Chapter 13

The common room buzzed with chatter as students gathered in clusters, unwinding after a long day of travel back to the castle. Neville Longbottom sat in one corner, engaged in a heated discussion with Ron, Ginevra, and Dean Thomas. They were interrupted by the unwelcome presence of Draco Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini.

"Well, well, if it isn't woefully inadequate great leader of the progressives," Draco sneered, his brown eyes glinting with malice. "How's it going, Longbottom? Still struggling to control your ragtag bunch of misfits?"

Neville stood up, his face flushed but determined. "At least we're trying to make things better, Malfoy. Unlike you, we don't cling to outdated beliefs and pureblood supremacy."

Draco's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Trying to make things better, Neville? Or are you just failing spectacularly? Let's face it, the only reason you've got anyone following you is because of their misplaced pity for The-Boy-Who-Lived's legacy. Miss Brown has done far more to secure party leadership than you and your little posse."

Ron stepped forward, his fists clenched. "Shut your mouth, Malfoy! Neville's done more than you ever could. All you do is throw daddy's money around and think you're better than everyone else."

Draco's lips twitched into a smirk, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "Oh please, Weasley, spare me your sanctimonious drivel," he drawled, leaning forward with exaggerated casualness. "At least I have the luxury of throwing money around. Remind me, what do you have? Hand-me-downs and empty pockets?"

He paused, allowing his words to sink in before continuing, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I suppose it's why you lot are so eager to latch onto Longbottom. Hoping he'll marry into your family and lift you out of the gutter, eh? Ginevra Weasley, the future Lady Longbottom - quite the fairy tale, isn't it?"

Draco's eyes flicked to Ginevra, who flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "Too bad none of you have the pedigree—or the gold—to match up," he added with a sneer, his tone cold and venomous. "Maybe you should focus less on defending this pathetic excuse for a leader and more on figuring out how to stop being a walking charity case."

Neville stood quickly enough that his chair fell back and the table was knocked forward. Harry, who had been quietly observing from a nearby table, decided it was time to leave before this came to blows. He quietly stood up and walked to the exit from the common space.

Draco turned to Harry with a triumphant smirk. "Look Neville, why don't you step aside and clear the way for Brown to run the party. All you have going for you is the Boy-Who-Lived bit and frankly, as far as Orphans of Allantide go, you're clearly the disappointment."

Harry's expression hardened as Malfoy was clearly using Neville's insecurities related to himself to pick a fight. "Whatever beef you have with Neville has nothing to do with me, Malfoy."

Draco seized the opportunity to sow more discord. "Look at that, your precious fellow orphan doesn't even care enough to stand by you. How does it feel, Longbottom, to be so utterly irrelevant?"

The tension in the room reached a boiling point, and Goyle made the mistake of stepping too close to Ron, who promptly shoved him back. The shove was all it took for chaos to erupt.

Crabbe lunged at Dean, who dodged and sent a well-aimed hex back. Ginny quickly drew her wand, blocking a curse aimed at Neville. The common room was soon filled with flashes of light and shouting as students picked sides and tried to either defend or attack.

Harry slipped out of the common space as the first hexes flew. Later that day, Hermione informed him that Neville, Dean, Ron, Seamus, and Ginevra had been to the hospital wing. It seemed that Draco had enlisted the services of quite a few additional students to take his side in the conflict, students that may not have been so pleased with the Boy-Who-Lived. Notably, Lavender and the rest of the Progressive caucus had not stepped in to help to child of prophecy.

The air was thick with anticipation as the members of the progressive faction filed into Lord Townsend's sprawling manor. Situated in the rolling green mounts of the Hill Country of northern England, the manor itself was a testament to gothic opulence. Gargoyles leered from every corner, dark tapestries depicting epic battles fluttered lightly in the cold breeze that sneaked through the small, leaded windows. The main hall, where the meeting would take place, was a vast cavern of a room dominated by an enormous conference table carved from a single piece of walnut, its surface polished to a gleam.

Above them, the ceiling stretched upwards, disappearing into shadows. Elaborate chandeliers cradled scores of glimmering candles, casting flickering light that danced on the faces of the assembled witches and wizards. The walls were adorned with dark mahogany panels and intermittent recesses containing armors of long-forgotten knights, each one standing as a silent sentinel. Exotic foods from the far reaches of the British colonial empire were scattered across the table: smoked salmon from the Americas, spiced chutneys from India, and tropical fruits from the Caribbean. The juxtaposition of gothic austerity and colonial wealth added a surreal quality to the room.

