- CHORDUS -

7:45am - August 3rd, 1976 - Potter Manor, Godric's Hollow - Earth - Universe Designation: 1.638.2

It was done. Voldemort was dead. His Death Eater's were dead. The Minister was dead. The Ministry was aware of his existence, his power, and his participation in the events that had transpired that morning. Harry was content. He returned to Potter Manor at roughly five in the morning. But it was too early to fall asleep, so he decided to make himself comfortable in the dining room. The Potter's didn't have a normal kitchen, given that the family House Elves provided the meals and beverages. Harry planned on asking if that could be changed, given he had been planning to cook more in his free time. Without access to cooking, he decided to settle in at the dining room table and have a look at the grimoire John Constantine had given him hours earlier.

The grimoire was bound in black dragonhide, reinforced with threads of adamantine leather and runes that glowed faint red. It was the size of an encyclopedia, and yet it was deceptively lightweight. The grimoire featured two different qualities that intrigued Harry. The pages were made from preserved phoenix parchment, making them immune to wear, fire, and decay. The grimoire also had a locking mechanism. The arcane binding spell only allowed access to those deemed "worthy" or desperate enough to bypass its defenses. Harry couldn't be certain if he had gained access due to his connection to more ancient and arcane magic, or if Constantine's passing it to him allowed him entry.

The book contained a number of interesting things Harry took into his mind with ease. Ancient and forbidden spells tied to souls, time-travel, dimensional travel, information on ancient artifacts, as well as supernatural lore. John Constantine's personal notes were also scrawled into the margins of every other page, giving some added context to certain spells, rituals, and descriptions. It wasn't until he heard the approaching footsteps that he sent the grimoire into his moleskin pouch with the flick of his wrist. Harry turned to the entryway of the dining room. The soft clatter of Fleamont and Euphemia Potter's slippers echoed against the polished wood floors of the manor as they entered the dining room.

Fleamont, ever the embodiment of a gentlemen, was dressed in a neatly pressed set of dark robes, his graying hair combed back with precision despite it being so early. Euphemia's warm smile, holding a trace of fatigue, spoke of her enduring grace as she approached Harry. She had a cup of tea in her hands as she stepped to his side. "You're up early," Euphemia said. Her sharp gaze caught the faint tension in his posture. "Or perhaps you haven't slept at all?"

Fleamont crossed his arms, leaning slightly against the doorway as he examined Harry from a distance. While Harry had changed out of his cloak the second he returned, he was still tense from the events of the night. Not to mention his hair was still swept to the side and messier than normal. Fleamont frowned. "You look like you've been though the wringer, son. Care to tell us what's on your mind?"

Harry straightened in his seat, a fleeting smile appearing on his lips. He wanted to enjoy the rare moment of familial concern that warmed a part of him he hadn't realized had grown cold. He had never had a real family before. The most he had ever had was Sirius in the last two years of his first life. "There's been...progress," Harry said.

Raising a brow, Fleamont leaned forward. "Progress? The kind that lands someone in the Daily Prophet or the kind that gets someone sent to Azkaban?"

"Definitely both," Harry admitted, his emerald eyes meeting his 'fathers' unwavering gaze. "The Dark Lord is no more. His inner circle is either dead or scattered. The war, as we knew it, is over," Silence. Euphemia carefully set her teacup onto the table, careful not to spill it in her shock. The steam was still rising, wafting between them before drifting in Fleamont's direction.

Euphemia broke the silence. "You're saying that You-Know-Who is..."

"Dead," Harry confirmed. "I saw to it personally,"

Fleamont's composure slipped for a moment, his mouth parting in shock. Euphemia, however, placed a steadying hand on the back of the chair in front of her. Her sharp mind was already working through the implications of this development. Her voice fell into a whisper. "The Ministry won't know what to do with themselves," Her voice was tight with a mixture of relief and apprehension. "This changes everything,"

"It does," Harry agreed with a nod. "The aftermath won't be pretty. The Minister is dead. I may have...pushed things along there as well,"

The Lord of House Potter straightened, his expression hardening. "Harry...explain yourself. What do you mean by 'pushed things along'?"

