The July session of the Wizengamot in the year 1956 was a very important day for every Lord and Lady of the British Wizarding society. It was during this session that the infamous Azeth system of spell classification was passed by the Wizengamot, with the declaration that the use of any spell outside the Light and Grey scale of the system as illegal. Any witch or wizard attempting to cast the spell would be thrown in Azkaban, the length and severity of the sentence depending on the spell used, the situation it was used in and the casualties involved. Introduced by Albus Dumbledore, the bill had been severely opposed by several members of the pureblood fraternity, the movement led by Arcturus Orion Black, the then Lord of the House of Black. However, the marks of Grindelwald's devastating attacks on Wizarding Britain were still fresh in the minds of the people. That, coupled with the word of Dumbledore and his followers, ensured that bill was passed, leading to the establishment of one of the darkest days for the Pureblood fraternity; the day when families lost their right to practice Family Magics in public, since the law effectively declared using them to be illegal. The Houses that stood with Arcturus Black later formed the infamous Dark Alliance, the name being a symbol of struggle against Albus Dumbledore and his propaganda against Dark magic.
When Orion Arcturus Black, the acting Lord of Black, publicly disinherited Sirius Black from the House of Black in 1977, the mantle of the Heir passed to their second son, Regulus Arcturus Black. After the deaths of Orion Black, his wife Walburga Black died in 1978 and the public pronouncement of their son, Regulus, as a Death Eater in 1979, it was acknowledged that the next Lord of the House of Black would be the first born son of Narcissa Melania Malfoy nee Black, wife of Lucius Abraxas of the Noble House of Malfoy. During the Death Eater trials of 1981 – 85, Lucius Malfoy had, using a large part of his fortune, effectively bought himself an out-of-jail ticket using the infamous Imperius defence, confident in the belief that the vast fortunes of the Black vaults would be under his control on the day his son, Draco Lucius, attained his majority and became the Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. That belief had given Lucius the power to challenge the Ancient Houses, namely the Houses of Nott and Rosier, and gain the allegiance of the other houses in the Dark Alliance. For the next decade, the Alliance had gone ahead to not only replenish the Malfoy fortune many times over, but had also gave him unfettered political power to shape the wizarding world, the likes of which could only be rivalled by Albus Dumbledore.
Now, the Malfoy name had been all but decimated by the actions of a fifteen-year-old boy who had proven himself to be the legitimate heir to the Black name, obliterating any possible authority that Lucius held on the Dark Alliance.
"Lucius?"
The mention of his name brought him out of his reveries. Standing on the balcony, Lucius turned around to see his wife standing close to him.
They stood in the Lord's study of the Malfoy Manor. Unlike the rest of the manor with its ostentatious decorations, the room was of a pale green color with black wooden furniture, crystal light sconces, two landscape paintings and a balcony overlooking the garden and the door sat opposite to it. The desk sat on the right wall and two shelves of tomes stood on the wall beside the balcony. Narcissa stood in the middle of the room, staring at her husband with guilt and hate. Gazing at her with barely disguised contempt, Lucius suppressed his sneer and turned back to the view offered by the balcony.
While not a connoisseur of natural beauty by any means, he preferred the balcony of his study During his childhood, when his father had begun teaching him the arts of subtlety and cunning, he had discovered that the view made it easier to focus his thoughts, especially during his occlumency lessons.
"Yes?" He asked absent-mindedly.
"The Alliance has arrived." replied Narcissa, her tone bitter. "They are waiting in the meeting room next to the hall."
Vultures. Lucius thought with a frown. He knew this would happen but he would not quell the resentment rising in him. "How many?"
"Eleven, including the vassals." Narcissa answered swiftly. She hoped the Malfoy name survived the meeting.
Lucius's frown deepened. Eleven. That makes three missing. Undecided maybe?
"Very well." He answered in a calm voice, as he stared into her eyes. If he showed any weakness now, he would never rise again. "It is about time I face them."
The conference room of Malfoy Manor, much like the Lord's study, was of simplistic design when compared to the rest of the manor. Dark green walls were complemented by cream accents; the furniture was polished cherry wood; the chairs upholstered with wood and soft furs and were forest green in colour.
Lucius walked past the filled chairs around the long table and took his seat at the head of the table: It was the right of the host. The members continued to talk to each other, ignoring his presence. Bastards! Resisting the urge to shout, he affected a calm look and cleared his throat as everyone seated around the sprawling glass table fell silent and turned towards him.
The familiar faces of fellow Alliance members looked at him with a variety of expressions on their faces. Nott and Rosier, Lords of Noble and Ancient Houses, held mild amusement and contempt in their eyes. Selwyn was absent, which was quite a cause for worry. Avery, Jugson, Mulciber, Yaxley and Rowle, Lords of Noble Houses just like him, had expressions running the entire gamut from anger to mockery. The Lestranges were a part of the Alliance too, though they were still locked up in Azkaban. Macnair, Travers, Crabbe and Goyle held ministry seats, the latter two being vassals of the Malfoy family themselves. Another four members were in Azkaban alongside the Lestranges.
"Thank you for attending this gathering on short notice." Lucius said. He decided to dispense with the usual verbal parley that was the usual routine when dealing with a group of mostly Slytherin graduates. "Let us not waste time and discuss the future of the Dark Alliance in light of the Dark Lord's return."
Edward Nott smirked. The sixty-year-old was part of the Wizengamot since the time of Lucius's father, Abraxas Malfoy, and led the House of Nott for nearly four decades. He knew how desperate Lucius was, despite the authority and arrogance he projected. The reference to the Dark lord was a good way of motivating the fellow Alliance members towards preserving the Alliance. Edward was pretty confident that if the Dark Lord had not returned, the Alliance would have fragmented faster than Lucius could say 'wait'. His son, Theodore, had not played any word games when describing the state of things at Hogwarts and, after all this time, he informed him of the stance he had taken. Edward had felt pride when his son had shown the Nott tenacity in his beliefs. At this moment, Edward could care less if the entire Alliance was dissolved. At the very least, things would certainly be interesting from this day forth.
