CHAPTER 37

21 June 1994 - The Lord's Den - Fortress Nott, 5:46PM

A beastly roar of impotent fury echoed throughout the massive room, followed by the distinct sound of shattering glass as an enraged Tiberius hurled yet another crystal tumbler against the wall.

The eldest Nott continued to throw a colossal fit, face further reddening from the effort as he physically upended his desk into the wall with a mighty crash. The sound of more shattering glass followed, emphasized by and near unintelligible screams of foul language and more broken objects.

Shouts of spellfire ensued as Tiberius' blackthorn wand flashed in a rage, Bombardas and Expulsos creating a flurry of debris within his sanctum sanctorum. The only image the wizard could focus on in the midst of his violent temper tantrum was the mental visage of a sneeringly victorious Lucius Malfoy. Not only had the blonde succeeded in thoroughly duping him, he'd completely and utterly humiliated Tiberius before his peers and practically all of Wizarding Britain.

Listening just outside the room, Alex Nott could only smile in vindication. His wretched sire had finally, finally, gotten exactly what he deserved, and he had Lord Malfoy to thank for that.


Exactly Ten Hours Ago…

Courtroom 11 was abuzz with energy as the various attendees gathered for the much-awaited Wizengamot summer session. Thanks to the combined efforts of the DoM's Cleanup Crews, the Ministry house elves, and the efforts of the Office of Sanitation Services, Level 1 of the Ministry had been returned to its spic-and-span condition, bearing no remnants of having played host to a horde of killer acromantula.

The gallery proper with the was halfway full as the esteemed Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot slowly milled in from the the Lord's Lounge, the waiting area specifically set out for seatholders to convene for small meals and the occasional libation prior to and in-between Wizengamot meetings. Some were in a distinctly good mood, others were indifferent, and quite a few looked as though they'd rather be doing anything else than spending the bulk of their day politicking, even with their fellow peers.

From his position above in the Viewing Gallery, Heir Nott took his time to survey each and every individual and their respective moods and reactions. True to Boyar form, Alex knew the name, face, crest, motto, family history, and general agenda of every Wizengamot House - active or otherwise. Each Lord and Lady possessed a personal box bearing a unique seat emblazoned with the sigil of the House along with their respective words. Keyed to its holder's unique magical signature, it would deliver a nasty shock to anyone who sat in a seat not assigned to them.

If the seat belonged to a dormant or extinct House, the new seat holder would need only touch his or her wand to the seat to register their magical signature. The process would be repeated for the relevant Seneschal or Regent to avoid snafus. In the event of the creation or addition of a new House, the unique wizardspace magicks of the courtroom would automatically create a new corresponding box seat. Should a Noble House be elevated, their seat would be magically moved to the row of box seats on the uppermost level reserved for the Ancient and Noble.

(Had she been privy to his thoughts in that moment, Number 44 aka Priscilla McNully (née Scrimgeour) would have been very impressed at the breadth of his knowledge regarding this aspect of Wizengamot history).

Almost on instinct Alex's eyes flickered over to his father's section, taking care to not make eye contact with the bastard as he boisterously chatted with Lord Warrington. His hatred for the man had risen to unbearable heights, with the allure of patricide whispering against his mind in ever-rising volume. Heir Nott was unable to forget That Night when he'd been Imperiused by his own father to sic the dangerous protections of Fortress Nott against his own brother. Brief flashes of disdain curled against his mind at the thought of Theo, before a practiced breath of Occlumency brushed the thoughts away.

'My own brother…'

One of the few good things in his life since Tiberius' murdering of his mother, and his sire had seen fit to take that away from him.

As with all seemingly unfair things in the world the man would be using today to stage the ultimate political coup, strengthening House Nott's influence in the Wizengamot and utterly trouncing Lucius Malfoy - his self-declared enemy.

To Alex's amusement, the blonde looked completely nonplussed as he gazed imperiously out at the room's inhabitants, patrician chin angled just so. His rich plum robes looked even more sumptuous than the others, embroidered with the golden script that resembled the runic equivalent of the Malfoy family motto. His sire had insisted - in that gratingly overly boisterous manner of his - that Lord Malfoy was flat broke and thus could no longer maintain the financial obligations of his Vassals. Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson were ripe for the taking, and Lord Nott would take great pleasure in acquiring them today.

His eyes trailed over to Heir Malfoy's position in the Viewing Gallery, surprised to see him chumming it up with the youngest Weasley as his House's solicitor Caecilius Spangle looked on amiably. The two looked quite comfortable in each other's company, with Draco looking more at ease than Alex would have thought the blonde capable of and seemingly chuffed at making the redhead girl laugh out loud. While he was aware of the end of the Enmity Oath between their families, the Boyar was surprised to see them become such friendly acquaintances so quickly.

Interestingly enough, Alex noted the curious looks Lord Parkinson leveled at the two Slytherins, expression uncommonly calculating.

A few feet behind them was Percy Weasley, eagerly chatting with Dorian Heir Avery and completely oblivious to his sister's interactions.

Though Alex wasn't certain what they were discussing, it was perfectly reasonable to assume it had to do with Dorian's position as a Junior Undersecretary to Barty Crouch Sr., the current Director of the Department of Magical Co-Operation. Crouch sought two competent right-hand men, one who could accompany him as an extra set of eyes and ears on his ICW excursions, and another who could serve and liaise with the sub-departments under the DIMC's purview in lieu of Crouch's absence during said ICW events.

Either one would be most fitting for the Boyar alumnus.

A bark of laughter diverted Heir Nott's attention, smirking when his gaze landed on Lord Black. The boisterous man was eagerly chatting with Faustus Fortescue, Seneschal for House Bones. He'd finally awoken from his intensive healing coma a few weeks prior, utterly amazed to discover his new prosthetic arm.

An eye-catching creation of orichalchum and goblin steel inlaid with scant traces of mithril, it bore several runic symbols that allowed for maximum mobility and utility. Unbeknownst to all, an extensive network of invisible Parselrunes served as the anchoring matrix that allowed for the prosthetic's near flawless usability, courtesy of Lily Evans and Tom Riddle's combined efforts.

In typical Sirius-fashion he'd eschewed magicking the prosthetic to resemble a normal human arm, citing that it looked "far more wicked!" in its un-glamored form.

Lord Black suddenly paused to shoot a poisonous glare behind Faustus, startling the man at the intensity of the expression.

Following the Black's line of sight, the Boyar smirked at seeing a fidgeting and exhausted Lord Potter, who looked as though he'd have rather been anywhere else than there. His Seneschal's betrayal would be one of the central topics of discussion in today's session, and if the rumors were to be believed, would be incurring a formal censure levied by Houses Brown, Avery, and potentially Greengrass.

And more than likely the House of Black.

'Though I can imagine Black's anger is more personal, considering his would-be partner died as a result of Prewett's treachery.'

Heir Montague's death was as tragic as it was senseless, with his father following him soon after. Alex's eyes cut to the Montague seat, currently occupied by a stiff and stone-faced Graham. Seated next to him was his Aunt Telema, who would be acting as his Regent after today's session.

A stab of pity filled Heir Nott; his brief acquaintance with the Montague boys revealed the same level of brotherly affection that existed between him and Theo, and like him, he knew Graham was hurting deeply at the loss.

"Well met, Heir Nott." Alex turned at the sound of Giles Yaxley's voice as the boy came to stand at his left.

"Well met, Heir Yaxley."

The two proceeded to exchange bits of polite conversation about very mundane topics, careful to not delve too deeply into the current political matters at hand. Unbidden Alex's gaze flitted over to Lord Yaxley, who sat quiet and stoic though with a noticeable tension that strongly suggested that he'd cast curses first and ask questions later should the situation call for it.

Along with Auror Black he'd been awarded an Order of Merlin - 1st Class - for his tremendous act of bravery in the midst of the acromantula siege. Yaxley had not only succeeded in killing several of the beasts, he'd saved Williamson and Stuart's lives - the only other survivors of the horrifying encounter in the Auror offices.

There were even whispers that the two may owe Yaxley a Life Debt, though it was nothing more than conjecture at this point.

Refocusing his primary attention back to Giles, the Boyar hummed and replied at the appropriate times, grateful to have enough Occlumency to pay attention to the Black Wolf's nattering. Though exceedingly pretentious with a keen propensity for cruelty, Alex had long noted Giles' politesse towards him as a pureblood Heir of Ancient and Noble House.

In fact, Giles was the same with only those who were pureblooded and came from privilege, with the occasional exception for a wizard-raised Halfblood of an influential family. He got along quite well with his fellow Housemates like Ahsan Kolumiko, Nolan Parkinson, Bradford Avery, Borys Tkachenko, and other similar individuals. The same courtesy was extended to Viktor in his stead as the Krum heir, though it was a tougher facade to maintain given Giles' noted disdain for most in House Bogatyr.

Cassius Warrington - despite being a blood relative - bore the brunt of Heir Yaxley's open derision, though that had more to do with his general contempt for Heir Warrington's braggartly tendencies as opposed to his status as Bogatyr.

'If only he'd inherited Albert's poker face.'

Though equally as elitist as his elder brother, the younger Yaxley understood that one attracted more flies with honey than vinegar and thus was typically regarded in higher esteem than Giles. The Red Star was currently sitting to the right of his lightly scowling mother, form at ease with expression perfectly composed. He was outfitted in handsome robes befitting a scion of his station, long locks styled in rakish waves down his back.

It was nothing compared to the glamorous vision of his mother, whose elaborate and gilded oxblood robes were more befitting of a royal coronation than a government assembly. Lady Vasilka even wore a small diadem, its many rubies glimmering under the low light of the courtroom.

"What do you expect of today's session?"

Alex quirked an elegant brow at the sudden non-sequitur, before smiling noncommittally.

"I really cannot say," Heir Nott murmured softly. "But I imagine it will be one for the books."


8:49AM

Once roll call was finally complete, Dumbledore banged his gavel to officially begin the session.

Per the very full agenda available only to the Chief Warlock, there were a few matters of House-Keeping that required first attending before any other legislative matters could be addressed.

Albus wasn't surprised at seeing Amos Diggory's name at the top of the list. The man had been running a fierce background campaign to woo the necessary Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot to support his schemes. In order for the Common House of Diggory to become Noble, a proposal vote required the support of four Ancient and Noble and three Noble Houses. If the man could secure a total of seventy-five votes, House Diggory would be officially elevated to a Noble House with Amos as its Lord and Cedric as his Heir Apparent.

'Would explain his preening this morning.'

Swallowing his snort at the younger wizard's shamelessness, Dumbledore's eyes roved over the other names on the list. He was surprised at seeing Justin Finch-Fletchley's name listed, but he assumed that Lord Prince may have decided to formally assign the boy the status of Heir Prince. Albus was well aware of Severus' enduring infatuation for Alice Longbottom (née Blishwick), and it didn't seem as though the Potions Master was interested in any other witch in such a manner.

The most intriguing name on the itinerary was Harry Potter's.

Granted, it was possible that Lord Black was going to make Harry his official Heir. He was the second-born Potter and thus didn't have the same legal obligations to his House as Jim. Lord Black was also Harry's oath-sworn godfather, and thus would be a logical next-step in their relationship. Additionally, it would be appropriately Slytherin for the youngest Potter to legally and publicly separate himself from his birth House in the wake of the Potters' current scandalous reputation.

'Although…'

It was entirely possible and just as equally Slytherin that Harry would lay claim to the long-lost House Blackwood.

Created in 1299 by then Uranus Lord Black for his bastard halfblood son Herberos, House Blackwood was a means for Uranus to expand his influence in the Wizengamot and maintain control of his progeny. Illegitimate he was but Herberos had displayed powerful accidental magic as a babe, amazing and frightening his muggle aristocrat mother in equal measure.

Instead of magically adopting the boy and causing a potential inheritance crisis with his legitimate heir Saturnius, Uranus created and gained consensus for Blackwood's establishment as the best alternative. He established the House as a Noble vassal to his own and assigned himself Regent, overseeing Herberos' affairs until the boy's 14th birthday when he could assume formal Lordship and appoint his own Proxy and Seneschal.

