Chapter 12

"My lords, I pray that the blessing of Almighty God may rest upon your counsels." Dumbledore reflected upon the oddity of the saying, used in both the magical and muggle parliaments to open a new legislative session. Wizards, by and large, were not a religious people. When one had personal power roughly equivalent to an imagined deity, it was difficult to take faith seriously. Nevertheless, the phrase had been used by the muggle monarchs, and the Ministers of Magic, since the split of the magical and muggle worlds.

This newest session, Dumbledore was sure, would prove to be entertaining. Fudge, having delivered his opening speech, quickly made to escape a visibly hostile chamber. The meeting of the Lords called to session, Dumbledore began with a few words of his own before moving onto the first, and only, item this agenda. The budget.

It was tradition for the upper house of wizarding Britain to meet prior to the Yule celebrations to set the tone for the next year. Most of the horse trading for the coming year had already been completed and by and large a path would be set today. That path started with the budget for the Ministry of Magic. While wizarding Britain did have a lower house, similar to the British House of Commons, it was a politically neutered body. Most elected members served at the beck and call of Lords who financed their campaigns.

Unlike the House of Commons in the muggle world, it was the Wizengamot, or House of Lords, that controlled the purse in the magical government. Most years began with certain members of the peerage attempting to cut funds from the programs that conflicted with their ideological priorities. This year, the Lords were more well-aligned than Dumbledore could ever remember.

"It has been put forward by the august members of the conservative party that there be several modifications to the budget proposed by the administration. The floor is yielded to Lord Adcox for a period not more than fifteen minutes." In speaking, Dumbledore put into motion a dance which had been carefully choreographed weeks prior.

There was hemming and hawing, but it was all a show. In a mere two hours, the budget was set. The Minister was left with a token discretionary fund. The Department of Mysteries was reduced to its barest funding requirements. The money taken from both sources was mostly put into a Hogwarts scholarship fund which would focus on moving deserving pupils from local schools to Hogwarts.

All in all, it was a disaster for Fudge and Croaker. The Lords had flexed their muscles.

Amelia Bones did not quickly return to her family manor after the Wizengamot session. She had managed to survive the debacle that Fudge and Croaker had incited and wanted to celebrate. The manor was not the place for that. Though she lived within its walls, it was never a place of true joy.

Amelia Bones had never expected to become the matriarch of the Bones family. She was the third, and last, child born to her parents, Lord Edwin Bones and Lady Grace Bones. Her two older brothers, Edgar and George, had attended Hogwarts some years ahead of her and she fully expected they would take the reins of the family in time.

Then came Voldemort's first rise.

The Bones had always belonged to the progressive faction. Themselves one of the last families to be raised to the peerage, they had always advocated for new blood in the wizarding world. Amelia was herself a quarter muggleborn, her maternal grandmother a muggle and this notably put the Bones squarely in the camp of those that fought for rights of muggles and muggleborns.

This did not endear them to Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

The attacks of 1980 had targeted many families with children who had graduated. The Bones family was one of them. Amelia's oldest niece had just returned home from Hogwarts that very afternoon. Amelia was to go over to the manor that evening to celebrate with her parents and siblings. She apparated into a nightmare.

The manor had been largely ruined, fires still burned and smoke rose high into the air. Despite all her efforts she was only able to save one life that night. Her youngest niece, Susan, who had been named after her by her brother George, was found uninjured in the smoldering remains of the living room.

Though the manor had been rebuilt on a different floorplan to mitigate the pain, and while Susan was a bright star in Amelia's life, nothing could erase the memory of that tragedy from her memory. In response to this, Amelia never felt as though she could celebrate at her house. It never felt right.

Today was a day for celebration. Fudge's power and likely his tenure were on the descent. Croaker was returned to the Department of Mysteries with his tail between his legs. Amelia was riding high on a slight increase in funding she had managed to wrangle out of all the horse-trading in the past month. The amount, small in comparison with the monies that were redirected to other projects, was enough to bring several material improvements to the aurory.