Albus Dumbledore, clad in his trademark flowing robes, sat at the right hand of the lord of the manor. His long grey hair draped over his shoulders, and his sparkling blue eyes surveyed the room with amusement. Lord Townsend, a distinguished wizard whose family had hosted such meetings for decades sat at the head of the table. Around the table were representatives from various progressive families in the wizarding world, all here to discuss the same startling news.

"Might we begin?" Lord Townsend's voice, though soft, carried a weight that instantly silenced the low murmurings of those gathered.

"As you know," he began, "the subject of tonight's discussion is Sirius Black." Townsend allowed the name to hang in the air for a moment. "His apparent survival raises many questions."

"Indeed." The room stared as Dumbledore chose to speak, it was uncommon for him to make himself known so early in the night. "I wish to caution you all of your assumptions, as I've had to temper my own in the past weeks. I know that we have spoken previously about the possibility of Harry Potter being the next Lord Black. While I am glad the weight of that position will not fall upon his shoulders, it has become clear to me that the return of Harry Potter is intimately connected to the escape and return of Sirius Black."

A murmur of discontentment swept across the assembled witches and wizards. Catherine Brown, a witch with tight curls of gray hair and a stern expression spoke up. "How is it, precisely, is that true?"

"He is the boy's godfather, as some of you already know. This is one of the facts that made his betrayal so disquieting to those of us that knew him."

"I do not believe you were speaking only of their interpersonal relationship, Dumbledore," Lady Brown spoke again. "Please do not speak in riddles and games tonight, this is a serious matter."

Dumbledore raised a hand to forestall further interruption. "Very well, Sirius Black is indeed alive, and recent sources of mine indicate he helped to bring Harry Potter back to the wizarding world."

A murmur of concern went around the table. Lord Townsend leaned forward. "But surely such an association risks corrupting young Potter? The boy will be highly influential someday soon."

Johnathan Primm, a wizard with a monocle and a flair for dramatics interjected. "Precisely! If Potter has aligned himself with a presumed dark wizard, what does that say about his allegiance? Are our children not at risk?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief, but his tone remained serious. "Harry Potter is no dark wizard. Allow me to remind you all of what your children have undoubtedly written. He associates with every student that treats him with respect, regardless of political leaning. This is something exceedingly rare in today's Hogwarts and indicates a person who values character over lineage."

The room was silent, contemplating Dumbledore's words. He continued, "Harry's return to Hogwarts was contingent on having a strong guide who understood the perils and complexities of our world. Sirius Black, despite his past, seems to have been that guide."

Catherine Brown, now visibly softened, asked, "But what assurances can we have that Black will not lead Harry astray?"

"We have none. I do, however, return to my warning about assumptions. I have been digging into Lord Black's history. It has become apparent to me that he was never tried for his crimes."

There was again a rustling of shocked whispers before Augusta Longbottom stood violently from her chair. "Do not tell me, Dumbledore, that you believe Sirius Black to be innocent. Might I remind you that it was his cousins that murdered the boy's parents, unless you wish us to believe them innocent as well?"

"Pax, Augusta. I said no such thing. Unlike Sirius, the Lestranges were tried and convicted. It is a certainty that they are responsible for the deaths of Lord and Lady Potter. Sirius was never accused of taking part in that atrocity, but of giving up the Secret of the Potter's location to the forces of Lord Voldemort and of murdering Peter Pettigrew."

The Lady remained standing, furor and pain written across her face.

"It is the actions of Quislings like him that led to my poor Frank's death, and Neville's orphaning."

"I can understand your distrust and anger, Augusta," Dumbledore calmly spoke. "It is not clear to me yet that the young Lord Black is totally innocent, only that law spoke too softly to be heard in a time of war. Regardless, I have seen nothing from the Potter boy that indicates he is driven by anything other than a desire for justice."

Lady Augusta Longbottom slowly returned to her seat, but it was clear to all that she was not convinced. Lord Townsend, clearly weighing the impassioned arguments, nodded slowly. "Then, perhaps there is an opportunity to secure Harry's place within our fold, to guide him in full view of our council."

Dumbledore allowed a rare smile to grace his lips. "Indeed. Sometimes the best way to dispel our fears is to face them directly."