True to form Herberos grew up to be quite powerful, Sorting into Slytherin and eventually rising to become Prince (1279-1282). Beloved and feared in equal measure amongst his peers, Herberos ruled House Blackwood similarly, marrying his fellow Slytherin and Consiliarius Dorcas Marchbanks upon their Hogwarts graduation. They birthed one son and three daughters, and thus began firmly entrenching their House's influence through intermarriage with other pureblood and influential muggle families.

As a result, House Black's influence within the wizarding and muggle world grew in kind in the proceeding centuries, with a handful of Black cousins intermarrying with some of their Blackwood cousins. These successes served as the embodiment of their original motto - Solum Nostra Propositum Est Pura.

That is, until the events of 1586 - two years prior to the crisis of the Inheritance Act.

Then Hydrus Lord Blackwood envisioned a different path for his House, one that did not include ruling under House Black's thumb. Like its Lord, House Blackwood possessed a large number of muggleborns, a consequence of purposeful mingling with muggle and squib-born nobility. Hydrus' own father Pluto had been a squib, but due to Blackwood's entrenchment in muggle high-society, their liege did not believe in tossing their squibs to the wolves. Pluto was afforded every privilege given to a muggle highborn as he rose within the ranks of Elizabeth I's court, becoming betrothed to muggle noblewoman Cornelia Cecil, lastborn daughter of William Cecil - 1st Baron Burghley and chief adviser to the Queen.

As such, Hydrus had been afforded every privilege befitting a scion of his station. He displayed powerful accidental magic like his forebear Herberos, and upon his 11th birthday, had matriculated into Hogwarts and Sorted into Slytherin. Heir Blackwood claimed the Prince of Slytherin title by his Fifth Year in 1565, guiding the House's path from the shadows. Upon his graduation he immediately assumed the mantle of his house from his liege Altair Lord Black, fully engaging with the many intricacies of wizarding and muggle politicking.

Ordinarily, this wouldn't have been an issue.

However, Altair and his late wife had birthed three daughters, the eldest of whom had birthed another daughter with the remaining two still in Hogwarts. Like his father Percy the Black, Altair had inherited the mantle of battle mage to the muggle sovereign, leading Elizabethan-allied forces in the Desmond Rebellions that ultimately ended in Elizabeth's victory and the formal expulsion of the magical branch of House FitzGerald from the Wizengamot.

Being a battle mage came with battle injuries, and after being held under the Transmogrifian Torture Curse by an enemy combatant during the Siege of IJsseloord, Lord Black had incurred a severely lame leg and a weakened heart. Despite that, he nonetheless was able to kill the wizard responsible for his affliction in a manner fitting the vengefulness of the House of Black.

With no prospect of a male heir to groom into lordship with a sickly leader to boot, Altair's house was vulnerable, a fact Hydrus was ready and willing to exploit. Per their respective house charters, the Prince Emeritus could lay claim to his liege's heirship mantle, as he was a magical male descendant with multigenerational claim to the mainline Black family.

In a bold and unexpected move in the Wizengamot session of 14 July 1586, Lord Blackwood formally declared himself not only as Heir Apparent of House Black, but, in line with an obscure clause in his liege's charter, wanted to grant himself immediate powers of proxy to begin adjudicating all of House Black's affairs.

The assembled Lords and Ladies were shocked, with Lords Hephaestus Malfoy I, Wainwright Potter, Wystan Longbottom, Thale Selwyn, and Silvester Nott demonstrating an uncharacteristic show of unity in questioning Hydrus' legitimacy in making such an outlandish claim to his liege's seat of power, all well aware of the younger wizard's ambitions. Hephaestus especially recognized the ploy for power for what it was, secretly impressed by the bold Slytherin move.

An hour of debate later, a decision was reached.

Charter or not, House Black still held precedence given its status as Ancient and Noble and Blackwood's liege. Chief Warlock Auryn Fortescue - with agreement of the aforementioned Houses - that either Lord Altair or a representative on his behalf would have a week to respond to Hydrus' claim, especially on the account of the man missing a Wizengamot meeting.

That was exceedingly bizarre, considering Altair took his duties fastidiously and would never miss a session, least of all in matters pertaining directly to his House.

Lord Blackwood wasn't too concerned, given the order of assassins he'd sent after his liege.

The the older wizard was hunkered down in the heart of Chênenoir, fending off his would-be killers who'd breached the venerable manse's wards with an arcane wardbreaker given to them by Glenn Avery - Consiliarius Emeritus of Hydrus' Prince Administration. Said assassins murdered his elves and caught him completely off guard, forcing an initial retreat.

Twelve violent and bloodsoaked hours later, a near-dead Altair emerged victorious. Healing the worst of his injuries, he sent a patronus envoy to his second-born daughter Hespera, summoning the girl to Chênenoir to begin the necessary preparations.

And so began the clock on Hydrus' demise.

As cunning and ruthless a Slytherin as one could be, 16 year-old Hespera - a then-Prince Claimant and Altair's unspoken favorite - was a skilled metamorphmagus and equally talented with dark curses. While Lord Black recuperated, the two spent the following two days cooking up a deadly revenge plot.

Hespera successfully intercepted Lady Blackwood whilst she did her usual summer shopping in Twilfitt and Tattings, killing the witch and Vanishing her body for good measure. Hespera then stole her form to infiltrate the Blackwood Estate. As she was a direct blood descendant of the liege lord and technically cousins with the sitting Lord Blackwood, the wards granted her entry. She killed the unsuspecting elves and laid in wait in the Master Suite, surprising a completely unsuspecting Hydrus some hours later when he crawled into their marital bed with a Stupefy and Incarcerous. She activated the Floo to grant her father entry, so he could have his revenge.

Were the Blackwood Estate still standing, its many walls would only whisper about the horrific pain Hydrus was made to endure for hours before his death.

As for the remaining Blackwoods, they were given two options; consent to targeted Obliviation to remove their memories of being Blackwoods and House Black-adjacent and be granted new identities as muggleborns who willingly consented to relocating out of England, or, be executed.

Most chose the former.

Pluto was the only exception, choosing to die with honor in memory of his slain son and heir.

A day before the Wizengamot's deadline, Altair appeared before his peers and gave rousing testimony regarding his would-be assassination and Hydrus' perfidious coup attempt. In line with the liege-vassal oaths between the two Houses, Altair was declared 'legally justified' in killing Lord Blackwood in both self-defense and revenge. In a stunning show of unanimity, the Wizengamot voted to declare House Blackwood 'Irrevocably Dormant' until Lord Black decided otherwise, though it would take a majority vote of the Wizengamot to officially reactivate the House. The option to use The Ultimate Sanction in its true form had arisen, but as there were technically no more living male descendants who would legally lay claim to the Blackwood seat, the Wizengamot decided that it was unnecessary. House Black severed any and all ties with their muggle interests and allies, never wanting to give rise to another such crisis within their family again.

In line with his new hardened outlook, Altair changed all the marital clauses in the Black Charter to forbid any member of his family from marrying a squib-born or muggle lest they wanted to risk permanent expulsion. Lord Black then married Marie-Thérèse Phélypeaux of the Noble Famille Phélypeaux - staunch pureblood purists and influential members of the Ancien Régime. Their union and birth of their son Orion secured House Black's new path in the light of absolute purity, with Altair changing his House's motto to the native language of his new wife - Toujours Pur.

At the current time, House Blackwood was ripe for the taking.

'Well,' thought Albus with some amusement. 'I guess we'll see what unfolds!''

Once more banging his gavel to silence the murmuring, the Chief Warlock proclaimed:

"Let us proceed with the Matters of House-Keeping! Mr. Diggory, you may approach." Amos visibly perked up from his position in the mezzanine waiting area behind the box-row pew of the Noble House.

Dressed to impress, Mr. Diggory descended downward to his destiny.


Twenty Minutes Later…

"All in favor of House Diggory's elevation to Noble?"

With barely contained excitement, Amos watched as the wands of Lords Doge, Fawley, Macmillan, Ogden, along with those of Ladies Brown and Marchbanks rose in their air. To his greater surprise and pleasure, the wands of Lords Abbott, Gaunt, Greengrass, Malfoy Prince, and Regent Longbottom also rose in confirmation. From her vantage in the Viewing Gallery, Dowager Cressida-Dagworth Granger glared with no small amount of venom, inwardly seething that a twatty upstart like Amos would be elevated before her infinitely more deserving family.

"Let it be noted that Mr. Amos Diggory has received 104 Votes in favor of his House's elevation to Noble, 29 more than the prerequisite amount." Albus banged the gavel thrice. "House Diggory is hereby declared Noble." The newly minted Lord could have swooned at those six words. He saw a seat - his seat - appear beside that of the Dearborns, emblazoned with the crest and words he's submitted to the office of Administrative Services weeks' prior.

How fitting was Caeli Enarrant Gloriam Nostrum for a moment such as this?

"And can the Court Reporter confirm the deposit of 50,000 galleon fee?"

Lord Gaunt slowly raised his hand. "If I may, Chief Warlock?"

Dumbledore paused, before blinking exactly twice as his expression turned keenly calculating. "You may, Lord Gaunt."

"Thank you." Elegantly rising, Riddle turned his hypnotic gaze onto the newly minted Lord Diggory, who suddenly felt himself grow nervous. "Congratulations on your Ascendancy, Lord Diggory. In light of your House's new status, I hereby initiate the Vassalship agreement between our Houses."

"Vassalship?! To your House?!" sputtered Amos incredulously. Albus' eyes narrowed at that reaction, as did Elphias' and Raghnall's. The former was concerned over his godson, the latter was moreso out of genuine curiosity at what potential scheme the enigmatic Lord Gaunt had cooked up against the insufferable twat that was his brother-in-law.

"Yes," Tom silkily replied. "Vassalship to my House."

Whir-click.

Like the last piece of a Rubik's puzzle sliding into place, Amos suddenly remembered everything as the lock of Timestamped Memory Spell psychically lifted and allowed the memories to come to the fore.

He and Tawney, worried sick, responding to the emergency summons sent by Professor Sprout requesting their immediate appearance at the Hogwarts Infirmary…

Arriving to find his grievously injured son surrounded by the pale forms of Madame Pomfrey along with Professors Sprout and Snape, the latter two of home were attempting to assist the Matron as she attempted to administer first aid to the screaming Hufflepuff…

Seeing the distinct claw marks across his wailing son's chest…

The horror dawning on him that his only son had been attacked by a werewolf

Parental panic condensing into pure dread as the marks healed even as the boy continued his screaming…

Cedric had become a werewolf!

A desperate Tawney bawling at the revelation as an appalled Amos shakingly realized that his son's status meant that he was to be remanded to the custody of the Beast Division of the DRMC…

His disgust warring heavily with paternal instinct as Tawney's heartbroken cries ratcheted in volume…

Lord Gaunt suddenly sweeping into the Infirmary, almost as if he'd apparated in from nowhere

Zeroing in on Amos, asking him if he was willing to do anything to save his son's life and protect his secret as the other room's remaining adults looked on warily

Tawney immediately agreeing, frantically begging Amos to do the same and growing more horrified as Amos faltered and wavered at the thought of keeping a son who was now a monster

A deal of the ultimate quid pro quo proposed - guarding his son's secret and helping with his care in exchange for Lord Gaunt galvanizing his allies to support his elevation to Noble, with the caveat that he be a sworn vassal under House Gaunt's banner…

His wife growing more incoherent as she began hitting Amos whilst screaming at him to agree "for our only son's sake!", having to be physically restrained by Snape lest she did any real damage in her pique of desperation…

Riddle's calculating expression grow more unnerving as he stared at him, through him, as he awaited his decision…

Casting one more glance at his now-unconscious son, who was meant to be his greatest legacy be reduced to a monster, barely registering Tawney's whimpering as she clutched the boy like a lifeline…

Finally turning to Riddle and shakingly giving his consent as secrecy oaths were exchanged, feeling as though he'd just signed a deal with the devil…

"Lord Diggory," said Lord Doge concernedly, interrupting the man's internal revelation. "Is this so?" The murmuring in the courtroom ratcheted in volume with camera flashes increasing in frequency as Rita Skeeter's quill flew a literal mile a minute, her expression bordering on ravenous.

