Hello everyone, and I do apologize to those who were interested in the story and felt disappointed that I didn't post sooner. A lot of stuff was going on at the time, plus some other stories took a life on their own and took all my creative energy away from this story, but I am back. I'll try to post as frequently as I can when my muse allows it. I hope you all enjoy this latest installment of The Wizard King.
CH 2
Andromeda Tonks, formerly Black, didn't like the situation she found herself in with her husband. From the moment the Med-witch finished her shift at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, her husband approached her and asked for a special request checkup for a specific individual. When she inquired about the identity of this individual, her husband remained vague, only mentioning that they were years away from receiving their first wand. She had very little information to go on, except for the fact that they were young. Despite her attempts to gather more details about her upcoming patient, her husband responded with silence, citing an oath of secrecy that prevented him from disclosing any information without permission.
Meanwhile, her husband asked her to take a similar oath of secrecy, promising not to reveal anything she would learn or see during their visit to the patient's current location. Following his request, she reluctantly took the oath. As a golden aura enveloped her briefly before settling, she and her husband vanished with a loud pop.
Moments later, they reappeared in a dark room that suddenly became illuminated. Both magical beings were momentarily blinded by the bright lights flooding the room. The sound of heavy boots and weapons being prepared filled the air, along with gruff orders being barked by men. Yes, she did not like the situation at all.
1 hour later
"One bloody hour!" Andromeda shouted within the small space she shared with her husband. She started to pace back and forth in the elevator like a caged animal. One asinine hour of her being constantly prodded by a probity probe, then downing several potions that tasted much more Fowler than the essence of a troll's undergarment on top of Thestra's shit.
Ted stood there and watched as his wife paced back and forth as the elevator slowly lifted them. He had nothing to complain about with the proper security procedures that the Muggles had in place for the safety of their charge. "I know it was a little uncomfortable for you, dear, but trust me, in the end, you'll understand why." he tried to calm the enraged, annoyed witch, and all he got for his troubles was a glare that promised pain when all this was over. causing him to wince and placing his hand over his groin involuntarily.
Seeing his hand voluntarily trying to protect the part that she would like to hex did bring out a little smile that plastered across her mad sister's face. Oh, dearest husband of mine, fear not; I won't be damaging the family jewels, nor will I damage the stem either. I have more diabolical ways to make you pay for leaving me in the dark and not warning me about those Muggles." As she spoke, she sauntered over to her husband, placing the tip of her manicure nails on the side of his face and slowly dragging them down, not stopping until she was down his neck, then pulling her finger away.
It was at this moment Ted knew that he fuck up. He tried to say something but nothing came out of his gaping mouth as it couldn't make a sound. His reaction to her promise and threat made the otherwise gray witch begin cackling like the witches of Old lore that would be used to scare children into obeying their parents.
The blood-curdling cackling quickly ended as soon as the elevator doors opened, revealing a man who appeared to be waiting for its occupants.
"Greetings, Director. How is Pendragon at this moment, sir?" Ted approached the man and extended his hand, greeting him like an old friend.
The director reached out and clasped wrists with Ted, saying, "Pendragon is perfectly fine. He's been quite active with his current accommodations." His attention shifted to Ted's wife, and upon seeing her, he immediately knew that she was a witch, just by her robes.
The two men released their handshake, with the director turning his back to the magical pair and taking the lead. "Best follow closely, lest security will have to detain either one of you," he said plainly as if talking about the weather, as he began to walk.
"What about my wand? You Muggles took it from me. By Morgana's tits, how am I supposed to perform my duties without it?" Andromeda questioned the mysterious man, whom her husband seemed familiar with, walking at the same pace as the three men.
The man didn't say anything and simply continued on the path forward. "We will return it to you once we reach our destination. For security reasons, all items that can be used as weapons must be confiscated until they reach the designated area where said object can be used under strict observation," the director answered the witch's question, informing her that she would have limited abilities until she had her wand within the facility.
The witch didn't know how she should feel about that. A witch or wizard's wand was more than just a tool; it was a piece of themselves. To have it taken away was almost akin to having a limb chopped off.
"Fair enough, but this doesn't mean I won't hex both of you after I'm done with my job. Only after I am no longer under these restrictions. You both are fair game," she said, a mad gleam shining in her eyes as she looked at her husband. Even without eye contact, he immediately stiffened, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The only person seemingly unaffected was the director, who showed no reaction or concern to the threat against him.
The trio arrived at a guarded door, where two men dressed in black with shades on stood watch. One of them raised a hand, signaling for the group to halt. "Security clearance," one of the guards said, his hand instinctively drifting towards a concealed weapon.
"Charlie...7...Echo...13...Foxtrot...0...Tango...45... Security key passphrase: We stand in visual in memory and honor of the round table of Pendragon," the director spoke to the Secret Service guards stationed at the door that led to their final destination.
One of the guards brought his wrist towards his mouth and began whispering into a hidden mic. After a few moments, the two guards stepped aside but kept their eyes on the trio as they kept their concealed weapons, just within a hair's breadth of their hands.
