A/N: In hindsight, I should have added more content on how the Sanctions of the ICW reshaped the Wizarding World in limiting the use of dark spells before its repeal in Harry's original timeline. I do not own Harry Potter that's still JKR.

AU Changes: Canon-character changes. OC Characters. Wizarding World.

The Tragedy of Harry Potter

By. Momento Virtuoso
Edited by: BoredBarrister & Mymindisverycomplicated

Chapter 13

An Honorable Man

4 hours before the Wizengamot Vote

All across the Atrium, protestors to the new legislation Malfoy had promoted were holding signs and shouting at ministry workers and at the few Lords who used the Floo entrance to come to work.

The demonstrations had begun four weeks ago, with only a few people at first showing their anger and discontent. In the days and weeks that passed, dozens and now hundreds more gathered to roar their frustration at their officials. They took their places before the grand Fountain of Magical Brethren with its large golden statues. It was impossible to enter or leave through the brick-laid fireplaces without being accosted by the mob.

Ministry workers, all of whom were either elected, assigned to, or had inherited their positions in the governmental offices and Department seats, quickly made their way past the mob. They kept their heads down as the demonstrators hurled obscenities at them, held back only by the dogged determination of a thin line of early on-duty Aurors and other security staff.

"OI! We ain't never asked for this! You're the lot what's supposed to 'andle public safety!" an elderly woman yelled into the crowd as they passed.

"You'd give us swords instead of shields! We're dying in the streets and you want to kill even more!" a young girl screamed out, holding her fist above her head.

"Are we going to get new shiny Auror robes like that with our new wands? Always wanted to be Malfoy's lap dog!" another man sneered at an Auror who was stationed before their demonstration, the guard staring forward with a sense of duty.

"I didn't fight no bastard on the Continent, preachin' about 'The Greater Good' just for anovver one to sprout up at my doorstep!" an old man dressed in his expeditionary force uniform from the Global Wizarding proclaimed forth.

"Tell Lord Malfoy he can push his bill all right but him and his cronies ain't foolin' no one mate! We's on to them! Demolish the Lords! They serve none but themselves!" One young protestor, dressed in muggle clothes of the time period, shouted out.

"We stand with the ICW! What's Britain going to do when we're hindered for going against international law, eh? The regulations were there for a reason!" A young student shouted, appearing to have just been a new graduate from Hogwarts.

"You lot and the muggle prime minister didn't keep us out of Vietnam just so we could die in the streets now, did ya? Keep the Limitations! No Unforgivable Curses in our Britain!" A young muggle-born yelled out.

"Give the new wands to the boys and let them go take back Ulster! Do some good instead of murder in our streets" One voice shouted out in the back of the crowd, hidden by the swarm of people.

Soon it turned into a call that sounded out, echoing off the walls of the Ministry. "Keep the Curses out of Britain!"

Several more witches, wizards, and even squibs shouted out, holding up signs mundane and magical. Many of them held carefully crafted warring images of wands casting spells which turned into dancing 'peace' symbols, mimicking those that had dominated across the pond for the last decade.

Several Lords, gathered in an office overlooking the Atrium, had been observing the entire affair since its inception. Charlus Potter stood closest to the window, his eyes following the hundreds of Ministry workers making their way in for work at the start of the morning, harrassed by the protestors.

"They should realize the curses are already here," Charlus shook his head. He was proud that the citizens of Wizarding Britain were standing up against tyranny, but the occupation had begun some time ago, it seemed, with none of them being the wiser of it. Nearly every lord possessed a second wand either as a family antique, through the black market, and or through military service. While Charlus had never acted wrongly with his second wand, he knew many wizards did, some doubtlessly being his fellow lords.

It was a hypocrisy that had taken a life of its own. Despite the ICW's staunch stance on the matter, even they were not foolproof, having repealed their own legislation to arm their forces against Grindelwald's coalition, who had seized much of the blackmarket in Europe through enslaving the goblins and indenturing wandmakers all over the continent.

Just as war had seen them establish the safeguards of wands, it was also the first thing that came before they were stripped away.

In the early 19th century, their world had been nearly exposed and broken. The conflict of the Coalitions against Napoleon and France, birthed by the bloodthirsty and enlightened revolution of the French Republic resulted in simultaneous battles that had stretched the very foundation of the International Statute of Secrecy to its core; while muggle cannons roared with the sound of thunder, wands cracked with the power of lightning mere miles away. Since the Statute of Secrecy's installation, the need for spell regulation had been hotly debated. It had been born from prior conflicts but it had matured alongside the First Consulate of France into the powder keg it had become.

As the Great Fear swept over the nation of France and the city of Paris in the summer of 1789, many wizarding Lords with interest in the King's Court—with longer and more distinguished bloodlines than even the Capets—foresaw the writing on the Bastille. In a bid to seize their own place amongst the newly formed Republic, the unseen Fourth Estate of the French Assembly formed their own Magical Convention in 1790, in the tide of revolution.

In the years of unrest, peasants rebelled against their Lords across the country; magical and muggle violence escalated to tragedies not witnessed on the Continent in nearly a hundred and fifty years. To preserve themselves, many of the former Fourth Estate took positions in the newly formed National Convention of the First Republic under glamors and disguises. It was these agents of the magical underbelly which saw the Revolutionary Penal Code of 1791 officially remove witchcraft from legal consideration by the Revolutionary Tribunal, sparing their own necks as they beheaded thousands of muggles.

The tumultuous Reign of Terror was the first time in history in which wizards and witches successfully and gleefully conducted witch hunts of their own followed by the mass execution of over seventeen thousand muggles, with another ten thousand following to their graves, locked away under curse and enchantment within the prisons of the New Republic.

