Election
"Guess who the nation's sweetheart is today," Sirius said cheerily as Harry and Morgana entered the kitchen.
The man grinned as he slammed a copy of The Daily Prophet onto the table and laughed as Harry grimaced at the front page. Fortunately, the photo taken of him speaking with Dumbledore had been taken from a distance, but there was no mistaking who it was in the image.
"Great," he grumbled as he took a seat, glaring at his wife as she too smirked at him.
"You're even more famous here now than you re back home," she teased.
"Like I weren't famous enough," Harry huffed.
"Well, when you come to the rescue of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, fight off a Dark Lord, and dispel Fiendfyre, people will take notice," Sirius pointed out. "Where did you even learn about that spell?"
"From a friend," Harry answered with a shrug.
"And you used it to kill an army of the dead," Morgana reminded him.
"An army of the dead?" Sirius asked darkly.
Harry nodded.
He was certain he'd mentioned them to his godfather, just not how he'd dispensed of them.
"Two crazy witches created them," Harry explained, "and we got rid of them."
"Bloody hell," Sirius murmured. "A whole army of inferi is nothing to joke about. It was one of the things we worried about during the first war. If anyone was mad enough to try and create one, it would be him."
Harry did not doubt that Tom would if he possessed such knowledge.
Perhaps he had already tried, but the dead was no longer something that bothered Harry.
No, he was more concerned with the conversation he'd shared with Dumbledore pertaining to the Horcruxes Tom had undoubtedly created.
Still, even having spoken about it at length with the headmaster, neither were certain how many he'd truly created, but Albus was convinced that one man might know that number, which meant the two of them would be searching for a certain former Professor of Hogwarts soon enough.
For now, however, Harry had something equally as pressing to ponder.
The Wizengamot would be gathering in just a few hours, and he had already received his summons to attend from none other than Cornelius Fudge himself, who would officially leave his post today, pending the approval of his successor.
How that would be decided, Harry was not entirely sure.
He knew little of modern politics.
All of the problems he'd encountered thus far were things that could be solved with a wand and sword in his hands, but it wasn't as though he could solely rely on that, not here, at least.
The Ministry was not the Wizard's Council.
Here, they were an established and universally recognised government, but likely as corrupt as any other entity that had preceded it.
As ever, he cursed himself for his lack of attention during his History of Magic lessons.
He vaguely remembered Binns discussing the formation of the Ministry of Magic as it was known now some several centuries prior, but Harry could not remember the ins and outs, how the Wizengamot operated, or even all of the power they wielded in terms of Britain as a whole.
He would undeniably be out of his depth today, but his presence could well and truly be the difference in the outcome of who would be elected.
From what he'd learned, Scrimgeour would be standing against Corban Yaxley, a man who had never been officially tied to Riddle but had been suspected of being one of the man's followers.
Would the Wizengamot even consider him?
Harry snorted at the thought.
Given that they'd elected the bumbling fool that was Cornelius Fudge to the highest office in the land, he could not rely on common sense prevailing when it had historically been absent.
Shaking his head, he stood.
He didn't have much of an appetite for breakfast, and remaining in Grimmauld Place would do him no good.
"I'll be back after the meeting," he sighed, placing a kiss on Morgana's cheek before taking his leave of the Black family home, ignoring the slurs of the former matriarch as he past her portrait.
(Break)
"He has become everything he needs to be," Albus said proudly. "When he disappeared, I felt that there was little hope for us all, but I know now that Harry was taken for a reason, even if it did not make sense to me at the time."
"Hindsight is the prospective of a wiser man, Albus," Everard replied. "You truly believe in him?"
"I do," Albus said confidently. "How can I not after all I have seen, and yet, I remain troubled."
"What troubles you?"
Albus released a deep breath.
"The thought of his death, and not because of what it would mean for the rest of us, but because it would seem so unjust."
"And the world is often so," Everard said sadly. "Not all tales have a happy ending. We find that most end in tragedy, but perhaps Mr Potter will be different to those that came before him."