Harry in turn let out a slow breath, his gaze unflinching as he looked between his 'parents'. "The Minister was compromised, aiding Voldemort and his allies. He was part of the problem. Removing him, while implicating someone else, was necessary for the long-term health of magical Britain,"

"You assassinated the Minister?" Euphemia whispered, her voice hushed but filled with disbelief.

"Yes," Harry said simply. "And I'll do what's necessary to stabilize the fallout,"

Fleamont ran a hand through his hair, muttering something under his breath that Harry ignored. "Merlin's beard, Harry. Do you realize what you've done?"

"I do," Harry replied firmly. "And I know what's at stake if I don't act now. The war may be over, but the systemic problems remain. Goblins, magical creatures, no-majs, they're all suffering under outdated laws. That all needs to change. If we want to build a better world, we can't waste this opportunity,"

Euphemia was silent for a long moment, her hand now gripping the back of the chair as though for support. "What is your plan, Harry?" She finally asked, her voice trembling slightly. "You speak of building a better world, but at what cost?"

Harry's expression softened as he addressed her. "The lowest cost possible. I've secured alliances with the goblins of Gringotts and plan to form similar alliances with the greater goblin nation. I've neutralized Voldemort and his followers and planted the seeds for the Ministry to reform. It won't be easy, but I'm not alone. I'll bring others into the fold. Those I can trust to fight for justice and equality,"

"And what about us?" Fleamont asked. His voice was steadier now, though his concern was clear. "Where do we stand in all this?"

Harry allowed his lips to curl into a faint smile. "You guys are my anchors. This family, our name, carries weight in the magical world. I'll need your support to ensure our legacy aligns with the vision I'm working toward. Together, we can help shape the future,"

The quiet hum of conversation was interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps. Eventually, Rose entered the dining room, her red hair slightly tousled from an incomplete night of sleep. Despite her disheveled appearance, her sharp brown eyes took in the scene with immediate interest. Clad in a loose robe, she stopped in the doorway next to Fleamont, folding her arms. "Good morning," she said, her curiosity laced in her words. "Or should I say good aftermath? I could feel the tension in here from upstairs,"

Shaking his head, Harry motioned to the seat next to him. Rose smiled, moving past Fleamont and Euphemia before taking the seat to Harry's. "Morning, Rose. You're just in time," he said, motioning around the room.

Euphemia smiled warmly at Rose, finally detaching herself from the seat she had been gripping to fetch her a cup of tea. "That's right. Go ahead and sit down, dear. You'll want to hear this,"

Rose raised a brow, watching Harry with a knowing look. "You've been busy, haven't you?" She didn't allow Harry a response. "I could feel your energy practically lighting up the night. Care to explain before I start assuming you've burned down half the country?"

"Not half," Harry quipped, his tone light. "But close enough,"

Rose's smile faded slightly as she leaned forward. "What did you do?"

Sighing, Harry pinched the bridge of his nose before meeting her gaze. "I eliminated Voldemort. Took out most of his Death Eaters. And I might have...rearranged the Ministry's leadership,"

"Rearranged?"

"He assassinated the Minister," Fleamont provided, dropping down into the seat at the head of the table opposite Harry.

Rose's eyes widened in disbelief. "Harry, that's not something you casually do,"

"It was necessary," Harry replied, his voice firm. "Voldemort's influence extended further than just his followers. The Minister himself was compromised. Removing him creates space for real reform,"

Rose let out a slow breath, leaning back in her chair as Euphemia carefully set down a cup of tea in front of her. She breathed a 'thank you' before taking a sip. Keeping the cup in her hands, she sighed. "Sweet Morgana, Harry. You don't do things by halves, do you?"

"Never," Harry answered, his lips quirking a faint smile. Before Rose could respond, the sound of laughter echoed down the hall. James Potter and Sirius Black - now much younger than Harry or Rose had ever seen him - burst into the room. Their animated conversation was immediately halted as they noticed the group seated at the table. James, dressed in casual robes, frowned at the scene. Sirius, who wore darker robes that seemed a bit rebellious, arched a brow as his sharp grey eyes locked onto Harry and Rose. Harry gave a half-hearted smile. "Morning,"

James smiled. "Morning. Having a family meeting without us?"