Amelia poured herself two fingers of Glenmorangie Signet. As she sipped from the snifter she reflected upon the superiority of muggle libations over their wizarding counterparts. Even in the houses of most conservative party members, there could be found a – usually secret – cabinet full of a selection of muggle liquor. She smiled at the thought and brushed away an insect that buzzed nearby, then frowned as her fireplace ticked green for a moment, a sign that a call was being requested.

For a moment she thought to ignore the fireplace, but with a sigh set her snifter back onto her desk and threw a dram of floo powder into the portal. She was surprised to see the face of Arthur Weasley on the other end. He was a good man, and one whose family had sacrificed almost as much as her own had.

"Amelia," the red-headed patriarch began. "I am glad that you are still around. I did not know who to go to with this and you were the only one I thought I could trust."

Amelia began to feel concerned as the man rambled on without imparting any detail for a couple minutes. This was not entirely an unusual occurrence for Arthur, he was not always the most succinct of men.

"Arthur," she finally cut in. "What has happened to leave you in this state?"

The man took a deep breath. "Sirius Black, Amelia. He is alive."

It was a good thing she had placed the snifter down, she thought much later. It would have been unlikely she would have even noticed its crash.

"How do you know this, Arthur?" she asked, and immediately regretted the phrasing of the question. It was only due to the man's flustered state that he did not pick up on her slip of the tongue.

"He apparated just outside the wards of my house, Amelia! Not only that, he had placed his own wards outside my own for some purpose I do not know. My son Bill is trying to determine what he can based on the magical residue, but he finds it unlikely he will find any clarity."

"What happened when he appeared?" Amelia pressed.

Arthur looked down in what appeared to be shame for a fraction of a moment before answering. "I recognized him immediately, of course. He was young during the years of the war, but he and Potter were thick as thieves in the Order meetings…" he dragged off and appeared lost in a memory for another moment before continuing.

"I couldn't help myself and shouted his name in my disbelief. My sons immediately attacked the man, and not only him. Another arrived with him, another of his old friends. Remus Lupin had arrived too!"

There were two pressing issues with that last revelation. Amelia addressed the first. "Are you and your sons alright, Arthur? Sirius was always handy with a wand."

The man nodded the affirmative.

"Good. Then onto the second thing. You said Lupin was with him? That is most curious. If I recall correctly, he is a werewolf, is he not?"

"Yes," Arthur began cautiously, "but he has always been a positive model for the lycanthrope community. He was most distraught after Sirius' betrayal, Amelia. I cannot imagine that he would help the man without something very strange occurring. I cannot even imagine what that something strange would be."

Amelia could.

The conversation continued on and with some gentle probing Amelia was able to determine that there had been no third actor (Potter) at the Weasley residence. It was still concerning though. Why would Sirius Black and Remus Lupin place a ward on the Weasley property? It made no sense. After asking Arthur to keep her informed of anything else that happened on his property, no matter how insignificant it seemed, and assuring the man she would be doing everything in her power to help him she ended the call.

Returning to her desk, she committed the cardinal sin of simply shooting the rest of her scotch.

Rita Skeeter was a firm believer that one made their own luck, but damn it if luck had not been on her side tonight! She was burning the midnight oil writing up a scandalous exposé. She could only imagine the furor amongst her readers in response to this.

Rita had followed Amelia because the woman had looked a bit too self-satisfied with the results of the Wizengamot session. Well, that and because she was one of the few that did not immediately make their way back to their own residences. Rita was familiar with Amelia's habit of celebrating alone in her office. Sessions such as these were one of her favorite "anonymous sources".

Rarely had they been so productive.

Usually Rita would wait weeks before pouncing with information gathered from that office, but in this case, she would need to move within days. There was no surety that Arthur or Amelia would not spill the beans to some other reporter's source. She would need to publish before them. Still, a couple days additional research could not harm anyone. Besides, there was that kerfuffle a few months back about a new Black lord. Perhaps she could tie Sirius Black to that as well!

The blonde reporter giggled as though intoxicated. In a way, she was. Each has their own drug.