As soon as they had passed, Adronima couldn't help but notice how the room was strictly designed for the sole purpose of comfort for someone of a younger age. She immediately spotted the latest muggle game console. The only reason she knew about the muggle gadget was from her husband and her daughter. It also helped that her home had a mixture of both magic and muggle, including electricity. Yet, something froze her in her spot. It was the sight of the raven-haired boy who had just put down his book to look at who had entered his room. Immediately, she could see a younger version of James Potter.
She had to blink once, twice, thrice just to make sure what she was seeing was real. There was no doubt in her mind that this was Harry Potter, her third cousin. She could see the traits of the Blacks within his face and hair color, and despite his skinny body, he had the young build of a Potter. The only oddity was his bright green emerald eyes, almost the same color as the killing curse, just like Lily.
Ted noticed that his wife was staring at His Majesty. She stood still for a moment before he had a chance to reach out and shake her from whatever frozen stupor she was in. She took several steps forward.
Before the witch passed the director, he immediately returned her wand, which he had taken after the security team had searched them. After that, he simply stepped to the side and watched as the witch began her work.
"Hello there, a nice room you have here," the witch said to her unaware cousin, comfortably holding her wand in her hand.
Harry was surprised to see this woman enter the room he was given, yet he couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity coming from her. Hearing her comment in his room made him smile. "Yeah, they said that all this is mine, and once I'm done healing, I can take these things into my new room that's supposed to be bigger than this." He waved his hand, emphasizing the room he was in, which was much bigger than even his cousin's bedroom.
She returned the smile and briefly made eye contact with her cousin, performing a light mental probe to gauge his feelings about his current situation and his level of awareness of the Magical World. She even moved her wand into his view to see if it would elicit any surface thoughts related to the magical foci. However, to her disappointment, she picked up nothing. His thoughts seemed to be on her, not on the strange yet pretty stick, causing her to frown internally.
"I hope they're feeding you well. You look a bit on the skinny side. Hopefully, they haven't been giving you too many sweets," she said, her eyes drifting towards the food tray on the side, still filled with a variety of sweets, vegetables, and meats.
He let out a cute sigh of annoyance and shook his head. "The doctors say I'm not supposed to eat too many sweets. They want me to focus on consuming a lot of proteins to help rebuild lost nourishment, muscles, and other things," he tried to recall the advice given by the doctors during his examinations.
She had briefly looked over towards the director, giving him a questioning look. His only response was pointing his finger toward her husband as if he had all the answers to her questions. Turning her focus back onto her cousin, she began to raise her wand and mentally enchant a quick diagnostic spell. Invisible tendrils of magic washed over her cousin, blissfully unaware of the magic that was penetrating his body in a way that no muggle technology could scan a person. The results she obtained were enough to almost send her into a rage.
She turned around and walked towards the director, and without too much enchantment or wand movement, a silencing and knows-me-not ward sprung up between herself, her husband, and the director. "Care to explain why Harry James Potter is so malnourished, has multiple improperly healed bones, and is suffering from that accursed scar that seems to be oozing dark magic?" she roared at the director, her husband nearly shivering in his place at his wife's fury.
The man didn't seem to care that he was at the mercy of a witch who could easily turn him into a newt. He simply stared into the woman's eyes with no fear. "We found him this way and brought him here, beginning the slow process of healing. But I doubt muggle means would be as efficient in comparison to Wizarding healing." The director reached into his inner pocket, which was in his suit, and pulled out a folder he had kept on himself. He offered it to the enraged witch.
Snatching the folder, she quickly scanned over its contents. If she was enraged before, the information she found out about her cousin now made her apocalyptic. She realized that everything that had happened to him was intentionally inflicted.
"If I catch sight of those Dursleys, I'll likely be spending the next thousand years right next to my mad sister's cell in Azkaban," she snarled, her anger causing her to pace back and forth like an enraged dragon.
"It's too late for that," the director's words halted her pacing as he further explained what had happened to the Dursleys.
"Wait, you're telling me that instead of bringing them to court, you've given them a way out of Britain?!" The witch's anger intensified, causing her hair to resemble writhing snakes.
The magical pressure emanating from the witch began to affect the two men, making it difficult for them to breathe. The crackling sound of the magical barrier keeping this volatile energy contained signaled its impending collapse.
"We had little choice. If we brought them to formal charges, the state would go into an uproar. The family would have mere seconds left before those loyal to the crown would march to the nearest prison in the tens of thousands to lynch them. We made it abundantly clear that the Dursley family is forever barred from returning to British soil," explained the director. The decision to banish the Dursleys from the British Isles was one the director and the prime minister agreed on, finding little reason to send the family to prison Only for the British population to exact justice upon them.
Taking steps forward and placing his hands on both of his wife's shoulders, Ted stared into her deadly violet eyes. "It's better this way, or would you prefer the blood purists to have ammunition to prove that all Muggles are nothing more than animals? That they would beat and starve their world savior just because he possesses Magic," he said, gripping her shoulders tightly.