"I truly hope so," Albus murmured, his eyes glancing towards the clock.
He still had time before the meeting of the Wizengamot would get underway, and he shifted his attention towards the pensieve in the corner of the office.
He and Harry had delved into the memories he had obtained and provided himself of a younger Tom Riddle.
They'd seen the very first encounter between Albus and the boy whilst he'd informed him of his place at Hogwarts, and others, including a visit to the Gaunt family made by a certain Bob Ogden.
Although Harry had not said much about what he'd seen, Albus knew he was digesting what he had, and was undoubtedly painting his own picture of the Dark Lord, where he'd come from, and how he'd become the man he was now.
As with many children left orphaned, Riddle had been a troubled boy, but he'd allowed that troubled past to carry him to manhood, and the chip on his shoulder was something he'd never been able to rid himself of.
Instead, he'd learned to hate, and allowed himself to gradually become the heartless monster that continued to plague Britain today.
Stopping him would not be easy, and though Harry had not seemingly been surprised by what he'd learned, he certainly knew that the task ahead of him was a monumental one.
Still, there was much more for the two of them to discuss.
The hour had gotten late, and with the impending meeting of the Wizengamot, they had retired having only delved into the memories and sharing their first thoughts on them.
Albus was interested to see what Harry had taken away from their time in the pensieve, and that if the young man's thoughts mirrored his own.
Not that Albus wouldn't value a different trail of thought.
Already, he'd proven that he was not infallible when it came to tackling the problem that Tom presented, and he could not deny that Harry had his own unique insight on the Dark Lord.
Even so, Albus believed he was on the right trail, and that a much-needed conversation with Horace might just confirm the unsettling thoughts he had on the matter.
Just one Horcrux was a harrowing enough thought, but if Tom had indeed created several, it would show why they man believed himself to be all but invincible.
After all, he had already come back from the dead once before, and having his body destroyed had done little for his caution.
No, Albus believed that Tom had indeed created more of the soul vessels, but what they were and where was another matter entirely.
Still, between him, Harry, and whatever information they could continue to gather, Albus was hopeful they could be found, but first, he needed to once more seek out Slughorn and just hope his former employee would be willing to share what he undoubtedly knew.
Why else would he hide so diligently if he did not believe his life was in imminent danger?
(Break)
"Your family definitely collected a lot of eclectic things," Morgana commented as Sirius showed her to the room he'd gathered the various items he, the Weasleys, and Hermione had come across during their cleaning of the house.
"Unpleasant crap," Sirius snorted. "You must've seen the wonderful display of house-elf heads adorning the walls of this hellhole."
Morgana nodded.
"What's the reason for that?"
Sirius shrugged.
"I expect most were killed for some imagined slight," he sighed. "My family are well-known for being mostly gits."
"I've met your cousin," Morgana reminded the man.
"Thankfully, she's the worst of us left. My mother was just as fanatical, but not as talented, and my father was too cowardly to ever put his foot down when he needed to. Andromeda is th only good one out of the lot of them. She's Tonks' mum."
"The metamorph."
"A talent that was once quite common in the family," Sirius explained. "Most of us are so inbred that it is a miracle we still resemble humans. No, Andromeda married a muggleborn, Narcissa was married to Lucius Malfoy, and Bellatrix to the Lestranges, but it is the Dark Lord she always wanted, even though he is a half-blood."
"Half-blood?"
"I suppose such things don't matter much where you're from," Sirius said with a frown. "A half-blood is someone who has one magical parent and one muggle parent, or in Harry's case, two magical parents but one born to muggles. That was Lily. James was. Potter, a traditionally pureblood family."
"What males a pureblood?"
"Someone born to parents who can trace a magical lineage back some centuries. I can't remember the ins and outs of it. It's a load of bollocks if you ask me. Just look at Hermione. She's a brilliant witch, but she's a muggleborn. If blood mattered, she wouldn't be half as good as Ron, who is a pureblood."