"I shall start with orders the Dark Lord pass to me before we move ahead with Alliance business." Lucius began shrewdly. It was the path of least resistance at the moment. It was well-known that Lucius was the left hand of the Dark Lord during the First Wizarding War. That and the fact that Lucius's son would have taken the mantle of Lord Black in the future was the basis for the control he held over the Black Alliance.
"We could, Lucius…" Nott replied, tone rather shrewd. "However, the memo stated that the future of the Alliance was the top order of today's business. Unless of course, the memo changed when I wasn't looking." There was not a hint of question in his voice.
Lucius grit his teeth. Trust Nott to capitalise on the mistakes of others. The bastard!
"What could possibly be more important than anything to do with the Dark Lord?" Jugson commented, much to Lucius's elation.
"Indulge me." Nott smirked at his fellow Alliance member. Facing them all, he said "Keeping our… associations aside, we need to take some time to reconsider some of our decisions, particularly the recent developments at the Wizengamot. Besides, the Dark Lord is currently on the continent for Merlin-knows how long! Am I wrong, Lucius?" His smirk widened at their soon-to-be ex-leader.
Lucius nearly blanched at the words. It seemed that Nott was bent on milking the opportunity to the fullest. "Of course, Edward, but we shouldn't really put things like the Dark Lord's orders aside. It can create… unexpected results."
Edward ignored the veiled threat from the other man. "True. But as I said, indulge me for a moment. The Dark Lord is away to reform his great army from the continent, and we know that he has passed on orders to not disturb him except for the direst of situations. Since Lucius has never held the power over the House of Black, it is imperative that we all understand and appreciate the sudden change that is now thrust upon us."
"What is there to decide?" Avery sneered. "Black was Dumbledore's puppet during the war. We all know that."
"Yes, and we all know that Black was disinherited and Lucius's son was the next heir." Rosier barked, scorn dripping from his words. "I'm sure we all remember how wonderfully that turned out."
Nott turned to smile at Rosier. Benjamin Rosier was a fellow Lord, and understood very well that appearances were not everything. Besides, the trial of Ares Black gave information they never had; information that told them that their previous views had to be discarded and new plans made.
"I agree," Edward seconded his fellow Lord. "Ares Black, or should I call him Harry Potter, as I well remember, openly rejected Albus Dumbledore at the Wizengamot when the old man went ahead for his defense."
"It could be" Jugson commented. "that the entire thing was a complete charade."
"It would be a real shame to see the House of Black fall into the snare of the old fool Dumbledore." Mulciber added in his two cents.
Nott raised an eyebrow. "Are you idiots, Jugson, Mulciber?" Ignoring their affronted reactions, he said "Ares Black, formerly known as Harry Potter, was taken away by Sirius Black in 1981, and has stayed with him for all we know. The same Sirius Black whom Dumbledore tried to bring to court with flimsy proofs of Death Eater associations, although it was not enough. The same Sirius Black who has stayed out of Magical Britain for all these years, and has returned only because of the law that prevents Ares Black from taking up his seats at the Wizengamot without passing his OWL's and NEWT's from Hogwarts."
"I understand your point Edward but-" Lucius tried to halt Nott in his tracks.
"Do you?" Edward questioned, interrupting Lucius midway. He could not let Lucius dictate the terms of this meeting. "My son, Theodore, has established a good rapport with Ares Black during the first week of term, and he has informed me that Ares Black is, at best, neutral against both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord."
"He is?" Rosier asked, surprise shining in his eyes.
Nott nodded.
"This is far from what I expected." Benjamin answered thoughtfully. "The Boy-Who-Lived, A Neutral. Especially one who holds the mantle of the Black and Potter families."
"We cannot be sure of-" Lucius tried again. He was losing complete control of the meeting and, quite possibly, the Allaince. Nott and Rosier would not even give him room to breathe before they wrested over control from his hands.
"Lucius." Edward admonished. "You refuse to admit that you have been bested by a teenager. Irrespective of the chain of events that might have led you into jump into the flames, it does not change the fact that you were played for a fool." He paused for a moment before continuing. "I remember Orion bemoaning how his son was a prankster, a Gryffindor in all but name. Yet, the same son was able to prank the Wizengamot in manner that would have made Slytherin proud. From what I know, Ares Black displayed complete confidence in his ability to handle the situation, even when you pulled off that crazy stunt of sending Aurors to Hogwarts."
Lucius glared at him, his face flushed. It had been incredibly… Gryffindorish of him to go ahead with the plan without making sure that there was not a shred of truth in the boy's claims. A decade of holding the seat of power had made him lousy and over-confident. He had fallen due to his hubris.
"Let us not kid ourselves, gentlemen." Edward stood up as he addressed the audience. "Most of us have joined the Dark Lord because of three main factors. One, he is the Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Slytherin. Two, He promised to pave a path to a perfect world free from the muggles." Nott stared hard at Lucius, "And three, He was the perfect banner to stand against Albus Dumbledore's campaign against everything we held dear."
"You are heading down the path of a blood traitor, Nott." Yaxley said, a quiet rage seeping into his voice.
"Mind your place, Yaxley. Remember that you are talking to the Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Nott." Edward gave him a hard stare, making the other man steal his eyes away.
Rosier cleared his throat. "I believe that, our association with the Dark Lord aside, we should not be hasty in judging the agenda of the House of Black."