Her eyes met his, and her fury began to subside as his words had their intended effect. The two men in the room breathed a sigh of relief as they felt the tension ease. After calming down, she pushed her husband aside and directed her gaze toward the director. "He will need a full regiment of potions. Most of his bones need to vanish and regrow. It's possible to fix his eyesight with a few drops of certain drafts that can correct his vision, or we could take the muggle route for that," she informed the director, expressing her desire to see her cousin free from the annoyance of glasses.
The director listened to her recommendation and gave a short nod. "As the doctor prescribes, he will provide the necessary funding for the required drafts. As for his eyesight, that is up to him if he feels the need," he said, reaching into the inner pocket of his suit and pulling out a gold key, offering it to the Med-witch.
She extended her hand and took the key from him, quickly tucking it away. "It is most unwise to hand me something that could be worth a mountain of gold, which I could easily deposit into my vault. After all, the goblins have no laws regarding those who hold keys to vaults that are not their own," she stated, observing the man's reaction to her words.
The man maintained a stoic expression. "In that case, your property would be repossessed by the government. Despite being classified as magical, your home is located on the non-magical side. Therefore, we would be justified in taking your property until you repay the amount of money that you have taken beyond what is required for His Majesty's care," he said, his tone edged with a subtle threat. Both of them stared intensely at each other, locked in a silent battle.
"And here I thought I would have to educate you on the dangers of handing over a key without implementing fail-safes to prevent them from taking as much as they like before draining the vaults dry." Adronima gave the director a wide grin.
The man's intense glare relaxed, but his face remained stirring. "Thank you for examining His Majesty's medical needs. You'll receive fair compensation for your expertise in these matters, including the policy of absolute privacy," he complimented.
"Thank you, but if I may humbly request to spend time with His Majesty, just not in the capacity of a Med-witch," She nervously requested, hoping that the man would accept her plea.
"I see no problem with His distant cousins visiting him in their unofficial capacity just to show that he is not completely alone. That includes the children born of His cousins; if I am not mistaken, they are not too distant in age to help him act as the child he is," He stated to the witch, giving his consent to her request and granting additional permission to bring her daughter along.
Adronima couldn't help but smile at the man, giving him a thankful nod as she removed the privacy ward enveloping them. She then returned to her cousin and engaged in a small conversation about His likes and dislikes, eager to get to know the one relative she had left who wasn't either crazed, locked up, or stuck in outdated traditions regarding a banished family member.
"I like my new room; there's plenty of space, no spiders, and no fat cousins stomping on the stairs, making dust pour out over my head," He smiled as he looked around the spacious room he was given. He had spent a long time in this room, but he wasn't truly trapped here; if he wanted, he could take a walk outside his room accompanied by one of the men with reddish uniforms.
She had to hold back a small surge of rage, thanks to her mind training and her mental shield. She didn't want to frighten her cousin with her anger at the description of his previous room. "I think you'll get a bigger room, probably one with a large window that lets in more sunlight. This place is quite dreary, don't you think?" She noticed the excitement on her cousin's face and his nod of agreement about the dreariness. Making her decision, she pulled out her wand, pointed it in the air, and cast, "Lumos." The expression on his face was priceless as he watched the glowing sphere appear from the tip of her wand and float in the air.
Summoning up some courage, he reached out and touched the glowing sphere, only for it to immediately evaporate into nothing. He stared at his finger for a brief moment, the same finger that had touched the glowing sphere, before looking at the woman who had made it appear. "What was that? Can you do it again?" Almost instantly, multiple spheres of different colors began to glow in the open air.
"It's called the Lumos charm; this is magic," she explained. She couldn't help but notice his body stiffen and the fearful look in his eyes as soon as she said "magic."
"The Dursleys say that magic doesn't exist, only freakishness," he said, his mood turned somber. He had often heard those words while enduring beatings from his uncle's belt or being thrown into his cupboard without food for days.
The witch felt her maternal instincts kick in as she reached over and gently grabbed him, pulling him closer to her. She gave him a warm hug, being mindful of the few sore spots that she had detected with her diagnostic charm. At first, the hug was one-sided, but then she felt his little arms wrap around her. She began to slowly stroke his unruly hair, offering him comfort. "It's all right; you don't need to hear their words ever again. The word 'freakishness' doesn't exist here," she reassured him.
Her soft words of reassurance and gentle affection were like balm to his soul. He wrapped his arms around her, trying to hold back tears, but his resolve crumbled, and he found himself crying into her robes. It was the first time he could call without fear of punishment.
Adronima allowed her cousin to release his tears onto her robes, continuing to stroke his messy hair, letting him release all his sorrow. After a little while, he pulled away from her comforting embrace and wiped his eyes, his gaze focused on her wand.
"Can I see more magic?" he hiccuped, his face still marked with innocence and eagerness, now mixed with the remnants of sorrow.
