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Chapter Seventeen: Politics

"I am certainly pleased at the thought, Albus, but also curious," Dame Augusta Longbottom said. "Neville is a shy boy, and by his own words he is not the closest of Mr Potter's friends. Rather, the Weasley's youngest boy is. So why ask for Potter to stay here?"

"Arthur Weasley has informed me that his youngest daughter is rather intent on bonding with the boy before either are ready," Albus Dumbledore said as he sipped the tea Augusta's house elves prepared for him upon his scheduled appearance. One did not appear unannounced before Augusta Longbottom, Dame of the powerful traditionalist Croaker Coven. Her brother represented the coven in the Wizengamot, but the true power sat before him. "I daresay Dame Molly is supporting her intent, regardless of Arthur's concerns."

"Bonding is a matter for the Dames to attend to," Augusta Longbottom said firmly. "However, the youngest girl is what, thirteen?"

"She just turned twelve, in fact," Dumbledore said. "She has stated she intends to be bonded with Harry before she reaches fourteen."

August snorted. "Well, one can't fault the child for her enthusiasm. However, I can see where it might be a concern having perhaps the most eligible young wizard in Britain in a house of rather lusty young women. The Weasleys and Prewetts are rather notorious for their appetites."

"Precisely."

"Very well, then, Neville will be pleased at the least. Anything of concern I should be aware of?"

"Only that he was raised in a Muggle home. He has attended Wizarding Studies, of course, but there is always a difference between the theory and reality."

"Indeed, although that girl Hooch does well enough. When is Snape going to father children, Albus? He's been married for the past ten years!"

"I understand actually that his second wife is expecting their first born," Albus said. "Sadly, Rolanda has miscarried three times and has been informed it would be unwise to make another attempt."

Dame Augusta snorted. "Then he should put her aside and marry another girl—perhaps that Squib you used to replace Burbage? She's fertile enough, and her babes would be magic enough."

Albus smiled, though it took all his skill as a politician to do so. "I'm sure you remember, Dame Augusta, that Hooch bonding with Snape was a part of his parole. There is a magical contract in place. He married Aurora when they found Rolanda could not bear a child. I assure you he has done his duty as set forth by the Sabbat."

"Hmmph," Dame Augusta said. "Well, men will be men, I suppose. So do you have any plans for Mr Potter?"

Dumbledore smiled politely. "Only to see him whole, healthy and educated."

"Of course, you sly old man. Have you given thought to marrying again as well, Albus? What has it been, now, sixty years?"

"Sadly, my dear, I am too old to risk a bonding," Dumbledore said. "Love is a younger man's realm, I'm afraid."

"Posh, Algie took a bride not five years ago, and he's seen a hundred and fifty years."

"He's a child," Dumbledore said, smiling still. "Rest assured, in that area I am quite done."

"Very well. So, tell me about this new budget the Wizengamot is pushing through. Algie tells me the Umbridge and Malfoy Covens are actually pushing for cuts in the Auror division. I do wish the Bones Coven hadn't suffered so in the last war. If Amelia still had a good coven behind her with an Elder in the Wizengamot, she'd put a stop to that! As it is, the Sabbat will not think twice about giving the Ministry less money."

The talk devolved into politics for the remainder of the afternoon. By the time he left, Albus felt as if he had just undergone a ten hour session of the Wizengamot. However, the Croaker Coven was one of the most powerful of the covens; consequently he handled Dame Augusta with great care, despite her constant bonding proposals. The woman was a hundred and eighty years old—she had seen four generations of her family dead in the last war, found herself caring for her great, great grandson, and still acted as if nothing were wrong.

He wasn't sure he was doing Harry a favour, but after what Arthur told him about Dame Molly and young Ginevra, and taking into account Severus's insistence that Harry needed time away from Privet Drive, he decided the Burrow was just not a safe place for the boy to visit. And though he had misgivings about Dame Augusta, he also knew she was firmly against the idea of bonding boys before age fifteen.

After his meeting, he returned to Hogwarts with a sigh of relief to be back in the castle, and sought out his desk. His body did not ache anymore because he rarely felt anything at all. Few wizards reached his age, and so he never truly understood what it meant to approach a third century until perhaps fifty years ago, when he began noticing a lessening of his sense of touch.