Amos' expression smoothed with near Slytherin finesse. "Indeed, sir. I've corresponded with Lord Gaunt over the course of several months regarding my House's ascendancy, and it is through his support that I received the additional votes to support House Diggory's claim."

Doge didn't look entirely convinced but he didn't press the issue, nodding once at his godson. Albus was entirely unconvinced given the sheer barrage of emotional feedback he'd registered from Amos, chief among them keen distress and shock. While he still preserved a few reservations about Tom Riddle, he didn't believe - after all this time - that he would revert to blackmailing someone (especially a more 'traditionalist-aligned' Diggory) just to entrap them as his vassal.

Even moreso considering that Riddle did not capitalize on the same opportunity with the late Nobby Leach - the remaining magical heir of the long-lost Ancient and Noble House of Gore.

Still, it was an inquiry worth pursuing, and Albus would absolutely be following up once this entire debacle was over.

Banging his gavel to resume order, the Chief Warlock commanded the two men to "proceed with their business."

Lords Gaunt and Diggory assumed their positions, with the latter taking a bent knee about a foot apart from the former. Unholstering his wand firmly he in his right hand, Amos crossed said hand over his heart and calmly and confidently recited the Vassal's Oath:

"Here do I, Amos Calloway Lord Diggory, swear by hand, mouth, and Magic, fealty and service of my Noble House to the Ancient and Noble House of Gaunt.

To speak and to be silent, to do and to let be, to come and to go, and to serve and to teach.

In any and all such matters that concern my liege and as such concern House Diggory; be it in need or in plenty, in peace or in war, in living or in dying.

Until the House of Gaunt departs this realm, until death takes me, or at the world's end.

Should I or any other of my Noble House forsake this oath and break faith, let it be repaid by my Lord's judgment guided by Magic's wrath.

So say I swear, so mote it be."

A tangible tingle of magic rose in the air; subtle, but felt by the members of the Wizengamot and all others in the courtroom who were naturally sensitive to such matters.

Nodding once, Lord Gaunt unholstered his wand and held it perfectly perpendicular to his person, almost as if he intended on knighting the kneeling man. With perfect composure Riddle stated:

"Let all here bear witness, that I, Thomas Marvolo Riddle Jr., Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Gaunt, hear and accept your oath of fealty, given in good faith.

In turn, I vow as your liege to defend and support you and yours - be it with word, deed, or force. I will keep and hold this oath true for all the days of my life, as will my scion and his scion after, and so and so forth.

Let Magic keep and hold this oath true and be rewarded with favor. Should I forsake this oath and break faith, let it be repaid with Magic's judgment as She sees fit.

May you now, Amos Calloway Lord Diggory, stand before us all and be recognized under my House's protection.

So I swear it, so mote it be."

The tingle of magic intensified, emphasized by the nigh serpentine lilt to Lord Gaunt's words. Had anyone else been paying attention to the witch, they would have noticed the dilating of Seneschal Selwyn's pupils as her mismatched eyes drank in Tom Riddle's visage with an ardent hunger.

"In line with ceremonial precedence, let the Wizengamot observe and recognize the Vassalship of the Noble House of Diggory to the Ancient and Noble House of Gaunt. And as such, House Gaunt's payment of his vassal's dues." Albus turned to the court reporter. "Can you confirm, Mr. Pinch-Smedley?"

Officially known as The Book of Records of the Wizengamot, it magically transcribed every utterance during an official session. Among its many magical properties was the ability to confirm the undertaking of magical contracts should they occur during a Wizengamot session, chief among them was a House taking a vassal. And, make official note of fee transactions pertaining to House Dues.

"Correct, Chief Warlock," replied Hubert. "House Diggory is now House Gaunt's vassal, with 50,000 galleons in payment from the Gaunt coffers to fulfill Diggory's dues."

"Excellent," replied Dumbledore. "Lord Gaunt, Lord Diggory, you may take your seats."

Standing to officially bow before his liege, both men turned as one to their seats, ignoring the crescendo of chattering of their peers and all other observers in the Viewing Gallery. Curious amazement was chief among the reactions, as was sneering disdain at the audacity of a muggleborn Lord - Ancient and Noble no less! - acquiring a pureblood Vassal and strengthening his already too-strong sphere of influence.

A million different thoughts whirled around in Amos' mind, but chief among them was the visage of his son and wife. Neither was present for this momentous occasion on account of the full moon being in two days, with Tawney staying with Cedric to care for the boy as he took refuge in the magical containment den Lord Gaunt had, somehow, succeeded in creating and transporting to their home. Swallowing back the myriad of emotions that rose at that, Lord Diggory rigidly sat in his seat.

A few bangs of the gavel resumed order, allowing the Chief Warlock to summon Justin Finch-Fletchley and Lord Prince to the floor.


9:42AM

With a deep and practiced breath, Justin Finch-Fletchley calmly began:

"Chief Warlock, my Lords and Ladies, Ministry Officials, and Citizens. I stand before you today and address this body as the ward of Severus Tobias Snape, Lord Prince. I am deeply grateful to Lord Prince for accepting the burden of guardianship. I am Justin Finch-Fletchley, the son of muggle Dame Barbara Finch-Fletchley née Woodnutt. My mother is the only child of Jonathan Woodnutt, the 12th Duke of Forgill. Through him, I claim direct lineal descent from Robert Prince, Earl of Woodnutt and the 1st Duke of Forgill. Robert was the squib son of Darold - then Lord of the Noble House of Prince.

That was enough to send a wave of muttering through the Wizengamot and a few choice glares towards Snape and Justin, but the latter continued without concern.

"Like his more…progressive peers, Darold desired to avoid an issue which has plagued many of the Houses of the Wizengamot over the centuries: line extinction resulting from inheritance requirements which were too restrictive. The erstwhile Lord was especially inspired by the creeping Statute of Secrecy, the advent of which would have forced House Prince to give up its many lucrative and advantageous stakes in the muggle world."

The murmuring rose in volume at being reminded of some purebloods blatant hypocrisy in engaging with and benefitting from the very group of people they openly looked down upon.

"Were there no Pureblooded heirs eligible to become Head of House Prince," Justin continued, "that role could pass to any Halfblood or even Muggleborn who met certain additional requirements. Specifically, the claimant must be a wizard or witch, must be able to prove blood descent from Robert Prince, and must have either at least one wizarding parent or a magical guardian who can also claim biological descent from Robert Prince. There is no requirement that either the claimant or the guardian actually be considered members of the Prince family by name, only by blood. It is through these very caveats that my guardian was able to claim his birthright to House Prince." Justin nodded respectfully in Severus' direction, who repeated the gesture with the softest shadow of a smirk.

"If I wanted to claim the Prince Heirship, all of these parameters would be satisfied with Lord Prince's blessing. However, that is not the claim I intend to make today. My claim…will be through my father's side."

The mutterings increased in volume.

"My father," stated Justin calmly, "is muggle Sir Malcolm Finch-Fletchley, O.B.E. His father is muggle Sir Gerald Finch-Fletchley, C.B.E.; his father is also a muggle, the Right Honorable Walter Finch-Fletchley, K.B.E., and so on and so forth. A long unbroken line of male forefathers all of whom bear direct descendancy from Dernier Finch-Fletchley…the one and only true Heir of the late Antioch Lord Peverell!"

Sheer utter chaos.


Ignoring Dumbledore's numerous calls to order as the courtroom descended into pandemonium, Lady Yaxley openly snarled in sheer outrage at a filthy little mudblood attempting to lay an unearned claim to his so-called birthright!

That is, until registering her youngest draw a sharp breath of disbelief as his dark eyes widened.

"Albie…what is the matter?" The maternal tenderness wasn't hard to miss, a shock to anyone who knew her if they'd been in the vicinity to hear. Giles was still standing some feet away with a startled Alex Nott, though the look of shocked outrage wasn't hard to miss on Heir Yaxley's face.

Albert made another strange noise as he continued to stare intently at Justin.

"Skŭpo momche…what bothers you?"

Snickt.

A few discreet twirls of the boy's hawthorn wand erected powerful privacy wards so they could freely speak.

"What do you know about House Peverell, mother?"

The witch blinked. "Just the usual. La Famille Peverell arrived with William the Conqueror's convoy to Britannia in 1066, warring with the Roman-descended families who arrived centuries earlier. Through a Malfoy's deceitful machinations a bargain was struck, and as part of the new invaders, House Peverell was granted Noble status."

She paused to take a breath.

"Through some combination of myth and would-be fact, the Brothers Peverell came to possess three relics called the Deathly Hallows sometime in the 13th century. So-called recompense for cleverly escaping Death's clutches, as if any wizard or witch with a functioning brain couldn't escape their so-called demise."

The Storm Queen snorted with a practiced roll of her eyes.

"Anywho, Antioch was bestowed with the Wand of Invincibility, Cadmus was granted the Stone of Immortality, and Ignotus the Cloak of Invisibility. As told in The Tale of the Three Brothers by Beetle the Bard, Antioch was felled by his own thirst for power. Cadmus fell victim to his own grief as the Stone failed to resurrect his lost love. Ignotus was the only one worthy of his gift, hiding from Death's gaze before relinquishing it to his son. He and Death then departed to the Netherrealm as old friends."

Her son nodded quietly. "As I thought. However…that is not the true story."

Vasilka blinked, not liking the portentous lilt to the boy's tone.

"In House Zorya," he continued. "We are taught a bit…more about La Famille Peverell. Matisse Peverell, father of the three brothers, was a powerful Seer of the early 11th century who was Chosen for my House. Well, he wasn't technically a Seer, that's simply being modest. He was an Ethergazer, a hybrid between a natural Legilimens and Seer who could 'see into the Ether', the very realm that exists on top of our own filled with a myriad of beings that no wizard or witch, even one blessed with the more 'mundane' of Sight could ever see."

He licked his lips nervously, suddenly feeling very thirsty.

"It is…rumored that towards the end of his life, Matisse surrendered himself to an Ascended Trance to 'seek deeper truths'. For your average Seer, this involves using herbal or potion substances to induce a hyper-hypnagogic state to allow for a more 'fluid' state to serve as Fate's conduit. For an Ethergazer…Fate is not the only divine force one can be a conduit for. It is believed that Matisse Saw Death Himself, and as one sufficiently mad enough would be apt to do, somehow spoke with and struck a deal with the Seventh of the Eldest Gods. In exchange for wielding a taste of Death's prodigal power, his bloodline would be tasked with being his proxies in the mortal realm. To…seal the bargain, Matisse promised the Seventh One his soul so long as he was allowed to return to the land of the living and inform his sons. Death granted him that favor, and once complete, they departed to the Netherrealm as old friends."

Albert paused, running a hand through his hair to dispel some of his sudden nervous energy.

"Antioch was a skilled wandmaker, and with the Seventh One's blessing, set about creating a wand that could destroy any enemy who sought to cheat Death and those who were marked for death. Wood from the great elder tree that guarded the entrance of Le Mausolée Peverell coupled with the tail hair of a thestral that revealed itself to him in the heart of Brécheliant. Cadmus was a Master Alchemist, and through a process bearing similarity to creating the Philosopher's Stone, forged the Resurrection Stone. Its purpose was to be a key to allow the Undead to crossover to the Other Side, as well helping those trapped in Limbo to transition to wherever in the afterlife they're meant to go. Ignotus was a Transfiguration prodigy, and using a series of extraordinarily rare transmutation spells, transformed a shawl made of demiguise hair and the golden thread of Re'em hide into what we now call the Invisibility Cloak. Wielding their power together, the three would be as the One Master of Death."

He paused for a beat, eyes closed as though struck by a vision only he could see. Vasilka fidgeted, suddenly anxious that her son may have been struck by a moment of prophetic inspiration. Though he wasn't a Seer, he had recently completed the first of thirteen initiation rites to become a Zhrets, thus amplifying his mystically-aligned inclinations.