"More like a debrief," Fleamont muttered, though his tone was light. "Take a seat boys, you'll want to hear this,"

Sirius, still scanning Harry and Rose with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, leaned against the doorway as Fleamont had minutes prior. "I don't think we've been introduced properly," He said, his tone guarded and 'proper'. "Sirius Black. And you are?"

Rose offered him a small smile, still nursing her cup of tea. "Rose Potter. This is my brother, Harry. We're...new here,"

Sirius' eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze flickering over to James, Fleamont, and Euphemia. The two elder Potter's were engaged in a hushed conversation about Dumbledore attempting to floo to Potter Manor unsuccessfully in the middle of the night. James merely smiled, giving Sirius a reassuring nod. Sirius didn't budge. "Potter? James doesn't have any siblings -"

"Not before yesterday," Harry interruted, his voice calm but firm. "It's...complicated,"

"Complicated doesn't begin to cover it," James said with a wry smile. "But I can vouch for them, Sirius. They're family,"

Sirius didn't look entirely convinced or alleviated of his curiosity, but he nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll take your word for it. For now," He gave James a look that shouted 'you're going to tell me everything later'.

"Good," Harry said, his tone shifting to get everyone's attention. Once James and Sirius had sat down, he continued. "Because there's something else you all need to know. As of last night, I've claimed my lordships of House Potter, House Black, House Peverell, and House Gryffindor,"

The room went still. James blinked, looking between Harry and Fleamont. "Wait...what? House Gryffindor?"

"And Black?" Sirius added, his tone sharp. "That's impossible. The Black family doesn't just hand over its legacy,"

"They do -" Harry said, locking eyes with Sirius. "- when it's in disarray and a new heir emerges. I've already spoken with Ragnok, the Chief Overseer of Gringotts, and Torvik, the Account Manager for House Potter and House Black. The transfer of assets and titles is complete,"

Everyone in thje room stared at him in disbelief, unsure what to say. A mixture of anger and disbelief was evident on Sirius' face. "You're saying that you're the Lord of House Black?"

"Yes," Harry said simply. "And you'll find I already set aside funds for those who deserve access. You included,"

Fleamont, who had been unusually quiet, cleared his throat. "Why didn't you speak to me about this first?"

"And how does it work? Is dad not the Lord of House Potter anymore?" James added, with Fleamont nodding in agreement.

Harry shook his head. "While unusual, both House Potter and House Black now possess two Lords and two Heads of Houses. Dad and I are both Lords of House Potter," He turned to Sirius. "Your grandfather, Arcturus Black, and I are Lords of House Black. The hierarchy remains the same, only with my added presence," Harry turned back to Fleamont. "As for why I did't discuss it with you first? Well, it was kind of a split second decision. Once the goblins had laid out my blood results in front of me, I knew I had to capitalize on my position as lord of four very influential Houses. This is why I've consolidated the assets of all four houses to better manage them. But the family remains at its core,"

"As for Gryffindor," Rose interjected, her tone light. "It's an inheritance from Godric Gryffindor himself. Harry's bloodline traces back to him through the Peverells,"

James let out a low whistle, running a hand through his hair. "Merlin's sweaty socks, Harry. You've been busy,"

"Busy doesn't begin to cover it," Harry replied, his tone dry.

Sirius' expression softened slightly as he studied Harry. "If you really are the Lord of House Black, then prove it. What do you intend to do with the family's legacy?"

Harry met his gaze unflinchingly. "Restore it, of course. House Black has been a symbol of power and fear for too long. It's time it became a force for justice and equality. Something I'm going to need all of your help doing," The tension in the room had begun to subside, replaced by a mixture of curiosity, unease, and causious optimism. Harry leaned back slightly in his chair, his emerald gaze sweeping across the room while Fleamont, Euphemia, and Rose filled James and Sirius in on the developments surrounding Voldemort and the Minister.

He took note of everyone in the room. Rose, sat to his right, her sharp brown eyes flickering between everyone at the table while she drank her tea. Euphemia was busying herself by refilling teacups to steady her nerves. Fleamont was nursing both a cup of tea and some firewhiskey. Clearly this conversation had sparked some unease in him. James' gaze shifted toward Harry every few seconds in both awe and fear. He was no doubt surprised by Harry's power and the events that had transpired the night before. Sirius, who had examined Harry with caution before, now looked at Harry with an inkling of respect and approval. It seemed Sirius understood that at the very least change was needed.