As had become a custom each week, he took a needle and poked his skin on his right hand. He saw the needle pierce the skin as if it were wax, and for the longest time nothing happened, until finally he saw the tissue around the puncture redden before a single drop of blood welled up. His magic immediately pulled the precious fluid back into his body and healed the small wound. Another aspect of age—the magic became more attuned to self-healing, which was good because Albus cut and bruised himself constantly without even noticing.

His wards alerted him to company and he looked up to see the approaching year's Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher arrive, since Emmeline Vance returned to her normal Ministerial duties. "Remus, welcome!" he said, motioning toward a chair. "Settled in?"

"I am, thank you, Albus," the man said with a tired, wry smile. "How went your visit?"

"Well as can be when meeting with a coven leader," Dumbledore said. "She shall host Harry for the remainder of the summer, if you care to fetch him tomorrow. I'll owl him a letter tonight to let him know to expect you."

"Thank you, sir," Remus said. He sighed and said, "I stayed away, like you asked."

"I know it was difficult," Albus said. "I sacrificed a great deal of Harry's happiness to ensure his survival. However, now that he has started school, it is time for him to start learning more about our world, and those friends of his families that remain in it."

Remus nodded a moment before he gave the headmaster a shrewd look. "May I ask, sir, how you kept the Griffin Coven from forcibly taking custody of Harry? I've met Delia Griffin, and she strikes me as a very hands-on witch."

Dumbledore gave the young man a smile and said, "Remus, did you ever wonder why the Griffin Coven supported Lily when she refused to allow James a second wife?"

"Not really. I know that despite public appearances she was not fond of Lily."

"Indeed, there was a great deal of animosity between them, but coven dames rarely do anything based on personal feelings. Dame Delia defended Lily's choice of not allowing James a second wife. I now know this was because Dame Delia did not want the Potter family to break off into its own coven, and with an Aether spouse and James's inherent power, that could have happened. But with James satiated with a single wife, the Griffins retained that family and its tithe within its ranks."

"I never knew that," Remus admitted. "She is a sly old bird, isn't she?"

"Indeed, she is," Albus said. "And I have no doubt that that Augusta is even now telling her that Mr Potter will be her guest."

Remus's eyes widened. "What…"

"Wizengamot Elders also do not do anything based on personal feelings alone," Albus said with a sparkle in his eyes. "Whatever else can be said for them, the Griffin Coven is a Light coven. They have in the past diametrically opposed anything the dark families proposed, and I do not want Amelia's budget cut any more. Since the Bones Coven was killed in the last war, I'm hoping that Amelia will ally herself with either the Griffins, Croakers, Lloyds or the Starlings, and given that her niece and only living relative is a classmate of Mr Potter's, she might be enticed to visit as well."

"So…you're trying to bond him to Susan Bones?"

"What? No, my friend. I'm simply hoping for a friendship that could give Amelia a thought or two."

Remus shook his head. "I hate politics."

"Alas, so do I, my friend. So do I."

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

"Neville?"

"Yeah, Harry?"

"Your Gran is sort of scary."

"Yeah, I know," Neville said. The two boys snickered a little before they resumed their game of wizarding tennis. Harry had mentioned he was thinking of taking it as an elective for his weekend elective in addition to Quidditch that morning, and so the two started playing.

Harry lost the first two games simply because he didn't know how to play, but by the third he was using reflexes honed by two years of Quidditch to start his own winning streak.

It was his fourth day at the Longbottom Estate in Holywell, just a stone's throw north of Newcastle upon Tyne and an hour's walk from the North Sea. Summer days were long and comfortable here, and they often spent their afternoons walking along the edge of the cliffs looking out over the sea. He arrived in the company of the new Defence teacher, a worn-looking man who identified himself as Remus Lupin.

Though neither boy said as much, these past four days were the best either ever had, and Harry learned a lot about his friend. In many ways, the two had a great deal in common. Dame Augusta never hit Neville, starved him, or forced him to live in a cupboard. In fact, his bedroom alone was as large as the living room and kitchen of Number 4 Privet Drive combined. He had the best clothes, almost any toy he wanted, and delicious food on par with what they had at Hogwarts.

