have known that this was a wizard of some importance was that he had a tall oak staff with a deep blue jewel surrounded by branches.
It was the official staff of the Royal Wizard, known to some as Myrddin's Staff, but historically known to be the creation of Queen Anne, and had been a gift to her son William on the occasion of his eleventh birthday. He'd died shortly there after, a victim of incompetent doctors and a malignant curse cast by a rising Dark Lord supported by the Queen's Father. Queen Anne had taken up the staff herself upon her son's and slaughtered that Dark Lord and his followers, and gave it the official name of Gloucester's Revenge. It had been used, at least in official occasions by every Royal Wizard since.
"Welcome to the Tower, House of Slytherin, I am Prince Edward, the Royal Wizard, and today I will be your guide through this historic castle," the Queen's youngest son announced. "We shall be exploring Saint Thomas's Tower, the White Tower, and the Jewel House in the Waterloo Block. I realize this is quite a large group, but fortunately since you are wizards, I can use certain charms to make certain you all hear me. Now Ladies and Gentlemen, follow me. We'll be entering via the Henry III's Water Gate..."
Draco took his place at the back of the pack, he had just found out that both he and Pansy would be the fifth-year prefects, which had surprised him quite a bit. After all, Pansy was due in December. He figured that it was some sort of balance between the fact they were having a baby and him being a Lord of the Wizengamot. He snorted as he realized that there would be three of them, all fifth-years at Hogwarts this year.
His arm went around Pansy as he came to her side. "Are you okay, beloved?" he said, kissing her cheek.
"Just hoping this isn't going to be too long," Pansy said. "Either that, or their better be a bathroom in that tower, because you know my bladder lately."
"I know exactly where every bathroom is in the tour path," Draco said. "And I see you did take my advice about comfortable shoes."
"I'm pregnant, Draco, I only wear comfortable shoes now."
Vernon Dursley slid off his shoes as he turned BBC Radio 3, having placed a bucket of ice with some bottles of fizzy drinks in it beside his chair. It was quite late, but he wasn't going to miss the second Prom of the night, after missing the first. It included the works of Giovanni Gabrieli, and the Proms premier of three separate works of Charles Ives, plus the world premier of Judith Bingham's Salt in the Blood.
Vernon relaxed back in his reclining chair, and let the music float around him. There were some at work who would no doubt find Vernon's relaxation and listening to the Proms to be somewhat unmanly. Vernon found the Proms to be a grand British tradition, and he had even considered getting tickets to the Last Night of the Proms, sometime. It wouldn't be his first time attending that Prom, though. Back in his last year of school he'd snuck out and managed to get one of the standing room spots in the central area of Royal Albert Hall.
He hadn't been punished when he was caught by Headmaster Glock. The Headmaster had told him that it was the one thing that he'd let anyone sneak out for. It had caused Vernon to for just a little bit to return to playing the double bass, something that he had varying success with, and would not admit to at work, either. There was an unfair bias against the string section.
The opening piece, Giovanni Gabrieli's Buccinate in neomenia tuba, was a brass heavy piece. In fact much of the listed works were. Vernon had tried to get into the brass section when he'd started school, but there were only so many tubas, horns, trumbones, and trumpets available. He would loved any of those choices, but he'd ended up with first the cello and then the double bass, which he found quite boring to play. He was of the opinion that Pachelbell was a sadist. Eight notes, played over and over again.
He heard the door open softly, and knew that it could only be one person. Petunia had turned in early, and Dudley would have made a lot more noise. "Come in Harry," he called to his nephew. "Sit down, enjoy the music, have a soda."
His nephew entered the room dressed in a rather nice white shirt and woolen trousers. As usual his hair was tousled, but his nice new gold framed glasses, which Vernon had no idea when or where he'd gotten, in much better repair than any of the black framed ones that Vernon had provided him, grudgingly. Harry sat down on the couch, not exactly in a comfortable possition. It looked like he was about to bolt, actually.
"I assume you just came from your Wizengamot?" Vernon asked, trying to draw his nephew into a conversation, and hopefully make him a bit more at ease. He knew it would not be easy, but he had to try. His psychiatrist had told him that making amends was important, and there was no one that he'd wronged with this out of control temper more than Sir Harry James Potter, KCVO.
"I had to sign off on a few things," Harry said, shrugging.