As the times changed, so did wizardkind's role in the fledgling nation, with many wizards starting as politicians in the Republic somehow finding their end against other wizards of the Coalitions across battlefields all over Europe.

It had been enough cataclysmic loss of life for the muggles to restrict their firearms in their countries in the peace talks within Vienna as they carved their slices from the pie of Europe; their magical counterparts paralleled the action. It was perhaps the first time in recorded history that the wizarding world had willingly surrendered some of their power in a bid for safety. The proposals from ICW had been bureaucratic and all-encompassing in their legislation.

Abraxas Malfoy and his political bloc of Hegemonists now sought to undo that very progress with bureaucratic legislation of their own. With the passing of his bill, Malfoy would have effectively made the Aurors' daily work and life significantly harder while also isolating Britain from the rest of the ICW politically. The Ministry, in turn, would earn the scorn and ire of the international governing body.

Looking over the Atrium still, Charlus couldn't help but ponder: why Malfoy's sudden change of stance on the law? It was favored amongst the Pureblood Supremacists because its discriminatory nature ensured that Muggle-borns entering their world would not be able to afford the illegal removal of restrictions or to purchase a new wand outright. The only benefit was that every citizen now would have a means to defend themselves in whatever means they sought fit to, something favored by almost everyone in the troubled times they found themselves in.

There was also a dark undertone to the wand legislation. Immersed in the illegal wand trade himself, Abraxas possessed the means to already arm an army at the grace of the goblin cartels he did business with. With this legislation, the Hegemonist leader would be able to cut out the goblins, profit from the last of the blackmarket supply, then make his crusade nigh untraceable and ensured by the very bureaucracy which shielded them now.

'And all the while, we'll still be bickering about what to give the Aurors,' Charlus dreaded to himself.

Across the room, the other Lords, all of which supported the head of their political bloc, Lord William Bones, bore visages of similar woe. A morose quality lingered in the air like an axe over their heads, turning the scene somber. Each of their eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep—some from the frantic hours of work over recent weeks, others redder still from grief. Some clung desperately to small slips of parchment, envelopes, or little momentos.

Each man had arrived at the Ministry early to find neatly sealed envelopes, unblemished barring their family names. Upon the discovery, they had all come together to alert Lord Bones, only to find the man sitting despondently at his desk.

On Lord Bones's desk, an open unmarked envelope, like all the others, was on display for every man present. The words imprinted were stark and harsh, a knife to the gut. However, William Bones gave them no attention, instead gazing softly at a piece of jewelry in his hand.

It was a ring, a simple piece with no fanciful jewel or fillings except for his house's words engraved into the band. It belonged to the hand of his daughter, Amelia, and yet, here it was in his own hand, covered in blood that was surely hers.

Across the room, leaning against the wall next to the doorway, Justinan Longbottom held a crumpled letter in one hand while staring tenderly at a photograph kept within his pocket watch. Unlike his comrades, he bore no curio, no small trophy.. The threat to his only son, Frank, was vicious enough, and had cut him down as a scythe through wheat. Even now, his heart ached and his ordinarily steady hand trembled. His heir was a cadet in the Auror Academy now. Longbottom had watched his son's life flash by from the sidelines, missing important moments as he was swept away in the duties of his title. Still, he repaid his absence with a daily devotion more than many estranged husbands gave their families in a whole lifetime.

Seated in front of Lord Bones's desk, directly across from the man, was the sobbing form of Samuel Jennings, a far-cry from the stoic man they all knew. With a haunting page open in his lap, Jennings cradled a single lock of mousy brown hair, flecked with dried red flakes clinging to its strands.

By his window, Charlus was the only one present holding neither memento nor letter. He was only thankful that nothing had befallen James nor he had been caught up in whatever had occurred to Lord Bones or Jennings's daughters, or in a constant line of danger like Longbottom's heir. With every other man nursing the wounds of their children, Charlus was the only one without a compromised mind.

There had been no official word coming from Hogwarts about any new attacks on the students there nor had they personally received any messages from the Headmaster. To all in the room, it was clear they were being targeted for their transgressions in the last Wizengamot session two weeks prior. Despite the vagueness of the threats and a lack of adornment, they knew whose words were carried to them. With no word of their children's safety, imaginations were left to run wild, filling the air with the smell of defeated and broken men.

William Bones knew that stench all too well. It had clung to his clothes for decades, ever since his time on the front lines of the Global Wizarding War against Grindelwald's alliance. He had never wanted to inhale its bitterness on this side of the English Channel.

'We're bound by the laws of gentlemen, but our enemies have no such restraints,' William Bones wanted nothing more than to take action against Malfoy and his lot for the schemes they had played in a bid to silence and quell their vote.

They weren't the only Lords in the recent days who had family mementos mysteriously sent to them in unmarked letters nor were they the unfortunate few with confirmations of death within their Houses' ranks and files. Several notable heirs had mysteriously died. Lord Famble's son had been killed while flying in the countryside. Lord Barclay's twins were missing, their campsite and last location abandoned with hot coals simmering in the fire pit they had dug. Lord Auchter himself had been found dead alongside his heir, brutally killed in what appeared to have been a home invasion.

Each incident was another blow to Abraxas's opposition, and soon the path would be paved for the ascension of the Hegemonists to a clear, unchallenged majority in the Wizengamot. They simply no longer possessed the required number of votes to stop the Wand Deregulation Act from passing. Malfoy, it seemed, would achieve his private militia.

Charlus and the others were at a loss—what could they do in the face of such tactics? What could be done in the waning hours of this morning, before the vote was to commence, which would surely see Lord Malfoy win every concession he had wagered for in the last Wizengamot session?

No amount of lobbying seemed to have made any difference. More galleons wouldn't be allocated to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Magical Housing for Muggle-borns and low-entry jobs were being denied more than ever. It was as if the entirety of Wizarding Britain's political machine was now in full swing to appease Lord Malfoy, in preparation for the worst case scenario.