"The brothers joined William the Conqueror on his envoy to England, and upon their arrival, performed their expected duties to the letter. Antioch's prowess was so great that he was elevated to William's battle mage as they wrought war against the Roman-descended families. An eventual detente marked by the establishment of the Wizengamot and the Peverells' elevation to Noble allowed them a brief…reprieve from their duties. Antioch was established as Lord Peverell and fully delved into politicking, Cadmus became a Professor of Alchemy at Hogwarts, and Ignotus established a goods and services store in Hogsmeade."

He sighed before continuing:

"However, the call of Death was never too far away. It is believed that the Seventh One was not satisfied with the brothers abandoning their duties, and so gave them a…nudge to continue their task. They did for a while, Ignotus more than the others, but alas, it was not to be. Antioch, ego gorged on the power of being Lord Peverell now believed that only he could be the one to mark others for Death. He instigated constant fights, the Deathstick constantly granting him victory and a trail of dead bodies in his wake. He even clashed with the Knights of Albion, and it is only through their combined forces were they able to reach a stalemate. Antioch slaughtered many of their number and, drunk on the power of the wand and his victories, bragged about it to a covetous audience in The Fountain of Fair Fortune pub. His pride spelt his demise, and was murdered for the wand.

Cadmus, already twice widowered at that point, finally snapped when his would-be fiancée suddenly died in his sleep. He became obsessed with raising her from the dead, using the Resurrection Stone to repeatedly summon her spirit, only to discover that without the flesh of life, the spirit did not satisfy. So great was his grief that he surrendered his life force to the Stone, and that's what killed him. Ignotus was the only one of his brothers who did not perish until he completed his duty to the letter, choosing to commit himself to the Seventh One's cause until his dying day. The Cloak passed to his son Lazarus who passed it to his daughter Iolanthe, who eventually married Cicero Potter."

A sneer overtook Albert's features. "If Cassius' nattering is to be believed, the current Potter Heir uses the Cloak for insipid pranking." His nose wrinkled in disgust. "As for the Stone, Cadmus' daughter Dabria inherited it from his affects. Her marriage to Xerxes Gaunt passed the Stone to the House of Gaunt where it has presumably remained for all this time. I'd imagine Lord Gaunt has access to it now. The wand, as we both know, has been lost to time for decades, though there were all sorts of wild rumors Grindelwald had acquired it from Merlin-knew-where."

Lady Yaxley shifted uncomfortably as she processed her son's words. "As insightful as that history lesson was lyubimi, what is its relevance now?" She sneered at Justin. "If that mudblood does somehow prove he is truly descended from Antioch, why in Perun's name would a great deity ever lower himself to cavort with a usurper?"

Albert sighed. "Because, if what the claimant says is true, then he is descended from One of the Three. The blood of their blood. For the first time in centuries, the three descendants of Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus are living at the same time." He paused to give Justin, Lord Gaunt, and Lord Potter significant looks, causing his mother's eyes to widen. "Altogether, should the three somehow come to join forces…"

"Then the Master of Death would be reborn once more…" Vasilka lightly choked at the implications, feeling an unbidden shudder crawl its way up her spine. Her wand warmed in response to her distress, prepared to lash out in its mistress' defense.

A sudden and strange thought popped in the witch's mind. "Did a Gaunt of olde strike such a deal with the Seventh One? It would be fitting, given their motto."

"Semper En Potentia Mortis," whispered Albert, tongue rolling over the words as though he could taste them. "More than likely, as I believe the Peverells were not the only ones to be granted audience with the Seventh. It would explain… a lot." As one, he and Vasilka stared in Tom Riddle's direction.

To their shock, the man suddenly turned to them and smiled.


"Order! Order! ORDER IN THE COURT!"

The cacophony only increased, finally pushing Albus to his limit.

"SILENCE!"

That did the trick as all conversation ground to a halt at the use of his 'Headmaster' voice. Sighing, Dumbledore turned to Justin. "Please, continue young sir."

Justin nodded respectfully. "Thank you Chief Warlock. As I was saying, I am the last-living descendant of Dernier Finch-Fletchley, formerly Dernier Peverell. His mother Annabelle - formerly of the Pyrites family - feared for her life and that of her unborn child upon learning of her lover's murder. Taking any and all belongings she was able she fled to the muggle world, utilizing a series of Occluding spells to hide her identity and that of her son from more…inquisitive eyes. To her relief, her son was born a squib, further allowing them much-needed anonymity. She remarried muggle nobleman Ridley Finch-Fletchley and bore more squib children, living the remainder of her days in relative peace. Ridley went on to marry a muggle and bore a squib descendant, who bore another squib descendant, and so on and so forth until, well, my arrival."

He paused to take a breath, projecting the calm confidence he really didn't feel. He and Severus had worked very hard to instill the Occlumency basics, leaving the Hufflepuff with solid shields.

"Much like my ancestor Darold," Justin continued. "The erstwhile Lord Peverell was surprisingly flexible regarding his House's charter. Any wizard who could prove direct and unbroken blood descendancy from Antioch would be eligible for Heirship if under the age of 13, and if over the age of 13, eligible for Lordship should there be no sitting Lord." He turned to the Court Reporter, who looked utterly gobsmacked at the many revelations the younger wizard had revealed. "If you can confirm the veracity of my claims, Mr. Pinch-Smedley?"

Hubert jumped at being addressed, before regarding the object in question.

"The Book of Records has been updated with genealogical confirmation from Gringotts. It now identifies the young man as Justin Finch-Fletchley…Lord Presumptive of the Noble House of Peverell." Hubert looked visibly dazed.

Lord Rosier had finally had enough.

"This is a complete and utter outrage!" Duncan's face rapidly approached puce. "We've had to sit through this…this…usurper!... stake a claim to a House of our august body of which he has absolutely no right!" The prior mutterings grew into a loud rumble of agreement from many of the more staunch factions.

Dumbledore blinked, expression stony. "May I assume Lord Rosier, that you can present a factual or legal basis for denying the young man's claim?"

Duncan sputtered. "You want me to present proof?!" The indignancy of his tone wasn't hard to miss. "I'm the Lord of the Noble House of Rosier, I don't need to demonstrate any proof for him!" Justin merely quirked a brow whilst Severus glared. He wasn't the only one as Tom, Augusta, and Sirius leveled accusatory expressions at the side of the man's head whilst Lucius openly snorted in disdain.

"Again," continued Albus stonily. "Can you present any factual or legal basis for denying the young man's petition? Despite the veracity of his claim in The Book?"

"I don't need to present any proof for a filthy mudblo-!"

KRACKOWWW!

Dumbledore slammed the gavel so hard that it sounded like a literal thunderclap. The room went instantly silent as a suddenly frightened Rosier slowly retook his seat, fighting instinct to not cower at the look on the Chief Warlock's face.

"That will be a 1000 galleon fine for breach of decorum during assembly, Lord Rosier. I would advise you not to repeat that action." Satisfied at Duncan's tight-lipped nod, Dumbledore addressed the remainder of the court.

"For the final time: Is there anyone here on the Wizengamot who can present any factual or legal basis for denying the young man's claim?" Audible grumbling sounded once more, but not a single individual spoke.

"So noted. Let it be proclaimed that Mr. Justin Finch-Fletchley has been officially recognized as the Presumptive Lord Peverell upon the magical confirmation of his claim." He turned to the proud Hufflepuff. "Is it your intention to activate the Peverell Seat today?"

"Yes, Chief Warlock," Justin said. "Now that the Wizengamot has acknowledged my status, which the Book of Records clearly shows it has, the funds to reactivate the Peverell seat will automagically transfer."

The Court Reporter spoke up again. "The Book so reflects, Chief Warlock. The sum of 50,000 galleons has just been deposited into the Ministry account, earmarked as 'dues for the Noble House of Peverell.'"

The announcement was accompanied by the softest ding around the box marked for House Peverell. Curiously, the shadow obscuring the Lord's chair slowly receded to reveal the object, like a living shroud parting to unearth what lay beneath.

It was most ominous.

Dumbledore looked pensive. "You do realize this means you must take your Vow of Unity at this time for your family seat to become fully active."

"Yes, Chief Warlock," Justin said with utmost seriousness. "I am prepared to do so." He turned and bowed respectfully to Snape, who repeated the gesture before marching back to the Prince Seat, soundly ignoring the accusatory stares leveled at him by the more purist of his peers.

Then, Justin unholstered his wand - 12-inch apple with dragon heartstring - and held it perfectly upright before speaking.

"Here do I, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Lord Presumptive to the Noble House of Peverell speak for my family and swear this Vow of Unity before my peers."

Then, he paused and took a deep breath before commencing the official Vow.

"Let Magic Herself hear my oath and sanctify it. I stand in unity with the Wizengamot and the families both Noble and Ancient and Noble who are its foundation.

Let my magic be bent to our collective purpose and so too the magic of my family and all who come after me lest they be forsworn and suffer expulsion.

From the unification of my family magic with that of my peers, let there arise a deeper magic that is greater than the sum of its parts.

From this day forward, I hereby submit myself to the will of the Wizengamot as expressed through its majority.

I hereby accept the judgment of the will of the Wizengamot as expressed through its laws and bound by the power of Magic.

I vow to act with the Wizengamot, and when we act as one, so shall we perform miracles.

This I swear upon my life, my magic, and unto the ending of the world.

So mote it be!"

The strength of this oath was much more palpable, causing goosebumps to flare on the skin of many as its strength permeated through the entire chamber. Those more sensitive to these magicks felt the hair on their arms raise as a tangible current of unseen energy ran up their respective bodies.

Even stranger and more unsettling was the rhythmic thrum Albus could feel emanating from the Elder Wand, as though the apparatus recognized and approved of the descendant of its First Wielder.

""The Oath of Unity has been completed," Dumbledore said. "I hereby welcome the revived House of Peverell to full status as a Noble House. Congratulations to you Lord Peverell. You may claim your seat."

Justin bowed respectfully towards the Chief Warlock and proudly made his way to the Peverell box. There was polite applause from the Black, Greengrass, Longbottom, Malfoy, Prince, and Riddle sections as was expected. A few others sat in complete wonder at the turn of events, but quite a few were horrified and outraged that a muggleborn - a mudblood! - had claimed the seat of a notorious Noble House and there was absolutely nothing they could do about it! Those who knew of the Peverells' reputation were suddenly quite nervous, unknowingly echoing the earlier sentiments of Vasilka and Albert Yaxley.

"Chief Warlock," stated Griselda Marchbanks calmly. "Might I suggest a brief intermission, if the rest of the assembly is amenable? I believe a bit of reprieve is necessary before we continue on with the day's agenda."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "I agree, my Lady."

He turned to address the chamber at large. "We will have a 30-minute intermission. The assembled Lords and Ladies may reconvene in the Lords' Lounge, the remaining members may convene in the Visitors Reception Lounge. All Ministry-employed members may reconvene in the Employees' Parlor. I will remind all parties that while a Wizengamot Session is actively convening, no party from any of the aforementioned groups may actively fraternize with other group members." He leveled a keen look at the gathered members of the press in the Viewing Gallery, most notably in a lightly blushing Rita Skeeter's direction. "We are adjourned."


10:39AM

'Circe could I really use a cigarette.'

It'd only been 10 minutes into the break, but Isolde Fenwick deftly knocked back her third gin fizz of the day, enjoying the tickle of lemony bubbles at the back of her throat.

While she normally wouldn't imbibe so early in the morning unless she were on holiday, Wizengamot sessions always made her tense, especially since the emergency session of 7th April 1972 after the massacre of the Dearborns.

And her unwanted involvement in that entire sinister cabal.

'What choice did I have?' Isolde thought miserably. 'It was either them or my family, kill or be killed. Not like I could refuse the Dark Lord and live to tell about it.' Neither would any member of House Avery had they refused to comply with the Dark Lord's agenda. Grimacing, she signaled an elf over for another drink, glad she remembered to pack Sobering Potion in her purse.

"I still cannot believe that a mudblood is Lord Peverell!" Matilda Smith (née Fenwick) looked properly scandalized, nursing her lemonade at a much easier pace. She was Tristan's first cousin and the two were rather close, naturally resulting in a friendship with Isolde.