"And the House of Potter too." Rowle grunted. On Goyle's sharp look, he defended. "What? Charlus Potter held significant sway at the Wizengamot before the Dark Lord killed him." He glanced at Malfoy for a moment. "We shouldn't forget that this is Sirius Black and Harry Potter we are talking about. I bet my family fortune that Black would do anything he can to hurt the Dark Lord."
"Point." Rosier agreed.
"They have. I will give you that one," Nott agreed, "but it does not mean that they will. Old Arcturus chose Sirius over Orion for a reason after all."
"Just what… are you suggesting, Edward?" Lucius asked finally. If this was going to happen with or without his input, he may as well get it over with.
Nott considered his words. "I have it… on good authority, that Sirius Black will be present at the Wizengamot session this month. Whatever his agenda may be, we shall see for ourselves."
"How about assassinating the boy and Black?" Macnair asked, making his own presence for the first time since the beginning of the meet. Everyone, even Lucius himself, glanced at the executioner in surprise. "What?" He defended at their collective stare. "It would solve the problem in a single… stroke. The Dark Lord would be pleased too."
Lucius had always believed Macnair was an amoral sociopath. He didn't even believe the man cared anything about the agenda just so long as he got to kill and torture be it creatures or people. The words certainly did not help matters.
"Well, the idea has merit." Travers spoke coolly. "The boy did not banish Draco out of the family. If both Black and the boy suffer such a… tragedy, it would certainly simplify matters for everyone."
"Are you insane?" Nott barked. "An assassination attempt in the Ministry? And by lousy bastards like yourselves?"
Lucius withheld his comment, allowing the discussion to move on. Either way, it was indeed a fact that Ares Black had not disinherited Draco off from the Black line, and until the moment when Sirius Black informed him of the favours - he thought with a grim smile - he was technically free to make any moves, as long as they could not be linked to him. Besides, he could always have Fudge redirect the press statement in Lucius's favour, stating that it was some terrorists wishing harm to the Boy-Who-Lived or something along those lines. Hmm… he would have to talk to Macnair about it.
"We could always hire assassins from the continent. The session is two weeks away." Avery offered his opinion.
"What do you think, Edward?" Rosier asked genially. "They have a point. It would stop any changes in our plans, and keep Lucius from losing everything to Black."
Nott felt conflicted. It was true that he had been a death eater in the last war, but he had always been a financial backer on the Dark Lord's side. Unlike the others, he was a man of refined tastes and thought himself above such activities like muggle-hunting and killing of muggleborns. Back in the 1970's, the Dark Lord had been the sole banner to stand behind, since the only other force was Dumbledore and no self-respecting pureblood would join that barmy old codger. With the recent changes in the political atmosphere, and from his discussions with young Theodore, he had hoped that the new change would give them another faction, one other than Dumbledore or the Dark Lord. But now….
He had joined the Dark Lord because the man promised a world of their dreams. However, Edward was neither foolish nor blind. Despite his claims as the Heir of Slytherin, the Dark Lord had never once tried to take his Wizengamot seat. Edward could bet his right hand that had the Dark Lord taken over the Slytherin seat at the Wizengamot, it would mean absolute defeat for Dumbledore, without any bloodshed. Instead, the Dark Lord had gone ahead with a hare-brained plan of assassinating people holding key places in the Wizengamot, followed by terrorist tactics, creating a long period of war that destroyed over half the pureblood families that existed during that period.
History was going to repeat itself, Edward knew, and these morons were doing their very best to hasten the destruction of the world they claimed to care about.
It seems I need to hasten my plans.
"Edward, what do you think?" Benjamin asked him again.
"I admit" Nott answered, his bright blue eyes staring at Lucius calculatingly. "that the plan is indeed plausible. However, have you even considered the cons side of this… grand plan?"
"What do you mean?" Jugson exclaimed.
"I mean," Nott turned his eyes towards the other man. "What happens when the plan fails? For all we know, our esteemed Lord Malfoy here" He paused, pointing towards Lucius who bristled at being singled out. "has made a mockery of himself and is condemned to grant three favours to Lord Black, who has, for some unknown reason, not yet called in said favours. Hypothetically, if the attempt should fail, who do you think the Lord Black will think is the culprit?"
Edward now faced Lucius as he stood up. "I am older and, perhaps wiser. Tell me Lucius, what stops Sirius Black simply asking you to handover the Malfoy fortune over?"
Lucius blanched at the thought.
"And even then…" Edward smiled a smile of malice. "That's just one favour. Besides, he can simply decide to get your son and your wife as outcasts of the family, or even worse, ask you for something that would make Death more lucrative than living?" His eyes glinted as he stared into Lucius's hazel irises. "He might not have declared you as a blood-traitor, Lucius, but do not forget the fact that right now, you are all but Sirius Black's bitch."
Lucius fidgeted at the thought. It was true that Narcissa was the sole reason that stopped Ares Black, and by extension, Sirius Black from demolishing the Malfoy name to ashes that day. The assassination attempt might just destroy his House completely.
"That only happens when the assassination fails." Macnair commented slowly, ignoring everyone else. "We hire the best of the best. And we know that Black will be focussed on protecting the boy more than himself. If we kill Black, we can threaten the boy to keep his wits to himself and hand over the Lordship if he wants to live."
"And where exactly would you find such assassins?" Rosier challenged.
Macnair's face twisted into a menacing grin. "Tell me Rosier, have you heard of the organization named Black Death?"
Office of the Deputy Headmistress, Hogwarts.