Several memos flew between Ministry Departments, insinuating Irish involvement in many of the Lords' deaths and injuries, and not a single owl sent to the Irish Ministry of Magic in Dublin had returned in the weeks since. The problem of the Irish sat on every British man's mind heavy as it had for every decade since their rising.

William looked down at the desecrated family ring in his hand. Defeat clawed up his chest, attempting to find purchase so it could roost within him as it festered. The situation was bleak and full of despair, but William refused to be broken by it. Gently thumbing the bloody ring of his daughter, the Old Lion traced the engraving of the family motto. The words had always given him warmth and reinforced his sense of duty in his younger years. Now in his faltering age, these same words he stood by his entire life beside did not fail to inspire him once more.
"Flecti-Non-Frangi", To Be Bent But Not Broken. A motto which supported him in his darkest and most uncertain moments.

'There was never a truer time than to stay the course than this moment here,' William thought of the protestors in the Artium, making their voices known. They were fighting the good fight in their own way. They were inspiring—they inspired him. He had a duty of care to them. His eyes moved from one broken man to another as he gazed despondently around the room. How could he wrangle the broken men around him? They, too, he thought, were his responsibility. They needed the courage to bend without breaking. What courage could he offer them if his inspiration was not theirs?

Just then, the answer to his musings knocked on the door to the office, shoving the barrier open on its hinges and revealing its herald to him in the form of Lord Arcturus Black.

Neither man had ever seen eye to eye politically, but each held one another in high regard, respecting each other's character deeply. Both had served together on the Continent against Grindelwald and each saw the other as a dangerous foe never to be discounted until the head was properly removed from the other's shoulders, or burned off at the stump in Arcturus' case.

William Bones may have been monikered as 'the Old Lion' but Arcturus Black possessed the aura of a hydra. A multitude of heads each possessing a specialty or acumen of its own.

Everyone turned at the sight of Arcturus barging into the office. His hand clutched yet another unmarked envelope. Its seal was split open. Arcturus's face was near anamorphic in his rage. He ground his teeth together at the personal slight of harming his grandson. While the boy may not have seen eye-to-eye with the family, he was blood. Blood was more important than anything.

Charlus, seeing his friend's state, hurried over. His breathing caught at the sight of the envelope. "Arcturus— what— who?" The words stumbled out of his mouth, a singular face flashing in his mind, confirmed by the dark look in Arcturus's eyes. 'Not Sirius. Blessed Morgana, hasn't that boy been through enough?'

"And you, Charlus? What about your boy in all of this?" Arcturus asked, gesturing around the room with his hand. His eyes picked up the multiple envelopes and mementos. He was thankful and enraged that nothing had been sent to him belonging to Sirius. He craved but yet denied that confirmation.

Charlus shook his head. "No, no word or threat. I don't know why— but they've left James out of it for now it seems." In truth, Charlus didn't know why he was the sole member of the room not clutching an unmarked letter.

Arcturus nodded, thankful that his friend's son was safe from harm, at least for the time being.

"The kids aren't safe at Hogwarts—there have been more attacks. I received a visit from my Grandfather's portrait. According to Dumbledore and some professor, the children are all in stable conditions. Sirius was caught up in the same attack with Lord Bones's daughter, while Lord Jenninges's was with some Gryffindor named Harry Evans."

Every lord listened with rapt attention, but only Longbottom and Jennings glanced at the man with caution, not as receptive as many of their peers. However, it was well-known that Arcturus, while being a brother-in-law to Lord Potter, was also a close confidant and friend. The two men kept their opinions to themselves for Charlus's sake.

"Merlin— three attacks in a month?! Albus will be receiving the sack this time if he isn't careful. That means Abraxas is going to use this like last time, another excuse to see Dumbledore hamstrung and alienated at the vote today. Even if Minchum doesn't bench him like last time, who would support a Chief Warlock who can't even keep control of their school?" Charlus shook his head, pondering over the plots taking form over the political landscape.

"Wait— did you say Evans?" Charlus switched suddenly, looking at Arcturus like an owl. "James goes on and on about Lily Evans. She's a muggle-born— he's infatuated with her. A relation?"

Arcturus shrugged his shoulders but it was William Bones who spoke up next.

"Of no relation. Or should I say, any relation. I know the boy—or, I should say, I know of him. Amelia asked me to look into him only the other day." The man looked ashen, he couldn't believe it was less than a few days since he last wrote to his little girl. A piece of him wondered just who and what the boy was to attract his daughter's attention before the attack… then to be attacked himself. "The boy's a ghost. No birth records from St. Mungo's. Near perfect exam records. Only one recorded trip out of the country. A Gringotts account to his name and a wand purchased from Ollivanders. Whoever's bastard he is, they did well to hide him till now—but he isn't our interest at the moment. Forget the lad, Charlus."

William Bones turned to Arcturus now, inspecting the man he only ever saw across the Wizengamot more closely than he had ever been able or even inclined to.

"We find ourselves in this locked room with the wolves at our door, Mr. Black. Three scions of our houses, one being an heiress in the case of Lord Jennings, my own daughter, and now your future heir with your grandson have been attacked at Hogwarts in an attempt to potentially silence our resistance. We find ourselves running low on allies," the Old Lion growled, shifting more and more into his self that had led his country's men into battle and his fellow Lords into the era of progress after the war.

"So you want my aid in opposing the slimy little weasel?" Arcturus asked with a raised eyebrow. For once, he would stand on common ground with Lord Bones politically. Although he was already willing to put Abraxas Malfoy in his place for free—for the mere sport of it, even—Arcturus still wanted to seize the opportunity to make Lord Bones grovel for his assistance. He was a Slytherin, after all.

