Chapter 17 Power Shifts and Grand Entrances
Cornelius Fudge liked to have power in his hands –great power was like an aphrodisiac to him. Not that he had much of it, but he prided himself in knowing how to surround himself with people that held that much power in their own hands.
First had been Dumbledore –it was easy enough, for that old coot loved his school too much. He let Cornelius run the Ministry as he worked tirelessly to keep Hogwarts out of Voldemort's clutches.
The next was the Dark Lord himself, although Fudge would never admit that even in his death bed. He held the madman's ideals in his heart. Let it be just said that had Harry Potter failed in his destiny, Cornelius would not have been much disappointed.
And now, he was standing in the thick of it all once more –both Dumbledore and Voldemort gone –he felt like a god, 'Or touched by the hand of one, more like it,' he thought, remembering. Power never really left his side –or at least that was how he wanted to think, if only but for the two thorns in his side: Harry Potter and Severus Snape.
Fudge almost breathed a sigh of relief when the brat had been reported missing; he did not need to have the boy taking any more of his spotlight. Sure, Harry Potter's defeat of the Dark Lord was news now, but in a few years, Cornelius Fudge would make sure that it would be all forgotten. But with Potter gone missing, his plans to control and discredit the boy to his master's whims would have to take a back seat –until Potter eventually resurfaces or dies. He was hoping for the latter, the sooner the better –it would take so much less effort.
Enter Severus Snape, the only other wizard who could potentially match Potter in raw power and political clout. It had been easy to ruin the dour Potions Master's reputation, having a not-so-good one in the beginning. Given the right publicity however, Snape could be as enigmatic as Potter –a danger to Cornelius' plans for the Ministry. Good thing that the media lapped up his planted doubts and lies about the ex-Death Eater and spy for the light.
But Cornelius had to admit that even with a shady reputation, one could never deny the raw magical power Severus Snape possessed.
Enter Dolores Umbridge –another bumbling fool of a pawn. Fudge smiled to himself. It was a perfect plan. Force Severus Snape's hand, threaten him with Azkaban and coerce him to bind with Cornelius' right-hand in exchange for 'freedom'… and presto! He would have control of Snape's magic through Dolores. It was a fool-proof plan.
Or so he thought.
A vein was threatening to pop in the Minister's temple as he read the missive delivered to him, his Deputy and the Chief of Wizengamot, by three very cross-looking falcons.
What is the meaning of this?" He snarled as he threw the note onto his table:
Cornelius Oswald Fudge
Soon-to-be Ex-Minister of Magic
London, England
My Dearest Fudge:
You have been given too much power and influence for far too long. I think it's about time you learn of the consequences of abusing your position. You and your two lackeys will show your ugly faces at the Ministry grand Ballroom at 14:00 hr today of the media will see your dirty laundry. And I'm not talking about your pals in the Prophet. I doubt the ICW will be happy to know of what you've been doing to Wizarding Britain. All I can say is that it sucks to be you right now.
All my love,
The High Lord of Wizengamot
"The –NERVE – " Fudge turned to his Deputy. "Rufus, can you tell me of this –HOW ON EARTH could this happen? The High Lord of Wizengamot is but a legend! Who would DARE think of this crude joke?"
Scrimgeour flinched.
"Minister, this seems to be no joke… if my history serves me correctly, the seal that appears on the letters –it only shows if the missive came from the House of the High Lord."
"But how could have there been still an heir?" A lady that looked like a toad in pink shrieked. "Cornelius, this could be dangerous if it were true! What of our plans? Surely, we have to do something –The Grand –"
Fudge shot her a warning look. Scrimgeour was not privy to their plan, much more to their real master's identity and involvement.
"Dolores, I assure you that this –this clown is not going to cause a hindrance to our plans. We will go to this function and expose this pretentious scoundrel for the fake that he is!"
"But what about Snape's trial? It is set for the same time," Dolores pointed out. "We need to see to it that I get him! I was promised by the Grand –"
"We prioritize, Dolores," Fudge cut her off again. "We discredit this ponce masquerading as a nobleman and then we deal with Snape. Rufus, contact the DMLE and rest Snape's trial for tomorrow. Same time and venue."