"Your aunt tells me that you ended up presiding the last few days of the session," Vernon said, looking down at the boy's shoes, which were properly shiny, even in the low light of the parlor. "And kick off those shoes, you're home now, no need to wear those dress shoes around the house."
Harry bent down and untied his shoes. Vernon knew that Dudley would have just kicked off those shoes. "It seems that when the Chief Warlock is incapacitated, the senior most merit member by first swearing date is Chief Warlock Pro Tem, until he gavels the Wizengamot open again. I was the first of five new members to be sworn in since 1972, and only the Chief Warlock was still serving as a merit member from before that." Harry slid his shoes off, and neatly placed them beside the couch.
"And is the Wizengamot anywhere as a mess as Whitehall is?" Vernon asked. He admitted to being a bit curious. Wizards had always stuck him as conservative folk, who would no doubt have no problem with the current Tory PM, even with his declining majority and recent cabinet reshuffling.
"My first day we tried and convicted three members for treason, just this weekend we convicted three more, if that tells you anything," Harry said, his back finally touching the upright couch cushions. "Though I think they might be the last. The new members are good, especially Countess Snowdon who is the new Minister for Magic, and Neville."
"I read the article in the Daily Prophet about her, it sounds like she's a comic book hero in your world," Vernon said. He'd picked up a couple issues of the magical paper of record over the summer, though he was by no means a regular reader, yet. The work of seeing the Wizarding World as normal was still a work in progress, but seeing justice, finally, for his late baby daughter had helped, as had his psychiatrist with the witch for a daughter.
Harry chuckled. "She actually is one. At least a quarter of the girls in Gryffindor seem to collect The Adventures of the Snowdon: Royal Wizard. One of the girls in my house, Romilda Vane, told me that she was a legend greater than Merlin, which has to be going too far."
"I'm not sure, Harry," Vernon said. "My psychiatrist says that magic makes legends by its very nature. After all, did not the deaths of your parents by Lord Vole De Mole turn you it to a bit of one?"
"Don't remind me," Harry said, finally taking a more natural pose on the couch. "Mum gives her life for me, and suddenly I'm the Boy-Who-Lived. Never mind that I was a fifteen-month old toddler who was still in diapers."
"And judging from the state of your diapers the next morning, probably needing a change," Vernon said, picking up one of the chilled bottles. "Have a bottle of R. Whites. I'm pretty certain you're the secret lemonade drinker in the house."
"You caught me with it enough," Harry said, accepting the bottle. "I hope signing Voldemort's death warrant ends my adventures. I just want one normal year."
Vernon huffed. "Not bloody likely, Harry. You're a knight in shining armor to the Wizarding World. They expect you to pull their problems out of the fire."
"I think I've earned a year of normal life," Harry said, firmly. "First year was Voldemort going after the Philosopher's Stone which happened to be at Hogwarts for the year. Second year, was the Bassilisk of the Chamber of Secrets getting out thanks to Voldemort's diary being given to my best friend's little sister, and tomorrow night's date, Ginny. Third year the school was guarded by Dementors to protect me from my innocent escaped godfather. Last year was the Triwizard Tournament, which I got entered in against my will. I just want one year attending Hogwarts as a normal student."
"Harry, you've never been normal," Vernon said. "I may have called you a freak, but you're not that. You could have turned bitter. You could have been an angry boy, looking for revenge on the world that had done you wrong. By all rights, you should be, given how we treated you. Instead, you've always been one who tried his hardest to please everyone. You saw how you were treated as wrong, and how others were treated wrong, and didn't stand by, or just sympathize with their plight. You might not have had the power to help yourself, but you helped those you could.
"Quite frankly, Harry, you are an extraordinary young man, which we do not deserve any credit for. That being said, now that I know your world, and I have seen what you have done, I have to say that I'm proud to be your uncle, even if I don't deserve it."
Vernon looked over at his nephew, and saw the tears start to emerge from Harry's deep green eyes, glistening as they were caught by the light of the table lamp. It had been a long time since he'd seen his nephew openly cry in front of him, instead of sniffling while covering his face and cowering in the corner. This wasn't that type of crying either. No, this was different. This time it was not cruel words, or even crueler actions that had his nephew crying. Somehow Vernon knew that his nephew couldn't say any words in reply, so instead, he just turned up the radio just a bit, and listened as Charles Ives setting of Psalm 67, 'God be merciful unto us' began to play.
He could only hope that the words of the psalm would apply to them both.