"Like I said, Lord Black. We're low on allies. It's nigh impossible to impose Lord Malfoy, but I won't give the man the satisfaction of an easy victory nor an occupation. He wants a fight, then I'll give it to him. With or without you. I won't ask this again outside of this room," William spoke, and summoned a deep sigh from within. "Do you think you can stand on the right side of history one more time, soldier?"

Arcturus perked up at Bones's last word. He had only seen William Bones one time on the front when he had visited the small town his unit had been tasked with seizing and holding. It had been a grueling affair made worse by the counter-attack that Grindelwald's men had launched during the Old Lion's visit. Arcturus had learned that day that the odds and statistics didn't matter to the man. What Abraxas Malfoy would soon realize and need to take into account was how stubborn a bastard the now venerable Lord Bones could be. He was an immutable, implacable man of immovable granite. Arcturus would bet all the gold in the Black Vault that all the seas would dry up before they could ever erode a man like William Bones away; he was attrition made manifest.

When time immemorial memoriam came to claim them all, William Bones would shut the door on the matter afterwards.

Arcturus nodded. "Now as it was then, sir. You have my wand."

William Bones offered his hand to Arcturus, who shook it stoically, just as they had as comrades those decades ago.

"Good man, Black. Welcome to the Old Guard—I heard the name you cooked up with Potter. It's rather nice." William smirked over to Charlus, who scratched the back of his head shyly.

William turned away and moved to a cabinet behind his desk. Reaching inside, the lord pulled out a few glasses from its shelves and a large decanter of whisky. Placing the glasses on his desk, soon the five men were filled with amber liquid.

"We can't stop the vote. But there is still one card left for us to play and exploit. We can propose amendments to the Act, bog it down in a filibuster of sorts and pray the Wizengamot gets so tired of the damn papers that they use them to light the kettle they brew their tea in." William laid out the potential avenue.

"Whether we wish it or not, without the support of the other Lords, we have no other options. Lord Wilkes and Crouch have after actually gone over to Malfoy's side. He has the votes."

"Crouch? Bartholomew's really gone over? What in the devil is he thinking?" Justinan asked, pocketing his small portrait at last.

"Aye, much to the dismay of young Bartemius, his son. He is having a hell of a headache as the Magical Law Enforcement Head…" William answered.

Several of their number nodded, weighing up the idea. Perhaps they would be able to make a small victory out of their much larger defeat.

Arcturus considered the Old Lion's plan and the merit it had. Perhaps motioning to amend the legislation was their best course of action. "We'll need to gain the Minister's support… I can assure you, Minchum may hate the Dark Arts as much as the next chap but he isn't immune to the Malfoy wealth. He's in their employ," Arcturus warned.

They all suspected that Abraxas had been throwing money at his issues for years now, but it seemed the man had opened special coffers to have been able to bribe not only a standing Minister but one of generally good principle.

However, Lord Jennings trembled in his seat. His hand shook uncontrollably, sending a few locks of his daughter's hair gliding to the carpet over the stone floor. The man had been slowly verging into a wreck since discovering the threat and memento from his daughter's own body. They were on the verge of losing so much, but still Lord Bones was asking for them to give and potentially lose more.

Looking up at the man who he had been politically following behind for years, a man who had always had his trust and what Lord Jennings thought were his best interests at heart, "I— I can't anymore, William— I can't. My little girl— my Verona," Lord Jennings broke down, stammering. "Look at what he did to our little girls— our only daughters. What's next—" Lord Jennings couldn't finish his question before Charlus surged over, seizing him by the frock of his cloak and shaking the inconsolable lord as if he was a doll.

William made to move to stop Charlus but Arcturus reached over, grabbing the man firmly by his arm, holding him in place. Justinan Longbottom watched and judged the scene for himself.

There were few things the Lord Potter couldn't stand in this world: quaking away from a good fight was at the height of the man's list.

"Oi! You don't think we aren't afraid of the same thing, Samuel?! That we don't want to step down when our heirs are endangered— their safety?! But it's not just our families on the line— but innocents as well! Innocent citizens, women, children, and elders, damn you! What about them? Who is going to be afraid for them if not we?" Charlus raged in the man's face. "It'll be a genocide, do you understand that? Anyone who doesn't have pure blood in their veins, like me or you. Anyone who supports the muggleborns will be targeted by whatever mob Malfoy rounds up after he's done arming them to the teeth when he gets what he wants! We aren't doing this to spite Malfoy or even protect just our families from further transgressions; we're doing this for them, the innocents — We have a duty! To them! To those who look to us for their leadership and governance," Charlus stressed to his frightened colleague.

Lord Jennings sat in stunned silence. His eyes widened in a new-bound fear of the man holding him. He nodded his head once, twice, then thrice. The Lord Jennings's eyes took up the same fire which Charlus possessed.

"I'm— I'm sorry Charlus, I don't know what came over me."

"It's alright, Jennings. Happens to the best of us. I've seen Charlus nearly shit himself on the Continent and then again when his own kid was born. We all understand," Arcturus sympathized with the distraught man. He had respected Jennings a bit more for taking such a public stand against Malfoy in their prior sessions held in the Wizengamot. It saddened the Black to see how bravery was rewarded in their country now; the attack of their children.

Every man watched the other, looking for any more doubt or dissent in their ranks.

Justinian Longbottom stood up from his post near the wall, moving to stand next to Charlus and his former captive.

"You always had a way with words, Charlus. Ever the people's champion and inspiration of many," Justinan smiled, clasping Lord Potter's shoulder. "Are you sure you abhor politics, Charlus? Really should put those gifts to everyday use," Longbottom said with a smirk, his eyes alight with mirth.