Harry had apparated into an empty manor house. Well, empty of his godfather and Remus. He had immediately called for an elf and found that the two had apparated out only moments before. His concern ratcheted up a notch due to Luna's warning. He could think of only one place Remus and Sirius would have gone to in a hurry, the Weasley household. He was about to apparate himself back to Platform 9 ¾ and follow the Weasley children home when the telltale crack of apparition rang through the manor.

Sprinting into the main hall, he found a bleeding Remus Lupin awaiting him. The lycanthrope looked as close to a wolf as possible while in his human form and snarled in pain as he administered first aid to himself.

"Where is Sirius?" Harry practically yelled at his parent's friend.

"He's coming." Remus answered. Several terrifying seconds ticked by before another crack rang through the air. This report was deafening, a sure sign that something had gone wrong. It did not take long to find what.

Sirius Black arrived in pieces. Harry had read about splinching. Remus had even talked about it. He had never mentioned how grotesque it could be.

Sirius arrived out of one point of space-time and his body promptly scattered itself across its point of entry. Limbs were severed from his torso; Sirius' two legs lay ten feet apart. His chest looked as though it had taken a shotgun blast. Remus immediately jumped into motion to save the life of his dying friend.

Harry stood shock still.

He had witnessed violence in his life, had even been stabbed once. Nothing could have prepared him for the carnage of that moment. The only adult who had ever held the title of family in his mind lay grievously injured, and Harry was sure he was dying. No one could survive so much.

"Harry!" His name sounded dimly in his ears. "Harry!" it repeated. "Dammit, Harry! I need your help! Sirius needs you!" Remus' voice finally cut through the shock.

As Remus saw the boy's eyes uncloud, he began to give orders. Between the two of them, Remus could save Sirius, he was sure of it.

Sirius, and Harry, were in for a rough recovery. Luckily, splinching was a magical malady and though its effects often looked fatal, it rarely was. The far more serious injury had been the blasting curse to the chest. Sirius had broken several ribs and one lung had been punctured. Between Remus and the house elves, Sirius made it out of the woods in little more than a day, full physical recovery would take not more than a week. The world of magic had incredible medical capability.

Harry's damage was not physical. The first few nights passed with frequent nightmares. Sirius featured most prevalently, but others were present too. Remus, Blaise, Luna, even his hated relatives. Gruesome injuries adorned them all and Harry woke in a cold sweat often more than once a night.

Recognizing that he had suffered some trauma, Harry spent more and more time with Sirius. Mostly, he studied quietly by the other man who was currently bedridden. Sirius would often engage conversation and it was during one of those interactions that Harry finally asked the question that had been on his mind.

"How are you able to do it, Sirius?" he asked after the man laughed particularly loudly at one of his own jokes.

"How can I do what?" Sirius responded.

"Pretend like you didn't almost just die," Harry clarified.

Sirius shrugged. "I've been through worse." Harry reflected that after his experience with Azkaban, the man was probably right. "Besides, someone wise once told me that 'Nothing can change what happened. We can only move on from where we are.'"

Harry gave a grimace at having his own words turned against him. It was easier to adhere to that philosophy when he had only been worried about himself.

"Honestly," the older man continued, "it wasn't the injuries that really worried me. It was the idea that I'd be leaving you again." He paused. "That. That scared me."

Harry turned away for a moment to regain his composure. "It scared me too, Sirius. I – I just froze when you came in. The blood, scatted limbs… I'm glad Remus was there."

Sirius gave a grim smile, "Me too. You know though, your reaction was not as severe as you make it out to be. You were frozen for what? Ten seconds?" It was Harry's turn to shrug. "I'm telling you, Harry, your reaction is not uncommon. Most people do not know what to do in situations like that. It was only because Moony and I have been in those situations before that he did not freeze."

Sirius' eyes glazed as he was sucked into a memory before he came back. "In fact, I distinctly remember that the first time your father saw anything remotely similar to my situation the other day he dead fainted." A true smile tore at his lips. "Best prank I ever played on him, him fainting like that gave me material for a long time."