Once they were done, Harry took a deep breath, clearing his throat to break the silence. "There's more you all need to understand. While I now hold lordship titles, I'm not here to erase or replace anyone. My intention is to strengthen these Houses, not diminish them,"

Fleamont's brow furrowed, though his voice was measured. "How do you propose to do that? Consolidating assets and taking titles is one thing, but these Houses are built on more than money and names,"

"I'm well aware," Harry replied evenly. "What's why I plan to involve the people who matter, those who can contribute to rebuilding and refining what these Houses stand for. Each House has its strengths, and it's time to leverage them for the good of all magical kind,"

Rose smiled. James raised a brow, clearly intrigued. "Alright, then. Let's hear it. What's the grand plan?"

Harry allowed himself to smile once more. "House Potter has always been a beacon of integrity, innovation, and progress. It will continue to serve as a foundation for education, magical research, and charitable efforts. Scholorships at Hogwarts, grants for underprivileged familes, and funding for advancements in potion-making and magical engineering. But most of all, I want to make sure the entire family involved. This is why I wanted to suggest making James an official Duke and Rose an offical Marquess,"

Fleamont raised a brow at this, while Euphemia suddenly stopped her pouring. James and Sirius both examined Harry in surprise while Rose looked on in confusion. She spoke. "I'm sorry, I'm not big on politics and House dynamics. What would that mean?"

Fleamont provided the answer. "James is already the Heir Apparent to House Potter. That means when I die, he'll take my spot as Lord. As of right now, he has very minimal access to any of the House's assets. He has access to his trust and that's about it. He holds no power in politics. If he was named an official Duke, he would essentially be second-in-command after Phe. James would have full access to all of the families assets and would function as a community ambassador. He would work to expand our influence in both the magical and non-magical world,"

Euphemia took over. "For you, dear, to become Marquess is similar. You would be a rank below James and function as a political ambassador, working to expand our reach beyond its current status. This would usually involve going to balls, meetings, and other formal events to mingle with members of other Houses,"

"But the house roles haven't been utilized in over a century. I suggested the position of Duke for you as a joke," said Fleamont.

"But I think they're more than qualified for the positions," Harry replied with a shrug. "Rose is perfect for a Marquess because of her strategic knowledge and lack of interest in politics and everything else in that sector. James is well-suited for politics and needs to be prepared for his role as Lord, making him a perfect candidate for Duke,"

Fleamont frowned. It made a modicum of sense. After all, if Harry wanted to expand the Potter family beyond its current scope, they would need assistance. Not just from the outside, but by better utilizing those already a part of the family. James and Rose were certainly old enough. They only had a year before they became legal adults and two years left at Hogwarts. That meant they would have two years of training to enter the political world before they were dumped into the fire after graduation. The elder Potter sighed. "What of the other Houses?"

"House Black -" Harry said, turning to Sirius. "- is steeped in power and influence. Its reputation has been tarnished, but it still commands respect and fear. I plan to use that influence to protect the vulnerable and challenge the status quo that's plagued the wizarding world for decades. The alliances and wealth tied to House Black will be repurposed for a new era. One where its legacy is tied to justice and equality, not fear and prejudice,"

Sirius' lips twitched into a smirk. "You're speaking my language. But don't expect the rest of the family to roll over and agree,"

"I don't," Harry replied with a faint smile. "But I've already taken steps to ensure the more...problematic members of the Black family are kept in check. Access to funds and recources will be limited to those who align with this vision. And you, Sirius, will have a hand in shaping that vision,"

Sirius' smirk softened into something more genuine. "You know, I think I might actually like you,"

Harry only chuckled before turning to Rose, who gave him a smile and an encouraging nod. "House Peverell, while smaller and more obscure, is tied to some of the most powerful artifacts and magical knowledge in history. It's focus will be on safeguarding that knowledge and using it responsibly. I'll also be working to establish connections with magical beings and entities tied to the Peverell legacy,"

"And Gryffindor?" James asked, his tone curious but skeptical. "What do you even do with a title that's basically legendary?"