Smiling, she waved her wand, cleaning her robes and wiping away the tears on her cousin's cheeks and eyes. She noticed the confused yet uncomfortable expression on his face after she cast the spell, and he immediately touched his face. "It's a basic cleaning charm. I'll show you a few of them, but I doubt you'll be able to cast anything without this," she explained, waving the wand to show him where the magic was coming from.
"Can I try?" he asked eagerly, his little hand reaching for her wand, which she raised in the air out of his reach.
Seeing the disappointed look on his face after she shook her head, she said, "I'm afraid not; a wand is a very special item that's made for that particular witch or wizard. If you did use it, you'd probably end up destroying a few of your things, including the electronics. Magic has a disagreeable nature when it comes to non-magical electronics." She moved away from her cousin and grabbed hold of a nearby flashlight, turned it on, and then changed the color of the metal the flashlight was encased into a nice soft blue. Suddenly, the light from the flashlight died. She tried turning it on, but nothing happened. Harry was staring at the flashlight as he reached out and took it as soon as it was offered to him.
After clicking the button a few times, he vaguely remembered playing with it not too long ago, and he knew for a fact that the batteries hadn't run out already. Unscrewing the lamp portion of the flashlight, he looked inside and saw that the batteries were fizzing and oozing battery acid at the side of it. He immediately dropped it and watched as the acidic material began pouring out of the flashlight and onto the floor of his room. In a panic, he was about to say something as he stared at the growing pool before it suddenly vanished before his eyes, battery acid and all.
"As you can see, things that have batteries in them fizzle out and spill their contents everywhere. Anything that's not battery-equipped or has a simple circuit like a wire will melt and damage the circuitry, and more," she explained the nature of Muggle technology that didn't mix at all with non-magical technology. She did emphasize that some Muggle items could still work in the presence of witches and wizards, such as combustion engines that are independent of a battery, steam engines, and other forms of non-electrical appliances. However, she also emphasized that many of such items were considered Muggle artifacts, which she further explained once he had asked the question.
The two cousins continued their conversation, with the boy being like a sponge, absorbing everything that was explained to him and giving small examples of more magic being put on display. But eventually, the time came when they would have to part.
"I'll have to go now, but I'll be back here again as soon as I am able, and I'll bring someone along who's a little older than you, but I think you'll enjoy her much more than me," she said with a smile. She reached down and gave her little cousin a pinch on the cheek, causing him to slap her hand away while grinning at her.
"Oi, these are my cheeks," Harry rubbed the cheek that she had pinched.
This caused the witch to let out a cackling laugh. With a final wave of goodbye, she went over to her husband and exited the room, with him following behind her.
The Prime Minister had a wide smile on her face as she read the reports on the king's overall health. Everything was in the green; he was at the appropriate height and weight, and best of all, he no longer needed glasses after receiving a better diet and the appropriate vitamins. His eyesight had corrected itself on its own, as if by magic. "Now we just need to make arrangements for a national coordination broadcast and send invitations to the respectable nobility that still exists and is not yet extinct," she said to herself, getting up from her desk and facing a bed. She wondered who to invite other than the existing non-magical nobility. She briefly thought about the Goblin King and his family, pondering whether he would even come. "To my knowledge, he detests wizards just like the rest of his kind, but if my history is correct, thanks to my friends in the Royal Archives, the goblins and the monarchy had a symbiotic relationship of sorts, or at least they tolerated the monarchy more than they do the wizards," she mused as she paced in front of her desk.
Another thought crossed her mind about the other magical royals that still existed, such as the Veela Queen and other nobles and magical beings who weren't essentially human but could give off the impression of human-like traits.
She stopped in the middle of her pacing and looked at the portrait of the first minister, which was covered with a blanket to keep their private conversations secret and prevent the ministry from spying in her office. "I will have to invite him and his toad, and whatever sycophants follow under his heel," she nearly sneered at the idea of dealing with Fudge and his pink undersecretary. During her gaze away from the magical portrait, she continued to think about those who could be invited to the coronation. She simply decided to invite them all, but she would have to have a separate event for magical coordination. Returning to her desk, she wrote a note in a private journal regarding the magical arrangements that wouldn't be under the purview of the ministry.
"They like to think they run everything as if magic itself was under their absolute authority, not in regards to the monarchy. After all, they did sign the treaty with certain stipulations in regards to who gets invited and who doesn't," she spoke to herself as she sat comfortably in her leather chair, with her feet propped up on the desk. She couldn't help but imagine the bewildered Fudge in a fuming pink toad form, having to show deference to non-human magical beings. She smiled and continued with her fantasy, but it didn't last long as her gaze shifted to the large royal portrait of the queen, now adorned with a black ribbon in the corner.
Removing her feet from the desk, she reached into the drawer that held her secret silver canteen. She unscrewed the top and raised the canteen above her head. "Long live the queen, and may your cousin reign just as long," she said to the inanimate portrait before bringing the canteen down and taking a large swig from it.