Camellia Brown (née Blishwick) snorted indignantly. "Times have certainly changed, that's for certain. Though I am truly curious about the source of the boy's wealth since he can afford the dues for his House. 50,000 galleons is typically well beyond the budget of any muggle." A light sneer marred her features as she sipped her espresso.

"I assume it was Lord Prince?" replied Isolde in-between more dainty sips of her cocktail. "House Prince is quite wealthy in its own right, and Cousin Severus has acquired his own wealth with his Institute and potions patents." Neither of her friends missed her overly familiar address of the man, rather ironic considering the sneering hostility she'd shown him and Lily during their brief Hogwarts years, well before the impoverished halfblood succeeded in reacquiring his birthright. Snape, never one to forgive or forget those slights, was only passably polite to the witch in public as decorum dictated.

"Hmmm, my Zach claims that the boy's family is quite wealthy for muggles. Says it shows in Justin's wardrobe, apparently everything he owns and wears is bespoke." Matilda delicately shrugged at the curious looks leveled her way. "It's true. His father inherited a great bit of wealth from his father, who inherited it from his father, blah-blah-blah. He's apparently some form of a tycoon in some muggle business, trade I think it was? For a muggle, he's considerably well off. Though nothing compared to our families, I imagine."

Titters of condescending laughter responded to her statement, causing Matilda to giggle as the witches three engaged in more pleasant avenues of conversation.

"My word!" exclaimed Dempster Wiggleswade suddenly, startling Gilbert Wimple mid-conversation. "Do you smell that?! Merlin's beard, it smells like rain!"

Albert Yaxley's eyes comically widened, politely excusing himself from Eudora Fenwick and Nolan Parkinson to rush to his fuming mother's side.

Who distinctly smelt of ozone.

She was glaring at the sight of her eldest eagerly chatting with a giggling Narcissa Black. The witch glowed in summery-yellow robes whilst she tittered and fawned over a laughing Giles, flirtatiously brushing her fingertips over his shoulders and arms whilst tittering coquettishly at whatever Heir Yaxley was saying.

Rolling his eyes at the sight Albert whispered a few calming mantras into his mother's ears, registering the loosening of her form and the receding of the ozone aroma. Relieved, the younger Yaxley signaled an elf for a warm espresso and a pastry for his mother, gently ushing the woman in the direction of Ladies Ogden and Macmillan to further cool down.

Reaching his brother, Albert felt the brush of Narcissa's allure over his psyche, like the teasing tickle of a large feather boa. It was accompanied by a soft warmth coating his mind, like the intimate breath of a lover whispering in one's ear. The younger Yaxley was amused, causing the witch to take it as an invitation to dial up her allure.

Only to reel back in shock at the snarling Inner Voice of Bozhidar Krum psychically ordering her to 'Back off!'

"Mon frère," Albert said amiably, gently squeezing Giles' shoulder as means to establish physical contact to break the allure's effect. While Heir Yaxley was a comfortable Level 3 Occlumens and could easily overcome the witch's influence, it seemed Giles didn't want to, quite taken with the blonde's beauty and flirtatious demeanor.

"Oh! Albie!" Giles blinked dazedly for a few moments as he came back to himself. "May I introduce Madame Narcissa Black? Madame Black, my brother, Albert."

The younger Yaxley bowed as was appropriate. "Lovely to meet you, Madame Black."

A condescending smile graced the witch's beautiful face. "And you as well, Albie." The mocking of her tone wasn't hard to miss, causing Giles to lightly frown whilst Albert smirked.

"Indeed, Cissy. It is lovely to see you around these parts, though I imagine it's a considerably different experience as Miss Black than Lady Malfoy. Especially given Lord Black's regard for your side of the family."

Narcissa's face pinked in rising fury as Giles gaped at Albert's words. Before the witch could retaliate, the younger Yaxley nodded in goodbye before deftly turning his brother around and leading them both away.


11:05AM

"We are now reconvened." Dumbledore banged the gavel thrice to call for order. "In line with our final Matter of House-Keeping, I hereby call Mr. Harry Potter to the floor."

Sirius immediately perked up, feeling more tense than he'd expected in the given situation.

A day after finally awakening to his new metal-man arm and to discover the horrifying news of Rodney's demise, he was pleased to have his godson by his side. The boy was beyond relieved at his survival, refusing to be parted from the older wizard. Sirius had felt the same, needing an anchor to help soothe the emotions that arose from learning of his would-be partner's death and his own potential demise.

Lily had also been pleased to see him alive, fussing over his arm to ensure it was working properly and "didn't feel too wonky". Though rather jarring at first, Sirius had been amazed at the seamlessness of the arm's function, which felt uncannily like the original. Ewald Wiggleswade had swung by to provide an update for the upcoming Wizengamot session, as well as letting him know of Rodney's funeral and his posthumous receipt of the Order of Merlin - 1st Class - and the Maximilian Crowdy Medal of Valor. Once he was discharged, Lord Black vowed to pay his respects to the deceased and to let Graham Montague know to reach out if he needed anything.

At his Seneschal's departure a nervous Harry had entered the room, citing that he needed to share something of critical importance and didn't want the man "to freak out or anything." Heart in his stomach and fear pounding through his veins Sirius feared the worst, nearly summoning Healer Hooper to run a wellness check on the boy.

Succeeding in calming his excitable godfather down, Harry cast a plethora of security charms that had Sirius grow nervous all again.

"There's something I need to tell you. Have needed to tell you for a long time now. It's very important, and…and I need to get it out before I lose my nerve entirely."

And with that, his godson revealed the truth about his and his mother's descendancy from House Wilkes, his status as Heir Apparent Wilkes, and his intention of not only claiming his Heirship during the upcoming Wizengamot session, but going for the Lordship too!

"Well…what do you think?"

Sirius had sat in his bed, expression deadpan as he processed all of the news his godson had just dumped on his proverbial doorstep. Mainly that he was related to the complete nutter that was Erasmus Wilkes! Harry was anxious, his nervousness ratcheting at his godfather's lack of response. After a too long moment of deafening silence, the Slytherin began fidgeting before shakingly whispering:

"...Do you hate me?"

That startled the Gryffindor out of his reverie, eyes widening in alarm. Harry grew increasingly despondent, emerald green eyes cast downward in visible disappointment.

Much like Charlus Potter had done for him when then-fifteen-year old Sirius had fled from Grimmauld Place to the sanctuary of Potter Manor, Lord Black proceeded to hug the stuffing out of his godson. Initial shock had been Harry's reaction, before relief overtook his form as he returned the man's hug just as fiercely.

"You're my godson Harry. I could never - would never - hate you. Not in this lifetime or any other."

"Lord Black!"

The man jumped at the sound of his name, breaking his internal musing. Dumbledore - quite pale - was staring intently at him as most others in the chamber oscillated between gaping at a smirking Harry and a reddening and visibly agitated Lord Potter.

"Pardon me Chief Warlock, can you please repeat that?"

Albus sighed. "I said, Mr. Harry Pot…I mean Mr. Harry No-Name, just swore before the Wizengamot and Magic to sever all ties with his birth house, effectively denying Lord Potter the right to call him Father and disclaiming any inheritances, legacies, or familial rights associated with his birth House."

Sirius nodded, already expecting that. "Good. As I am sure the Court Reporter can confirm, Harry is not Harry No-Name but Harry Black, a direct claim through his late grandmother - my late great-aunt - Dorea Potter née Black. As his oath-sworn godfather and acting pater familias since his mother's divorce from Lord Potter," he paused to throw a sneer in a red-faced James' direction. "He is officially Harry Black, as I believe the Court Reporter can attest."

The official coughed in excitement. "Lord Black is correct, Chief Warlock! The Book now registers Mr. Harry as Hadrian Remus Black!"

Dumbledore leaned back in surprise at that development, while the audience muttered in crescendoing excitement. From his section, James only gaped in shock at the unexpected announcement.

"Well," Dumbledore said with a sudden smile of relief, "that rather changes things. I am pleased to recognize you by your new name, Mr. Black. Now, is there anything else you have to add before these proceedings are complete?"

"Just a few quick bits of House business to bring to the Wizengamot's formal attention, Chief Warlock. Mainly…claiming my other birthright!"


11:26AM

"HOW LONG HAVE YOU BLOODY KNOWN ABOUT THIS?!"

Lord Potter jumped out of his seat, his fury warring with his disbelief. He'd just watched his son - his ex-son - claim the long-lost Wilkes Seat!

Admittedly, James had failed to satisfy the original promise he'd made to Harry to swear an Unbreakable Vow to guarantee his emancipation and two-million galleon buyout. Upon his outreach to Gringotts to secure the funds for the boy, he'd discovered that Obediah had not only stolen tens of millions of his family's wealth into accounts he couldn't access, he'd embezzled from the Jim Potter Trust and over-leveraged its assets, leaving the Potters responsible for any unpaid debts.

At the current time, what little remained in the family coffers was barely enough to cover Wizengamot fees and accommodate the multimillion-galleon debts they owed.

James couldn't imagine the scenario if he'd sworn an Unbreakable Vow to his younger son then realized that he wouldn't be able to fulfill it.

Harry had seemingly taken it in stride when the older wizard had informed him the following day, telling him, rather blithely, "not to worry about it."

Lord Potter now realized why.

"ANSWER ME, HARRY!"

Three loud bangs of Dumbledore's gavel ordered the man to "sit down this instant!", lest he incurred a 1000-galleon fine for breach of decorum. Swallowing at the amount James slowly retook his seat, though didn't cease glaring in Harry's direction. He failed to account for Sirius viciously glowering at the side of his head.

"Thank you, Chief Warlock," Harry magnanimously replied. Turning to his father, he stated: "To answer your question, I've known since the summer of 1991, Lord Potter. But as you'll recall, we were estranged on account of yours and my mother's divorce on the false belief that I was a squib. Add to that your…reaction… to my Sorting, and I was concerned that announcing my connection to such a notorious House might make things worse. Not wanting to cause any problems for my mother or myself, I kept quiet about it. Happily, now that I'm not a part of House Potter anymore, my status as Lord Wilkes won't reflect on your House at all."

Not remotely satisfied, James bellowed a similar accusation at Sirius.

"He's my godson," the man coldly replied, not elaborating as he turned away from his former friend in dismissal. Snape couldn't help but chortle as Riddle lightly coughed in amusement. Others weren't so subtle as they openly laughed at James' sputtering shock, the man having to be once more commanded by the Chief Warlock to "resume his seat immediately!" lest he doubled the breach of decorum fine to 2000 galleons.

Sulkingly, Lord Potter sat down.

"Moving on," Harry continued with a smile. "Keeping in line with the House Wilkes Charter and established precedence of inheritance - as highlighted by the newly ascended Lord Peverell - I hereby claim the Wilkes Seat as Lord Wilkes effective immediately. In line with my claim, I will also be paying my family's Wizengamot dues today."

And sure enough, the Court Reporter revealed in a stunned voice that the sum of 100,000 galleons had been deposited on behalf of House Wilkes and that The Book officially recognized Mr. Harry Black as Hadrian Remus Lord Wilkes!

The volume of muttering increased into yells of disbelief and shouts of applause, depending on the audience member. A few rousing bangs from Dumbledore's gavel momentarily settled the chaos, along with a few punitive threats of a monetary nature.

"Thank you, Chief Warlock. Normally, I would be taking the Oath of Unity today in line with my ascension. However, as I am only a month away from my 14th birthday, I will need to appoint a Proxy in line with the bylaws guiding Special Circumstances for Inheritance. Per my House's charter, any adult witch or wizard bearing blood relation to the Sitting Lord is eligible for that position." Harry's expression turned guiling. "If I may, Chief Warlock, ask Miss Lily Evans to join us?"

The mutterings began once more as Dumbledore summoned the witch to the floor. Lord Travers perked up significantly, muddled gray eyes narrowing dangerously as the redhead confidently descended from the mezzanine waiting area to the chamber proper.

Dressed in expertly tailored and highly fashionable Slytherin-green robes, Lily stopped right in front of Harry, gracefully curtsying.