There was a collective murmur of agreement, the tension in the room gradually dissipating. Plates of food were passed around, and chalices were raised in a tacit agreement to trust Dumbledore's judgment, at least for now.

As the meeting drew to a close, Dumbledore stood, his chair scraping softly against the polished floor. "Thank you all for your understanding. Remember, it is in unity that we find our strength. Let us approach the trials ahead with the wisdom and courage befitting our purpose."

Under the veil of a cloudy night sky, Luna Lovegood and Harry Potter found themselves perched at the seventh-floor window of the Astronomy Tower, their breaths mingling with the cool night air. Below them stretched the dark expanse of the Black Lake, its waters shimmering faintly in the moonlight, while above loomed the rooftops of Hogwarts, shrouded in mystery.

"Luna, are you sure this is a good idea?" Harry's voice was tinged with concern as he peered down at the dizzying drop below.

Luna flashed him a smile, her eyes alight with excitement. "Of course, Harry. How else are we supposed to get to the roof? The gecko charm should make it easy enough."

With a flick of her wand, Luna cast the spell, her voice echoing softly in the stillness of the night.

Instantly, their hands and feet became covered in a shimmering, translucent film, granting the ability to cling to surfaces. Luna pressed herself against the stone wall of the tower, her fingers finding purchase on the rough surface.

"Come on, Harry. Trust me," she called over her shoulder, her voice carrying a note of encouragement.

Taking a deep breath, Harry followed suit, his heart pounding in his chest as he pressed his hands against the stone, feeling the magic of the charm take hold. With careful precision, they began their descent, inching their way out the window and down the sheer face of the tower, the sound of their breathing mingling with the faint rustle of fabric against stone.

The climb was treacherous, the wind whipping at their hair and robes, threatening to dislodge them and send them tumbling to the lake some three hundred feet below. With a swallow and small hope offered up that the spell would hold, Luna and Harry pressed on.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally reached the rooftop of Hogwarts, their bodies tingling with exhilaration. As they stood atop the ancient stones, the world spread out before them in a breathtaking panorama, the twinkling lights of the castle below casting a warm glow against the cloudy night sky.

"Harry, this is amazing," Luna breathed, her eyes wide with wonder as she took in the sight. "It's like we're on top of the world."

Beneath the faint, silver glow of a waning moon, Luna and Harry embarked upon the labyrinthine rooftops of Hogwarts. The ancient stones, worn smooth by centuries of weathering, sloped and twisted in a bewildering array of angles, seemingly defying the laws of ordinary geometry.

Luna's gaze swept across the surreal landscape, her silvery locks trailing behind her like wisps of moonlight. "The rooftops are quite enchanting, aren't they?"

Harry nodded, his wand held aloft, casting long shadows against the irregular contours of the rooftop terrain. As they ventured deeper into the enigmatic expanse, Harry noticed a section of the roof where the angles contorted into a particularly perplexing dance of shapes. He gestured to his partner. "Over there, Luna."

Intrigued, they approached the anomaly, their footsteps muted by the thick blanket of moss that carpeted the ancient tiles. Between two chimneys, nestled within the crooked geometry, a small, weather-beaten door stood closed.

Its hinges creaked in protest as Luna pushed it open. The two descended a narrow staircase that seemed to spiral endlessly into the shadows below, before they emerged into a dimly lit hallway adorned with portraits of bygone wizards and witches, not a one of them was animated.

At the end of the corridor, another door beckoned them forward, its timeworn facade hinting at secrets hidden within. Pushing it open, they stepped into what seemed to be an apartment frozen in time.

Beneath the muted light filtering through dust-covered windows, Luna Lovegood and Harry Potter found themselves standing amidst the forgotten remnants of a lost apartment. The room, though cloaked in the shroud of neglect, bore the unmistakable traces of erstwhile grandeur.

To the left of the entryway, a cozy study beckoned with its shelves laden with ancient tomes and parchment scrolls, their bindings worn with age. A desk, weathered but sturdy, stood as a testament to countless hours spent in scholarly pursuit. Upon its surface lay an array of quills and inkwells, their faded hues a testament to the passage of time.

Opposite the study, a bedroom lay dormant, its canopy bed draped in faded linens adorned with intricate patterns long since faded. Moonlight filtered through moth-eaten curtains, casting shadows upon the threadbare carpet below. A vanity, its mirror clouded with age, stood beside the bed.