Harry cracked a smile of his own. "Maybe you could show me the memory someday."

Sirius nodded, understanding that now would be a bad time to show that particular bit of gore. "I'd be happy to."

The two continued to chat, and simply sit in companionable silence, for the rest of the afternoon.

The next morning was more chaotic than Harry had prepared for. He had been up for a couple hours already when Remus, the earlier riser between he and Sirius, burst into the library with the morning paper in hand.

"Harry! You've got to read this!" With that, he shoved the paper into Harry's hand and quickly turned around. "I've got to wake Sirius!" he shouted.

Harry, wary of some prank, gingerly opened the Daily Prophet and felt his jaw drop at the headline.

Black Days Coming!

Rita Skeeter had done a masterful job of quoting anonymous, and well placed, sources.

"The man is a psychopath, so far gone that even the fifteen years in Azkaban could not drive him madder than he already was."

"Since finding out Black was still alive, I haven't slept a wink."

"Hide your kids, hide your wives, hide your husbands!"

There was never quite enough to reveal where the information could have come from, and both Remus and Sirius swore that Arthur would never have gone to the press. It was obvious that he, or another of the Weasleys, had gone to someone. There was no other explanation.

Remus did not escape unscathed from the article either. Named as a werewolf, and proof that Sirius Black was trying to succeed Voldemort as a dark lord, Remus was skewered by the gossip-monger.

The one blessing was that Harry had not been dragged into the article, a blessing Remus was quick to point out.

Both he and Sirius looked tired, rather than angry, and Harry felt his own anger deflate as he realized there was little they could do about the situation. It all meant that they would have to be much more cautious than they had been, and that it would be much more difficult to catch Pettigrew. The rat would doubtless figure out why the two had been at the Burrow's wardline.

The reaction at Potter Manor was positively restrained compared to that at the Fudge household.

"This isn't fucking possible!" Cornelius Fudge screamed an obscenity that had not graced his lips in many years. The situation had become so stressful to the politician that even his meekness had been overcome. Croaker, listening patiently from the floo, cleared his throat to draw the Minister of Magic's attention.

"Minister," he began, somewhat nervously as it had been his plan all along, "we still have the contingency plan."

"One you assured me we would never need!" Fudge spat venomously.

The unspeakable viciously suppressed his embarrassment and continued, not rising to the bait. "And yet, I did have the foresight to craft one, without which, we would both be in a storm with a failing hover charm."

It took some time, but Croaker was eventually able to calm the Minster of Magic. As for himself, Croaker still felt a large amount of trepidation. The formation of the contingency plan was purely pro forma. He had been so sure that Black was deceased.

Thinking upon the third member of their triumvirate he thought it was doubtful any of the shit would splash Amelia's way. The woman certainly had a way of avoiding splatter. Unfortunately for her, Croaker was good at clinging to lifelines. His shit-stained fingers may stain her robes.

It has long been rumored that there were sympathizers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named that had infiltrated the government. Yes, my dear readers, there are rumors of surviving cells of You-Know-Who sympathizers even now. Some of which, it has been revealed at great personal risk to this intrepid reporter, may be employed at the DMLE. That's right, employed by the very agency which is supposed to stand against them. Is it any wonder then, that some have avoided detection after all these years?

I have received confirmation from anonymous sources which have ears at the very highest levels of government that shortly before Sirius Black's disappearance from Azkaban, he was removed from his cell for a 'personal visit' by two ministry aurors. Suspiciously, there were no records filed that day of visits to one Sirius Black.

One must ask what could precipitate such an event. The only item of note that had occurred in the months previous was the return of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived himself, to wizarding society. Were these Death Eater sympathizers out to finally finish the job that You-Know-Who started? Was the Boy-Who-Lived right to hide himself from the wizarding world?

Sources are now spilling that despite the great personal price our Minister of Magic paid in the press for it, Cornelius Fudge and the unspeakables were actively protecting Harry Potter in keeping him away from the wizarding public. It appears that even then, it was suspected that there may be moles in the government.