"I wish to elevate you, Miss Lily Evans, to my House's Proxy and Seneschal. To do so, I must do two things. First, I, in my stead as Lord Wilkes, hereby claim you as my ward and extend all the protections of House Wilkes upon you." Lily curtseyed once more as she declared her thanks and gratitude, eldritch green eyes shimmering in delight. She extended her curtsey into a full kneel, head appropriately bowed in supplication as ceremony required.

"Secondly," Harry confidently continued. "There is a particular wrong that needs to be righted."

He unholstered his wand and held it perfectly perpendicular to his person.

"On 25th December of 1992 at approximately 10:21PM, James Lord Potter cast the Scarlet Letter Curse against you." He paused to glare in the direction of the older wizard, who suddenly felt quite nervous at the vengeful look burning in his ex-son's eyes. "His claim for doing so was absolutely baseless, especially considering that had my identical twin brother and I been sired by Lord Black, not only would we not look near identical to Lord Potter, the unique inheritance clause in House Potter's charter would have, at the time of mine and my brother's births, immediately alerted the Potter Gringotts Account Manager Neck-Slasher with the genetic discrepancy whom, in line with established protocol, would have alerted Lord Potter at once!"

The older wizard's gaping and embarrassed reddening indicated that no such missive had ever been sent by Neck-Slasher. He couldn't even divert the blame to Obediah, as the goblins, per the Potter Charter, would have sent the would-be missive directly to the Lord. While the boy's logic was infallible, he still couldn't ignore feeling justified at the irrational rage he'd felt when confronted with the (faked) memories of Sirius and Lily's purported dalliance.

"Likewise," Harry continued, "the absurdity of Lord Potter's actions begs exactly whom would have inspired him to perform such an utterly ridiculous action." He turned to stare directly at Lord Yaxley, whose eyes goggled at the boy's audacity! Many in the chamber noticed the look, mimicking the boy's actions to stare at the man. Yaxley started to viciously retort, before freezing at the oh-so-slight touch of a hand he felt on his left shoulder.

His peripheral vision revealed that there was no hand actually touching his shoulder, which could only mean one thing.

Gaze landing on Cassilda's unblinking heterochromic orbs, Corban swallowed his tongue as was appropriate.

"With your permission, Chief Warlock?"

Dumbledore nodded magnanimously. "Proceed, Lord Wilkes."

Concentrating his magic, Harry wove his wand in serpentine whirls over his mother's form in the manner he and Tom had practiced whilst incanting:

"HIS VERBIS, EGO TE ABSOLVO IGNOMIA PUDORIS TUAE!"

He took considerable care not to hiss the spell, as that particular aspect of his ancestry would remain hidden indefinitely. The effect wasn't visible, but Harry could feel the impression of a large and tightly wound string unraveling, like a Gordian Knot being undone from the witch's magic.

Lily's body infinitesimally loosened, as though a primal aspect of her being had finally been freed from an unyielding grasp. She could feel the infernal itch fade away, no doubt the scarlet letter 'A' mark fading from her chest. The keen sense of exhaustion and aching soreness also dispersed, causing an unheard sigh of relief to escape her lips. The witch's mind even felt clearer, feeling the former ease she possessed in maintaining her bifurcated thoughtstreams reappear. Lily felt her wand warm and thrum in response, as though the willow apparatus was exhilarated to once more feel the full breadth of its mistress' power.

Once complete, Lily thanked Harry for "relieving her of that most undue burden." James could only shift guiltily at that declaration as quite a few members of the court - especially Dumbledore - looked at him askance.

Satisfied, Harry asked his mother: " Do you accept my offer to be both Proxy and Seneschal of House Wilkes?"

Lily bowed demurely. "I do hereby accept both offers, Lord Wilkes. And I am prepared to swear the Seneschal's Vow." Rumblings erupted at that, as swearing that oath was typically considered an out-of-date practice as it bore similar consequences to the liege and vassal oaths - both beneficial and punitive. However, some imagined that it demonstrated the witch's dedication to her son and her new House.

And, a subtle dig to her ex-husband who had not made his traitorous Seneschal submit to a similar bond, which would have prevented the Death Eater from betraying Lord Potter to begin with.

"She can't be a Seneschal!" exclaimed Duncan, expression furious as he leapt from his seat. "She's not even a solicitor!"

"That will be 1000 galleons for once again speaking out of turn Lord Rosier!" The man sputtered at Dumbledore, but nonetheless resumed his seat at the unflinching expression leveled his way by the Chief Warlock. "If you must know," Albus continued. "There is no requirement in the Wizengamot Charter that a Seneschal for a House be a Master or Mistress Solicitor, practicing or otherwise." He turned to Harry. "I can assume that is the case for House Wilkes' own terms?"

"Correct sir," replied a smiling Harry, resisting the urge to sneer at a sputtering Duncan. "A Seneschal's only requirement is that he or she is well-versed in all administrative matters pertaining to their House's business as it relates to the Wizengamot-at-large. No law mastery required."

Looking away in dismissal, Harry turned to his mother and nodded.

With wand hand crossed over her heart, the witch calmly and confidently proclaimed:

"Let all bear witness that I, Lily Magdalene Evans, swear by hand, mouth, and Magic, to serve in the stead of Seneschal for the Ancient and Noble House of Wilkes.

To speak the Lord's words as my own within the Wizengamot, to do and to let be in my House's affairs as my Lord would, to come and to go as my Lord would, and to serve in the Wizengamot as my Lord would.

This I will do in any and all such matters that concern my Lord and in turn concern House Wilkes; be it in need or in plenty, in peace or in war, in living or in dying.

Until the time my Lord severs this bond or departs this realm, until death takes me, or at the world's end.

Should I choose to forsake this oath and break faith, let it be repaid by my Lord's wrath guided by Magic's judgment.

So say I swear, so mote it be."

"Rise now, Lily Magdalene Evans - the Seneschal Wilkes - and serve your Lord and your House."

At Harry's words, Lily rose and elegantly slipped into a curtsy that made Madam Milburga - huddled with Lady Macmillan and Madame Miriam Bletchley - very proud.

Dumbledore smiled, eyes crinkling. "Let it be known that the Seneschal Oath has been completed. I hereby welcome the revived House of Wilkes to its full status as an Ancient and Noble House with all the privileges and provisions entailed. Congratulations to you Lord Wilkes, Seneschal Wilkes. You may both claim your seats."

A flash of light illuminated the Wilkes' box, revealing their chairs. What was more bizarre was the strange phrase hissed in Harry and Lily's minds, the former of whom did not recognize the Parseltongue phrase. The latter did, blinking away her shudder at the unsettling sound of the Apophic Parseltongue. Bowing towards each other with wide smiles, mother and son ventured to their box to both applause and cries of disbelief.

Uriah Travers made up the latter, face mottling in rage.

'That…that…filthy mudblood bitch not only ruins my Datura's life, she gets to…rule from the Wilkes mantle?!'

He made to jump out of seat in protest, before (much like Yaxley) freezing at the touch of a hand he felt on his shoulder.

Unlike his vassal-mate, this touch was not gentle. It was unyielding, so much so that if he did attempt to make any movement, the painfully sharp appendages would slice into his right shoulder.

That, coupled with the faint but persisting smell of festering rot that suddenly clouded every bit of his senses.

Of course, there was no hand actually touching his shoulder.

Seneschal Selwyn blinked once, message clear.

Lord Travers gulped as was appropriate whilst maintaining his silence.

"We will now adjourn for our lunch intermission. As always, the Lords and Ladies will proceed to the Lords' Lounge, the remaining members in the Visitors Reception Lounge, and all Ministry-employed members in the Employees' Parlor." He paused to narrow his eyes in the direction of the press in the Viewing Gallery, specifically at a suddenly-nervous Rita Skeeter.

"I will again issue the reminder that no party from any of the aforementioned groups may actively fraternize with other group members during a live Wizengamot Session. Repeated violation of that rule will result in formal expulsion of the violating member and a temporary ban on the next formal session." Rita lightly blushed and looked away, properly chastised.

"We are adjourned."


2:46PM

Lily: 'I reckon she's going to punch him, do you see the fist she's making? She looks quite spry too, I bet she can clear the space in five seconds flat and deck the twat right in his jaw.'

Severus: 'Scratch that then. I'll bet 20 galleons that she punches him instead of hexing his bollocks off.'

Tom: 'Hem-hem. Let's focus please.'

Giving the psychic equivalent of a blush, Severus and Lily turned their attention back to the scene at hand, internally grumbling at Lucius' mental snickering.

The two really couldn't be blamed, given Lady Brown's visible fury as she glared contemptuously in Lord Potter's direction after levying several threats of bodily harm against the man.

After Minister Bones' surprisingly anticlimactic debrief regarding the reacquisition of the Death Eater escapees and thus the end of any Dementor presence at Hogwarts, conversation naturally drifted towards the topic of Marcellus Frump. Many openly and loudly rejoiced at the death of Bellatrix Lestrange, indicative of the sheer terror and mayhem wrought by the deranged witch alongside her master.

Those who were still loyal to the Dark Lord and his cause maintained their silence as was necessary.

As far as Frump, opinions were split down the middle; half of the Wizengamot wanted the former Caretaker in the cells alongside the prisoners he'd absconded with. The other half wanted to award him an Order of Merlin for his actions in avenging himself against the Death Eater scum.

To satisfy both, DMLE Director Shacklebolt announced that Frump was a 'Person of Extreme Interest' to the DMLE until such a time he was apprehended.

Naturally, discussion regarding the Death Eaters led to the topic of Rowle and Prewett's escape from the Ministry.

Hence the current argument at hand.

"Lady Brown," Albus said gently, enough to reorient her incensed gaze from an embarrassed and remorseful James. "While I understand the validity of your anger towards Lord Potter, I cannot, in good faith, allow you to flense your fellow peer of the Wizengamot."

"My grandson is dead because of him!" Her voice cracked, bearing none of the implacable composure the woman was famous for. Acacia's grief was obvious, but her rage was even greater.

Dumbledore's expression wrinkled sympathetically, as did many others in the assembly. Tristan Brown had been a fine and upstanding young man, a true reflection of the best of his familial House and his fellow Aurors. Lavender - huddled near a sympathetic Ginny and Draco - was in full agreement with her grandmother.

"I swear I didn't know Madame, I swear!" James' tone was contrite, truly ashamed of the actions his Seneschal had committed. That he had generally regarded the man as a friend and a confidant made the betrayal sting that much more.

"Then you're a fool," Acacia snarled viciously. "A fool to not only trust a murderous traitor, but to allow him unfettered control of your House and its affairs! So much so, that you cannot even get rid of the wretch until he decides to die!"

Lord Potter hung his head heavily in disgrace, unable to disagree with the woman. "You are right, Madame. I have been…am a fool… to have so foolishly trusted Obediah when he was a Death Eater all along. Whatever…whatever you think is fair Lady Brown, I will accept upon myself and my House."

Dumbledore made to interrupt before freezing at the sound of Lord Nott's oily voice:

"I think expulsion of House Potter should be on the table, since your Seneschal endangered so many of our lives." Tiberius leered at a reddening James for good measure, causing a myriad of visible reactions as most assembled knew he was one of many yet-to-be-unmasked Death Eaters. The present members of Azkabal looked properly outraged, with Harry strongly fighting the urge to call the man "a buggering death-munching little arsewipe".

Sirius had no such compunctions.

"Oh blow it out your arse, Tibby! Merlin knows you're in the same league as that traitor Obediah, though I can say you've been smarter than him in getting caught." He sneered at the suspected Death Eater's infuriated visage. "Maybe we'll get lucky and Prewett will get himself properly blown up like your dear old daddy did!"

"YOU SONOFABITCH!" Lord Nott jumped out of his chair with intent to do grievous bodily harm.

"ENOUGH!"

Everyone froze at Dumbledore's thunderous command.

"Lord Black, that will be a 2000 galleon fine for speaking out of turn, twice." Sirius only smiled, eyes crinkled in vicious amusement. "The same goes for you, Lord Nott. For blatant breach of decorum!"

"HE STARTED IT!"

"Don't be a child," Albus quipped snidely. "Now sit down before I have you expelled from the court for failure to comply!"

