Chapter 15 Out
"Since we were at the subject of official titles earlier, I figured we resume our lessons on Noble Customs." Harry began after Gareth left to get started on the details of Severus' Lordship ceremony to be held on winter break –which was the more pressing matter to them now on top of the Pact (and assuring that the Lord-in-Training was indeed not to kill or maim –yet –the High Lord Of Wizengamot). It was a couple of hours after breakfast.
"Do enlighten ne," Severus took his customary seat in the living area. Tea was set out on the low table. He glanced at Harry. It was still unnerving to see the former Boy-Who-Lived in place of Tristan Peverell, but he kept reminding himself that the only difference was how they had looked. And even in that arena, it was not much of a difference.
He knew he should be alarmed, agitated, enraged, betrayed even –but he wasn't.
'I'm losing my right mind,' Severus thought. 'Not only did I agree to Potter's hare-brained scheme of world domination, but I also as good as promised myself to him… again, not that I mind –the brat isn't so bad –okay, I may like him just a bit… maybe more –argh! Merlin help me. Coming back to life had certainly addled my brains!' The Potions Master sighed inwardly as he thought of his second chance at life. 'Potter either loves me that much or he is a closet masochist.'
"Severus? Are you listening?" The presumed closet masochist (or was it sadist?) was snapping his fingers inches away from Severus' face. The obsidian-eyed man snatched the young Lord's hand.
"Quit that Potter."
"I would, if you were paying attention." Harry sighed. "As I was saying, a Lord's official title is arranged in such manner: Given name, Primary House name, then any compounded or merged House names by order of importance, then of acquisition date…
Severus nodded absent-mindedly as he stared at his tutor.
'Okay, I'll admit it. I –care –for him. And he isn't so bad-looking. He is way younger, but what difference is twenty –no, sixteen no –years if we both live up to 150? Merlin's beard! Are you listening to yourself Severus? You are justifying having a relationship with Potter! Gah! You should hit your head on something really hard before you start fantasizing about him. Hmm… I wonder if he is a good kisser... BLOODY –Shut the fuck up, Snape!'
"SEV- ER –US! Merlin! Where has your bloody brain gone to?" Harry was saying. Severus stopped berating his inner voice and stared at the young lord. Harry's eyes were sparkling, his face was tensed in concentration, and his lips –his full red lips were slightly parted in exasperation. Suddenly the room was too small, too warm for Severus.
'Argh, SCREW IT!' The onyx-eyed man heard his mind say, just before he found himself –kissing Harry… kissing Harry bloody Potter full on the lips!
'Merlin Severus –WHAT THE HELL?' Suffice to say, Severus had little difficulty tuning his annoying conscience out as he felt the young man's soft lips on his. Harry stiffened initially with surprise, but not any longer. He eventually relaxed in the elder wizard's grasp on the collar of his robes.
The kiss started rather awkwardly, slow and chaste-as both were still trying to get a feel of the other. Harry's limited snogging experience showed, but Severus' enthusiasm was more than enough to make up for it. The older wizard quickly asserted dominance as he began to slip in his tongue eagerly inside the younger man's welcoming mouth. The heated cavern welcomed his exploration graciously, and soon, Harry's own tongue was waging a war with his own. Severus delved deeper and was rewarded by a soft mewl coming from the younger man –the sound of which, only fueled the Slytherin's own burning desire. He pulled the Gryffindor closer to him as a low growl worthy of a Lion formed in his throat. Harry moaned in response and Severus felt the need for air coming up. He pulled away from the young lord. Harry's flushed face was priceless.
"Uh, Severus? What was –what was –"
The Potions Master smirked.
"What were you saying about official titles again, Harry?"