"Yes, Minister," Scrimgeour immediately dispatched a goose patronus with the requested details before turning his attention back to his two companions. "When are we leaving for the function?"
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Back at the Grand Ballroom, the bronze doors opened, revealing a regal-looking woman with gray hair done up in a French Knot. She wore robed of canary yellow, with a crest of black badger, a pine tree and a sprig of sage on a light primrose background adorning her left breast pocket. She was escorted by a nervous-looking young man in black velvet robes, bearing the same coat of arms on his back. As soon as they appeared, the head goblin announced them.
"Announcing, Lady Augusta Elmina Longbottom, Head of Houses Longbottom, Hufflepuff, Smythe and Selwyn, and her escort, Lord-Apparent Neville Francis Longbottom."
The formidable-looking woman curtsied as she was announced, leaving her escort to bow half-way himself. They were escorted to a huge oval table, front and center of the massive room. As soon as they were seated, another pair appeared by the main doors. A man wearing rich navy velvet robes that contrasted nicely against his almost silvery-white hair stood quite stiffly. The crest of an eagle, a vela and an elm tree on a lilac background that was emblazoned on his left breast pocket was echoed on the back of the black velvet robes his younger male companion wore. Both men carried themselves with an air of superiority and quiet elegance.
"Announcing, Lord Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, Heqad of Houses Malfoy, Lennox and Wilshire, and his companion, Lord-Apparent Draco Lucius Malfoy."
A couple of gasps rang out from the gathered crowd. But given the two Malfoys' role in the last war, it was more of gasps of surprise and/or relief more than anything else. No matter what the Ministry said, people knew the truth. The father and son tandem were, too, led to the oval table. As soon as they sat down, another announcement was taking place.
"Announcing Lady Ameila Liliana Bones, head of Houses Bones, Rivers and Devonshire."
A woman with startling blonde hair up in a twist and cream-colored robes could only be none other than the prominent head of the DMLE. A crest of a mare, a tiger lily and scales on a sea foam background adorned her formal clothes. She smiled, seeing familiar faces and gave a wave as she was led to her place nest to Lady Longbottom.
A lone handsome young man with red hair stood by the entrance, looking quite nervous but pleased. As soon as he had made his appearance, a couple of whispers and catcalls erupted from the crowd.
"Announcing, Lord William Arthur Weasley-Prewitt, Head of Houses Prewitt and McKinnon."
"All right, Bill!" A couple of identical redheads whistled, drawing uneasy laughter from the gathred crowd and a deep blush from the Lord in question as he was led away to the prepared table.
The same type (although with much less fanfare) of announcements had been made for the five other nobles attending the ceremony: young Lord Roger Timothy Davies of Houses Davies and Elsmere in his maroon dress robes, tall and balding Lord Geoffrey Michael Greengrass of Houses Greengrass and Lowe in formal robes of sage, genial-looking Lord Percival Gawain Abbot of Houses Abbot and Sutton in scarlet, stern-faced Lord Arnold Lancelot Parkinson of the Houses Parkinson, McLeod and Sparrow in mauve and mild-mannered Lord Andrew Perseus Boot, of Houses Boot and Jones in lavender silk.
When all announcements have been cleared, the nine ruling lords and ladies sat in what looked like a ceremonial oval table facing the astonished crowd. The room now held power like it had never done before –and their mysterious host had yet to make an appearance, still. But, they need not wait too long. An elder goblin, in rich gold and crimson robes stood in the very middle of the ballroom.
"Greetings my esteemed Lords and Ladies and guests. I am Gareth Ironfist, Head Liaison to your Host, the High Lord of Wizengamot."
As soon as the last words left the goblin's lips, the bronze doors opened yet again. The curious crowd turned to face the entrance with varying degrees of awed expressions on their faces. Even the Lords and Ladies who were present stood in silent anticipation.