Several insults flew through Lord Nott's head as he resumed his chair, though he was smart enough to not repeat any out loud for fear of the Chief Warlock's reprisal. He smartly ignored the snickers directed at him, though he made note of everyone who did so.

"Lady Brown," continued Dumbledore in a much gentler tone. "Do you still wish to proceed with the intent to issue a Censure against House Potter?"

"Yes." Her tone was resolute.

Albus sighed. "Alright, we will vote accordingly."


Ten Minutes Later…

"In accordance with the majority vote totaling 166 'Yes', 0 'No', and 62 'Present', House Potter is hereby officially censured for the acts of Obediah Prewett the Seneschal Potter, whose actions directly resulted in the death of Tristan Brown, son of Acacia Lady Brown. In line with the established charter, House Potter is temporarily barred from voting in legislative matters brought before the court from this day henceforth through 21 June 1995, and must pay a fine equivalent to his House dues as restitution. As House Potter is Ancient and Noble, the fine will be 100,000 galleons, which must be paid in full no later than 21 June 1995 else House Potter faces additional punitive measures. As is the will of the Wizengamot, so will it be done."

The bang of the Chief Warlock's gavel echoed through James' ears, causing him to visibly flinch at the sound. While the legislative matters weren't of the greatest concern to him, the fine was troubling. It would succeed in wiping out what remained of the House's coffers, which meant not only would he not be able to afford the next round of House dues, his family would be well beyond flat broke come the following June.

"Thank you, Chief Warlock." A grimly satisfied Acacia resumed her seat, pleased that so many of her peers had been sensible enough to see the rightness of her plan. She gave a brief nod of appreciation to Lord Greengrass, who returned the gesture.

"Now that is complete, are there any other topics requiring this body's attention?"

Tiberius pompously cleared his throat as he stood, before freezing at the dulcet tones of his most-hated enemy.

"If I may, Chief Warlock?"

Dumbledore's eyes glinted. "You may, Lord Malfoy."

Nodding his thanks Lucius elegantly swept down to the well, before turning to address his peers.

"Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot, assorted colleagues and peers, in my capacity as Lord of my House and dedication to my duty, I must bring forth a most pressing matter that requires our immediate attention." He paused for dramatic effect, staring directly into a scowling Tiberius' eyes.

"This matter was officially brought to my attention on 20 November 1993 regarding the business of my vassals, and, notably, a certain… peer's attempt to make off with them."

Lord Nott froze.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to propose a formal charge of Line Theft against my House…by none other Tiberius Lord Nott!"

Complete bedlam.


Three Minutes Later…

"SILENCE IN THE COURT!"

That was followed by another thunderclap of the gavel, successfully calming the rowdy assembly. Many still audibly gawked at Lord Malfoy's claim whilst whispering among themselves. Heir Nott was shocked and appalled, though his perfectly blank expression showed nothing of his true emotion as Occlumency succeeded in keeping him appropriately calm.

Tiberius gaped for a few moments, before steeling his expression. "If you're referring to the gentleman's outing I had with Lords Crabble, Goyle, and Parkinson as the basis for this completely ridiculous claim of 'line theft', then you are as foolish and weak-minded as I've always believed you to be!"

To his mounting irritation Lucius laughed, the sound both dignified and condescending.

"Oh Tiberius, you were always more brawn than brain." His expression hardened in a blink. "Allow me to disabuse you of any notion pertaining to your belief of what makes a fool. Mr. Pinch-Smedley," he turned to address the gaping Court Reporter. "If you'll please remove the copies of Exhibits 1A, 2B, and 3C in the Evidence Envelope of The Book of Records as submitted by solicitor Mr. Caecilius Spangle?"

Shaking from his reverie Hubert flicked his wand at The Book, watching as it flipped all the way to the back cover which resembled a closed manila envelope. Said envelope represented the bit of charmed wizardspace that housed documents relevant to court proceedings of the WIzengamot, keeping them safe from tampering or any other form of manipulation until they were needed.

Tracing a series of unlocking runes, the envelope self-opened and auto-disbursed three sets of documents that flew into the waiting hands of the Chief Warlock, the Minister of Magic, and the Director of the DMLE. All three members read through the documents amidst the increasing grumbling of the court, further startling their audience as matching expressions of shock grace their respective faces.

"This…this cannot be so!"

Lucius nodded gravely at Kingsley's horrified statement. "Indeed it is, Director Shacklebolt. Based on your reaction, I can assume you are referring to the document filed by my vassal Lord Goyle on 1 January 1993 indicating a betrothal contract between his ward Amaryllis Wilkes and Lord Nott himself! And yes, that would be then-12 year-old Amy Wilkes!"

Gasps of disgusted outrage sounded, causing Greg Sr. to visibly shrink in his seat whilst flinching at the outcry of jeers. His wife bit back her smirk at her husband's deserved humiliation, returning the reassuring squeeze of her son's hand as he unabashedly glared at his father.

Tiberius preferred to glower, not willing to be intimidated by his lessers. However, to his surprise, he noticed quite a few of his comrades give looks of wane revulsion in his direction.

"Merlin's sake!" exclaimed a scandalized Lord Macmillan. "Do neither of you have any dignity?!"

Malfoy cut off Nott's outraged response. "Sadly, I do not believe they do Samuel. To subject an innocent child to such cruel and unusual punishment of marriage to a man old enough to be her father and then some is, as we can all concur, loathsome at best."

"Here here!" cried Augusta, unyielding gaze never wavering from Lord Nott's direction. She'd always thought him to be a sadistic brute who got off entirely too easily during the Death Eater trials, and hoped Lucius' exposure of his schemes would lead to him ending up in Azkaban.

Preferably tossed arse-over-teakettle into the Dementor pit.

"The filing of this betrothal also represents a clear break in tradition - specifically the breach of contract type between a liege and his vassal." Icy gray eyes landed on a paling Goyle Sr., who slowly recognized the grave ramifications of his actions. "You see, per the oaths sworn between House Malfoy and House Goyle in line with established Wizengamot Charter, the latter had no legal right to agree to any betrothal contract for any ward of his House without my prior consultation and approval as I - in my stead as liege - would be the one providing the dowry. As I am certain you have all concluded, said betrothal was null and void the moment it was drafted, much less when it was filed."

He paused to glare at a reddening Tiberius, whose jaw had begun ticking as he fought the need to not commit grave violence against the foppish blonde twat.

Greg Sr. was merely content to keep shrinking in his seat, wishing he could simply disappear.

"Now," Lucius confidently continued. "Lord Nott's involvement in that scheme would constitute an act of attempted Line Theft as he did, quite literally, intend to marry an underage ward from under my care to further his own schemes. Mainly, to appoint himself as Regent of House Wilkes after siring a child with a child, all to access the Wilkes fortune."

He turned towards Lily and Harry, the former of whom was staring in Tiberius' direction with her chilling Avada-green gaze.

"Should you decide to Lord Wilkes, Seneschal Wilkes, you would be well within your right to lodge a formal complaint of line theft against Lord Nott for his brazenly egregious attempt to defraud your House."

"Oh absolutely Lord Malfoy, it will be taken into serious consideration." Harry glared unblinkingly at a sputtering Lord Nott, who suddenly realized that like his mother, the boy's eyes were the same unsettling shade of green as the Killing Curse. "In line with this revelation," Lord Wilkes declared, "I hereby claim Amaryllis Audelia Wilkes as my ward and extend all the protections of my House to her, thereby officially terminating her guardianship with House Goyle."

Up in the Viewing Gallery, Hecuba felt her stomach completely leaden as she realized that despite her hopes and her best efforts, her husband's heinous actions had resulted in the loss of her daughter-in-all-but-blood. Her son's grip tightened on her arm, not realizing she'd swayed upon hearing Lord Wilkes' declaration. She missed the matching expressions of sympathy sent her way by Ladies Greengrass and Parkinson, both of whom knew how much she cherished little Amy.

"However," Harry continued. "Regarding her residency, I am amenable to Amaryllis' continued domicile at the Goyle Estate should my cousin decide to remain at the only home she's known her entire life." He turned to stare at Hecuba and Greg Jr., who gaped at his words. "My extensive interactions with Amy and Heir Goyle have both revealed and reinforced a deep filial bond between the two, like a brother and sister should be. That is all thanks to the nurturing guidance and care fostered by Lady Goyle. You have both demonstrated the true meaning of what it means to be a Goyle, in spite of the failures of your Lord-husband and father. For that, you have my deep thanks and gratitude."

Hecuba gaped, before dazedly dipping into a small curtsy. Greg nodded at Harry, a small smile gracing his lips.

"Well said, Lord Wilkes." Harry nodded at Dumbledore's statement, amused at the note of pride he detected in the older wizard's voice. "Continue, Lord Malfoy."

"Much obliged. In line with my initial declaration of Line Theft against House Nott, I will ask the Chief Warlock to refer to documents 2B and 3C." Lucius paused as he turned towards Andrew Parkinson's direction. "It is worth noting that the discovery of this evidence was made possible by Lord Parkinson, whose steadfast support and honoring of his Vassal's Oath in all matters pertaining to my House were fundamental in revealing this most perfidious scheme." Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott glared at the man, with the thought of "Traitor!" echoing in their minds.

Allowing a genuine smile to grace his features, the blonde crossed his wand hand over his heart, bowing at the waist towards Andrew. Amazed whispers erupted at that act. Not only did it demonstrate the deep respect Lucius held for Andrew, it was an act typically reserved between two Lords of equal standing, of which a liege and vassal by definition were not.

Returning the smile Andrew slightly rose out of his chair, enough to bend at the waist with his wand hand crossed over his heart. "I am honored and humbled to serve you as always, my liege."

Complete, the Prince Emeritus spoke to the court: "Exhibit 2B is written proof regarding the fealty contracts Lord Nott intended to enter with my vassals, outright naming Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson as the intended parties." Urgent whispers arose, many turning their gaze to the first two men in question. "The latter was provided by Mr. Artemus Podmore, Esq. in his stead as an independent legal auditor, who verified that the crest emblazoned on the aforementioned document is, in fact, the crest of House Nott. As we are all aware, only the Lord, Lady, Regent, or Proxy possesses the legal authority to use the crest of their House on any documentation or correspondence. As House Nott only has one Lord, no Lady, no Regent, and no Proxy, the conclusion is obvious."

"THAT MEANS NOTHING!" bellowed Tiberius furiously. "You're broke, you can't afford to provide for one vassal, much less three! Narcissa wiped you out completely!" He sneered at the blonde, not stopping to consider why he looked so amused. "I also checked your net worth with the Department of Ministerial and Wizarding Archives - you've got a pittance compared to what you used to have."

Lucius quirked his brow, staring at Tiberius as if seeing him for the first time. "Tell me Lord Nott, are you a goblin? Or perhaps two goblins, wearing a clever disguise masked as an overly large wizard?"

"Beg your pardon?!" Nott sputtered indignantly at the insulting non-sequitur.

"I'm only asking because only a goblin of Gringotts could know anything regarding the state of House Malfoy's coffers, specifically one goblin by the name of Eye-Gouger who is literally forbidden to discuss the matter of my House's finances with anyone other than me. And as we are all well aware, Gringotts' security is top-notch and would easily detect the likes of you loitering about outside my vaults."

Nott's eyes widened. "B-B-But…you're broke! Narcissa took almost everything, she said so herself!"

Malfoy laughed condescendingly. "You really ought not believe everything you hear. Especially from the likes of disgruntled and greedy ex-wives with limited future prospects."

From her vantage Narcissa swelled in anger, both at the flagrant insult against her person and the realization that somehow, her ex-husband had cheated her out of more galleons! And that now, after the finalization of the divorce proceedings she'd initiated, she had no means whatsoever of getting more!

Draco noted his mother's reaction, feeling a keen sense of vicious vindication.

Vasilka was of a similar mind.

"As the court can attest, my claim for Line Theft against House Nott is valid, and I am well within my right to exercise my vengeance as I see fit."

The chorus of whispers crescendoed into shouts ranging from shock, disbelief, and anticipation, forcing the Chief Warlock to call for order.