Charlus simply shook his head and made a distasteful noise. "Politics never interested me. Don't have the tongue for them. That's why I brought that cranky bastard along. He has enough political acumen—and then some—for us all," Charlus said, motioning his head to Arcturus Black. The lord elected to glare at his friend, moving to stand alongside Lord Jennings and William Bones to take up a crystal glass.

"Fuck you, Potter. You bastards are lucky that I hate Malfoy more than the lot of you combined," the irascible Black grumbled, opting to stand with the other men now in a semicircle around Lord Bones's desk.

"Enough of that, you bleeding sods. We stand together. Can I rely on you all? Can I rely on you, Black?" Lord Bones requested, looking into the eyes of his unlikely ally, the newest member of their bloc.

Arcturus nodded to the Old Lion, his gray eyes sharp and stern as steel.

Each man took up a glass of amber liquid, holding the fill near their lips. William Bones raised his own to the other four Lords.
"For our children and the innocent," he said, a rallying cry for the men to gather behind and embrace.

"For our children and the innocent." Each echoed back.

They were the last of the old guard who had stood against the Dark Lord, Grindelwald and now they prepared themselves to stand in the way of whatever new darkness came forth, lurking and looming out of the shadows.

The Wizengamot meeting had turned into a near-unmitigated disaster from the very start after Albus Dumbledore, the Chief Warlock, was once again dismissed from his position of presiding over the vote.

Lord Malfoy sat smugly as he watched the proceedings. The only hiccup to his grand plan had been Minchum allowing the other Lords to air any last grievances for the legislation, Militia Empowerment and Wand Deregulation Act 1977. He gripped his cane tightly as he pretended to take into consideration the proposals and changes to the Act, often citing that they could come back to the document after its signing into law.

The one thorn twisting most in Abraxas's side was Charlus Potter. 'I should have had his whelp of an heir killed.' In truth, he had considered targeting the man's son, but he didn't want to risk alienating the Black Family, at least not until his Lord had pulled them into the fold. Dorea Potter née Black would most definitely have taken an attack on her blood most vengefully, calling upon her brother to settle the score.

"Minister! Surely, you cannot agree with Lord Malfoy that even children would require wands capable of potentially casting dark magic—it's preposterous! We must write an amendment that no wands belonging to anyone under the age of seventeen can be unrestricted. We cannot be deemed a polite society if we tolerate the intolerable in the hands of our youth," Charlus argued, attempting to pierce a hole in the legislation somewhere.

Several other Lords leaned next to each other, mumbling, nodding, and expressing their agreements and disagreements with one another as the Minister for Magic's beady eyes shifted from Charlus Potter, to the crowd, and even to Abraxas Malfoy for a moment.

"Proposal overruled, Lord Potter. Surely, you cannot expect a kid— children, I dare claim— to cast dark magic at their leniency? The laws of our land still remain as they did yesterday and the day before that." The Minister banged his gavel down on his high-podium.

Charlus scoffed. "Certainly not, Minister! But there must be more checks and balances put in place, surely? We are opening our doors to chaos and anarchy—so we must consider anything to maintain a semblance of order. Is it not enough that we are defying the International Confederation of Warlocks? We're one of the few member countries to ever break away from an international treaty," Lord Potter stated.

Minchum, the Minister of Magic glared over to Charlus, his gaze narrowed at the man. "If we are to break from the stranglehold of the ICW's ordinance then let it be so! We should have done this fifty-years ago but my predecessors were weaker men. Need I remind you, Lord Potter, what lay on our doorstep is not domestic but only across the sea to our west?"

Several shouts of agreement and bigotry for their sister island rang off the sides of the room.

Abraxas glared at the man across from him, rising to his feet. Lord Malfoy banged his cane, topped with a silver snake head, upon the stone floor.

"Lord Potter, are you suggesting that if given the opportunity, the youth of our nation would fall to the vices of violence and depravity? Ye of little faith, my fellow lord. We are not like the Irish across the sea," Abraxas said snidely, his insult reaping cheers from all over the room, including across the aisle. "I think that the youth of this country should be allowed to defend themselves! To safeguard themselves and their peers from the dangers of the world— outside our very homes." Abraxas turned to Lord Bones and Jennings, offering the men a condescending smile. "We must entrust the future to them and hope they will be willing to champion our good causes into the future long after our bones are interred to the ground," Abraxas chimed, tapping his cane steady on the marble floor. "I motion for Lord Potter's concerns to be stricken from the record. We should not have an official count slandering our own children and constituents, after all."

Several voices piped up in agreement, a chorus of affirming grunts and symphony of nodding heads.

"You squirming, legless, glob of a reptile!" Charlus hissed, rising from his seat. He was prepared to launch himself across the room at the man, but got pulled back by the most unlikely person in the room.

Arcturus stood behind his friend, gripping him tightly by the collar. Many Lords across the room stared wide-eyed at the appearance of the man, many turning to inspect his empty seat on Malfoy's side of the room. Mutterings of teleportation in the room were rampant. In truth, Arcturus had simply decided to cast a Notice-Me-Not charm upon himself, opting to remain out of sight till his presence was needed.

Preventing Charlus from strangling Abraxas in the chambers fulfilled that quota.

"Sit down, you fool!" Arcturus hissed, hauling Charlus back into his seat as Minchum banged his gavel once more for order. "You'd let him rile you so, Charlus? Think man, think! The bastard wants this— he's playing all your fucking stops like a damned pipe."

"Do we have order? No violence is permitted in these walls or I shall see you escorted out!" The Minister called, glaring sternly at the pair of Lords before turning and offering Abraxas a nod of his head to continue.

All over the room, journalists wrote down the exchange as cameras flashed, recording the incident to the histories. However, they also captured the stunned look on Abraxas's face at Arcturus Black's reveal on the side of the room opposite the Hegemonists.