Within the deep depths of the Bank of Gringits, a gathering of goblins was sitting in their proper places at a large banquet table. Each of them held a high position in their nation, which was the Gringits bank. Many of them were overlords of various accounts that had earned them their positions to be here and feasting alongside their monarch, Ragnarok Dragon Crusher. Like any other Goblin Monarch, he sat at the head of the table and waited for everyone to be seated. Glancing to his right, he saw his heir and vice president of Gringits taking his place next to him, as it was proper for Goblin royalty.
Seeing how everyone was now gathered and seated, the Goblin King stood up with a goblet filled with blood wine in his hand. "We are gathered here today to celebrate nearly a thousand years of continuous interest and gains of our established Society. Since the time that Merlin himself came before us with King Arthur, with an entire galleon worth of gold and a magical contract that would establish the first-ever Goblin Bank, we have prospered. We have gained much more than we could have gotten by simply fighting with the humans and taking their gold forcefully. Though we do have to relinquish it once they come to claim their gold, as they had given it to us, in the end, it will eventually return to us in one account or another. We can pray to the ancestors that a fool thinks themselves crafty enough to steal from us." Smirking and seeing everyone's agreement, the Goblin King raised his goblet in the air, with everyone else following suit. "May the gold ever flow in our grand Halls, and may the blood of the enemy spill forth and fill our goblets." The king toasted, with everyone else following his words exactly, then downing their goblets filled with blood wine, just as the King was drinking it messily, allowing the red blood-like alcohol lines from the tips of his lips. After that, he sat down and prepared to feed on Basilisk's heart tartare, a very rare delicacy in the Magical World. Very few of the great king serpents exist within places where the ICW does not routinely regulate such creatures' breeding population.
But before the king could even stab his knife into the heart, a brown barn owl had flown in, carrying a letter. Normally, the Goblin King would have simply blasted the bird into a nice pile of feathers and ash for being in his domain. But given that he was already in a decent mood, he allowed the beast to circle him before landing in front of him and extending a leg. Reaching out with his clawed-covered fingers, he grabbed all of the rolled-up letters and looked at them, noticing that this was not from the ministry or any other important clients that he was connected to. Rather, it was from the prime minister. He could tell by the lack of actual parchment-like paper that he was holding, and he could smell the glue that was used to seal the letter. He examined the letter further, but there was nothing else of note other than identifying who the sender was. A sharp hoot broke his focus on the letter and onto the brown barn owl as if the beast was waiting for something.
A thought occurred to him about the reasons why the owl was continuing to remain there. "Oh, you must be one of those spoiled birds. Well, feel free to eat from our table, but know this: I doubt any of these delicacies will suit your sensitive feathered stomach." He waved a clawed hand at some partially raw and rotten meats scattered throughout the table, already being gorged on by goblins with fewer manners than a half-starved pig.
The bird looked back at the Goblin King, its feathers puffed up in annoyance. It let out a disgusted hoot, spread its wings, and flew off to be away from the sickening display of goblins feasting on rare and exotic raw and rotting meats that covered the goblin feasting table.
Letting out an amused chuckle at the annoying bird, the Goblin King simply waved his hand at the letter, causing it to float in the air. He started grabbing his golden silverware and began to dig into the heart. After a few bloody bites, he then glanced at the letter, it opened up and revealed its contents. He took one sip of his refilled blood wine goblet and read a few of the words, only to start spitting out a good portion of his wine onto the table.
The goblin prince immediately noticed how his father had just spit out the finest-tasting wine that their kingdom had all over their section of the table. Like any other proper Prince, he stood up and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword on his left hip. "Father, what is it? Has the Prime Minister said something to offend us? Do we need to go to the monarchy for this?" he asked his father, who refused to answer for a brief moment.
His father remained silent as he read and reread the letter at least a thousand times before his clawed finger touched the center of the letter, incinerating both the envelope and the letter all at once. "Her Majesty the Queen has died, along with her heirs, and a distant cousin within the bloodline is now assuming the throne. He happens to be magical, and the Prime Minister has invited us and those whom we would wish to bring to the coronation of the new king," he explained to his son about what he had just read.
Blinking in confusion, the prince of the goblin nation sat back in his seat, his posture relaxing as he removed his hand from his sword. "She has lived a long life. Are you certain that the queen has perished? And what about this magical king?" he asked his father, wondering what type of outcome could come with a magical king sitting on the British throne.
Taking another sip from his wine and swallowing it, then taking a bite from the heart, his father replied, "It just means we'll be participating in the coronation, at least the magical portion of it, while the non-magical get to have their share of the king's more muggle side of things." He had already accepted the invitation; they just needed to send an official letter to the Prime Minister confirming their acceptance.
"Will we be inviting the other overlords to the coronation?" the prince asked his father, only to receive his answer with a simple shake of the king's head.
There was one thing that Ragnarok would hate to deal with: an opportunist goblin taking the goblin name Kingslayer. There had only been two within the goblin records, and one remained living in the world just outside Dwarven territories. "The other overlords do not need to be notified as they are not required. Our bloodline had signed the treaty and sealed the deal in blood with Arthur Pendragon and Merlin. We are bound to accept, as well as reaffirm our loyalties to the throne of Britain and its authority," he said to his son while resuming his eating and prompting his son to do the same. There were no further discussions on this matter.