"House Gryffindor will serve as a symbol. A rallying point for bravery, equality, and unity. Its properties and resources will suport those ideals, whether that's through funding resistance movements, protecting magical creatures, or influencing Hogwart's future. I've already taken the step to give the Weasley's, who are often considered 'light' a portion of the money in Gryffindor's vault. They're good people, and I want to make sure the Weasley's and their children have the means to carry out the lives they want for themselves,"

Euphemia, who had been listening quietly, placed a hand on Harry's arm. "You speak of lofty goals, Harry. But these things take time, patience, and trust. Are you prepared for the weight of it all? After all, you just got here yesterday,"

Harry met her gaze, his expression resolute. "I am. And I know I can't do it alone. That's why I need all of you - this family - to help me. Together, we can set the foundation for something better,"

James let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair. "You've got ambition, I'll give you that. But ambition alone doesn't win battles. You're going to need more than just us to pull this off,"

"I know," Harry nodded. "That's why I've already started forging alliances. The goblins in Gringotts are on board, and I plan on meeting with the High Council of the Goblin Nation to gain their support as well. I also plan on reaching out to Dumbledore, Arcturus, the Bones', the Weasley's, and a few more 'Light' and 'Grey' families in the Wizengamot. I've already done myself a favor and taken care of a lot of the Lords on the 'Dark' side of the room, meaning things should progress much quicker had I not,"

"You're working with goblins?" Siruis asked. "That's dangerous,"

"Grumrok treshrok ithrul. Vorn ul-lathrok ithrul grumrok arka wreth," Harry bit out in Grimnash, startling those at the table. All except Rose.

James was the first to speak. "What the heck was that?"

"Grimnash. The goblin language," Rose provided. "Harry's fluent,"

Sirius crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful. James looked on in shock. Both Fleamont and Euphemia examined Harry with interest and were apparently impressed by this. Sirius spoke. "You're playing a dangerous game, Potter. But damn it, I think you might just pull it off,"

Rose grinned, leaning back in her chair. "He will. Trust me, I've seen him do the impossible more times than I can count,"

Fleamont leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table as he looked toward Harry. "Well, son, it seems you've given this a lot more thought than I realized. And despite my not being too pleased with not being informed of the lordship claim, I'm still content with my continued position and am willing to share the responsibility. Though I can't say the same for Arcturus," Harry nodded sagely. He was waiting for the eldest Black to arrive. Fleamont continued. "If you're determined to see this through, you'll have my support. But don't forget, you're not invincible. Lean on us when you need to,"

"I will," Harry said, his smile warm. "Thank you,"

Euphemia's voice was soft but firm as she addressed the room. "If we're going to do this, we need to be united. As a family,"

"Agreed," James said, his usual levity replaced by a rare seriousness. "So, where do we start?"

Fleamont answered. "I'm going to give some thought about giving you and Rose more concrete positions in the political aspects of the family. I'll talk it over with your mother, and if we think it's appropriate and you both want to go down that path, then we'll see,"

"I want to help however I can," Rose affirmed.

"Same," added James.

Harry's gaze swept across the room, his heart swelling with gratitude for the people who sat with him. "While Dad goes over that, we need to start by setting the stage. Securing our resources, building our alliances, and preparing for the challenges ahead. The world is changing, and we need to be ready for it,"

The room was quiet for a moment before Sirius broke the silence with a wry grin. "Well, if nothing else, this is going to be one hell of a ride," Everyone in the dining room chuckled, the tension finally giving way to a sense of purpose and family. Together, they would face the challenges ahead. And together, Harry hoped they would change the world.

8:12am - August 3rd, 1976 - Hogwarts School of Withcraft and Wizardry - Earth - Universe Designation: 1.638.2

The morning sun cast long beams of light through the stained-glass windows of Hogwarts' Entrance Hall, dust motes drifting lazily in their wake. The corridors were quiet, with most of the students still on summer holiday. This left the castle's echoing silence to be broken only by the soft hum of ever-burning torches and the distant drifting of a passing ghost.

