Chapter 18 Accusations
"You've invited the Minister?" Lady Bones asked. "But –but he's supposed to be in Courtroom 10 for Professor Snape's –I mean, Lord Prince's –"
Lord Peverell smirked.
"Well, they can't possibly conduct a trial without the accused, right?" The young lord glanced around the table. "Much more so if the jury is absent."
"You mean, they cannot possibly hold a trial without a case," Lord Prince said, sipping his cup of tea.
"I've received a missive for that," Lord Greengrass interjected. "But let me tell you, Lord Prince, even before today's events, I have no intention of participating in that circus of a trial."
Lord Prince nodded towards him. "I appreciate your support, Lord Greengrass."
"Fudge thinks he can rule as he pleases. Umbridge believes no different. I, for one, am glad that Lord Peverell decided to make himself known." Lord Boot said. "Restoring the Houses of Peverell, Prince and Prewitt is a most impressive feat."
Lord Peverell smiled at him.
"I assure you, Lord Boot. It was nothing short of moving mountains."
"So, where were you all this time, Lord Peverell? I think we'd all like to know," said Lord Parkinson. "Wizarding Britain was embroiled in a war –I think we deserve to know where our esteemed High Lord was and his views on the last Dark Lord."
Aquamarine eyes turned to him, darkening slightly.
"I will give you the same response I gave Lord Prince here –I was hidden in plain sight, playing my own part in the war. And as for my view on Voldemort –" A few still managed to flinch at the mention of the name. "He was a right bastard with daddy issues." A few chuckles ensued from the oval table.
"How about Harry Potter?" Lord Abbot asked. "He has transferred governance of the Houses of Black and Slytherin to you, correct? He is now viewed as not only the Savior of the Wizarding World, but as possible opposition to Fudge's bigotry." Lord Peverell turned towards him.
"He did." The High Lord confirmed. "But only for a short, indefinite amount of time while he sorts his affairs." He then sighed. "The problem with us, Lord Abbot, is that we keep sending children to do the work of grown men."
"You speak like you are far beyond your age, my Lord." Lord Parkinson mused. "Surely, you can't be any older than Potter himself? And forgive me, but you certainly appear as a stranger to most of us –"
"I have just turned twenty-two myself, if you must know, Lord Parkinson. I was not pertaining to physical age but emotional maturity. It is common knowledge that Harry Potter began opposing Voldemort when he was just practically a wee babe. He finished his destiny as a man-child." The High Lord frowned. "As for myself, you can continue to doubt my identity –but I swear on my magic that I am who I claim to be."
A swirl of white light ensued from the young noble and enveloped him before disappearing completely. He then held his left hand out. "Orchideous!"
A bunch of roses appeared in his hand. He then nonchalantly tossed it to Lord Prince who was seated beside him. The older man frowned slightly, realizing what the High Lord meant by the gesture, before sighing and taking the bouquet. Lord Peverell smiled inwardly. The act of wandless magic was to serve two purposes: one, to prove to those present of his intentions and magical prowess –that he was a force to be reckoned with and be wary of at the same time –and two, to annoy the socks of Severus Snape on the sly.
True enough, that one simple act managed to achieve the High Lord's aims: nobody in the table questioned his identity any longer, and a discreetly-placed mild stinging hex from the Potions Master found its target in the High Lord's side.
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In a large round table, Remus Lupin was sipping his tea, all the while quietly glancing towards the oval table.
"Alright, Remus?" Aurora Sinistra noticed his unease. "He's quite good-looking, isn't he? Young too –"
Remus choked on his tea. "What –"
"The High Lord," Aurora sighed. I imagined him to be old and gray –but look at him!"
Remus wiped his lips and just nodded at his colleague, completely disregarding the weird feeling he got at being thought to be checking out his own honorary godson –never mind that the young man he was seeing barely looked like his cub.
"And Severus –when did he get that dreamy?" Aurora was saying now. "I never imagined him as a noble lord. Do you know where he inherited the title from?"
"His mother was the former Eileen Prince," Minerva McGonagall said, smiling.
"And Tristan Peverell? He should be just about post-Hogwarts age, but I don't recall him attending," Pomona Sprout joined in.
"He was homeschooled, I've heard," said Minerva, catching Remus' eye.