As always, you may rely upon me to follow up on all developments.

Rita Skeeter

"Well that is a clever bit of bullshit," Harry spoke plainly as he put the paper down. "I wonder who has her in their pocket?"

"It would have to be the same people that removed Sirius in their efforts to get to you. Just enough of the truth to be plausible, and plenty of falsehoods to lead others off the trail." Remus had grown quite jaded over the course of his adult life, especially with anything involving the Ministry of Magic. Sirius, of course, was still sleeping.

Harry harrumphed. "Anyway, the people who tried to use Sirius must be in some way related to the executive branch. There is no way all this hogswash about Fudge helping me hide would be in here otherwise. In fact, it makes me think that the Minister himself must have been in on the plan somehow. Otherwise he himself would be asking some uncomfortable questions about these rumors."

Remus nodded his head in agreement.

Hermione sat cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by textbooks and pages of notes. The blend of muggle maths study and Arithmancy research provided a comforting routine amid the astonishing revelation she had just received. Could it really be true that Sirius Black, presumed dead, was alive?

Placing her quill delicately on the pale parchment, she closed her eyes for a moment, attempting to let the whirlwind of emotions settle. The calculations she had meticulously been working on for days now seemed trivial compared to the bombshell news about Sirius. Her thoughts raced.

"How is Sirius' escape from Azkaban connected to Harry's reintroduction into the wizarding world?" she muttered to herself.

She pushed her maths notes aside. Though she had initially attempted to understand the mechanics behind Harry's advanced Arithmancy work through her muggle studies, this latest twist demanded her full attention.

With a resolute sigh, she placed Sirius Black's latest mention in the Daily Prophet next to her pile of notes. She couldn't deny a sense of urgency to unravel how these disparate threads were linked. But her mind inevitably wandered back to the mystery surrounding Harry's past.

Hermione reached for a folder labeled "Harry Potter" on her nightstand. She had been digging into Harry's past over the holidays, driven by her insatiable curiosity.

Opening the folder, Hermione scanned the documents. The missing person records she had obtained offered scant insights and few answers. The deeper she delved, the more elusive the information became. She had been unable to find any school records or other history. Her searching into these Bartons that had emancipated Harry showed that the family had recently come into some hard times. Vernon Barton had been convicted of assaulting a police officer, but had been acquitted of drug dealing due to a lack of evidence.

The man's subsequent mental break had made the headlines, and he was currently being held in an institution. The man had a wife and child, according to the news reports, but Hermione hadn't been able to find much about them.

"No new leads..." she murmured to herself, frustration bubbling beneath her calm exterior. Despite her persistence, she had hit another dead end. But Hermione Granger was not one to give up easily.

Returning to her Arithmancy equations, Hermione was frustrated that she hadn't unraveled their significance. She was determined to make sense of it. She began drafting letters, requesting books and materials to aid her research back at Hogwarts.

"It appears that your adherence to Occam's Razor bore fruit, Draco."

Lucius Malfoy felt as proud of his son as he ever had in the moments he realized his son had divined the truth of the Black lordship prior to even himself. Pride was, of course, left clear of his expression.

"So it seems, father," the younger Malfoy responded. Lucius searched for any hint of pride in the boy's demeanor, but found none.

"You mask has grown formidable," he complimented. "Now, let us explore what this development could mean for us and the conservatives."

Draco took a seat across from his father and Lucius called for service. A house elf, dressed in a tea towel, appeared near silently and poured an amber liquid from a crystal decanter into two tumblers. Lucius held one out to his son.

"All serious talks amongst peers begin with a sharing of beverage, Draco. The more serious the talk, the better the vintage served. This is an 1897 Pot-Stilled Ogden's Family Reserve; there are precious few bottle remaining and this one was acquired by me at great expense.

"You should begin collecting bottles of your own. Amongst your peers at Hogwarts, you should need nothing so extravagant. Instead, leave the extravagance for current and future party leaders."