At the heart of the room, a fireplace stood in solemn repose, its mantel adorned with delicate carvings depicting scenes of Hogwarts's storied past. Above it, an urn of moldy floo powder sat, hinting at a time when flames danced within its hearth, connecting the apartment to distant corners of the wizarding world.

"Unbelievable." The word came out hushed.

"Truly," Luna responded.

"Just think of what this offers, Luna. Potentially a way in and out of Hogwarts if the floo actually works. And just look at this place, how old do you think it is?"

"Not to mention the best hiding spot in the castle!" Luna nearly giggled. "Who do you think lived here?"

Harry's gaze was first to catch sight of the glint of something metallic tucked beneath the edge of the study's desk. He bent down and pried out a small, ornate, silver box, its surface intricately etched with delicate vines and magical symbols.

"Luna, look at this," he said, holding the box up to the dim light.

Luna stepped closer, her eyes widening with curiosity.

Gingerly, Harry lifted the lid, revealing a trove of aged letters, their parchment yellowed with time. The topmost letter was sealed with a distinctive wax emblem; a rampant unicorn against a shield.

Harry carefully broke the seal and unfolded the letter, his eyes scanning the old-fashioned script. Luna leaned in, reading over his shoulder.

To whom it may concern,

This chamber remains concealed from those who seek to do harm, a haven for the persecuted. Should you find shelter here, know that you are safe. Trust in the enchantments laid by my hand.

Dilys Derwent

Luna's eyes sparkled with recognition. "Dilys Derwent, she was Headmistress of Hogwarts in the 18th century! But why was this place used as a refuge?"

Harry reached for another letter, opening it carefully. The text within hinted at a dark past. Luna and he opened and read through several such letters, each of them hinting at something similar. During her some twenty five years as Headmistress of Hogwarts, Dilys had protected numerous muggleborns in this apartment while they found safe passage either out of Great Britain or were able to solve their difficulties. Said difficulties were often with pureblood wizards of great import.

Luna's gaze swept across the room with newfound respect. "Imagine the courage it must have taken, both for Headmistress Derwent to break the rules to protect them, and for them to trust in her."

Harry's eyes settled back on the marks of life long past within the room. "It just goes to show the lengths the right people will go to protect others. It is certainly something to aim for."

The room, once hidden in shrouded secrecy, now felt like a testament to quiet heroism, a sanctuary of bravery preserved within the ancient walls of Hogwarts.

"Come, Luna." Harry started. "It is late, we should go. But, we will be back."

She nodded her agreement.

As Harry and Luna carefully made their way from the abandoned apartment atop Hogwarts, their footsteps echoing softly upon the moss-covered tiles, they caught snippets of conversation drifting from a nearby tower window.

"...must consider all possibilities," one voice, insistent and urgent, muttered.

Harry exchanged a glance with Luna, his heart quickening with a mixture of fear of being found and curiosity. They edged closer, keeping to the shadows as they strained to hear more.

"...too dangerous," another voice replied, sounding fearful. "…the devastation he's caused."

The urgency in the first voice grew. "… Coward… your family depends on … your heritage requires..."

"I've done what you asked, I've approached father!" came the second voice again, cracking slightly and louder than before. "What more need have you of me?"

"…the Dark Lord… needs you to..."

"No! He is gone!"

Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he realized the gravity of the conversation on which he was eavesdropping. Voldemort was being discussed in hushed tones right here at Hogwarts.

Luna's eyes widened with alarm, her hand tightening on Harry's arm.

Harry's mind raced with thoughts of what Voldemort's return would bring. Sneaking closer, he was determined to get a glance at the two having the conversation. Before he could position himself, the two walked away and the conversation grew too scrambled to make out any coherent words.

"...risks... dark magic... consequences..."

"...cannot... chance..."

"...must decide..."

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Harry realized he were running out of time. Chancing a less than surreptitious glance through the cracked window while wandlessly silencing the hinges, he spotted the backs of two adult males, one wore the robes of a Hogwarts university student.

Lucius Malfoy adjusted the cuff of his tailored black coat, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle as he walked through the imposing gates of Bellock Family Manor. The estate, a quintessential example of British countryside grandeur, stood tall with its stone walls covered in ivy that hinted at centuries of history.

The manicured gardens surrounding the manor were immaculate, with hedges trimmed to perfection and vibrant flowers arranged in meticulous patterns. A gravel path led from the gates to the heavy oak doors of the manor, which stood open to welcome the evening's guests. Lucius paused for a moment, taking in the sight of the imposing structure and the welcoming feeling of the wards before making his way inside.