Despite being one of the most accomplished Transfiguration Mistresses in the magical world, teaching at Hogwarts for over forty years was never what Minerva Mcgonagall had in mind when she had first applied for the post of assistant professor at Hogwarts. Her husband, Elphinstone Urquart had been a war-wizard for the ICW, participating in the war against the abomination that was Gellert Grindelwald. Her son Jason had just graduated from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and was planning to take a job at the Romanian Dragon reserve. With both of her boys away, the forty-two-year-old had decided to temporarily halt her attempts at creating a new thesis on the trending animagus research during those days, and decided to live the life of a professor for some years at her alma mater, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It would keep her busy until her husband had returned and keep her mind off her worries over his life. The ambitious part of her mind also convinced her that studying under the tutelage of Transfiguration Master Albus Dumbledore, who was then Professor of Transfiguration and her own teacher, was an extremely lucrative offer. She had decided to listen to her desires and applied for a post in early 1943.
At first sight, everything seemed perfect. While teaching was quite the arduous activity and some of the children would give her grey hairs before the year was out, it was quite enjoyable and kept her from worrying too much, especially about her husband who was still fighting in Europe. The days of lonesome self-funded research were long gone. Her days were now spent teaching her students, grading assignments and exams and the usual patrols undertaken by the teachers. She soon learnt she had a passion for teaching and that, combined Dumbledore teaching her the history and versatility of Transfiguration magic on weekends made her feel that her life was going to be perfect.
She now recognised it for the beautiful lie it was.
Ten months after she joined Hogwarts, she received a Floo call. Elphinstone had met his demise during the rout of Grindelwald's forces at Dusseldorf. Jason, who had always been harshly critical of his father's job, was now incensed beyond reason. The death of his father had only served to compound his anger. The fact that his very own mother was working under Dumbledore, the same Albus Dumbledore who, according to the rumours, had helped Grindelwald become what he was, was too much for him. He became reclusive, staying away from Great Britain; away from his mother, who was left all alone at Hogwarts with a professorship.
And then, came the year of 1945. Albus Dumbledore took an extended leave of absence, which was rather surprising since the man did not even take the occasional day off in the thirty-five years of his service as a teacher at Hogwarts. It had come as a shock to all who knew the man as a near reclusive, the man who had very nearly shunned any form of human contact beyond his colleagues and the students who passed through the school. Then again, the rumours about him and Grindelwald pervading all through Magical Europe and the constant pleas and threats from him to join the war against the monster he had allegedly created were too much for anyone, especially for Dumbledore of all people who was at the centre of the rumours. People were dying and Grindelwald seemed unstoppable.
A few months later, the international and local newspapers of Europe and Britain exuberantly declared how Albus Dumbledore, member of the 44th regiment of the ICW, had defeated Gellert Grindelwald in a titanic duel, ending the War of Flames. Minerva had been elated beyond belief, rejoicing the fall of the man whose actions had torn apart her family.
If that were the only effects in the aftermath of the war.
Shortly after his return to Britain and Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore had been crowned as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW. The entire year that followed saw Albus Dumbledore having to attend variety of conventions and meetings with the some of the most influential people from the magical communities of the world. Nearly two years after Dumbledore's return to Hogwarts, Headmaster Armando Dippet decided to resign, passing on the responsibility of the post to Dumbledore. None were surprised by the announcement. Passing on the position of the Head of House Gryffindor and the Transfiguration professorship to Minerva, Albus Dumbledore shifted from the life of an educator to that of a consummate politician. Three years later, Minerva McGonagall found herself raised to the position of Deputy Headmistress, responsibilities that she had been managing in Dumbledore's absence for over half a decade, especially considering how often the man had been away, busy because of his duties as the Chief Warlock and as the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW.
A decade later, James Potter had entered her life. Her old friend Dorea Potter nee Black had given birth to a baby boy after a long time; and had asked her to be his Godmother. It had been one of Minerva's proudest moments. It almost made up for the seven years of her getting grey hairs from the antics of her godson and his band of rogues during their time at Hogwarts.
Then, there was Lily Evans, the child who made her proud to be the Head of Gryffindor and later the woman who changed her godson for the better and the woman responsible for the Order of the Phoenix's victories in the war against the Death Eaters. Her fierce defense of those she considered friends and a no-nonsense attitude had endeared her to Minerva.
The two of them almost made up for the loss of her own son departing away from her life.
Then came 1981, and the event that destroyed her world again. James was dead. Lily was dead. Sirius Black had taken her grandson away with him. She saw Dumbledore do his worst to get the baby back from his lawful godfather, completely ignoring all of her protests against the action. Then, the trial of Regulus Black where the death eater openly slandered Sirius Black as a death eater. Amelia Bones had completely ignored his testimony, quoting that Regulus's mind was too broken for the accusation to be taken seriously, especially when a death eater was accusing one of the most celebrated aurors of the Ministry.
She had spent the next decade continuing to teach her student. Her loud protests against Dumbledore's actions to retrieve Harry went ignored; even her friends had distanced themselves from her. All these events, combined with her former mentor's utter disregard from the ethics and morals, the same very morals he had taught her, disillusioned her to the decency of the world, especially when an entire country supported his actions.
Now, fourteen years later, the child of her late adopted family, Harry James Potter, had arrived at Hogwarts thanks to the actions of an old man too set in his ways. Only, he was Ares James Black, Heir of Potter and Black…. She paused for a while as she corrected herself mentally. Potter, Black and Slytherin. Once again, people had targeted the child in their greed for power and she had been unable to do anything about it. If anything, she had been forced to walk alongside the Auror to Harry Potter's rooms to get him arrested.
Minerva felt the irrepressible urge to scream out to the heavens at her impotence. She had been unable to do anything for her husband, her son and her godson. She would be damned to the fires of hell if she allowed herself to stay quiet now. Trouble was brewing around the child she considered her grandson and she would not let it pass.