Here he tipped his glass in salute to his son and each savored the beverage. Draco soaked in the moment, realizing that his father expected him to one day take the reins as party whip.

Finally setting his glass down, Lucius held his son's gaze. "It is customary for the host, or the most senior attendant, to open the talks. How they do so will demonstrate their intention. If they make their opinion known in their opening statements, they are expecting others to either agree with them or cede to their wishes. I favour the other approach and usually invite those with whom I meet to share their own opinion before I voice mine. This serves two purposes:

"Firstly, I usually get as close to the other's real opinion as I will be able to get. Secondly, if I think their opinion unworthy, it allows me to respond in the position of power knowing that my opponent has already shown their hand.

"Thus, Draco, what are your thoughts on Sirius Black's survival?" Lord Lucius Malfoy picked up his glass again and sipped, leaving his son the floor. These were lessons that had been taught over the course of years, and Lucius knew that none of what he said would be new to his heir, but neither had Lucius ever so clearly laid out the method or purpose.

Draco had obtained years of practical experience. It was now time to learn the theory.

Harry, Sirius, and Remus floated out of the pensieve memory and the sound of Dumbledore's voice still lingered in Harry's ears.

Sirius spoke first. "I see what you mean about Dumbledore knowing, Harry. I wonder how the old coot figured it out?"

Remus looked slightly distressed at Sirius' term of address for the venerable wizard. The esteem with which the man was held by the lycanthrope was only moderately tarnished by more recent events. Had it not been for the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Remus would never have been able to earn a NEWT mastery and the ability to keep a wand.

"Dumbledore has always been well-informed. Is it possible that he knew of your retrieval from Azkaban from the very beginning?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. Dumbledore seemed apologetic when I spoke to him, I think he truly believed in your guilt, Sirius. He may still."

Remus nodded. "He always has had a thing for redemption. Perhaps he simply believes you are now atoning for previous sins."

The three sat silently for a moment before Sirius announced that it did not matter so long as Dumbledore did not intend to separate him from Harry and Remus and turned the conversation to Harry's time at Hogwarts. While he had been home several days, with the events of the afternoon of his arrival the three had not had much chance to simply sit and talk.

Harry shared the results of his exploration and his father's friends expressed their disbelief at his venture into the Black Lake. Remus and Sirius shared stories regarding the differences in a Hogwarts without the university students. The Skyway had not been out of bounds for the lower forms during their years.

Harry asked them about exploring the Hogwarts rooftops and the two merely shrugged. Harry's father, it turned out, while terrific on a broom, was petrified of heights without one. Partially due to this, the Marauders had never made a survey of the Hogwarts skyline. Additionally, however, flying a broom within the boundaries of the castle was unwise. The defensive magics of the castle interfered with the magics of a broom and there had been several fatalities in the past.

Harry spoke about his classes and teachers. Sirius and Remus cast knowing glances at each other when Harry mentioned Professor Vector being his favorite teacher, and Sirius made an offhand comment about her being one of his favorite classmates. Remus choking a bit on his tea caused the conversation to go down the path of conquests, and Harry was pressured to give in and tell them about his late night rendezvous with Jane Barmore among others.

"Nothing with the Lovegood girl?" Sirius asked, excited to live vicariously through his godson.

Harry shook his head vehemently. "No. Luna is quite something else, and I just do not know what. I wouldn't risk her for a cheap fling."

"Something deeper there?" asked Remus, truly curious.

Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure I've the life experience to recognize if there were. All I know is that I like her immensely, sometimes she just will not leave my mind."

As Harry lost himself in momentary thought, Sirius and Remus smiled at each other again.

After a brief pause, Sirius leaned forward. "By the way, Harry, how's your progress with wandless magic coming along?"

Harry brightened at the question. "Pretty well, actually. I've got the Levitation Charm, the Color Hex, and the Tripping Jinx down. But I'm also starting to experiment with manipulating matter directly, without using a spell structure."

Remus raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Directly? That sounds quite advanced. How does it work?"