Morgana could only shake her head.
"It sounds ridiculous."
"It is," Sirius snorted. "Anyway, this stuff in here is locked away because…"
He paused as he inspected the various items.
"KREACHER!" he roared furiously. "GET YOUR WORTHLESS HIDE IN HERE!"
Morgana was taken aback by the sudden outburst and quirked an eyebrow as a house-elf appeared in front of them.
It was dressed in a filthy pillowcase and bowed so low that his nose almost touch the ground.
"Master called for Kreacher?" the elf said, unable to hide his disdain for Sirius.
"You have been in here sneaking around," Sirius accused.
"Kreacher was not sneaking, master," the elf denied. "Master told Kreacher to keep everything dangerous away from the guests. Kreacher is doing that."
Sirius shook his head.
"You will bring everything you took from this room to me, now," he instructed.
Kreacher appeared as though he wished to defy Sirius, but a look of discomfort creased his brow before he vanished.
"He hates me," Sirius explained. "He spent too long in this house listening to my mother's portrait. Then again, he hated me before that because I wasn't like the rest of my family. I left home when I was fifteen. James parents took me in. My Aunt Dorea wasn't much like the rest of the family either."
"James's mother was a Black?"
Sirius nodded.
"You'll find it difficult to find two pureblood families that aren't related. Harry is my third or fourth cousin, or something like that."
Morgana could only shake her head, though her attention shifted once more to Kreacher as he returned carrying an armful of trinkets he'd been hiding.
"This is everything?" Sirius demanded to know.
Kreacher scowled at him before reluctantly removing something else from within the pillowcase, and Morgana's eyes widened.
"My necklace," she whispered.
"Your necklace?" Sirius questioned. "You've been stealing?" he asked the elf dangerously, drawing his wand.
"Kreacher stole nothing!" the elf protested.
"No," Morgana interjected. "He didn't steal it from me, but it's…"
She broke off as she pulled the locket she wore from within her dress.
"It's the same," Sirius whispered.
Morgana nodded and swallowed deeply.
"Salazar gave me this as a wedding gift," she explained. "Kreacher, where did you get it from?" she asked curiously.
The sullen elf met her gaze, and his own seemed to soften as he fumbled over his words.
"M-Master Regulus," he choked. "Master Regulus told Kreacher to destroy it, but Kreacher couldn't, Miss. Kreacher doesn't know how."
"Destroy it?" Morgana murmured as she picked up the locket, shuddering as she felt the invasive magic within.
She immediately dropped it to the floor.
"Something is wrong with it," she said quietly. "Very wrong."
"What do you mean?" Sirius asked, pulling her away from the locket.
"I don't know, but that magic is familiar. I've felt something similar to it before."
Sirius looked towards Kreacher, who was trembling fearfully.
"What do you know about it?" he asked.
"M-Master Regulus had Kreacher help the Dark Lord to hide something," the elf revealed. "The D-Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it, Master. Kreacher didn't want to, but the Dark Lord…"
He broke off and began to sob uncontrollably.
It took several moments for the elf to compose himself, and Sirius and Morgana could only look on in horror as Kreacher laid upon the ground as though he were an inconsolable child.
"Kreacher called to Master Regulus, and he came," the elf continued quietly. "Master Regulus realised what it had become and took it, but he could not escape. He made Kreacher leave him and take the locket to destroy it, but Kreacher does not know how. Kreacher failed Master Regulus."
The elf sobbed once more, pounding his little fist into the ground, and Sirius had paled considerably.
"Kreacher, what happened to Regulus?" he pressed.
Kreacher looked up at them both pathetically.
"They killed him," Kreacher whispered. "Master Regulus was trying to fight them, but there were too many. He tried to give Kreacher water, but they came."
"What came, Kreacher?" Morgana asked.
"The dead."
Morgana felt her heart sink into the pit of her stomach, and as she looked towards the locket, she felt a sense of coldness wash over her.