Staring at the banner of Gryffindor House in her private quarters, Minerva McGonagall was reminded of the principles that the symbol represented.
Filled with a newfound sense of purpose, she stood up from her chair, walked up to the Floo and threw Floo powder into the fireplace. As soon as the flames turned green, she called out.
"Longbottom estate."
Meanwhile in Longbottom Manor.
Augusta Longbottom nee Crouch had been a widow for over twenty years, ever since her husband Gerald Longbottom, a senior Auror in his time, died on the service on the line of duty. The regency of House Longbottom had passed to Gerald's brother Algernon Longbottom, until her son Frank would come of age to take up the Lordship. Fate, however, had other plans for her, as her only son Frank and his wife Alice had been tortured to insanity by the murderous bitch Bellatrix Lestrange and her family. It had been an even greater shock when she realized that the Lestranges had been able to enter through the wards of the manor because her own nephew Bartemious Crouch Junior, a secret death eater, betrayed her family by giving them access to the wards.
Augusta had been devastated beyond belief. Her son and daughter-in-law had been tortured to insanity and had to be shifted to St. Mungo's Permanent Spell Damage ward, leaving the one-year old Neville as the sole heir to the Longbottom legacy. She had continued to wallow in her grief for a couple of years, ignoring her most important responsibility until young Neville had neared his fifth birthday.
March 19, 1985.
Augusta Longbottom had just returned home from a visit to St. Mungo's. Seeing her son and her daughter-in-law in the condition they were in never really helped matters but it did soothe her heart to know that they were alive and in treatment, however futile said treatment was. She had just crossed the greenhouses and reached the main entrance of Longbottom Hall when-
SPLASH!
"It's all right, Neville. Don't panic. Just relax and let the magic happen." Algernon was shouting, trying to sound as positive as possible, although it was possibly the worst kind of advice one could give to a drowning boy. Especially considering the fact that Neville had yet to demonstrate any signs of accidental magic so far. The boy struggled to keep himself afloat, only to drown again and again, trying to raise his head up several times in the process.
"Do it Neville. Make your grand-uncle proud." Algernon was shouting.
"NO!" Augusta shrieked in fright, as she raced towards Algernon. Pushing him out of her path, she whipped her wand up to pull the drowning boy up.
It wasn't necessary.
The entire pool turned into a whirling water sprout, and from the centre of it, the semiconscious body of Neville Longbottom shot out, flew in an arc towards the ground, before Augusta slowed the boy down and caught him before he hit the ground. Drenched and completely exhausted, the little boy lost consciousness.
"What exactly do you think you were doing?" Augusta raged at the other man who just held his composure despite her anger and spite. "He could have died."
"But he didn't." Algernon replied calmly. "He demonstrated magic, which is more than anything that he has ever managed to do for all this time."
"I care about him being alive more than him having magic." Augusta snarled, her wand hissing dangerously as it glowed an ominous purple.
"Oh really?" Algernon sneered. "Is that why you keep mentioning how your grandson is so unlike your dear Frank? At least I am honest."
What? Augusta thought. "I didn't-"
"Oh, shut it, Augusta!" Algernon barked. "Your grandson is a near-squib, whether you accept it or not. It took him nearly drowning for his magic to react. Besides, your complaints about the boy's inaptitude for magic and weak personality is beginning to grate on my nerves. It would be better for us all if you relinquished the Lordship to me already."
Augusta took a step backward in shock. It was true that in her sadness, she had treated Neville harshly, comparing him to her Frank every chance she had. She had ignored the boy's love for plants and forced him to demonstrate accidental magic. With that came another realization, how she had planned Neville to yield Frank's wand when the time came up.
"I- I admit," she replied finally, her tone broken with regret. How could I have been so blind?... "I tried to see Neville as a clone of his father, but I was- I was wrong." She eyes glinted with determination. "However, that was my mistake and I will correct it. I don't care if my grandson is a squib or a wizard, but he is Frank's son, and that is worth more to me than the world." Glaring at Algernon, she said "If you ever, ever try to take his heritage away from him, so help me I will curse your worthless arse to the other side of Europe."
Algernon stared at her with a blank look before it softened into a smile. "Well, that is good to know. Now I can safely return back to my farm."
Augusta blinked at the sudden change in demeanour. "Wait- what do you?"
Algernon laughed. "I am suffering from dragon pox, Augusta." He chuckled at her look of disbelief. "Last stage. I might just last two years, if that."
For the first time in years, Augusta Longbottom spluttered. "Then- what about the Lordship – you - I mean-"
Algernon coughed with a hacking sound, before he gave out a blood-stained grin. "As I said, I might survive two years. My arrival here was only to check if young Neville was growing up all right in the absence of his parents." He gave a fond look at the unconscious boy lying down on the grass. "I can't say you performed very well."
"I supposed I got a Dreadful." Augusta answered bitterly.
Algernon laughed. "Well, if it helps you any better, you can increase your score by treating Neville the way he deserves. Not the way he has been treated thus far. Little Neville has a green thumb, and although it might seem like he is only good for Herbology, you forget that he holds the blood of Vikings in them. There is a special meaning of having a green thumb in the Viking legacy. Unless of course, you do not know your magical history…"
"You mean…" Augusta felt her knees weaken. "you can't mean… druidic…" There was a touch of reverence at the end.
Algernon smiled.
Ten years had passed since that incident, and now her young Neville had grown up into a strong wizard, one with great potential. Though the boy did not have an affinity for transfiguration, he seemed to demonstrate an aptitude for charms, apart from the prodigious green thumb he was blessed with. Pomona raved about his abilities and had already approached him with an offer of apprenticeship, which her grandson had accepted. Augusta had been only too glad to give her permission.