The interior of Bellock Manor was of traditional masculine taste, decorated to showcase the family's power and wealth. Dark wood paneling covered the walls, adorned with portraits of stern-looking ancestors, many of whom were formidable figures in wizarding history. Heavy velvet drapes in deep shades of burgundy and navy framed the tall windows, while rich leather armchairs and sofas were arranged around the room, inviting guests to sit and discuss matters of importance.

The air was thick with the scent of tobacco and the warm, peaty aroma of fine scotch. A grand fireplace dominated one wall, its mantelpiece adorned with silver candelabras and an ornate clock that ticked softly in the background. The flickering fire cast a golden glow over the room, adding to the atmosphere of old-world luxury.

Lucius made his way to the center of the room, where a group of men had already gathered. Nathaniel Nott, Evan Rosier, Roland Lestrange, and Ferrell Bellock himself stood in a loose circle, each holding a glass of scotch. They turned as Lucius approached, nodding in greeting.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Lucius said smoothly, taking a glass from a passing house-elf and joining the circle. "Thank you for hosting us, Ferrell. Your home is as impressive as ever."

Ferrell Bellock inclined his head graciously. "Thank you, Lucius. It's always a pleasure to have like-minded individuals under my roof."

Lucius took a sip of his scotch, savoring the warmth that spread through him before he began to speak. "I have called this meeting to discuss recent developments concerning our influence in the Wizengamot and the Ministry. As you all know, our efforts to cut the budget of certain departments have not been well received by Cornelius Fudge."

Roland Lestrange frowned, his grip tightening on his glass. "What has the Minister done now?"

Lucius's expression darkened slightly. "Fudge is attempting to rally support against our budget cuts through the commons, claiming that they will weaken the Ministry's ability to maintain order. He has been quite vocal in his opposition, and it seems he is even garnering some sympathy from the more gullible members of the Wizengamot."

Evan Rosier scoffed. "Typical."

"Indeed," Lucius agreed, his voice taking on a hard edge. "But his efforts have not gone unnoticed. The Wizengamot, in cutting the executive budget, has effectively curbed Fudge's power."

Nathaniel Nott raised an eyebrow. "And what does this mean for us?"

Lucius's lips curled into a satisfied smile. "It means that the influence of the Wizengamot will only increase in the coming year. With the executive weakened, and likely short-staffed, the balance of power will shift more heavily in favor of the legislative branch. We will have the opportunity to shape policy and direction in a way that suits our interests."

There was a murmur of approval from the group, and Ferrell Bellock took a deep drag on his pipe, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "So, our position strengthens. But what of Fudge? How do we ensure he remains... compliant?"

Lucius's eyes glinted with cunning. "We continue to apply pressure. Make it clear that his political survival depends on his cooperation with us. He must understand that resisting our agenda will only lead to further isolation and vulnerability."

Nathaniel Nott leaned forward, his expression contemplative. "And what of the other factions? The progressives, the neutrals? How do we manage them?"

Lucius waved a hand dismissively. "The progressives are too idealistic and unwilling to compromise to pose a real threat. As for the neutrals, they can be swayed with the right incentives. We must focus on solidifying our alliances and presenting a united front.

"To that end, I've instructed Draco to start a small campaign of sabotage within Hogwarts. He is to pressure Longbottom and make it clear that the progressive faction has an unclear future. This will hopefully lead to some of the neutrals to view the current balance of power as unlikely to last into the future and may lead some to reopen talks with us."

Evan Rosier nodded in agreement. "If we could gain just a few members, we would control the future of wizarding Britain."

Lucius raised his glass, a glint of triumph in his eyes. "To our continued success, gentlemen. May we guide the wizarding world to a future that aligns with our vision."

The others raised their glasses in return, the clink of crystal echoing through the room. "To our success," they echoed, their voices filled with determination.

As the evening wore on, the men continued to discuss their strategies and plans, the air thick with the scent of tobacco and the camaraderie of shared ambition. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the walls, while the portraits of long-dead ancestors looked on approvingly.

Lucius felt a deep sense of satisfaction. The conservative faction was poised to consolidate its power, and with the Ministry weakened, they had a clear path to shaping the future. The coming year promised to be a pivotal one, and Lucius was determined to ensure that their vision for the wizarding world would prevail.