"Lord Black, I didn't know you were in attendance… with the other party," Abraxas's words were sharpened to a fine point. The glove on his hand creaked as it tightened around the serpent head adoration. "You've been quite vocal against my legislation these last weeks… surely you don't find yourself so filled with doubt that'd you seek admission to the other side of the aisle over something as trivial as policy?" Abraxas inquired.

Arcturus huffed. "I don't need something as trivial as policy to find myself on an opposite side from you, Lord Malfoy."

"Surely not, however, you must see the need for my bill as it stands truly, Lord Black? You and your family have always been at the forefront of protecting our traditions and pureblooded ways," Abraxas droned as if reciting from a history book.

Arcturus glared at the opposition leader. "My family has and always will protect our traditions and ways… from anyone who would seek to strike them out," the Lord Black threatened, his voice a shard of frost. "The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black will not be siding with you today, Lord Malfoy. Nor any day forward which will see the temptation for the power of wands to be turned upon one another in this chamber or kin. I shall not so easily hold my arm out for a brand—to be labeled a blood traitor," Arcturus declared, lacing his words as he fixed his rival with an ironcast glare.

Several members across the aisle, around Abraxas Malfoy, shot up and shouted obscenities at Arcturus while many on his own newly declared side of the room stood and cheered for him; a man most had seen as an enemy for many a session. The journalists in the room were staring aghast at the declaration of support they had just witnessed.

The Minister of Magic, Minchum, banged his gavel down to call order back to the Wizengamot that was sent into a frenzy. "Order! Order I say! Resume your places!" The Minister's eyes swept across the room of rowdy Lords. His gaze flickering to Dumbledore in the stands for a brief pause, as he tried to grasp control of the meeting.

"Quiet! We— I have heard arguments for hours now. There is nothing substantial to prove that what Lord Malfoy says is false! The Auror Department received pay benefits to their personal salaries in recent years, as per the quota of increasing their budget… They were looked over, sorted, and allocated by Lord Nott himself, who foresaw no need to allocate the finances towards other needs in the Department Magical Law Enforcement. As for a perceived rise in vigilantism from our citizens, they will be fined and punished to the fullest extent of our laws. No amendment is necessary for such to follow. However, we are in pressing times of growing turmoil! Revealing to us, quite the opposite in fact, that we've had plenty of evidence all along affirming the need for Malfoy's legislation exactly as it stands—intact and whole! And untempered," The Minister growled out uncompromising, his beady eyes worn and sagging from all the back and forth in the chamber. None of this farce was nearly worth the bribe that Lord Malfoy had donated to his next campaign.

A round of cheers and claps boomed out from Lord Malfoy's coalition, the Lords around the man cheering on the Minister's decision. Abraxas himself nodded approvingly at the Minister for his words.

Dumbledore, quartered off in his place within the viewing gallery, observed Abraxas Malfoy's smug smile. The man pressed his lips like a trap door hiding venomous fangs alongside the silver tongue which lied in wait. The dismissed Chief Warlock made a note of the relationship between the two men.

Charlus and Justinian Longbottom shook their heads at the blatant corruption before them. Samuel Jennings just glowered in his seat, his hand tightening around the wood of his chair. Many of the Lords on their side of the aisle were distraught. Everything they had said had fallen to deaf eyes and eyes covered by a greedy hand.

All around him, William Bones could see the will of his bloc being sapped dry, cracks widening in the foundations which held them all together. He felt it would only take one more breath, a single exhale, from Malfoy to send them all crashing down. He needed to steal the wind back.

William Bones rose to his feet, earning curious gazes from all over the room as many turned their attention to the esteemed military leader. His reputation stood tall and overshadowed politicians like Minchum and Abraxas. The room was silent as the Bones Patriarch glanced around over, observing the room silently.

"Lords and countrymen, lend me but a moment, if you would. We have sat here today in session after much counsel over this matter. Just two weeks ago, the noble Lord Malfoy told you all a tale—a whisper, even—of a villian. He spoke in warnings and heralded tribulations of a rippling darkness. The Lord Malfoy told us, plainly, that we are not safe in our homes. That we are not safe in outside spaces… and if it so, then he is an honourable man. Is his voice not esteemed in delivering such dire warnings to our ears? As is the way with all who parcel such dark words—for they are honourable men!" William gestured to the other side of the room where many of the Hegemonists sat, watching in silent anger.

There were nods from members on Lord Bones' side of the aisle and the viewing sections, with many cheers of "hear, hear!" made in sincerity and jest alike.

"Yet, who am I to speak before you now? I am but another politician—the most corruptible of honest trades. I stand before you all, not to praise Lord Malfoy, who I disagree with from the narrowest to widest of margins but to speak what I know for certain: an incorruptible truth. That Lord Malfoy cites danger for our traditions and then in the same breath recounts to us a lurking threat to our children. Now, these are the actions of an honourable man, surely. Many times as a member of the Board of Trustees for Hogwarts he has stepped forward to protect our youth—and we admire him for it. Both sessions, Lord Malfoy has called for the dismissal of our esteemed Chief Warlock citing conflict of interest in the case of the recent attacks in his own halls — of which Dumbledore is of grievous, corruptible fault—are these not the deeds of an honourable man?" William asked, sweeping his voice outwards into the heads of his crowd.

There were mutterings all around the Wizengamot, whispers growing into full debates on the claims Lord Bones presented, the actions of Lord Malfoy and Dumbledore, and the reason for their current session.

"IS HE NOT AN HONOURABLE MAN?!" William repeated once more, thunder clapping from his throat as if his question was lightning itself. The lord leveled only a finger at Abraxas Malfoy. It spooked many of the people gathered in the consecrated room. The room quieted as all chatter ceased between occupants.