"In line with the Wizengamot Charter that affords this privilege to all oath-sworn lieges, Lord Malfoy is well within his right to not only levy accusations of line theft when he believes line theft has been attempted and or committed, but reserves the right to demonstrate proof of such an act. The verified existence of legal documentation that literally spells out Lord Nott's intention to willfully steal Lord Malfoy's vassals more than satisfies the line theft claim, as The Book will also verify." Dumbledore paused to look in the Court Reporter's direction, who shakingly confirmed the older wizard's statement after conferring with the magical text.

"Excellent." Albus turned to the court-at-large. "Now, recompense for the confirmed act of Line Theft will be Lord Malfoy's to choose, as the Rules of Engagement within the Wizengamot Charter outline the means he can be judge, jury, and…executioner. Lord Malfoy," he nodded at a gloating Lucius. "The floor is yours."

"Much obliged, Chief Warlock." He nodded magnanimously to the older wizard. "To follow, there are exactly four ways I can…satisfy this most egregious and blatant act of sabotage against House Malfoy."

Crabbe and Goyle visibly flinched whilst Parkinson smirked. The two were suddenly struck by the oaths they'd renewed to Lucius when he'd taken the mantle as Lord Malfoy, further paling at all the implications.

From their position in the Viewing Gallery, the would-be Lords Donovan and Urquhart did their best to melt into the shadows, wondering if they could surreptitiously leave without garnering any kind of attention. Their hopes for acquiring a Nobledom were completely down the drain, and if the Slytherin were truly feeling vengeful, so would their collective viscera circle down said drain.

"Firstly, I could kill you. All of you." The Prince Emeritus' tone was at once cold and playful, causing many to audibly gasp, internally musing whether they'd be witnessing an actual execution. "It would be in line with the established clauses the Wizengamot carried over from the Wizard's Council of olde. With a few decisive waves of my wand, I could easily end your lives and those of everyone in your House, rendering you to nothing more than memories. No one would be able to stop me. They might even pin a medal on me." He chuckled as though he'd told a most funny joke, startling the assembly. They were dead silent, waiting with bated breath for the fates the three traitors would sound.

"I could bankrupt you all. Every knut, sickle, and galleon taken from you as retribution, leave you less than paupers toiling in the utter dregs of the most desolate alley." He sneered at Crabbe and Goyle. "Though considering most of the gold in your vaults comes from me, it would be quite redundant.

For you, my two deceitful vassals, there is the option to sever the oaths between our houses." Icy gray eyes flashed vindictively. "You'd both be persona non-grata, and your peers would be well within their rights to expel you from the Wizengamot! No more Noble status; you'd be lucky to be afforded the privilege of Common." Lord Malfoy shrugged with a glib nonchalance that was infinitely more frightening than if were openly wrathful.

"But… I think I have something considerably better in mind." He paused to draw a breath before turning to ashen-faced Crabbe.

"As restitution for your treachery Francis Lord Crabbe, I hereby invoke the Rite of Proxy over your House. From henceforth, you are stripped of your Lordly duties. I will act in your stead and conduct all business for your House as if it were my own. Since you no longer have an Heir, the topic may be reconsidered upon Druscilla's future marriage and would-be siring of a male heir. Thankfully, we have years before that is a feasible possibility. You and your Lady-wife will retire to the Crabbe Abode after this session until such a time I feel…compelled to summon you. As is my will, so will it be done."

He turned away from the visibly sweating man in dismissal, who slumped in relief at getting to keep his head. His wife was of a similar mind, knuckles bone white from clutching the railing of the Viewing Gallery in a vice-grip.

"As for you, Goyle," spat Lucius with more obvious contempt. "I am sorely tempted to sever the Vassal Oath between our Houses. However," he paused to look in his son's direction, who gave the subtlest of nods to his father. "My Heir informs me that Heir Goyle is a steadfast and dedicated scion of his House, a true reflection of the Goyles' true purpose and potential. I do not wish to have him suffer for the indignities wrought by his sire." Something indecipherable flashed in his icy orbs. "As such, I invoke the Provisional Proxy under the parens patriae clause; Heir Goyle will serve in his father's place as Lord Goyle, with all lordship duties stripped from Gregory Sr. and adjudicated to Gregory Jr. Because Heir Goyle is currently a student and thus cannot fulfill the daily expectations of his Lordship duties, he can choose a Regent to serve in his stead until such a time he is ready to take on his full Lordship responsibilities. It goes without saying that Gregory Sr. is barred from taking on the Regent role and is subsequently barred from having any and all influence in his House's politics. You will permanently retire to the Goyle Estate, wherein you will pass control of the wards and the house-elves to Heir Goyle. I will be on hand to supervise the transfer. As is my will, so will it be done."

Like his compatriot Goyle slumped in his seat, also grateful to have kept his head.

For you, Nott, I have something very special in mind." Tiberius sneered, gripping the arms of his chair as he fought back against his ever-rising rage at his most-hated enemy condescending to him!

"In line with established precedence and Clauses 7C-7F of the Wizengamot Charter, I hereby claim House Nott as vassal to House Malfoy!"

The crowd erupted.

Nott saw red.

Rage won.

"OVER MY DEAD BODY! EXPULSO!"

The spell flew with startling accuracy at Malfoy, whose quick thinking saw a shimmering Protego Horribilis shield in time to block the Blasting Curse's effects.

Twin cries of "INCARCEROUS!" saw Tiberius' hands bound to his body as Chief Auror Varens and Director Shacklebolt glared at the futilely struggling man.

"ENOUGH!" thundered Dumbledore, allowing a small portion of his power to spill forth, sending tangible chills of fear to race up all their spines. "That will be 50,000 galleons for both your blatant breach of decorum and your attempt to cause grievous bodily harm to your peer! As Lord Malfoy has just rightfully claimed your House as his Vassal, it will be up to him to decide if you should be formally expelled from the Wizengamot with a Regent or Proxy to take your place whilst you're sent to Azkaban for the next year!"

Tiberius froze in horror at the prospect of being in contact with the Dementors, his fury temporarily forgotten.

"Thank you, Chief Warlock." Lucius straightened his form, visage as impeccable as ever.

Lord Nott realized his goose was well and truly cooked, and that his fate was sealed. He looked helplessly around him, wanting - wishing - that one of his peers, one of his comrades, would speak up for him. But he found no comfort among them, just a general sense of indifference.

Looking towards his son, Tiberius was graced with nothing more than a disturbing blankness as Alex's gaze bore unfeelingly into his own.

There was no means of retreat or refuge.

He was an animal trapped, and as a hunter, the weight of that realization was damning.

He could either fight like a cornered beast, or surrender.

A few beats passed…

Before he woodenly trudged downward to the well.

Amidst the crushing weight of his pride and anger, Tiberius dropped to one knee with his head slightly bowed, skull pounding as blood rushed in his ears. "I…am…ready to…cast…the…Vassal's…Oath…" Every word was forced from his lips, and the Slytherin felt compelled to cut out his own tongue.

Smirking, Prince Emeritus Malfoy leaned in close to the kneeling man, lips coming close to his ears as he whispered:

"Do you feel that? That…crushing wave of helpless despondence, shock, and sheer terror at the state of your current fate?" Nott made an unintelligible sound at the back of this throat, like an animal strangling on its own breath.

"...Now…now you know how she felt!"

There could only be one 'she', and for the first time ever, Nott flinched at the mental visage of Christina Nott in his mind's eye, particularly of the memory of their wedding ceremony as the witch swore her marital vows - at once beautiful and utterly defeated in countenance. A stone-faced Lucius staring unblinkingly in the background, forced to watch the love of his life marry a man he loathed as much as his father. Completely powerless to stop it from happening.

It was a soul-crushing feeling.

Smirking at the look on his trembling enemy's face, Lucius stated:

"He requires use of his wand and wand hand to swear the Oath." Looking to Dumbledore, the older wizard nodded at Shacklebolt and Varens, who canceled their spells.

Unholstering his wand and shakingly crossing it over his heart, Tiberius Nott painstakingly chewed his way through the oath's words, ultimately forced to grunt out the final words as his throat seemed to not want to allow him to make the very sounds said aforementioned words required.

Smirking, Lucius unholstered his wand from his cane to complete his liege's oath, tongue effortlessly gliding over the words that would see him control House Nott until his dying day, and his son thereafter, and so on and so forth.

Unfortunately, old habits die hard.

No sooner had the last word of the oath left Lucius' mouth did a screaming Tiberius lunge, fingers poised to rip the blonde apart.

Matching cries of "STUPEFY!" slammed into Lord Nott, and he knew no more.


One Hour Later…

After much deliberation and a few choice moments of spirited shouting that nearly led to fisticuffs, the Wizengamot decided with a majority vote of 176 'Yes' to rescind the Ultimate Sanction, striking the arcane and powerful clause from the law.

Regent Longbottom had raised the topic after Lord Nott's disgraceful exit from the chamber, his unconscious form having to be levitated by the DMLE Director and Chief Auror to the Ministry holding cells where he would remain until the Wizengamot adjourned.

There was talk of a potential future tribunal to be scheduled between the DMLE, Lord Malfoy, the Chief Warlock, and the Minister of Magic to determine if Lord Nott would be spending the remainder of the year in Azkaban.

So far, nothing was confirmed.

With respect to the Sanction, quite a few of Acacia's peers had been surprised to see her vote in favor of rescinding the law, given her propensity to uphold wizarding law and tradition. However, unbeknownst to them, she was merely satisfying the final portion of the Life Debt owed to Tracey Davis. Greengrass had the courtesy to inform her beforehand, demonstrating some desire to treat her as an equal despite outranking her.

It proved he was an ally worth having, a potential supporter for her House's future claim for Ancient and Noble status.

"The Ultimate Sanction is hereby formally revoked, and thus any individuals currently affected by the sanction are no more influenced by the Sanction's magic, notably Theo No-Name. Unfortunately, revocation of the spell does not mean the affected party is reconsidered to be a member of his ex-house. Regardless, are there any other topics that need to be brought before the court?"

There were some chatters, but nothing stated for deliberation.

"Thank you. Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot, esteemed members of the Ministry, and gathered guests in the Viewing Gallery, this judicial proceeding is hereby complete. We are adjourned."


Current Time…

POP!

"Young Master? Are you alright? I heard the Master…having a fit." A small shudder ran through her form at the man's notoriously violent temper.

Heir Nott set his reading aside, smiling at the nervous form of Pike. The elf relaxed.

"I am quite alright, thank you for asking. I just needed a bit of rest and relaxation from him. And like I said upon our arrival, he won't be a bother for long."

The elf nodded in grave understanding. "I'll bring you some snacks to help ease your reading, make sure all the wards on your suite are up to par."

He smiled at the tone of motherly concern, nodding his appreciation. Just as she made to leave, Alex stopped her. "I do have one request."

"Anything!"

"Can you please send Lord Malfoy a fruit basket? A Cornucopia Setting, and include an array of daffodils, hydrangeas, bluebells, gladioli, and nasturtium please?"

Eyes wide in recognition of the language of flowers, Pike bowed before disapparating to fulfill her young master's wishes.


AN 1: Finally! I'd considered breaking this into two (2) parts, but, decided not to as that would have interrupted the pacing of Wizengamot day. The final chapter is plenty creepy enough, and I want all focus to be on that as is appropriate. I did a lot of cutting and rearranging to improve the chapter's flow, so here's hoping it paid off.

AN 2: Apophic Parseltongue will have an entire chapter dedicated to it in Book 4, so stay tuned. That it's enough to creep out a Parselmouth should be indicative of its weirdness.

AN 3: House Potter's financial issues loom, thankfully no Unbreakable Vow to force anyone's hand...yet...

AN 4: Lucius' revenge was the ultimate means of humiliating Nott and nullifying whatever political influence he has. As I'm sure you have surmised, our dear Cissy won't be trapping him with marriage and an illegitimate child. But Giles on the other hand...we'll see *maniacal laugh*

AN 5: The whole "One of the Three" will come up in Book 4, definitely Book 5. Justin as Lord Peverell has a lot of fun potential. House Blackwood will come up again in Book 5.