Veela Conclave
In the heart of the Veela homeland, the queen and mother of all pure Veela were basking in the warm sun, enjoying the peace and tranquility that she could afford in these last couple of decades since the fall of Grindelwald. Not even the rumors of another dark lord rising from the accursed, bigoted island nation of Britain could sour her mood, not while she was safeguarding her daughters.
Soft footsteps disturbed her silence, causing her to turn her head and open her eyes to see who was approaching her quietly. "Apolline Delacour, what brings you here, my child?" she asked softly with that motherly tone towards the young French half-Veela beauty.
Apolline smiled at her queen and extended a hand, revealing a letter wrapped around her fingers. "For you, my queen, from Britain," she continued, holding out the letter until her queen relieved her of the burden of holding it.
Raising a well-manicured silver eyebrow, the queen stood up to a nice towering height of 6 ft tall, wearing very little other than a transparent silk garment that left very little to the imagination for anyone who would look upon her. It was intentional to entice young, and if not older, wizards to try to curry favor with her look alone, without the use of her allure. She approached Apolline, who was wearing a similar garment to her own, and took the letter from her hand.
She had no idea what the British would want with her. At first, she suspected a few of the purebloods like the Malfoys would have something nasty to say to her or even worse, attempt to harm her. As laughable as that would be, none had the power nor the skill to harm her, lest they truly wished to incur her wrath. But surprisingly, the letter itself wasn't made of parchment, but rather a simple paper. Using one of her sharp, manicured nails, she opened the envelope and pulled out its contents to read what it was. Her eyes widened at what she was reading.
"Something wrong, my lady?" Apolline asked her queen, seeing the surprised yet rather excited look on the matriarch of the Veela.
"Nothing is wrong, my child. Rather, we'll be attending a Wizarding coronation of the first wizard king," she answered her friend and servant as she folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope to save it for later.
Registering the information that she had received from their queen, Apolline was going to protest against her queen attending. "My queen, the Malfoys reside in Britain, and they are not forgiven. They have yet to forget about our blood feud with them. I do not feel comfortable with you residing in the same land as those traitors and terrorists," she exclaimed, expressing her strong desire not to allow her queen to go.
The queen let out an unladylike snort as she shook her head, her silver hair flowing. "I fear not those blonde-headed quarter-Veela scum. If they do cause problems, I'll simply crush them with my magical power. I doubt I would even need to weave a spell. I think my allure alone could short-circuit even a Seder brain without having to release one-tenth of my allure."
Apolline couldn't think of anything else that she could use to convince her queen not to go to the most bigoted nation in the world. "At least allow my husband to send those who are immune to the allure to accompany you and safeguard you from those who would try to cause a scene that would speak ill of our kind, my lady," she offered to her queen.
"Very well, command your husband to send an honor guard. Two is all that I require. Any more would be overkill. I wish to see this young wizard who shall become king," she stated as she walked towards her castle home to prepare herself for the coronation that she would eagerly attend.
Just like that, the prime minister was receiving a flood of acceptance letters, even from magical kingdoms, that she had not even bothered to send a letter informing and inviting. Those who wished to witness the crowning of the first magical king in a thousand years, the previous one that once ruled Britannia, were eager to attend.
She hadn't even sent a letter to Cornelius; now she was considering whether or not she needed to send him a letter. Continuing to ponder this thought, her decision was made as she got up from her desk and headed straight for the Enchanted portrait that seemed to be in a state of stasis. "I would like to speak with the minister; it is of the utmost urgency in regards to the state and realm of Great Britain itself," she said in a firm, commanding tone to the portrait. Anyone else who may have witnessed her actions would think of her as insane to speak to a portrait in this way, but this was the only means for her to communicate with her counterpart.
A few moments later, the portrait blinked before nodding his head, getting up from the seat that was in the frame, and walking off to its corresponding portrait. Sometime later, the figure in the portrait was back in his usual place. "He'll be seeing you in a few moments. It seems that he is under pressure in the search for a missing young wizard. Young folk these days, I remember when I was the minister, things were much simpler, and there were hardly even any dark Lords within the decade I had been the minister." The portrait of the first minister again prattled on a long story that would have captivated a historian of Wizarding history, but to the prime minister, it was something that she'd rather ignore; fortunately, her predecessor taught her how to temporarily disable the portrait. Pulling out a pure silver coin while the portrait was continuing to speak, she placed the coin at the corner of the frame, causing the various enchantments and charms to animate the portrait to immediately stop in mid-sentence of whatever the portrait was going on about.