"It makes sense, after all. His identity had to be kept a secret. He was probably privately tutored overseas." It wasn't even a complete lie.
"A Peverell though? When was the last time that that name was heard?" Pomona wondered. "I'm no good at History but, if I am not mistaken, that name had no surviving heir within the last two centuries."
"Maybe an indirect heir?" Aurora suggested.
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About the same time Remus was choking on his tea, another similar conversation was being held at another nearby table.
"The High Lord is just so… dreamy," Ginny sighed. I wonder if he already has a girlfriend?"
Ron frowned. "I thought you liked Harry, Gin."
The youngest Weasley shrugged.
"It's not like he's here, Ron," she tossed her long, auburn locks behind her shoulders. "And besides, I'd much rather marry a Wizarding High Lord."
The rest at the Weasley Family table made disapproving faces at her pronouncement but said nothing. Even Molly was at a loss to say anything. Charlie on the other hand, was different.
"I don't know, Gin. The High Lord does not look like he's interested in looking for a wife –or a girlfriend for that matter," the dragon tamer's eyes glinted knowingly. Ginny glared at him.
"He's a noble lord, Charlie. Of course he needs a wife to give him an heir –"
"Ginevra!" Arthur's voice came on with a warning tone. "Stop this discussion right away."
"But dad, I was just –"
"Ginevra Molly Weasley!" It was Molly this time. "A young lady like you should focus on finishing school and not peddling herself to men she hardly knows! What would Harry say?"
"You know –"
"Gin –"
"That's just –"
"Kinda –"
"Low." The twins chorused. Ginny gave them a look.
"I'm just saying. Of course I'd finish Hogwarts." She then sighed and twirled a piece of her hair on a finger. Her family would not know ambition even if it bit them in the rear. She threw the High Lord a discreet glance once more before turning back to her cup of tea.
"Hey, the High Lord is standing up!" Ron observed, looking in the direction of the oval table.
"He must be making that announcement already," Arthur reckoned.
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The chatter at the oval table immediately ceased as Tristan stood up. Consequently, so did those at the other tables. The High Lord smiled to himself.
"Good afternoon to all. I hope everyone is enjoying themselves so far," the young nobleman began, beaming. Murmurs of assent among the crowd reached his ears. "Good, good. Now, as you can probably tell, I am a very impatient and demanding man." A chorus of laughter ensued. Tristan smirked. "Very well, I will make no move to correct that assumption. Having said that, let us cut to the chase, so to speak." The smile on his handsome face dropped a notch. He still looked pleasant, but now, there was no question that Lord Tristan Peverell was about to say something of great importance. His azure eyes swept the Ministry grand Ballroom, looking for any person whose attention was not on him –there was none. All eyes were on the High Lord, each face in rapt attention. Tristan then glanced behind him, his Court, Gareth –who was nodding silently in one corner –then finally, at Severus. The older man gave him the smallest of smiles. Lord Peverell smiled back before taking a deep breath and facing his audience once more.
"Dear citizens of Wizarding Britain, I am reclaiming my seat as the High Lord of the Ruling Court of Wizengamot and taking over the Ministry of Magic."
But just as surprised gasps rang all throughout the huge ballroom, the doors to the massive space burst open.
"Not so fast!"
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A/N: You see, the original chapter ended here, but as I was feeling bad that I can only give you two instead of three chapters today, I decided to add a little bit more to this. Ladies and Gentlemen, read on the first few moments of the following chapter. Enjoy!
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"Not so fast!"
A tall, thin and pissed-looking old man emerged from the great gilded doors, flanked by a short, brooding man and a heavy-set woman that looked more like a toad that drowned in a horrid pink table cloth. Tristan smiled widely upon seeing the trio.
"Ah, ex-Minister Fudge and your cohorts, lovely, lovely –"
Fudge strode towards the middle of the hall, fuming.
"What do you mean? How dare you assume –you impostor!"
Another chorus of gasps echoed all throughout the room. Did the Minister just accuse the High Lord of falsehood? Everyone looked from the old man to the young lord, and back. Fudge's face was clearly crumpled. Tristan on the other hand, maintained his pleasant façade. He cleared his throat.