And there, by the majestic entrance stood –not one, but two men. Surprised gasps erupted from among the gathered as they took the men's appearances in: A taller man with long ebony hair tied by his nape wore a deep green –it was almost black – silk robe emblazoned with the crest of a falcon, a silver sword and a single red winter rose on a forest green background. He had a calculated expression on his face. The man to his right on the other hand, wore an easy smile on his young and handsome face. He was wearing robes of rich, royal blue, nicely contrasting with his burgundy hair, with the now too-familiar bronze doe crest on his left breast pocket. His blue-green eyes shone with what was perceived to be amusement. Both men seemed to exude great raw power and commanding presences.
"Announcing High Lord Tristan Peverell, Head of Houses Peverell and Gryffindor, Governor of Houses Slytherin and Black –"
The younger man waved jovially. More gasps ensued from the crowd. But nothing compared to the ruckus that the next announcement had caused.
"Announcing, Lord Severus Tobias Snape, Lord Prince, Head of Houses Prince, Ravenclaw and Cresswell –"
"Snape? Did he say –"
"NOT Professor Snape, is he?"
"Who ELSE would go by THAT name?"
"He does NOT look one bit like the man –"
Next to Lord Peverell, Lord Prince scowled. The younger noble smirked.
"You were right, Sev. They did not recognize you looking like that."
"And your goblins just had to announce my name!" The older man snarled. Lord Peverell smiled at him.
"It's not like you're the one with anything to hide. Just look at it this way –if they know who you are, the less likely they are to guess my real identity."
"Indeed. Who would think?" Lord Prince, aka Severus, smirked as they were being led to their places in the oval table. On his way there, he caught the eye of one Minerva McGonagall, who smiled at him clutching a flimsy handkerchief, looking to be on the verge of tears. Severus rolled his eyes as he nudged the man to his right. Lord Peverell followed his line of sight and waved back to the formidable Headmistress, who by then, was positively bawling. Severus sighed to Lord Peverell, aka Tristan.
"You have made it worse."
Tristan only nodded in response as he and Severus took their places on the oval table. The esteemed Lords and Ladies of Wizengamot were still standing in attention as per protocol, and only when Tristan took his seat did they reclaim theirs, Severus included. No one made a sound as guests setteled in their places as well. When everyone was seated though, Gareth spoke once more.
"We are gathered here today for a most wondrous occasion. But our most esteemed High Lord sees it fit that the feast that has been prepared be partaken before the announcements are made. Without further ado, enjoy!"
Lavish food and drinks fit for afternoon High Tea appeared on the tables –and then some. Music began to play again as the guests helped themselves to the feast. On the High Lord's table however, food was not at all given any attention. Gathered there were the most powerful and influential in the land, and when you have that kind of group assembled, food would be the last thing on anybody's minds.
"I would like to personally welcome you back to civilization, Lord Peverell," it was Lady Longbottom who drew first blood. "From the Houses of Longbottom, Hufflepuff, Smythe and Selwyn." Lord Peverell smiled at her.
"Thank you, Lady Longbottom. My return is about two centuries in the making."
"I assume you are reclaiming your seat, my Lord?" It was Lucius Malfoy. Lord Peverell smirked at him.
"Always direct to the point, aren't we, Lord Malfoy?" When the pale man reddened slightly, the High Lord let out an easy laugh before continuing. "Answer me, would I go through all the trouble of hosting a last-minute banquet just to say hello? I reckon I'm too young to be senile." The Lords and Ladies turned to each other with looks of astonishment on their faces. This was history in the making and they were sitting with the man of the hour. Lord Peverell eyed his court and sighed.
"If any of you are against this, say so now. I would rather proceed without any of you dragging me behind." When no one dared to speak up, the High Lord nodded. "Very well then, I thank you for your support. I was really hoping that you'd all be sick and tired of your soon-to-be ex-minister and his lackeys –"
"You plan to sack them?" Lady Bones asked quietly.
"Would there be love lost between them and Wizarding Britain? I think not. Lady Bones. Fudge will go down before the day ends."