Amelia Bones stood at the base of the spiral staircase leaing to the Headmaster's office, her heart pounding as she stared up at the gargoyle statue that guarded the entrance. She had floo'd Albus once again and requested a chance to speak with him. He had of course accepted, but stated that due to issues with the wards around the castle, she would need to apparate outside the grounds and make her way inside by foot. Amelia had used the walk to temper her questions and frustrations. After all, it had only been a few hours since the catastrophic attacks that had left the Death Eaters decimated, the Dark Lord dead, and the Minister of Magic assassinated. A single, unknown attacker had plunged the entire country into chaos overnight.

She was still wearing her Auror robes, the deep navy fabric slightly rumpled from lack of sleep. Dark circles surrounded her eyes, and she held a small case under her arm. Her files, notes, everything she had on last night's events. Even the autopsy done on You-Know-Who's corpse, which - like Abraxus Malfoy - indicated his neck had been snapped using a single hand. The news had sent those in the know spiraling for answers. The Ministry as a whole was in disarray, and no one seemed to have any concrete answers except for the fact that Walden Macnair had entered the Ministry, attacked the Minister, and disappeared to an unknown fate. Even then Amelia had her suspicions.

With a muttered password 'Sweet Licorice' the stone gargoyle sprang aside, revealing the moving spiral staircase. Amelia ascended swiftly and, upon reaching the oak door at the top, knocked firmly. The door swung inward, revealing Albus Dumbedore seated at his grand desk. Fawkes dozed on his perch while several silver instruments twirled and chimed softly on the side tables. The Headmaster's eyes, typically warm, were now cool and contemplative as he regarded Amelia. She took note that his eyes seemed just as tired as hers. He had information, or at least spent the night waiting for it.

"Amelia," he greeted, folding his hands atop the desk. "I trust you managed to reach the castle without difficulty?" He gestured politely to a seat, his voice calm but subdued.

Amelia stepped closer, closing the door behind her. She noted the smell of lemon drops and old parchment, a scent she now associated with Dumledore's quiet wisdom. Yet this morning, the warmth of that wisdom in Amelia's memory was tempered by uncertainty. She placed her files on the desk before taking a seat. "Headmaster," she said briskly. "I've come for answers. The Ministry is...well...you can imagine. Harold Minchum is dead. Assassinated and maimed in his office by a Death Eater. Half a dozen prominent families - Malfoy, Avery, and more - have had their estates torn apart and their people slaughtered. We've analyzed the magical signatures at multiple crime scenes. The conclusion is...there is no signature. No established wandwork, no Dark Mark casting afterward. Just pure, raw power and brutal efficiency,"

Dumbledore inclined his head, saying nothing yet. His blue eyes flickered with understanding. Amelia pressed on, her tone sharpening. "You told me this morning via Floo that the Order of the Phoenix was not involved and that you had suspicions regarding the attacker. The Ministry is desparate. Crouch is leading the investigation, but the Wizengamot will convene this afternoon and everyone is clamoring for an explanation. The Daily Prophet will tear us apart if we don't have something concrete by tomorrow morning's edition. I need to know what you suspect,"

Dumbledore sighed softly, removing his half-moon spectacles to polish them with a corner of his robe. "I do not know the identity of the attacker with absolute certainty," he began. "However, I have encountered individuals across my lifetime whose power transcends what we consider normal wizarding limits. This attacker, whoever he is, operates on a level of raw magical and physical prowess I have seldom seen. Faster than they eye can follow, stronger than a regiment of wizards combined, and able to bypass wards as though they were spun sugar,"

Amelia's knuckles tightened on the armrests of her chair. "That's not an answer, Albus. That's a riddle," She didn't know when she had grown so confident as to confront the Headmaster like this and demand answers from him. She had only just graduated from the school she now sat in a few years prior. It was interesting how quickly time passed.

The Headmaster's gaze was sympathetic but firm. "Amelia, I wish I could give you a neat name and motive. What I can say is that this individual is clearly not aligned with Voldemort. Indeed, he or she has effectively ended the Dark Lord's threat. Reports from Aurors at the scene indicate Tom's own corpse was delivered to the Ministry's atrium. But you must also consider that such decisive intervention rarely comes without motive. They say they have 'solved' our problem. That in itself suggests intent. Strategy,"

Amelia nodded slowly, recalling the events several hours earlier when the cloaked figure appeared in the Atrium. "So you think this is some sort of vigilante? Someone powerful enough to bend the fate of the entire country overnight?"