Seated on the couch in the parlour of Longbottom Hall, Augusta looked up from the accounts she was reading when the Floo flared with bright green light as she recognized a Floo Call trying to access through the wars. She quickly approached the green flames, throwing in a pinch of powder, allowing the call to connect. To her surprise, it was Minerva McGonagall, her long-time friend and Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts.
Minerva, herself and Dorea Black had been a tight-knit group of friends when she had studied at Hogwarts. After graduating from the school, she had gone ahead to get her mastery in battle-magic from the Munich Academy of Sorcery, while Minerva had chosen to try for a mastery in cross-species transfiguration. Dorea Black had gone ahead for a mastery in Charms, before she married Charlus Potter, the then Lord of House Potter. Later in her life, Augusta had taken up a seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors and the close friendship between her and Minerva had reduced to friendly acquaintance.
"Miner- Professor McGonagall." Augusta muttered.
"Just Minerva is fine, Gus. How are you?"
Her eyebrows raised, the Longbottom matriarch answered, "Not bad. Any reason for the surprise call?"
Minerva seemed conflicted for a moment. "There is. May I come over?"
"Sure."
Sometime later…
"So let me get this straight." Augusta stared at her friend in surprise and not a little bit of wonder. "You, Minerva McGonagall, wish to reactivate the Wizengamot seats from your inheritance and use them to help Harry - I mean, Ares Black?"
Minerva nodded.
"While I appreciate your initiative to help the boy, I do not think that the Noble and Ancient House of McGonagall is going to make any difference to him or to the Wizengamot in general. I mean, I know that brings in three votes, but you must understand that-"
Minerva smiled at her friend, causing Augusta to stop and stare at her in confusion. "I cannot believe you, of all people, forgot my heritage, Augusta. Don't you remember anything about my mother?"
"Emily McGonagall, yes. Why won't I?" Augusta frowned in thought, focusing on what she knew of the late Lady of House McGonagall. "As far as I remember, she was descended from the-" Augusta's eyes widened when the answer struck. "The Ancient and Noble family of Ross."
Minerva smiled primly. "Which brings in another three votes. Then, there is my husband's family."
"Elphinstone Urquart, I remember." Augusta remembered with a frown. "But Urquart isn't a Noble House from what I remember."
Minerva smiled. "You are losing your edge, Gus. I am the only remaining member of the Urquart family, and can submit the Urquart name as a vassal under the Ancient Family of McGonagall-"
"Which grants Urquart one vote under the Wizengamot charter for the House of McGonagall." Augusta replied appreciatively. Gazing shrewdly at her friend, she said "You have given this a fair amount of thought, haven't you?"
The stern Transfiguration professor simply nodded at the words. "I know that Sirius Black is innocent, and that Harry- Ares thinks highly of the man. The Black and Potter family brings in five and three votes of their own, which isn't enough, but with another seven-"
Augusta smirked at her old friend. "You are thinking of an alliance, are you?"
"I am." Minerva confessed. "However, I need another Ancient House or higher to back my proposition at the Wizengamot, and I couldn't think of anyone else. I was hoping if you could…"
Augusta chuckled. "Of course, Minerva, I will." She went ahead and held the other woman's shoulder softly. "However, tell me something. Why are you trying so hard?"
Minerva sighed. "I have watched Albus try to abduct James and Lily's boy again and again. I have watched Lucius Malfoy drag him away from Hogwarts in chains. Granted, he was escaped all the attempts on his life and he played the politicians for fools. But… He is just a boy, Augusta. What happens when he is caught off guard and needs allies? I need to be provide what help I can, however little it may be."
Augusta looked thoughtful. Her daughter-in-law Alice was best friends with Lily Evans and was the godmother to Harry. Above all, Harry was Dorea's grandson. Besides, her son had mentioned a prophecy and how her Neville and Harry could be the chosen one of said. A part of her had been very happy when she had heard that the Dark Lord had chosen to go after Dorea's grandson instead of her own. She had failed a lot of people in her life, but this was a chance to make up for it.
"You won't be the only one." She replied at last.
"What do you mean?" Minerva asked in surprise.
Augusta smirked. "You forget that the Dark Lord could have as easily attacked my son instead of the Potters."
Minerva's eyes widened. "The prophecy."
Augusta nodded. "The bastard chose Dorea's grandchild when it could just have been my own. And now, He is back. If Dorea's grandson is the one that can defeat him, my place is behind the young man, supporting him. Dorea would have done the same for us." Her last sentence was wistful.
Minerva nodded, a tear trickling down her left eye. "She would." She could not forget the fierce woman who had once taken on three of You-Know-Who's assassins and wiped the floor with them. She and Lily had quite a lot in common, creating a bond between the two.
Augusta stood up straighter, staring at Minerva in the eye. "The Noble Most Ancient House of Longbottom will stand with you. So too will the Noble House of Crouch."
Minerva's eyes widened. "Of course, Barty Crouch."
Augusta nodded with an angry expression on her face. "My brother's line was responsible for the fate of my son and daughter-in-law. It is only right the same line should now help defeat Voldemort for good. The Houses of Longbottom and Crouch will stand with you."
"That brings in another six votes, enough to make a difference." Minerva answered, astonished.
Augusta smirked. "You forget the other players, Minerva. My grandson reports that the Potter heir is very close with the Greengrass heiress, which brings in another Ancient House into the tally. That, including the vassals of the Greengrass family, we can get a bloc of our own, strong enough to support Dorea's grandson."
Minerva smiled. "That is not all."
"What do you mean?" Augusta asked genially.
"Harry is the Heir to a third House, A Noble and Most Ancient House, which brings in another-"
"Hold on, another Most Ancient? Besides Black?"
Minerva nodded.
"Which one?" Augusta challenged.