Whatever had been done to it was not natural, and carefully, she encased it in a protective bubble, immediately feeling better that the magic within was unable to reach them.
Even so, the locket struggled against the magic but was not strong enough to overcome it.
"We need to show this to Harry," she declared. "He will know what to do with it."
"You know what it is?"
Morgana frowned.
"I'm not sure," she admitted. "I have never come across anything like it before, but it feels similar to some things I have briefly studied. If my thoughts are correct, this is soul magic, something that none should delve into."
"Soul magic," Sirius whispered worriedly.
Morgana could only nod in response before turning to Kreacher.
"We will destroy it," she promised the elf. "You did the right thing giving it to us."
Kreacher offered her a weak smile before vanishing from the room with a gentle pop.
"Do you really think Harry will know what to do with it?" Sirius questioned.
Morgana nodded.
She had more than a good idea what it was they had somehow come into possession of, and if she was right it was as much a relief as it was a troubling revelation.
(Break)
The chambers of the Wizengamot were not the most welcoming of places, particularly for those not granted a seat amongst the Lords and Ladies of Britain.
For the most part, if someone found themselves here, it was to face trial for an alleged breach of the law, or even a disciplinary hearing for a worker of the Ministry, or even a student of Hogwarts is the transgression was severe enough.
Albus had never been called here in his capacity as Headmaster of the school.
Even when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened on both occasions, he had chosen to deal with the matter internally.
He had no doubt that Hagrid would've been wrongfully imprisoned for his perceived involvement in what had happened to Myrtle Warren, and despite having his suspicions of who was to blame, he had no proof to push for a prosecution against the young Tom Riddle.
He shook his head at the thought of the boy getting away with murder, as he had done so many times since.
Still, Albus did not know what he could've done differently.
Tom had not been receptive to the nurturing of the other Professors, and even when Albus had tried to break through the dark shroud of the boy, his efforts had been for nothing.
Now, he found himself here, ready to oversee a meeting to replace yet another Minister incapable of waging war against the Dark Lord his former student had become.
He looked on as the other Lords and Ladies arrived in drips and drabs, and as the public gallery filled with members of the media.
Much to his surprise, amongst the attendees was Amelia Bones, who merely shot him a nod of acknowledgement before taking her seat, speaking to none of those around her.
By now, Albus expected much of the shock of what had happened had worn off, and Amelia had reached a stage of anger.
She had always been a formidable witch.
He remembered her fondly from her years at Hogwarts, and how she'd always been intent on becoming an Auror.
She had done so immediately upon graduating and had risen quickly through the ranks.
Now, only the Minister himself wielded more power, but that would soon change.
Albus looked on as the nervous Cornelius fidgeted in his chair, seemingly reluctant to begin the meeting.
He was offered a reprieve of doing so only briefly as Harry entered the room, and the flashes from the cameras belonging to the members of the media began.
In response, Albus crashed his gavel against the top of his podium.
"There will be no photography permitted until after the meeting is concluded," he said firmly, shooting a hard stare towards Rita Skeeter in particular.
The woman offered him a sickly smile in response, and Albus allowed the room to settle, noting that Amelia had made room for Harry to take a seat next to her.
That in itself sent quite the clear the message.
Not only had he earned her respect and admiration, but it also meant that she stood firmly by him.
It was indeed a statement that many would not take well, and Albus did not miss the look of disapproval from the likes of Nott and Yaxley.
When it seemed that there would indeed be no one else arriving, Albus gave the Aurors guarding the door the nod to close them, and he cleared his throat as he tapped his gavel once more.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I call this meeting to order," he declared. "As you are aware, Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, has announced his intention to vacate his current position. Before that can be made official, however, a replacement must be named. During our last gathering, I believe we agreed upon two candidates for consideration. Mr Scrimgeour, and Mr Yaxley, please stand."
The two men did so, though Rufus appeared to be considerably more confident than his opponent.