However, Dame Augusta had never hugged Neville, ever, or given any kind words, and his Uncle had even thrown him out a window to test whether he was a Squib or not. Harry learned that Neville's parents and grandparents were killed almost days after Harry's were, by the last rabid followers of Voldemort.

He also learned that Neville would be replacing his uncle as the next Elder on the Wizengamot when the time came, and that would result in a shift of the coven away from the Croaker line to the Longbottom line.

"Tenniz!" Neville yelled as he served. Harry did not immediately move for the ball, but instead waited to see which way it would turn. The ball reached the air above the net, spun in a tight corkscrew and then shot to the left.

Harry dove forward and hit the ball in a wild backhand. Had it been Muggle tennis, the ball would have flown off the green and into the burn. Being wizard tennis, the ball swung in a great parabolic curve around the net entirely, forcing Neville to run to hit the ball back. Unlike Muggle tennis, points could only be scored if the ball hit within the court.

Neville's swing did not arrive in time, and the ball bounced a few feet away on his side of the net. "Point, set and match," Neville said, plopping down in the grass tiredly. "You're just too fast."

"Years of running for my life," Harry said with a wry smile as he walked around the net and joined his friend.

The Longbottom Estate bordered the Seaton Burn between Holywell and the coast, with a beautiful copse of chestnut trees to separate the estate from the Muggle road. From the outside, it looked as if the estate was comprised of only five acres, but folded magically within those five acres were almost a thousand acres of farmland that grew both edible Muggle crops as well as Magical cash crops. The field was one of the primary sources of the estate's annual income, and in high summer was one of the most beautiful places Harry had ever seen.

The two boys remained where they were for several minutes before an elf appeared. "Master Longbottom, sir," the elf said with a cute curtsy. "Dame Gran says you and Master Potter are to be cleaning up for guests tonight."

"Er, I don't actually have any suitable clothes," Harry said worriedly.

"We purchased clothes for you, Master Potter," the elf said. "Dame Gran's orders. Come now. Guests very important. Must look presentable."

Neville sighed. "So much for fun."

Harry grinned. "Race you back."

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

Harry had a difficult time not ogling himself in the mirror. The dress robes looked strange and felt stranger—it was as if someone turned a tuxedo into a dress. However, the fabric felt amazingly soft against his skin. 'Acromantula silk', Neville called it. He tried his best to not think how much the clothes cost, and instead concentrated on trying to make himself presentable.

He centred himself with a deep breath—Occlumency was not easy for him, but it was something he worked on daily in the hopes that it would get easier. In fact, through his whole second year it had improved significantly, even Professor Snape admitted so, however grudgingly.

Using that feeling of centeredness to calm his nervousness, he stepped out of the ornate, spacious guest room he had been using since his arrival. Neville was also just coming out, looking as nervous and put-upon as Harry felt.

"Any idea who's coming?" Harry asked.

Neville shrugged. "Probably important people," he said. "Coven dames or Wizengamot elders or some such."

The two arrived at the formal reception room and paused just outside the door. "Now, remember what I told you?" Neville asked.

"Yep. Don't offer to shake hands, nod my head a little to the men, bow to the ladies, and pretend to smile."

"And for Merlin's sake don't grab any girl's boobs!"

"Got it," Harry said with a laugh.

The young men walked in to the room, pausing inside to get their bearings and see who was where. Dame Augusta held court on the far side of the room, surrounded by equally honed and aged witches. A small clump of wizards stood to one side, crystal flute glasses in hand. Some smoked thick cigars, but Harry couldn't smell any smoke at all.

Then, to his shock, he saw Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott and Sally Anne Perks standing in a close circle, giggling and smiling. "Oh Merlin, girls," Neville whispered, wide-eyed. "Tell me I don't have to talk to them, please tell me."

"Okay, you don't," Harry said.

"Hello, boys," an old wizard said. If not for Occlumency, Harry would have jumped out of his shoes. Beside him, Neville sighed imperceptibly. "Good evening, Elder Croaker."

"What kind of greeting is that!" the old, balding wizard said.

"Hello, Uncle Algie," Neville amended.