"That is precisely what I fear," Dumbledore replied gravely. "A single actor with such immense capabilities poses a danger, even if they claim to support the greater good. I am trying to ascertain their nature and orgins. I have certain contacts and leads. Nothing substantial enough to present to the Ministry yet. If I reveal half-truths now, it my only worsen matters. For now, I beg your patience,"

Amelia's jaw tightened. Patience. The Ministry was a hornet's nest of fear and speculation. Patience was in short supply. "If you uncover anything," she said, voice low and measured. "I expect you to share it with me. The DMLE needs something to maintain stability. Minister Minchum's assassination has rattled the foundations of trust,"

Dumbledore nodded solemly. "I give you my word, Amelia. I will not keep vital information from you or the DMLE. We are on the same side,"

The junior Auror studied the Headmaster for a moment, searching his face for any hint of deception. Finding none, she exhaled. "Very well," she said, rising from her chair and gathering her files. "I'll return to the Ministry and continue to help Edgar calm the storm. But mark my words: if this vigilante reappers, the DMLE will wnt ction, not riddles,"

"I understand," said Dumbledore with a weary smile. "Do be careful, Amelia. These are uncharted waters,"

She nodded, turned, and left the office. Her footsteps echoed down the spiral staircase, the tension in her chest only marginally eased. One outside the grounds, she composed herself and prepared to apparate back to London. The morning was still young, and the world had changed irreversibly overnight. The Ministry would need leadership, clarity, and a steady hand. For right now, Edgar Bones was acting as that steady hand. Amelia had even heard whispers from the Wizenagmot about Edgar being given emergency power as a temporary Minister until one could be elected. After all, he was already doing the job.

9:47am - August 3rd, 1976 - Scotland - Earth - Universe Designation: 1.638.2

Deep in the hills and cliffsides of Scottland, in a chamber never seen by wizrd eyes, Ragnok strode down a winding cooridor carved from granite. The air was cooler here, scented with metal and earth, lit with runes etched into the walls that pulsed faintly with blue-white radiance. This cave system was created and maintained only for the highest-ranking goblins. Overseers, clan leaders, and members of the High Council. Here, decisions were made that could alter entire economies and topple human empires.

Ragnok's stride was pusposeful. In the wake of last night's events - the destruction of Voldemort and his followers, the sealing of an Unbreakable Vow with Harry Potter, and the young wizards ambitions and audacious plans - Ragnok knew that the goblin nation stood at a crossroads. Centuries of careful neutrality and slow, quiet advancement now faced a critical juncture. The goblins as a whole nation had never sided with a wizard or a wizard's cause before. Individual clans might have alligned themselves or allowed wizard's to join the ranks of their rebellions, but the Goblin Nation as a whole had never made such a move. Now, aligning with a wizard who claimed to uplift goblinkind, could rewrite millennia of cautious tradition.

Flanked by two elite guards wielding ceremonial blades, Ragnok approached a set of immense doors forged from adamantine. They were carved with the likeness of Gorthan, the First Forger, and Shathil, the Keeper of Contracts. The doors swung inward silently, revealing a circular chamber lined with tiered seats of polished obsidian. High-ranking goblins - such as Warchiefs, Vaultkeepers, Runesmiths, and Clan Elders - were already gathered, murmuring quietly among themselves. If a wizard entered this chamber, it would remind them of their Wizengamot. Unlike the Wizengamot, the High Council's meetings were rare, summoned only by dire need or monumental opportunity.

As Ragnok entered, all voices stilled. The chamber's acoustics made even the faintest sound carry. He stepped on to the central dais, bowing slightly as protocol demanded. With a subtle motion of his hand, he signaled the guards to remain outside. When the doors closed behind them, only the Council and Ragnok remained. Each aware that history might hinge on what transpired today.