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The rest of their month inside the Lair was spent among lessons, preparations, flirtations, more lessons, more preparations, and more flirtations between the two noble lords. That first kiss was definitely not the last of its kind, but nothing ever came further than it; For one, the young Lord Peverell was still wary to rush things with his apple-of-the-eye, lest the older wizard take back his acceptance of a possibility of something developing between them -Harry never initiated anything, period. On the other hand, the more experienced Lord Prince considered himself a certain type of a traditionalist –Severus knew that Harry had next to nothing when it came to experiences regarding relationships. Loath he was to admit, he was quickly falling hard for the Gryffindor's ridiculously amusing and sometimes endearingly annoying antics, but he was wary to let it get too far. The farthest he could allow it was a few heated kisses (all, initiated by him as Harry was either too shy to do so, or just plain terrified of what he'd do if the young man stepped out of bounds), before he totally lost his right mind and claim the High Lord truly. And besides, there was still the discussion of the Pact. The two decided that the priority went to getting Severus out of the clutches of the Ministry. Until the Pact was dissected and clarified, Severus did not want anything to progress further than what they already had for the moment. He was just beginning to really enjoy Harry's company; he did not want to mess with it.
Soon it was time to go out. It was the last day for the two noblemen inside the Lair –the afternoon of July 31st - and Gareth was right outside to meet them.
Severus was the first to step through, clad in deep green silk robes. With the Prince Crest on his left breast pocket, he looked every inch of the lord that he was meant to be. He had a calm look on his face. He nodded to Gareth.
"Lord Prince," Gareth greeted him first, following protocol; A lord never verbally acknowledges someone of lower stature first.
"Gareth, everything is well, I hope?"
"Yes my Lord. The invitations have been sent out." Gareth smiled. Severus then stepped aside as Harry himself stepped through the threshold next. The young lord was in his customary royal blue Peverell robes. He had the golden ankh around his neck.
"Lord Peverell," Gareth intoned politely. "Happy Birthday." Harry nodded and smiled at his right-hand goblin.
"Thank you, Gareth. Are we ready to take over the Ministry?"
The goblin smirked. He held out a small hourglass for the two wizards to see.
"Two turns should do the trick, my Lords."
Harry turned to Severus.
"I'm putting my glamour on, Sev. Would you like me to do yours?" The onyx-eyed man shook his head.
"Looking like this… it is enough for those simpletons not to recognize me."
"Suit yourself." Harry then blinked once, and blue-green –eyed Tristan Peverell was back. Severus eyed him with an eyebrow raised before smirking evilly.
"Now that you are back, that reminds me of a debt we have yet to settle –OPPUGNO!"
A multitude of birds –robins, canaries, blue jays –began attacking Tristan.
"Ow –Severus! Quit it! You're so petty!"
"What was that, Tristan? I think I just heard you pronounce me as petty –OPPUGNO!"
More birds appeared this time. Bigger ones.
"Ow! Fine!" Tristan gave up swatting the birds away from him as he took cover behind a nearby alcove, Gareth looking on with controlled amusement in his eyes. "Sev! I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for stunning you! Now quit it or we'll be late!"
Severus smiled smugly.
"Finite Incantatum." The onslaught of birds ceased. Tristan sighed as he felt his body for damage.
"At least I'm still in one piece."
Severus snorted.
"It is technically your birthday today anyway, and we cannot go around dismembering the High Lord on his birthday now, can we?"
Tristan rolled his eyes.
"I suppose you, sparing my life is my first ever present coming from you then?"
"Of course." The man smirked. "Not that I intend to give you any other anyway." He dead panned before reaching into his robes and shoving a small wrapped package into the younger man's hands. The High Lord blinked.
"For me?" Tristan blushed as he inspected the parcel. "You shouldn't have, Severus." To which, the onyx-eyed man rolled his eyes.
"Really, Potter. It's not that much. Before you shower me with eternal gratitude, at least open it."
"Very well," Tristan tore the wrapper open and removed the cover of the box. He glanced at the contents. Inside was a small vial filled with a luminescent light blue liquid. The label on it read: Permanent Sight-Correcting Potion.
"Severus, it's –it's –" Tristan rushed forward and enveloped the older man in a tight hug. Severus smiled genuinely at the young man's antics.