Roland Lestrange leaned back in his chair, taking a thoughtful sip of his scotch. "There's something else we should consider. It has come to my attention that the two Aurors who last visited Sirius Black were both either Muggle-born or half-blood."

Evan Rosier's eyes gleamed with interest. "Is that so? That information could prove quite useful."

Lucius nodded, a calculating look on his face. "Indeed. We could use this to push our agenda further. Highlighting the failure of these individuals will strengthen our position that only those of pureblood lineage can be truly trusted with such crucial responsibilities."

Nathaniel Nott tapped his chin thoughtfully. "If we position our agenda as a means to prevent further escapes of the Dark Lord's supporters, we could garner wider support. Even some of the neutrals might back us if they see it as a matter of security."

Ferrell Bellock exhaled another cloud of smoke, nodding in agreement. "A well-crafted narrative could turn the tide in our favor. It's all about perception and control."

Lucius raised his glass once more, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Then let us proceed with this strategy. We will craft our message carefully, ensuring that it appeals to both fear and logic. We will show the wizarding world that our way is the only way to ensure safety and stability."

The men clinked their glasses again, sealing their agreement.

Outside the manor, the moon cast a silver light over the gardens, a silent witness to the machinations taking place within. The Bellock Family Manor stood as a symbol of enduring power and influence, a fitting backdrop for the plotting and planning of those who sought to shape the destiny of wizarding Britain.

As the guests began to take their leave, Lucius lingered for a moment longer, gazing into the flames of the fireplace, his mind already turning over the next steps in their plan. With a final nod to Ferrell Bellock, Lucius made his way to the door, his stride confident and purposeful. The future of the wizarding world was theirs for the taking, he did not notice the lingering eyes of one of his companions.

Harry Potter slipped into the Hogwarts Library, his mind buzzing with the previous night's activities. The library was filled with the soft rustle of pages and the faint scratching of quills, the usual sounds of students engrossed in their studies. The high arched windows allowed streams of pale light to filter in, highlighting the dust motes that danced in the air.

As he walked towards the back, he was startled by a largely unfamiliar voice. "Harry? What brings you here so early in the morning?"

It was Lavender Brown, her honey-blonde hair gleaming in the library's subdued light. She flashed him a dazzling smile, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Hey, Lavender," Harry replied, trying to muster a polite smile. "Just some research."

"Research, huh?" she said, stepping closer. "What are you researching?"

Harry hesitated for a moment. He needed to find out more about reactivating a floo connection and identifying the speaker from last night's ominous conversation. He also knew that the Browns were involved in the magical transportation industry, which might be helpful. Besides, with Neville's recent "dethroning" in the common room fracas involving Draco, Lavender seemed more willing to approach him.

"Actually, I need to find some information about the Floo Network," Harry admitted. "And something else that's a bit more... sensitive."

Lavender's eyes widened with interest. "The Floo Network? One of my aunts is the head of the Floo Network Authority, what did you need to know?"

"Not sure I know enough to ask good questions yet," Harry answered. "I really just think I need a good primer related to setting up a household floo connection. Found out over the hols that one of mine is on the fritz."

She grabbed his arm and led him through the library, her touch lingering longer than necessary. Harry felt a bit uncomfortable but allowed himself to be guided. They walked past rows of bookshelves until they reached a section dedicated to magical transportation.

"Here we are," Lavender said, stopping in front of a shelf filled with dusty tomes. "This is where you'll find everything about the Floo Network. This one, though, is what I'd recommend."

She pulled out The Comprehensive Guide to the Floo Network and made as though to hand it over. As Harry reached for the book she pulled it back and leaned in closer. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "And what about that sensitive topic you mentioned? Maybe I can help with that too."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I'm trying to suss out someone. I overheard a conversation last night about something that involves me. The person I'm interested in was wearing the Uni uniform, likely a son of a conservative member."

Lavender's eyes gleamed with intrigue. "Really? That sounds serious. Well, I do know quite a bit about the conservative crowd. Why don't we sit down, and I can tell you everything I know?"

Harry nodded, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. Lavender handed him the book about the Floo Network and they found a quiet table in a corner of the library. While he had expected her to sit across from him, she sat down directly next to Harry, her eyes never leaving his face.

"So, tell me more about what you're looking for," Lavender said, leaning in slightly and letting her hand rest on his thigh.

Harry felt his control lapse a bit, usually he was the one pressing when flirting. "I dun really know more than what I already shared, but iff'n I don't find this person I could be well in it."