"Ul-lathrok gith thral, Vath-Ragnok," spoke an ancient goblin named Morgthul, his voice rough as shifting gravel. Honored greetings, Master Overseer. "State your purpose for calling the High Council at such an hour,"

Ragnok inclinde his head. "Thrag nor gron uthrath, Morgthul. I come bearing news that may shape the fate of goblinkind," he began in Grimnash, his voice reverberating through the hall. "Last night, a wizard named Harrek Jaemes Pottar, entered into a binding alliance with me. He swore on his life and magic to uphold the autonomy and future of our people, forging a vow in blood and by the sacred chalice. He also destroyed the abominations that tethered Voldemort's soul, paving the way for the Dark Lord's ultimate demise."

A murmur spread through the council. Some leaned forward, their eyes narrowed in suspicion or curiosity. Others exchanged knowing glances. Despite happening only a few hours prior, Voldemort's downfall was news that traveled fast, even underground. Yet, hearing that a wizard had taken an Unbreakable Vow in goblin tongue was far more shocking.

Ragnok continued, his voice steady. "This wizard claims lordship over four ancient Houses. Potter. Black. Gryffindor. Peverell. He intends to use his influence to reform wizarding laws, extend rights to goblinkind, and foster cooperation rather than domination,"

A low hiss of skepticism rippled across the chamber. The Clan Elders, hunched and wise, shook their heads, their beards of braided wire rattling softly. A younger Warchief barked. "What guarantee have we that these are not hollow promises? Wizards have spoken pretty words before, and we have bled for them!"

The council murmured their agreement with that. Ragnok raised a hand to quiet them. "Harry James Potter, as is his human name, sealed his oath in our tongue. He drank from the chalice of alliance. He risked Unbreakable curses. I have tested his blood, his magic, and peered into memories provided willingly. He is unlike any wizard I have every encountered. And I have demanded safeguards. Should he betray us and our interests, it would cost him dearly,"

A Clan Mother known as Threvnik, her voice resonant and calm, leaned forward. "Even if this is true, why break centuries of careful neutrality now? We have rebuilt our numbers, grown wealthy, and learned patience. Aligning ourselves openly with a wizard, no matter how powerful, could spark a backlash,"

Ragnok nodded. "A fair concern, Threvnik. But consider the times we live in. The Ministry of Magic trembles. The humans are reeling from the sudden decapitation of their currupt leadership and terrorist threats. In times of upheaval, societies are reshaped. If we involve ourselves now, on our terms, we can ensure that goblinkind emerges not as servants or subjugated peoples but as acknowledged equals," He allowed his words a moment to settle in. The High Council represented many factionsand philosophies within goblinkind. Some longed for open conflict to seize what they believed was rightfully theirs. Others favored quiet growth, remaining in the shadows. And some dreamed of a future where goblins stood beside wizards as partners, not pawns.

"I request a formal hearing with the High Council," Ragnok said, voice clear and steady. "Not only to inform, but to give Harrek Jaemes Pottar an audience...if the Council permits. Let him present his vision. Let us question him, test him, and ensure his sincerity. If he proves himself, we could shape a new era. If he fails. we lose nothing but time,"

A profound silence gripped the chamber once more. The Council members exchanged long, thoughful looks. Finally, Morgthul, who had guided them through many turbulent ages, spoke. "You ask much, Ragnok. The Council has never allowed a wizard within these halls. Tradition binds us,"

"Latharka thralforn uth drokvek ithrek," Tradition can be a forge or a chain. Ragnok countered, his eyes gleaming. "We must decide what we forge in that fire. Stronger bonds...or heavier shackles,"

A hush followed. Then, one by one, heads began to dip in agreement. Not all, but enough. The murmurs turned from protest to contemplation. Threvnik spoke again, her town more conciliatory. "We will consider your request, Ragnok. In three nights' time, the Council shall convene again. Present your wizard then. If he can speak to our hearts and our minds without flinching, perhaps we will write a new chapter in goblin history,"

Ragnok bowed, relief and determination coiling in his chest. "Thrag nor uthrath, honored councilors. I shall return in three nights, Harrek Jaemes Pottar at my side, prepared to show you that this alliance may be the key to a better future," With that, he backed away from the dais, the doors swinging open to allow his departure. The future was uncertain, but he had secured a chance. A hearing with the High Council. Now it was up to Harry Potter to prove himself. And it was up to goblinkind to decide whether to seize destiny or let it slip away into the dark tunnels of the past.

Updated: 3/6/2025