"It was the least I could do. Gareth helped me with the ingredients."
"Thank you both," was all that Tristan could say as he stared at the thoughtful present in his hand. Severus nodded and grabbed the Time-Turner from Gareth. He then tapped it with his wand. The gold chain that held it elongated –long enough to go around the two wizards and the goblin. He then turned to Tristan.
"You can thank me properly later. Right now drink that up so you can remove that faulty spell you have been using for your eyes. We still have a corrupt bureaucracy to overturn."
Tristan smirked and gulped down the Potion. The effect was instantaneous.
"Let's get to it!" He said happily. The gold chain was wrapped around the three, and two turns of the hourglass later, they were gone.
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While our heroes were traveling back in time, a dozen falcons were busy delivering their burdens to some of the most powerful and influential in Wizarding Britain. The missive was placed in a sealed envelope, bearing a crest that no one seemed to recognize. Once they opened it however, it was clear from who the urgent summons was.
Madam Amelia Liliana Bones, Head of the DMLE, received her letter as she was heading out for lunch. The falcon, she eyed curiously, as she had inspected the delivery for any curse or jinx. When she had found none, she relieved the unusual courier of its burden. The wax seal on the back flap of the envelope was given a considerable thought before being broken, and the solitary sheet of parchment contained within, pulled out. The mysterious insignia was once more repeated on the top of the page, the bronze doe's emerald eyes glittering in the light. Amelia Bones scanned the piece of paper. The message was short, and after the felicitations, similar to eight others. It read:
Madam Amelia Liliana Bones
Head, DMLE MoM London
Head, The Ancient and Most Noble House of Bones
July 31, 1998
Dear Lady Bones –Rivers –Devonshire:
Your appearance in your capacity as the Head of you House and a Member of the Wizengamot's Ruling Court is requested at 14:00 hr at the Ministry of Magic Grand Ballroom today.
Should you need assistance on getting ready, tap the parchment once and a trained house elf will appear. ONcve you are ready to arrive at the venue, hold the parchment and say the trigger word "takeover" –it will act as a secure portkey.
Signed,
The High Lord Of Wizengamot
The normally collected woman's eyes widened. 'It couldn't be!' She stole another glance at the Seal on the parchment, then at the signature at the bottom. What was the possibility of it being a joke?
Lady Bones had to make a decision. If this was indeed an official summons from the legendary High Lord of Wizengamot, she needed no telling twice; it was a matter of great importance. She checked her pocket watch –she had barely two hours to get ready!
"Verity,"
"Madam Bones?"
"Cancel all my appointments after lunch –"
"But Madam, the hearing on Courtroom 10 –"
"Cancel it." Madam Bones said firmly. The girl had no choice but to nod. The DMLE head sighed and moved towards the Floo. She needed to locate her formal robes and be presentable for the High Lord in less than two hours.
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A similar falcon, bearing an equally similar missive had landed in the kitchen of the Burrow, where now, a family meeting was being held. The current Head of the Weasley Family, Arthur, was arguing with his eldest, Bill –or as the missive now deems him –Lord William Arthur Weasley Prewitt McKinnon.
"Bill, I'm not sayingthat this is a hoax. I know your mother is very happy that their line would continue with you. But all I am saying is that should you not be wary of this High Lord? From what I know, his seat has not been claimed for almost 200 years. I mean, why come out all of a sudden?"
"Dad, I told you. The High Lord has seen to the restoration of the House of Prewitt. He has even sent his goblin liaison to attend to my training in the noble ways. He wants to reclaim his seat to restore the Ministry and the Wizengamot to its former glory. And if that is the case, I will support him all the way. A lot needs to be done to rebuild Wizarding Britain after the war. And if we leave it to Fudge and Umbridge, who knows what catastrophe will take place? The High Lord is a good man. I have not seen him personally, but I trust him. Goblins to do not trust lightly. And if they support this man, then it is in our best interests that we back him up too –I am going to this Ministry function as it is my duty. And so should everyone else. Your presence as my family was requested."