"I really… couldn't say." Minerva answered evasively.
Augusta observed her friend's reaction before she nodded. She knew every seat on the Wizengamot. Which seat would the Potter Heir have claim to. As far as she knew, the Potters were at least a few generations off from the parent line of any House besides the Blacks… "Alright." She let out a sigh. "Thirty-one votes. It is enough to make a significant difference at the Wizengamot." She clapped her hands giddily. "It will be quite fun playing. We have a good power bloc, and that's too ignoring the fact that I could convince Amelia to join our Alliance. The Bones and the Abbotts have their own vassals and are a minor stronghold of their own."
Minerva chuckled at her friend's antics. The Longbottom matriarch was a rather intimidating figure in politics, especially considering she was feared by several houses and rarely voiced her opinion, except on the most important of matters. Since the Black seat stayed dormant for the past sixteen years, the Longbottoms were the only Most Ancient line active in the Wizengamot, a fact which brought the house quite a bit of power. After all, there was a reason why no one, with the exception of Draco, dared to publicly act or speak against Neville.
"Three Most Ancient Houses… it will be a freaking circus." Augusta thought giddily, before a thought struck her. "Wait a minute, are you completely sure that Dorea's grandson will want your support in the first hand? It would be shame your House if Potter and Black demonstrate even the least bit of hesitation."
For the first time in years, Minerva McGonagall smirked.
Office of the Minister of Magic.
In politics, nothing ever happens by accident. If something does occur, you can bet your life there was a plan behind it. Wise words from his late father, Hiram Fudge, that Cornelius truly believed in. And considering the fact that there were very few scruples that the man followed; this was one belief he rigidly adhered to.
Cornelius had been average worker through his life. His elder brother had gone abroad to pursue a career in International law enforcement while he had to settle for a job at the Department of Magical Affairs at the Ministry, a dead end job pushing papers through the meagre department. Then again, his Acceptables in the NEWT's hardly deserved anything better than that. A reference from some family friends, and his own father's reputation as the Head of Department ofInternational Magical Cooperation, gained him a comfortable position of an Undersecretary to Bartemious Crouch in less than three years, the then Head of the DMLE.
It had taken him very little time to understand the way wizarding Britain worked. Cornelius was not a leader or an authority figure, but he had a nice affinity for twisting the media towards his own purposes and understanding what made people tick. His position as an undersecretary allowed him to understand the flow of politics in the Wizengamot, especially since Crouch trusted him with the important political missives.
His careful study of the politics and the various Houses and members provided him with one undeniable fact: Despite claims to the contrary, Albus Dumbledore held a lot of political capital at the Wizengamot. So Cornelius had dutifully performed lip-service to the man, asking for his opinion every now and then on a variety of affairs at the Ministry. His ability to behave like a good pawn had proved to be a great talent, as was the nose to dig out gold from a prospective situation, something that would have made any self-respecting niffler jealous.
Then came 1982.
Millicent Bagnold had suffered a lot of negative publicity because of her inability to lead Magical Britain in the war against You-know-who. Her term was about to end and if one were listening to speculations, Bartemious Crouch was going to be the next Minister. His hard line stance against the Dark Lord's forces, along with the swift justice he exacted from the terrorists earned him the limelight in the aftermath of the Dark Lord's defeat. The fact that the Most Noble House of Crouch held a lot of respect bolstered his efforts.
And then, everything changed in one single incident.
The trial of Igor Karkaroff on March 20, 1982.
Bartemious Crouch Junior, the only son of the DMLE head himself, was revealed to be a Death eater, sold out by Igor Karkaroff in the hope that he would get freedom from imprisonment. And then the public began speculating once again.
What kind of a Minister would Barty Crouch be?
How would he be able to lead the country when he couldn't lead his own son onto the right path?
Once the prime candidate for the post of the Minister for Magic, Bartemious found himself struggling to save his own name. Both the general population and the politicians, willing to act on an opportunity, began to question his efforts as the Head of the DMLE. The general rumour was that Barty had used his son to make some… unimpressive wins against the Dark Lord's forces to earn the limelight. It was also conjectured that Barty Crouch was actually a Death eater sympathizer himself. Letting Barty assume the post of Minister would only aid the Dark Lord. After all, the Dark Lord had fallen to the Boy-Who-Lived, not Bartemious Crouch.
Cornelius witnessed the man get tossed away into the hellhole of defamation, despite all his contributions to the Wizarding world. The idea of Barty Crouch being a Death-eater sympathizer was reinforced by certain… documents sent anonymously by a certain someone in the Ministry. Someone who had been his undersecretary all this while.
It had taken only a little mix of sympathy and support on Cornelius's end, and old Barty had been convinced. Bartemious publicly cancelled his own nomination, and offered his support to Cornelius Fudge, his own undersecretary, who was known for being a rather genial idiot to the Wizengamot and the Ministry. In return, Fudge promised that he would ensure Barty would head a Ministry department for the rest of his life.
The principle, Cornelius found, was simple. In times of peace, people tended to vote for one who promised the least, because he would be the least disappointing. With Millicent already out of the game and Crouch supporting his nomination and Albus Dumbledore voicing his approval, Cornelius Fudge saw a rapid ascent to one of the most prestigious positions in Wizarding Britain: The Minister of Magic.
Events after his appointment became quite murky. Lucius Malfoy, who had been caught as a Death-eater, claimed that he was Imperiused during his trial. Several other… conditions, ones subtly forced by Minister Fudge, made sure of the fact that Lucius Malfoy walked off the stand with barely a slap on the wrist. Of course, the same idea later helped a couple more death eaters escape sentencing.