"Better. And this must be the estimable Harry Potter."

"Good evening sir," Harry said with a polite nod.

"And good evening to you, young man," Algie Croaker said. "Come over here, Harry, let me introduce you to the men folk before those harridans get their hooks in you. Delbert, look who we have here!"

Harry guessed the man who looked up was younger than Croaker just by the fact his skin was not quite as translucent, but he was still far from young. The man's magic burned red, like Croaker's. "And who is that, Algie?"

"This, my dear boy, is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Delbert Griffin, Elder of the Wizengamot for the Griffin Coven. Your coven, in fact."

Harry blinked but kept his face neutral. He remembered the article that Neville sent him where his mother mentioned the Griffin coven. "An honour to meet you, sir," he said with the partial nod Neville taught him.

"The honour is mine," Griffin said. "If I may be so bold, boys, would you mind dropping your veils?"

Harry and Neville shared a look before doing so. Griffin nodded in satisfaction. "It's hard to see with those blasted Veils, but without…you are definitely a Potter. But those eyes—it's as if you took the very best of both your parents. James was a fine young man, and Lily was an extraordinary witch. I understand you take after her in other areas as well."

"Yes, sir,"

"You're staying with the Longbottoms, then?" he asked.

"Yes sir, for the past four days. It's been really nice."

"And where do you stay otherwise?"

"With my Aunt and Uncle. They're Muggles, sir."

"I see," Delbert said, a tad darkly.

"And tucked away under the most powerful blood wards this side of China," Croaker added. "Remember what happened to Yaxley years back? Whatever else you can say for that old fox, Dumbledore knows wards."

"The women are waiting," Delbert said. "Mr Potter, my wife would be very interested in meeting you, if you have a moment."

Of course, there was no question of Harry not 'having a moment'. He and Neville followed the two older wizards across the room to the gaggle of witches, who parted and watched the small procession with steady glowing eyes.

"Delia, look who I happened to run into," Delbert said lightly. "Harry Potter, this is my surviving wife and your family's coven leader, Dame Delia Griffin, Matriarch of the Griffin Coven."

"Dame Delia," Harry said, bowing from the waist this time, also as instructed by Neville. "An honour."

"The honour is mine," the older witch said. Like her husband, her skin was as pale as milk with a hint of magic shining through, while blue eyes shone coolly.

Harry was startled to see cool, moist magic within her chest. "You were in Slytherin, Dame Griffin?" Harry asked, genuinely surprised.

Delbert burst out laughing, while Delia's lips curled at the side. However, from her magic and her eyes Harry doubted she was amused. "Your mother asked the same thing when we first met," she said. "The Griffin Coven is Light Traditionalist. We side firmly with the light factions against those who advocate the use of darker magics and rituals, but we also firmly uphold the culture and traditions of magical society. Such a stance is not universal to Gryffindor. Besides, opposites attract, as they say."

Looking from the old Gryffindor to the older Slytherin, Harry tried to see it but simply couldn't. He began to wonder if, a century ago, a fifteen-year-old Delbert Griffin found himself bonded through a moment of weakness with an older woman.

"He has his mother's eyes," Delbert said.

"In more ways than one, it seems," Delia said with a brief, humourless smile at her husband. "Well, Mr Potter, Dame Augusta was telling me of your visit. Have you enjoyed yourself?"

"I have, Dame Delia," Harry said. "Dame Augusta has been a wonderful hostess, and I cannot thank her enough for allowing me to visit."

"It has been a pleasure, Mr Potter," Augusta said, somehow sounding pleased without any hint showing on her stern face. "I am glad you and Neville have become such close friends. And since you're here, may I also introduce you to Madame Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I believe you know her niece?"

Harry bowered to the younger witch with the straw-coloured hair and monocle. "Not closely, but we've seen each other across the tables. They keep a tight rein on us."

"Indeed they do," Bones said. "I heard a great deal about you from Auror Vance. She was very impressed with your class performance last year."

"I appreciate that, Madam," Harry said.

"She mentioned that you were also an Occlumens."

The other adults seemed startled by this news, and beside him even Neville seemed surprised. "I…er, well…I had a bout of accidental magic my first year that hurt a classmate. It was suggested that Occlumency might help control it and I think it has."