Arthur sighed. His eldest was right.
"Very well, I will trust your judgment son. I will tell your mother to prepare your formal court robes –it belonged to your Uncle Gideon once –"
Bill waved him off.
"No need, Dad. The goblin who trained me wad presented me with one from the Prewitt Vault. I already have it –"
"Is it true? Bill –you're a Wizarding Lord now? And we're going to attend a baal?"
"Oh shut up, Ronald –"
"That's not –"
"How you address –"
"A noble lord!" Identical redheads bowed deeply. Bill smiled at his brothers.
"Yes Ron, I am. And we are, as Dad allowed you guys to." He turned to Fred and George and nodded curtly as the rest of the family came in. Molly was in tears.
"Oh Bill –thank Merlin!" She enveloped her eldest son in a bone-crushing hug.
"Better you than me, brother," Charlie smirked. Bill chuckled. Ginny approached with a smile.
"Looking good, William."
"Thank you Ginevra." The young Lord Prewitt looked around. "Well, I don't want to be rude, but we all have a function to attend in less than two hours! Let's get going!"
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Another falcon was on her way, but unlike the others, she was expected.
"Good Morning, Isolde. Your Master sent you?"
The large charcoal-gray falcon crowed. She landed on the woman's shoulder and dutifully extended her leg.
"Ah, a summons form the High Lord?" The woman immediately dislodged the sealed envelope. The formal look of the parchment within belied the genial note inside:
Dear Minerva,
Severus and I would appreciate your and your Staff's attendance at the Ministry Function later today at 2:00 p.m. at the Grand Ballroom. Dress code would be formal, and please make sure that Remus comes. Please tap the parchment and say "Hogwarts is my home" to activate the portkey once you are all ready. A goblin attendant will be waiting for your arrival by the entrance. See you there!
-H
P.S. As you can probably tell, no, he has not attempted to kill me yet even if he already knows of my identity. He is just not too pleased that you knew before he did and he had already hexed me for it. And oh, I know about your deal with him. I will see to it that he is provided with enough pink robes to last the term.
Minerva McGonagall smiled and sighed. She turned to the bird.
"It is a most wondrous event, Isolde. Bar the fact that Severus has come around, he and Harry managed a day in close proximity without killing each other!"
Isolde crowed once more as she watched the merry Headmistress of Hogwarts hum all the way to her personal quarters.
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The main floo in the Malfoy Summer House in France flared to life. A young platinum-blonde young man stepped out, looking quite agitated.
"Father! An urgent missive!"
Lucius Malfoy, exiled ex-Death Eater and spy for the light rushed towards the commotion.
"What on earth is the matter, Draco? Why are you running like an uneducated scoundrel?"
Draco Malfoy caught his breath as he handed his father an envelope.
"This came –through –falcon –"
The elder Malfoy raised one elegant eyebrow.
"A falcon, you say?"
"Yes. It was addressed to us both. There –there is a seal Father, but I do not recognize it."
Lucius tuned his son out as he scanned the parchment handed to him. A few minutes later, the man's eyes were wide. He thrust the parchment back to Draco who frowned.
"You know anything about this, sir?"
Luscius dismissed the question with a wave of his hand.
"No time for questions, Draco. We need to prepare –"
"We are going back to England? But the Ministry –"
"This is more important than the Ministry, Draco! The High Lord of Wizengamot requests our presence –"
"So this –this is real? But I thought that the High Lord was but a legend!" The young Malfoy's eyes were wide. His father glared at him.
"Do you not remember a thing I taught you about the nobility? Look at that Crest –that only appears on missives sent by the High Lord himself –or at least his liaison. Now stop this incessant questioning and don your formal heirship robes. You will be accompanying me to the Ministry. The High requests your presence as well as mine. We need not worry about the exile order. This letter grants us reprieve until the High Lord says otherwise."