Thanks to his… discrete efforts, Cornelius Fudge gained a regular source of income via donations from the Malfoy fortune, the political support of the future Black Heir, and the Dark Alliance in general. Making sure that he kept Albus Dumbledore… satiated from time to time ensured that things ran smoothly at the Ministry. The addition of a rather cynical and blood-purist bitch known as Dolores Umbridge had turned out to be one of his smartest decisions. Dolores had quite the effective ability to sniff dirt off Wizengamot members faster than any dog, a talent that Cornelius used to the maximum. The fact that she could profit from a situation while keeping her hands clean reminded him too much of, well, himself really.
And then after so many years, everything changed. Starting with the damned trial of the Harry frickin' Potter.
The boy… the damned boy had taken them by surprise. When Lucius had informed him about the situation and his plan to take care of the boy, he had undertaken the arrest personally, with the belief that it would be a good way to subjugate the House of Potter before his - ahem, Lucius's power.
Instead, it was the boy who had been playing them. Harry Potter – ahem, Ares Black had taken their little plan, turned it onto itself and made them look like daft idiots in front of the Wizengamot. Plus, the establishment of Ares Black as the next Black Heir annihilated any and all of his dreams of being in the good books of the Black family, and now there was very little he could do to save his own arse.
"Hem-hem."
The sound of his undersecretary clearing her throat drove him out of his reveries. While he was irritated at the interruption, it would, perhaps, be good to discuss his worries with someone who understood him. Dolores was the best person to discuss the affairs in the present circumstances, since it seemed that his dear friend Lucius was headed for a long fall ahead.
"Yes, Dolores?"
"Minister, I was hoping to ask you, about the Black situation." Dolores replied. She had been itching to speak to Cornelius about it, and she would not lose this chance.
Cornelius frowned. He knew his secretary too well to not know when she was pursing her agenda; an agenda which he believed he had an idea of. "What about it?"
Dolores smiled like a child high on candy.
To be honest, Cornelius found it to be quite terrifying.
Still smiling, Dolores said "I mean, with the Dark Alliance set to fracture real soon, what is going to be our… behaviour towards the new Lord Black?"
Cornelius scowled. Sirius Black was a complete unknown. For a second, he cursed Albus Dumbledore for passing the law that all but forced Harry Potter and Sirius Black to return to Britain. Had they been away, Lucius's son would go on to become the Black Lord, and Cornelius would remain comfortable. Now, however….
Staring at his undersecretary with shrewd eyes, he asked, in a tentative tone of voice. "What… do you have against the Lord Black, Dolores?"
Dolores Umbridge had an unreadable expression on her face. "Nothing too… solid. Anything on Sirius Black predates 1982, which is technically ancient by all standards. Harry Potter has quite the list of skeletons, but none of them are of any use to us, not since the trial."
"The newspaper article." Fudge mused, inwardly cursing his blind belief in Lucius instead of verifying with sources. "We did come on the boy too heavily with the publicity we surrounded the event with."
Dolores scowled in indignation. She hadn't been able to forget how the puny little teen had shown her up amongst the other members of the Wizengamot. "That is impossible." She hissed. "Are you seriously suggesting that we have to play nice with that… that… brat?"
Cornelius sighed. "Politics isn't the art of the possible, Dolores. It is about choosing between the disastrous and the unpalatable. And right now, my survival instincts are telling me that being in Lord Black's good books is the way to go."
While she could accept Cornelius's reasoning, Dolores did not have to like it. Hoping to try and dissuade him, she asked "But Lord Malfoy isn't going to like that very much, would he?" It had generally helped in the past.
"Lucius will be too busy handling the aftermath, I am afraid." Cornelius sighed. He knew the game was playing. She always had a massive inferiority complex. "We have to play the game, Dolores. We either play the game or get crushed by the players. That is the way it goes on."
Dolores wiped the scowl off her face, replacing it with a fake cheesy smile. "Of course, Minister." She hoped that she soon found enough rope to hang that brat with.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: New additions to our Roster
PETER PETTIGREW – DANE DEHAAN
CORBAN YAXLEY – JOHN NOBLE
MARCUS JUGSON – ANDY SERKIS
EDWARD NOTT – JED BROPHY
BENJAMIN ROSIER – CHRISTOPHER ECCLESTON
So, we're back from hibernation. Took some time to get some things going, but we are on a roll, however temporary it may be.
Thanks to all reviewers who loved the previous chapters. Too bad for those who didn't. Now, to answer certain reviews
To Smutley Do Wrong: You are right on the money on quite a few points. Thanks for pointing out a few mistakes and mishaps. Your idea is pretty cool. Maybe we will do it. Only time will tell. The dummy is a specialized version used at Durmstrang, designed to replicate the effects of curses.
Frozenwave: Thank you for liking the story. We did plan on using flashbacks in between the lines. But we had too much PAST to write. So, we went with our current modus operandi for this fic.
MichiruKaio: Well, a non-linear story was our second idea and we went with it. Glad you like it.
Kevblkred: Sorry for not writing the story to your liking. Would you like some fries to go with that?
Now, onto the cast of the TLOTP
Sirius: Sorry, buddy.
James: Why?
Sirius: I slept with Lily.
James: WHAT?
Sirius: On your wedding night.
James: No- Bu- It- I was awake all night.
Sirius: We legilimized you to think that.
James: Why y-
Lily: Obliviate. Stupefy. *James is struck out* Padfoot, darling. Look what you did. Now I have to change his memory again. That's the third time this week.
Sirius: I know. But it's quite funny to see his reaction.
Lily: Well, want to try it with him in the room?
Sirius: You read my mind
Sorry, folks. My fellow author is a quite sick fellow with no shame. I shall try to make sure he doesn't pull suc-
*Author knocked out*
Phew. Don't worry, folks. There's more where that came from.