Lavender nodded, her expression serious. "I see. Well, there are a few students here with families deeply entrenched in the conservative faction. Let's start with the Urchs. Jason Falkner is a student at Hogwarts University, and his family is very influential. Purebloods, very traditional."

Harry's heart raced. "What about others?"

Lavender tapped her chin thoughtfully. "There's also Marcus Twichell's son, Miles, who's quite involved in the conservative circles. And Oran Bellock's family, though they tend to be more behind the scenes. I can't think of anyone else that has a son pursuing a mastery. Did you need to know about any of the daughters?"

Harry swallowed. "Uh, no, that helps a lot. Thanks, Lavender."

She smiled, leaning even closer and moving her hand up his thigh a bit higher. "Anytime, Harry. You know, if you ever need help with anything else, I'm always around."

Harry forced a smile, feeling the weight of her flirtation. "Uh, right, cheers. I appreciate it."

Lavender leaned in, her eyes locked onto his. "Really, Harry. Anything."

He cleared his throat, stepping back. "O'course. Thanks again, Lavender."

She pouted slightly but nodded. "Alright. Don't be a stranger."

Harry quickly made his way back to the Magical Transportation section, feeling a mixture of relief and unease. His interactions with Lavender until now had been rather limited and he had not been prepared to be so heavily pursued by the girl. It had been a bit unnerving. He settled into a nearby armchair and opened "The Comprehensive Guide to the Floo Network." As he read, he took detailed notes on how to reactivate a deactivated fireplace, focusing on the necessary ingredients and incantations.

His mind drifted back to the abandoned apartment, and he imagined the dormant fireplace springing back to life with a swirl of green flames. He felt a spark of satisfaction at the thought of restoring its connection to the wider wizarding world. Then he felt a spark of irritation as rogue wondering about what he could do with a hidden bedroom and a flirty Lavender Brown squeezed their way into his thoughts.

Hermione sat at a desk in her private study room, eyes weary from hours of reading through maths texts. She had recently furthered her studies in calculus and found that Harry had been doing something with integrals. What, she wasn't able to determine. A package of newly ordered books lay unopened beside her, waiting for her attention. She sighed, resolving to take a break when a curious-looking envelope arrived through the open window, carried by a small barn owl.

She picked it up, noting the official crest on the envelope.

British Social Services? she pondered, her heart rate quickening. This could be it—the breakthrough she needed regarding Harry's mysterious past.

With trembling hands, she carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the folded letter.

Dear Ms Granger,

Following your request concerning the history and guardianship of one Harry Potter, we regret to inform you that most of the records are sealed and beyond our accessible archives. However, through public records relating to the guardianship under the name Harry James Barton, we have uncovered some details.

Hermione's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat.

"How could I have missed that?" she whispered to herself. It seemed so obvious in hindsight. She admonished herself silently, knowing that attention to detail was her strong suit, yet this crucial fact had slipped past her.

She continued reading:

Harry James Barton, formerly under the care of Vernon and Petunia Barton, was officially listed as a ward of the state five years prior to his disappearance. During that time, he was placed at St. Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys.

The name made her gasp, her fingers tightening around the parchment. It was almost too shocking to believe. She had known something was suspicious about the boy, but never suspected that he had come from an institution like that. What had he done?

She read on, desperately hoping for more information.

Due to the sensitive nature of the case and privacy concerns, additional specifics about his time at the institution remain confidential. Should you require further details, you will need an approved request from the court.

The letter ended with formalities, but Hermione's mind was already racing, far ahead. How could this revelation fit into the puzzle of Harry's life?

She placed the letter down gently on her desk, her heart heavy with a mix of emotions. She reached for her quill and began drafting another letter—this one to St. Brutus' Secure Center, requesting any information they were willing to release. She spelled the letter with a light confundus that would make the reader believe that the letter was penned by a barrister and the request appropriately approved.

As she set aside the quill, Hermione leaned back in her chair, her thoughts consumed by what she had just discovered. Harry James Potter, a boy branded as incurably criminal—how did this revelation change her perception of him? She replayed their interactions in her mind, noticing the small tells of his guarded nature and the quick temper he sometimes displayed. He must be terrified of people uncovering his past, she realized. The facade he maintained, the way he distanced himself from others, and his fierce independence all began to make sense.

Hermione's heart ached with a mix of empathy and concern. If anyone discovered this part of his history, how would they judge him? Would they dismiss him as a lost cause? More importantly, how did he see himself?