The entire court was William's and his alone. There was no higher power in all of Britain at that moment. Not the Minister of Magic, not Albus Dumbledore, not even a Dark Lord himself.

Lord Bones brought his voice down lower, no longer needing to shout with the captivated audience.

"Several times now you have all heard of how our brave and dependable Aurors are understaffed, undersupplied, and poorly misfunded. Even the noble Lord Malfoy has claimed they remain woefully ineffective despite being the finest trained wizards and witches of this country," William claimed and quoted his rival from the prior session.

"However, many times when it has been proposed, Lord Malfoy has vetoed the calls to reorganize the Department to improve their expenditure and effectiveness… Now, is this honourable? To disregard the dangers to our steadfast defenders of our shores? Who have protected our borders, streets, and homes?" William asked slowly, letting his words resonate with his willing and unwilling followings.

Soon, mutterings began to grow into whispers, which then rose to stand tall as accusations hurled at Abraxas Malfoy. To his credit, the statesman stood stoically against the lashing words, but the hard set of his jaw betrayed the tension beneath. The man gripped the snakehead adorning his walking cane in a vice-like stranglehold. His eyes vowed retribution.

"… Now wait, my Lords! Hold judgment! Cast neither a spell nor accusation in such a noble and honourable man's way!" Lord Bones yelled out, banging one hand down on the railing in front of his chair but bringing his spare up to point around the room. " … Surely Lord Malfoy understands these things better than we do? If not, then why would such an honourable man propose this bill before us which we seek to legitimize now?" Lord Bones asked.

The reporters and journalists in the room were furiously scribbling in their small pocket books, and some were busy taking photos of the event while Quick-Quote Quills wrote out their notes.

"Lord Malfoy claims this legislation will not allow the Dark Arts to run rampant through our lands but will be controlled instead. Is this, too, the promise of an honourable man? To call upon our youth to champion our causes into the future, as he said, "long after our bones are interred to the ground." But what of their souls? And all of us before them? Is it the request of an honourable man that, by the will of the common man, we fight shadow? To inter their good virtue before interring their own bones in a bid to hold back evil?" William Bones asked, airing the question that was on many a lord's minds.

If the everyday wizard was given a wand capable of casting a Killing Curse … what innocence would there be left to protect?

More bickering ensued. Curses and claims of ill-faith rent the air across the beautifully adorned marble aisle.

"Halt Lords! If I speak no ill words nor should any of you… Lord Malfoy assures us that this will prevent the rise of a Dark Lord or Lady on our shores and how are we not to believe him? IF HE IS NOT A HONOURABLE MAN?!" William shouted loudly, a roar of the beast his moniker portrayed.

The room was nearing a deathly silence, only disturbed by the breathing of men and the excitement of journalists. The Old Lion pointed yet again at the political bloc he opposed.

"Are they not all honourable men?!" William cried out, gesturing to the men surrounding Abraxas, forming up the bulk of the Hegemonists. "Each has spoken in turn of the other like threads weaving a single cloth! Yet, they raise one such as Lord Malfoy, in praise, for us to lap at his words in thirst from a trough like a drought-stricken horse. Are we to be thankful for their generosity when it bears such costs? Knocking on our doors like a tax-man clothed in legislation?" William challenged the Lords and civilians in the chamber.

Soon the room was filled once more with shouts and jeers for Abraxas Malfoy while it filled with jubilation and cheers for William Bones. The noise spilled over and down the walls of the chamber like an overfilled cup. Minister Minchum began to bang his gavel to broker a semblance of order and decorum, while Abraxas could do naught but stare coldly at William.

All the while, the quills of journalists quietly wrote on, painting the scene for all the readers of the land, in myriad publications and styles.

William raised his hand, and at once order was restored. He felt like a general again; a single act commanding thousands of battle-hardened and rowdy men was nothing to the euphoria of this moment.

"My Lords… my fellow countrymen. I speak not to disprove what Lord Malfoy nor any of his ilk have said in these chambers, but rather speak to what I do know. That our traditions and children are not at threat from outside forces, but rather from within— from dishonourable men."

Having said his peace, William resumed his seat. His features were solemn like a man who just called for a charge out of a trench and over the top; like the first soldier to fire in a conflict, watching in horror as his action infected all the men around him till it engulfed the world.

In a chamber where he had sworn to uphold the peace, William had thrown down a gauntlet in a declaration of war.

'Britannia, I leave the rest to you, my love. Let the honourable proceed,' the old lord thought forlornly. He could only hope his words would be a spur within Abraxas Malfoy's side in the coming trials. There were already signs of decay and dissent within the population over what they were discussing. The growing crowd of demonstrators in the Atrium was a sign of such. Already every reporter was hawkishly watching Abraxas for any signs of outward reaction of the accusations leveled.

Turning to Charlus's ear beside him, William brought his voice down to a whisper.

"We just need to spur the masses. Instigate a peaceful action rather than a violent one Malfoy seeks."

Soon the vote to ratify the Militia Empowerment and Wand Deregulation Act was performed and passed; a document of barbarism adorned in the beautiful trappings of civilization.

Abraxas sat in his seat, preening like the peacocks of his manor, his smug grin flashing across the court as he savored the news that all their efforts to amend the document had been for naught. As it was, everything that Abraxas wanted to pass would, even a clause stating that prisoners released after their sentences to Azkaban would receive their wands once more uninhibited.

William felt a pang of betrayal go through him as the Lord Crouch, Bartholomew, cast his lot with Abraxas during the proceedings. The two Lords had feuded over the legislation in his office, with Crouch claiming, "Malfoy and his supporters sealed their doom, they sought this victory for themselves but they handed us the means of their destruction instead."