"Before we hold the vote, I will open the floor to those who wish to advocate or voice their concerns for any of the selected candidates, but you will raise your wand if you wish to do so. There will be order in the chamber."
Several wands were raised, and Albus deflated slightly as most who had done so would look to speak on behalf of Yaxley and throw doubt on the ability of Rufus Scrimgeour.
This would indeed be a long, but Albus had expected such.
Nothing was ever so straight forward when it came to politics.
(Break)
He shook his head as he discarded the newspaper in the nearby fire.
Of course, the media would be singing Potter's praises. What he had achieved was indeed quite the feat of magic, but as ever, the fools seemed to have forgotten just who it was the young man was faced with.
He had not become known as the most powerful Dark Lord in centuries without good reason, and soon enough, they would be reminded why the dared not speak his name.
The thought brought a smirk to his lips, though he allowed it to fade as Severus entered the room.
The Dark Lord would not deny that the man had proven to be perhaps his most useful servant throughout the years, but whether he was truly loyal to him was another matter entirely.
Severus was a master in the Mind Arts, perhaps the Dark Lord's equal, and that alone was troubling.
Was he as loyal as he claimed to be?
Lord Voldemort had called upon Severus's many skills numerous times, and the man had yet to fail him. Nonetheless, to act as a spy for the Dark Lord and Dumbledore simultaneously was not something any could be comfortable with.
"My Lord," the Potions professor greeted him with a respectful bow.
"Severus. I understand that Narcissa Malfoy came to visit you in your home."
If he was surprised by the query, he did not show it.
"She did, my lord. I do not doubt you know why she did so."
"She wishes for you to convince me to change my mind about Draco."
"She does, but I told her it would be foolish to even try. The boy is my godson, but it is you I serve, my lord. I told Narcissa much the same, and only that I would watch over Draco. Nothing more."
The Dark Lord nodded.
"And what of what occurred yesterday?"
"The Bones home was destroyed, my lord, and four Aurors killed. From what I can gather, and although I do not know how, Harry Potter vanquished the Fiendfyre."
The Dark Lord chuckled as he leaned back in his chair.
"You once told me that he was a mediocre wizard."
"That is what I believed, my lord. He had shown flashes of brilliance, I will not deny that, but he was a lazy student with little aptitude for what I taught."
"According to Wormtail, he was able to master the Patronus Charm at only thirteen years old. That is an exceptional feat of magic."
"It is," Severus agreed. "I was not made aware of it until after the incident involving the Dementors."
"And Barty tells me that Potter was most adept at resisting the Imperius Curse, and that he proved to be rather gifted in his Defensive Magic."
"He has always been a stubborn fool, my lord, and I cannot speak to his prowess. He was certainly not so capable before he vanished."
The Dark Lord hummed thoughtfully.
"No, that is not it," he murmured. "You allowed the grudge you had with his father to cloud your judgement, Severus. Even after he was dead, you could not let go of the ill-will you felt for James Potter. It made you bitter, old friend, and you misjudged his son. Either that, or you chose not to tell me just how gifted Harry Potter is. I remember you pleading for his mother's life and had she have complied with my request for her to give him to me, perhaps I would've spared her, for you."
"No, my lord," Snape protested. "Potter never showed any real promise. He did not possess the same aptitude for Transfiguration as his father, nor did he have Lily's brilliance in Charms and Potions."
The Dark Lord shook his head as he released a deep sigh.
He could not tell if the man was being sincere in what he was saying, or he was merely the very best of liars. Regardless, it made Severus Snape as dangerous as any, and given his talent in the Dark Arts, amongst his many others, he was as useful an ally as he was a daunting foe.
"Very well, Severus," Lord Voldemort replied. "Is there anything else to report?"
"No, my lord," Severus replied.
The Dark Lord met his gaze, and as ever, he could glean nothing.
Leaning back in his chair, he nodded to himself.
"I expect you are wondering why I did not share my intentions with you to kill Amelia Bones."