Smirking, the prime minister went back to her desk and sat patiently, as well as dealing with the idea of pulling out her hidden silver flask, whether to drown out a possible headache that might come from this meeting or to humorously celebrate making a fool of the leader of fools. She did not have long to ponder such thoughts as her fireplace began to spout green flames. After the fiery display, out came a green robe-wearing man with a bowler hat, along with two others that were dressed just as outlandishly as the minister of magic, with one of them wearing nothing but pure pink and the other the finest black robes one could buy.
"Has something gone awry? Is that something that needs the ministry's attention?" Cornelius looked rather tired as if he had been running a marathon for the last couple of days, which could be true to an extent ever since the Potter boy disappeared from Dumbledore's watchful gaze. This caused the Minister of Magic to be flooded with angry letters questioning where the British Wizarding World savior was, along with several ambitious True Blood houses wondering if they could house the Boy Who Lived. Cornelius found a conversation he was having with Lucius just before the Prime Minister summoned him.
The Prime Minister waved her hand towards one of the leather chairs for the minister to take. "Please have a seat. By the looks of it, you probably need more than just a seat." She said it neutrally while trying desperately to suppress a humorous smirk that she was about to reveal to the minister and the other two who were in the room about the new monarchy.
Taking the offer, Cornelius sat down with a tired huff and took off his bowler hat. "You can say that again, if anything, I wouldn't mind downing several barrels of fire whiskey just to go ahead and suppress the growing headache of complaints I've been receiving all because of one boy disappearing and not staying where he needs to be." He complained and missed the narrowing of the prime minister's eyes on where the Potter boy should have been.
"It is unfortunate, Cornelius, that I cannot supply you with fire whiskey. I never really had a taste for the stuff, but I wish to inform you of the passing of the queen and her royal family from this world." She informed them of the three shock surprises that she could see, especially on Lucius, who immediately trained his eyes onto the large portrait of the queen, who had a black ribbon on the corner of her frame.
Clearing her throat, Umbridge took a step forward towards the desk and looked down past the tip of her nose as she raised her head, held high, at the prime minister. "You bothered the Minister of Magic to inform him that the Muggle Monarch is dead, which concerns us how?" the pink toad spoke disrespectively with her head held high and her eyes looking past her nose as if she was suppressing the need to scrunch up her face of something foul that she had snelled.
"For your information, it does concern the magical realm and the mundane realm. It was through her bloodline, and the king of the time signed the magical treaty granting the magical population the right to establish their government so long as they obeyed the existing laws commanded by His Highness the King or Queen that would proceed down the bloodline to today." The Prime Minister found it difficult to maintain her temper while explaining the significance and importance of the royal bloodline and how it ties into the magical realm. It was already important in the non-magical world as both a figurehead for national pride and religious significance and the heart and soul of the kingdom.
Lucius let out a scarf. "You mean those magical contracts once had significance, but now no more. The bloodline is severed. I may not care for the non-magical world, but from my sources, the queen and her entire family are dead, leaving this kingdom without a monarch for the first time in centuries." He smoothly said and wondered how the general public of the non-magical world was feeling without their monarch, without their beloved Queen or Princes.
The Prime Minister had eyed the silver-haired man suspiciously before returning her focus to the pink-robed woman and fudge. "The queen and her bloodline are indeed dead, but dating back centuries before the written Treaty of Self-Governance, there was a long-forgotten branch that was discovered by my historians. A prince who was part of the line of succession but was doomed to become a priest as he would be clandestinely removed from the line of succession; unfortunately, he dashed those plans of his father, the king, and ran off with an impoverished witch, the first of her generation bloodline, going by the magical name Peverell." She had stopped speaking, allowing the three to absorb the information and giving them a chance to connect the dots.
Lucius was the first to immediately connect the dots but said nothing as his cheeks began to flush red at the idea of a wizarding family obtaining royal status, something that his ancestors had tried but failed. For centuries, the Malfoy family danced within the courts of France to one day place either a daughter or a son of House Malfoy on the Royal Throne of France. Unfortunately, the confederation of wizards that formed at the same time as the French Revolution dismissed those ideas of obtaining royal status for the family, and like any true Malfoy, they fell in line with Napoleon before turning their backs on the French emperor and settling in England.
"Are you saying that those within the Peverell bloodline were in line to the royal throne? I hate to inform you, Mugg... I mean, Prime Minister, the bloodline of the Peverell family is dead, and those descended from them are long deceased." Umbridge spoke in that sickly sweet tone of voice as she was trying to educate a simpleton about what is and what is not.
The Prime Minister scowled at the pink robe-wearing woman, "If any of you had a complete public genealogy record, you would most likely know that the Peverell bloodline did not go extinct. Rather, their daughters took up the names of husbands or their husbands took the names of the daughters that they married into the family, such as Cadmus took the name of his wife whom he had freed from the Viking slave ships, who in turn gave birth to Salazar Slytherin. And we cannot forget about the cursed bloodline of Antioch, who had named his second-born son surname Grindelwald. As for the youngest brother, his bloodline continues to this day within the last living member of the Potter family." She tried to speak calmly, but a little anger became mixed with her words, especially when she was being talked down to by someone who would not be out of place at the local Freak Show due to the witch's frog-like appearance.