Harry took a deep breath, trying to put his thoughts into words. "It's hard to explain. Essentially, I think the formal structure of a spell isn't really necessary when it comes to wandless magic. It's more about intent and focus than incantations or wand movements."

Sirius nodded, intrigued. "And have you had any success with this new approach?"

"A bit," Harry admitted. "It's not as reliable as traditional spellcasting yet, but I can feel the potential. I can consistently turn the pages of a book, for example, though I know of no spell that does that on its own."

Remus looked impressed. "That's remarkable, Harry. Keep working on it. Who knows what you might be able to achieve?"

Sirius then gave Harry a mischievous grin. "Speaking of unique skills, you showing off your parlor tricks at Hogwarts?"

Harry chuckled. "No, but I've been practicing, actually. Nicking items from within robes is quite different from doing the same with trousers. Robes have so many folds and hidden pockets."

Remus smiled knowingly. "One never knows when sticky fingers could be useful, eh?"

Harry laughed. "Exactly. It's all about being prepared. You never know when you might need to, err, acquire something without being noticed."

The three of them shared a laugh, the atmosphere lightening even further. Harry's life was filled with complexities, but moments like these provided a sense of normalcy and familial connection that he cherished.

As the night wore on, they continued sharing stories, advice, and laughter, weaving together the threads of their shared past and uncertain future.

Harry and Remus tackled the Rothschild rune project with relentless determination. Theoretically, the spell to inscribe fourth-dimensional runes should have simplified the process. In reality, it proved anything but easy. Modifying the existing spell to accept a fourth variable took up most of their holiday break, but they felt confident in their success.

The real challenge lay in mathematically describing rune sets in the fourth dimension—a feat never before achieved. Initially, they thought integrating the third-dimensional rune set would suffice. However, they quickly discovered that the imperfections in the three-dimensional runes became exponentially problematic when expanded to the fourth dimension.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, they thought they had finally made a breakthrough. Excitement coursed through them as they prepared to test their theories, only to be interrupted by a beautiful eagle owl swooping into the room. Harry greeted the majestic bird and carefully took the envelope from its talons, immediately struck by the elegance of the script.

He opened the envelope and pulled out a sheet of vellum inscribed with gold ink.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot

Requests the pleasure of the company of:

Harry James Potter

In order to take his hereditary seat in this august body

Between 12.00 and 20.00 on

04/04/1997 or 06/20/1997

By kind permission of the Chief Warlock

"Interesting. Why the two dates?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Those are likely standing meeting dates with a full quorum," Remus explained. "The April date falls during spring break. Dumbledore might think you'd prefer to wait until summer."

"He's not wrong. I'm not sure I'd have the time until then. I still haven't decided if I'm coming back for year eight."

"You'll have a better idea by the end of the semester," Remus said. "The library access alone might make it worth returning."

Harry smiled. "That's true enough." He found himself looking forward to returning to the castle.

As they discussed the invitation, another owl swooped through the open window—a dignified barn owl this time. It landed gracefully on the table and extended its leg, presenting another letter. Harry untied the envelope and gave the owl a gentle stroke in thanks.

Opening it, he extracted a piece of thick, pristine parchment. The neat, precise handwriting indicated it was from a Goblin.

Nibgit, Liaison to the Goblin Nation

Requests the attendance of:

Harry James Potter

At a special meeting regarding his upcoming induction into the Wizengamot.

Details to be discussed include potential support and cooperation between the Goblin Nation and himself.

Please respond at your earliest convenience to confirm your availability.

Yours faithfully,

Nibgit

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Looks like the Goblins are also interested in my taking the seat."

Remus peered over his shoulder. "They likely have their interests to protect and might see you as beneficial to their causes."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose I should respond to them. It wouldn't hurt to see what they have in mind."

"Indeed," Remus agreed. "Just be cautious, Harry. Goblins are shrewd negotiators."

"Of course," Harry said, already contemplating how this new development could play into his plans.

Their conversation drifted back to the Rothschild rune, but Harry's mind was now split between enigmatic runes and the political intrigues awaiting him in the Wizengamot.