"A thirteen-year-old Occlumens?" Delbert Griffin said. "Remarkable!"

"Lily was fourteen, herself," Delia noted.

"I used Mum's notes, from her book," Harry admitted. "If I did it faster, it's because she helped me."

"Well said," Dame Augusta nodded in approval.

"Dinner is served," a deep male voice announced. Harry could not tell where it came from.

The children did not eat with the adults, not that Harry was expecting to. Rather, he, Neville and the three young witches had their own table in a corner not far from the longer table where the adults ate. It was an awkward meal simply because Harry had never spoken with Susan, Sally Anne or Hannah. All three girls were pretty, in their own way. Despite Susan's aunt's colouring, her own hair was copper red, while Sally and Hanna were both prettily blonde. All three girls had brown eyes with the normal gleam of magic in them, and all three had earthen tones to their magic.

"So what have you been doing this summer?" Susan finally asked.

"Playing tennis and exploring the coast, mostly," Neville said. Neville, at least, had met the girls before Hogwarts. "And you?"

"I've been staying at Hannah's, mostly," Susan said. "Her mum is great."

"That's good," Neville said with a wry smile. "So, what are the Bones, Abbot and Perks families doing at a gathering of Griffins and Croakers?"

"Being courted," Susan said darkly. "The Bones Coven is gone, and Auntie is looking for some help in the Wizengamot. Without a coven, she can't have an Elder or a Dame speak for her, so she's going to join another coven. We dined with the Starling coven Dame last night, and tomorrow night we're going to meet Dame Brannwen of the Lloyds. Did you know she's almost four hundred years old? But Auntie is thinking either the Griffins or Croakers, since the Lloyds don't actually do much anymore and the Starlings had committed to other agreements."

Harry looked over his shoulder at the table. Dame Augusta was pure Gryffindor, her core burning bright and steady. He could not say she was a nice woman at all, but from what he could see of her magic, she seemed honourable. But Delia Griffin made him feel very uncomfortable for some reason.

He looked back to the girls, and said very softly, "Croaker."

Susan frowned a little. "What are you on about, Harry?"

"Tell your Auntie, Croaker," Harry said. "There's something not right about Dame Griffin. Her magic is cold."

The three girls stared at him in surprise for the longest time before Susan finally nodded. "Okay, Harry," she said. "I'll let her know. Thank you."

Harry smiled, and then his face went completely blank. "You and Hannah will bond with Neville. You must."

Hannah dropped her spoon and the clang of it rang through the room, attracting adult notice. "What are you talking about?" Neville hissed.

Harry blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You said…" Susan leaned forward to whisper. "You said Hannah and I should bond with Neville."

"No I didn't," Harry said. He looked at Neville. "Did I?"

Neville nodded speechlessly.

"Oh, er, well, sorry about that." Harry looked down at his plate and shivered. "You know, I'm not feeling that well. Neville, how do I excuse myself?"

"Ask Gran," he said. "Come on, I'll go with you."

Harry nodded, and Sally whispered, "Harry, your nose is bleeding!"

Harry touched his nose with the cloth napkin and pulled it away stained with red. He stood a little too fast, and Neville stood with him. At the head of the table, Dame Longbottom stared at the two boys with open disapproval. "Is there something we can help you with?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Neville said. "Gran, Harry is not feeling well. May we be -?"

Suddenly Harry's eyes rolled up into his head and magic burst around him in a white flash and a gust of wind that pushed his friend away. In a harsh, guttural voice that made Neville's stomach twist in a knot, Harry screamed out: "The Dark Lord is coming. His marked equal will rise. The Sabbat will break, the elders shall die. The Dark Lord is coming. His marked equal will rise. Equal and opposite shall clash; one shall live and one shall die!"

Rivulets of blood began to run from Harry's nose as the adult diners stood in alarm. Suddenly Harry keeled over backwards, barely caught with a levitation charm by Madame Bones. As she settled him gently on the floor he began to convulse and moan in pain.

"Well, that certainly didn't sound good," Delbert Griffin said into the stunned silence that followed.

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Author's Note: Very special thanks as always to Teufel1987, JR and Miles for beta reading.