Lord Crouch saw an arms deal with the devil and he believed he could cheat the entity as though he were Faust.

Several Lords, like Jennings, held the course, glaring at Abraxas after they voted, while other Lords like Potter and Black held their heads high over their political rivals.

As the session was called to a close, the viewing stands emptied as reporters left the chambers to begin the landslide announcement which would be printed on the front page of the Daily Prophet the next morning. Meanwhile, the Lords began to depart, returning to their manors, offices, and other jobs across the nation.

William sat in his seat, one of the last ones to remain. He couldn't help but think of how all over Britain wands would be deregulated and citizens would be given the means to defend themselves. How many citizens would take advantage of the bill? How many more would abuse the new passing of law? William didn't want to think of it. His heart was heavy for the bloodshed to come.

'All but deputized,' William thought morosely.

Abraxas swiftly left the Chambers of the Wizengamot, passing by salutations and congratulations with no mind for the voices sounding them. His cane struck the stone as he walked, the superficial device lending an odd cadence to his gait.

Just as he passed through the golden grating of the lift to the multitude of Departments housed in the Ministry, Abraxas found himself being forced against the wall of the elevator. A seething Arcturus Black pinned his head and the hand holding his cane to the wall.

The elevator closed, leaving the two men alone in a box of tension.

"What the fuck are you playing at, Malfoy?" Arcturus demanded, releasing Abraxas for a second, only to slam the man back first into the wall to pin him by the throat instead. Arcturus's eyes were pits, pools of darkness that beckoned Abraxas to drown in their depths.

"I— I could— ask— you— the same, — Black. S–upporting— that old— sack— of Bones," Abraxas coughed, his throat spasming beneath Arcturus' constricting fingers.

Arcturus tightened his grip harder, turning the other lord blue in the face. It was difficult to distinguish Abraxas's skin color from that of a Patronus.

"Me? Supporting Lord Bones? What caused my stunt... is this—recognize it?" Arcturus questioned, waving an unmarked letter before Abraxas' eyes. The man's eyes, which were already bugging out from the pressure on his windpipe, nearly flew from their sockets at the sight of the letter.

Arcturus nodded slowly. "Aye, I thought so. You remember the old dorm saying we had? Always play poker with a Malfoy. Showed your hand too early, old friend. Who ordered the attack on Sirius. Was it you, Abbie? Or that Master of yours who holds your tight little leash?" Arcturus interrogated.

"I—don't k–know. It— it — wasn't — me," Abraxas grunted out, nearly suffocating.

Seeing the man's plight brought joy to Arcturus' veins but his curiosity won the better of him. He lessened the weight on Abraxas' neck. "You don't know? And it wasn't you?" Arcturus repeated, to the other Lords insistent nods. "Well, there's a likely answer, especially from a blood traitor like you—see, that's the thing about your lot. It's hard to tell the truth from a lie— especially when you're so much like a rat that will say anything to be released from the mousetrap…"

Abraxas snarled at Arcturus, attempting to draw the wand stored in his cane. But the other Lord cracked a fist across his jaw, sparking stars across his vision, and a second later Abraxas felt the cold tip of Arcturus's own wand jolted beneath his chin.

"You attacked my blood. I don't care if it wasn't you directly… I don't care if it wasn't even you who ordered the damn thing—I don't care—but you, Abbie… you will care. Your cause injured my grandson— stuck him in a hospital bed right along with Lord Jennings's daughter," Arcturus revealed.

Abraxas sucked in a breath at the news. 'What did those feckless children do— That was not the plan!' Abraxas thought, racking his brain over everything. Neither Avery nor Mulciber had been questioned yet on how they completed the task, with one requiring immediate medical attention for his ruined eye. Abraxas had collected the momentos taken from the girls they were told to attack and he had sent them in the unmarked envelopes—envelopes identical to the one that Arcturus Black was holding. But he had never sent one nor ordered one be sent to the man.

"I swear— it wasn't us— I don't know what—" Abraxas was sent reeling once more by another throw of Arcturus's fist, while the other resumed throttling him.

Arcturus looked more demon than man in the light of the lift. "I told you, blood traitor. I— don't— care."

Arcturus released Abraxas, throwing him to the ground of the golden lift. The Lord Black fixed his appearance in the hazy reflection of the metal coated walls. He sent a scathing look to Abraxas after he was returned to proper etiquette.

"That was the reason for my stunt today, Abbie. You, your whole party, your movement — have marked yourselves as enemies of magic, as enemies of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. By the duty charged to my ancestors, and inherited by me, I will end you and every last blood traitor who calls you an ally. Mark my words, Malfoy. Death is kind— I am not," Arcturus swore, the ping of the elevator sounding like a lightning crack, a testimony from a higher power to the truth uttered forth by his sharp tongue.

Arcturus swiftly departed the lift, leaving Abraxas heaving against the wall unceremoniously. The manhandled lord attempted to collect himself, his hand gripping his cane in a vice as it came rushing towards him. It was ruined. All the plans he had laid out. All the machinations for his lord. He'd have to scrap it all and start again… all because a single lord decided to stand against him. The loyalty of the Blacks had always been a shaky thing, but Walburga had assured them of their indifference.

The Black family had always been an odd bunch, the family as a whole indifferent to anyone and everyone. There were a few notable Black sheep amongst their flock who stuck out further than most. Cassiopeia Black who had supported Grindelwald, Walburga in recent memory, and now her youngest son Regulus. The Blacks had been some of the most ardent pureblood loyalists till the end of the sixteenth century. Where the family went wrong, Abraxas could only guess.

'What the fuck did they do in that damned school?' a bitter anger began to overtake him. Shoving the feeling aside, Abraxas hurried out of the lift and Ministry, needing to report to his lord.

AN: Part 2 coming soon.