"Cornelius Oswald Fudge, by the power of the Seat of the High Lord of Wizengamot, I hereby remove you from your position as Minister of Magic on the grounds of perjury, graft and corruption, and betrayal of public trust among many others. In accordance to the ICW –"
"Now, wait just right here, you ponce! You cannot do that!" Fudge tried to press forward to get to the young Lord. "Just who do you think you are?" He had almost reached the High Lord but a battalion of goblins blocked his path. He sneered at them. "Let me through! I am Minister of Magic! You have no right –"
Tristan smirked.
"As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, in accordance to the ICW statute, I as High Lord, hereby relieve you of your post and order for your arrest to await trial –"
Aurors suddenly materialized to arrest a wide-eyed, shocked ex-Minister.
"You cannot do this to me! I –"
Madame Longbottom then stood behind Lord Tristan Peverell.
"On the contrary, Fudge, this young man has every right to sack you."
Tristan beamed at her. "Thank you, my Lady."
Umbridge, now a violent shade of currant rum (think Vernon Dursley), was gripping the skirt of her horrible pink robes rather tightly. "But –but you can't be serious! The High Lord is a fairy tale! You must be a fake!" Tristan turned to look at her with an evil grin.
"I do not take lightly as to being accused of falsehood, Madame. Not that it matters to you, but this august body knows of the authenticity of my claims." Tristan glanced around and gestured grandly. Everyone had a look of affirmation on their faces. Umbridge paled.
"But –but –you can't do this!"
The High Lord gave her a patronizing look.
"Oh yes I can, dear Dolores, in fact –" The young nobleman turned around and caught one pair of obsidian eyes. His sapphire ones sparkled with mischief as he nodded at the man owning the dark irises, before turning to face Umbridge once more. "In fact, I can also order Lord Prince here to give you your, err, new designation."
Severus Snape, Lord Prince, emerged from right behind Tristan, a sinister glint dancing in his eyes. His face remained stoic though. Tristan watched him appreciatively, silently wondering how on earth could the man manage to keep such a straight face at a time like this.
"Dolores Jane Umbridge," Severus began, his voice cool and low, and devoid of any emotion other than contempt. "By order of the High Lord of Wizengamot, you are hereby removed from your post as Chief of Wizengamot on the grounds of perjury, graft and corruption and unjust coercion and illegal advances towards a Noble Lord and a member of the Court of Wizengamot –"
"But –but – Severus, I –"
"You shall be stripped of your titles and any rights to hold public office. You shall be taken into custody to await trial –"
"No! You cannot do that, Severus!" Umbridge screamed as aurors went to apprehend her. Severus frowned.
"Address me so informally again Madame, and I may just declare war on your House!"
Tristan smiled at the man.
"I cannot tell you how proud I am of you Lord Prince, " he quipped. "Why, it was only just yesterday that I was tutoring you on the ethics behind cuff links, and now, here you are threatening to declare feuds."
Severus smirked.
"I did have a great tutor."
Tristan grinned.
"Your praise is too much –"
"I meant Gareth, Lord Peverell," Severus snorted. Tristan rolled his eyes.
"Wait a bloody minute! You cannot do this!" Fudge, who seemed to have found his voice again screamed. "The representations aren't even complete! The Houses of Black and Slytherin –it should be here! And the Potter brat isn't! You cannot do this without a full Court! I will have you all executed for High Treason! You impostor! You –"
Tristan waved his hand and Fudge was silenced automatically. The young lord's pleasant face now took on a more serious look.
"The only one to be executed is you, Fudge! You have wronged the magical people of Britain for far too long." He moved closer to the old ex-minister who was by that time, already shaking in his spot. "I will make sure you pay. You and your bigotry are the cause of discord and enmity. I will not have you breed another Voldemort amongst our people. Never again." Tristan then eyed the whole room of people. "Not when I am alive."
The crowd stood in rapt attention.
"As for the Houses you have mentioned, you will find it public knowledge that Harry Potter had relinquished control of them to me for the time being." Tristan ended matter-of-factly. When no one dared to contest these pronouncements, he seemed satisfied and nodded to his liaison Gareth.
"Have the accused taken away."
The aurors led silenced Fudge and a whimpering Umbridge. A stony-faced Scrimgeour followed suit. Tristan addressed the crown once more.
"This is not about me, this is about our future. And unless we make things right now, there will be no hope for us, nor our children. If any of you should go against this vision of a better world, rest assured, you will be dealt with accordingly."