That's when the Minister truly understood the reason why he was summoned here and began sweating profusely as he looked toward Lucius and his undersecretary. His eyes were now fixed on the Prime Minister, who seemed to have a triumphant smirk on her face. "Are you saying that Harry Potter is the new king of Great Britain?!" he managed to speak out, his words stumbling and sputtering as he questioned this new reality he had stumbled into.
"That is correct, and we found him and brought him to our private facility to ensure that his transition to the throne was carefully attended to, especially considering the condition we found him in," the Prime Minister admitted, acknowledging that she had taken Harry Potter from his home and explaining why the Wizarding World savior had disappeared.
Umbridge was the first to draw her wand and pointed it at the Prime Minister. "You had no right to take Harry Potter. Even though he is the next monarch, you should have informed the ministry before taking any unnecessary actions. He is a magical citizen," she yelled, her voice filled with anger.
The Prime Minister simply raised her hand in the air, signaling to her hidden magical security, who quickly cast a disarming charm and snatched the wands out of the undersecretaries' hands. Lucius also pulled out his wand, but before he could do anything, the wizard under the invisibility cloak disarmed him as well. "Harry Potter was a magical citizen before his ascension to his current status, but now he is the king, and all of you, including myself, are subject to his divine right to rule. Though his position is mostly ceremonial for our side, in the magical world, the Goblins have a friendly relationship with the monarchy. It was Merlin and King Arthur who helped form the first Goblin Bank, and under the first king of Albion, Goblins ceased all attacks on human settlements in exchange for the mountains of gold that were willingly given to them. The relationship between the monarchy and the Goblins is strong and unlikely to change," the Prime Minister explained, reminding them of the historical ties between the two.
Cornelius couldn't help but stare an absolute shock in between his undersecretary and his closest advisor, who would draw their wands so casually in front of the Muggle prime minister, something he would have to question the bow for them once this meeting was over.
"So what now, Madam Prime Minister? If he is to be king, I do not know how the Wizarding World will react to this new, bizarre change, as Harry Potter is already known for his efforts in destroying the Dark Lord," he stated as he brought out a white handkerchief and began dabbing it on his forehead, wiping off the beads of sweat that were already starting to form.
"Well, you and a few others could learn what's expected in terms of formal attire when being summoned to the Royal Court for the coronation of His Majesty from your wizarding historians, if there are any true historians left on your side," stated the Prime Minister as she reached into a drawer, pulled out a scroll of invitations, and placed it on her desk for the Minister of Magic to take.
Reaching out for the document and breaking the seal, he opened it up and read the contents. It was exactly as he was expecting—an invitation with only himself, the department heads, and the Chief Warlock—to attend the coronation. "I will speak to the few Unspeakables that might have some insight into the historical records on what's expected for attending a royal coronation, though it might take some time," Fudge hoped that his words would possibly delay the coronation just enough so he could turn the situation in his favor and possibly even strike up a friendship with His Majesty if he was given leave to interact with the future monarch.
"Well, Cornelius, you have about a week. We cannot delay the coronation any longer than that, especially with the large number of attendees who will want to witness this historic event on both sides. It will be the coronation of the youngest monarch in modern history and the first magical king in a thousand years," the Prime Minister informed the Minister, leaving no room for negotiation and informing him about other attendees without specifying who they would be.
Taking the situation for what it was, Cornelius nodded his head in acceptance of the limited time he had to work with. "I and those who will be attending should be more than ready by the end of this week," he said as he started to roll up the scroll and put it into his green robes for safekeeping.
With that said, the Prime Minister stood up from her seat and extended a hand. Two wands appeared courtesy of her invisible protector. "Just don't be late. It is unwise to make a fool of yourself and magical Britain as a whole by being late to their own monarch's coronation," she said, extending a hand towards the Minister, with the wands in the same hand for him to take instead of the original owner not wanting to be hacked by either witch or wizard.
Cornelius took the two wands, stood up from his seat, and headed straight for the fireplace, which still had an emerald green flame. He wasted no time as he stepped through the flames, disappearing back to the Ministry of Magic, followed by the silver-haired wizard and the frog-faced, pink-wearing woman, who both disappeared within the green flame before it died out, leaving nothing but a cold, ash-filled fireplace.
"That was entertaining, Prime Minister. I always wanted to take both of their wands. I might have to send you a fruit basket or give you the non-magical version of fire whiskey," the muffled voice of the Prime Minister's magical protector spoke in the corner while under the invisibility cloak they were wearing.
"If you are going to get me something, I would prefer whiskey. Plus, as entertaining as it was for you, it was also entertaining for me. I don't get too many chances to catch Cornelius off guard," she started to grin widely, wondering how the Minister was probably laying into the two individuals who had pulled out their wands in her presence. If only she could be a fly on that wall.
As she had thought, a green beetle crawled its way toward the fireplace before going up through the chimney to disappear into places unknown after listening to the conversation between the two heads of government.
BTC
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