She resolved to keep a close eye on him, wary of the stigmatizing "black mark" that his time at St. Brutus' represented. She needed to be cautious, tactful in her approach, and above all, watchful. Harry may have simply been mislabeled, having not done much to earn the mark, but if he had?

With a newfound determination, she carefully folded the letter to St. Brutus' Secure Center and sealed it with a charm.

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin sat in the living room of the old Potter family home, the weight of Harry's recent letter pressing heavily on their minds. The letter, dropped through the window by an owl just moments before, lay open on the coffee table. It detailed the alarming news that someone at Hogwarts was aiding Voldemort. Yet, any discussion of this dire threat had to be put on hold—their scheduled meeting with a goblin representative was imminent.

A sharp knock echoed through the room, yanking them from their thoughts. Tilly opened the door and announced Nibgit Axegrinder. The goblin wore robes of emerald and his expression was stern and composed.

Sirius and Remus both rose to greet their guest, doing their best to mask their anxieties. "Nibgit, welcome. Thank you for coming."

Nibgit inclined his head slightly before entering and surveying the room with keen eyes. "Lord Black, Mr. Lupin. I trust this meeting finds you well."

Remus gestured to a goblin-sized chair. "Please, have a seat, Nibgit. How may we assist you today?"

Nibgit took his place, his posture commanding respect. "I have come to discuss the representation of goblin interests within the Wizengamot. It is well known that both you, Lord Black, and Lord Potter hold seats there."

Sirius and Remus exchanged a quick glance. "Yes, we do," Sirius finally said, settling into his chair. "But neither of us has been seated. What specifically is on your mind?"

Nibgit's expression grew more intense. "The Treaty of Blood and Gold. It ended the Goblin Rebellion of 1890, but its terms have left my people shackled and disenfranchised. We seek a renegotiation."

Sirius looked thoughtful. "I understand that the treaty is a contentious issue within the goblin nation. What changes are you hoping to achieve through renegotiation?"

Nibgit's eyes glinted with determination. "The current terms are outdated and unjust. We seek fewer restrictions on wand use and the ability to own property within wizarding society. Additionally, we want fair representation in the Wizengamot—a voice that will actually be heard and respected."

Remus leaned forward, his face earnest. "I've no doubt that change is needed, Nibgit, but such significant changes will face considerable opposition in the Wizengamot."

"I am aware," Nibgit replied, his tone resolute. "However, the goblin nation cannot stand idle. We have no representation in the only body that can address the Treaty and so we reach out to those we can trust with friendship. I come to you in order to offer a chance to avoid future unpleasantness. If the needs of the goblin nation continue to be unheard for years yet, another rebellion could be on the horizon."

Sirius inhaled slowly, the stakes became clear. The Wizarding World was in a rough spot. The Wizengamot had unified enough to weaken the executive branch of the Ministry at a time when a strong executive branch may be required to meet multiple threats. Voldemort was potentially on the horizon, and now, with a goblin Sirius and Harry trusted telling them that a goblin rebellion was also in play within a few years? There were few choices available.

"I pledge my willingness to introduce this legislation if I am ever allowed to take my seat in the Wizengamot. And I assure you that I will discuss this matter with Harry as well," Sirius spoke,

Nibgit's eyes flicked with a shrewd light. "Your assurances are noted, Lord Black. The support of the Potter and Black families could be pivotal in achieving these changes."

Sirius extended a hand. "We will do our best to push this through. It's in our mutual interest to maintain stability, and I think I know Harry well enough to know that he will want to do right by those that have done him right."

Nibgit shook Sirius's hand firmly. "Very well. The goblin nation will await updates on your progress. Remember, time is of the essence."

After Nibgit departed, the room fell into an uneasy quiet. Sirius ran a hand through his shoulder-length black hair, his mind returning to the letter from Harry.

"We really are juggling with fire now," Remus said quietly. "But we can't afford to tip our hand about Voldemort to anyone."

Sirius nodded, his face set in determination. "First, we rally the support we need both within and outside the Wizengamot. We need as many allies as we can get."

"And we need to identify the traitor at Hogwarts," Remus added. "We can't let Voldemort gain any more ground."

"Of course, a lot of the above requires that we catch the rat."

In that moment, the enormity of their responsibilities weighed heavily on both of them. Sirius called for Tilly to bring him quill and parchment, he had a letter to send to Harry.