"Your reasons are your own, my lord," Severus said diplomatically. "It is not my place to question your motivations."
"It is not," Voldemort agreed as he stood. "Nonetheless, I will share them with you. You see, Severus, I have had many months to prepare for when Harry Potter eventually returned. Oh, I knew he was not dead. I could feel his presence, sense that he had not perished in the lake. Of course, I did not expect for him to return so spectacularly, and not nearly such a formidable foe, but I have not been idle."
"Of course, my lord," Severus returned. "You have been recruiting and building a strong foundation for your takeover."
"I have," the Dark Lord acknowledged, "but I have been much busier than I have shared with most. Only those who needed to know my intentions were informed. You see, Severus, I could not afford to make the same mistakes as I did last time. War becomes rather irksome. Why take such risks when you were born with all the cunning and guile of an ancestor as great as mine?"
Severus frowned, and Lord Voldemort felt a twinge of discomfort as he mentioned his Slytherin heritage.
It had been this way since Potter had confronted him at Bones Manor, and though it was troubling, it was not a pressing matter.
Not yet, at least.
"I'm afraid I am lost, my lord," Severus said, pulling him from his thoughts.
The Dark Lord chuckled.
"Well, you will soon be found, my friend," he assured the man. "You see, I could not just rely in force to achieve what I wanted, and given how Potter so spectacularly made his return, my work has proven to not have been for nothing. My intention had been to slowly sway the Wizengamot with my influence, but with Dumbledore as the Chief Warlock, I knew it would not be easy. No, swaying the damned fools would not be enough. I needed to control the Ministry of Magic from within."
Severus frowned as the Dark Lord grinned triumphantly.
"Of course, there were those I knew I would not be able to manipulate in such a way. Bones was to be the first of many to die, but it no longer matters," he said dismissively. "My plans have born more fruit than I expected. Come along, Severus. I will show you what it is I have managed to achieve these past months of preparation. I think even you will be quite surprised by just how much will change imminently."
He could not fight the urge to smile as he led the man from the drawing room and towards the basement of Malfoy Manor.
(Break)
Harry could not fathom how any could tolerate listening to the political drivel of the members of the Wizengamot.
Thus far, he'd listened to no less than a dozen men and women share their thoughts on who they believed should be the next Minister of Magic and why, and he wasn't sure how long he could continue to do so.
As expected, those sitting around Lord Nott had each spoken in favour of Corban Yaxley succeeding Fudge, but there were those who had not shied away from speaking out against them, resulting in some rather heated exchanges taking place.
Still, it made for a somewhat entertaining morning, despite the overall dullness of the affair.
"Madam Bones, I believe you have something to say?" Dumbledore addressed to woman sitting to Harry's left.
Bones nodded as she stood, and Harry frowned as every pair of eyes in the room were fixed on her.
He could not quite figure out why, but he suddenly felt distinctly uncomfortable attention by the sheer amount of attention on this part of the room.
Scanning the gathered Lords and Ladies did nothing to alleviate the sudden unease, and as he looked towards the Headmaster, it seemed that Dumbledore felt it too.
Was something happening?
Nothing had seemingly changed at all, and yet, there was an undeniable change in the air.
Perhaps it was merely the presence of the Head for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as she advocated firmly and passionately for Rufus Scrimgeour to be elected the next Minister of Magic, but Harry didn't believe so.
No, it was something else troubling him, and as he continued to listen to the impassioned words of the woman, he kept one hand firmly on his wand, and the other ready to draw his sword.
Although he could not explain the sudden shift, he'd felt something disturb consciousness, and once more, he scanned the room for any sign of anything being amiss.
He saw nothing, and though he did his utmost to calm his thoughts, he remained vigilant, giving nothing away to his suspicions.
(Break)
Over the years he'd served the Dark Lord, Severus had learned to control the feelings of unease he felt around the man.
It wasn't only that he'd murdered the woman he'd loved that made it difficult, but Lord Voldemort's very aura was a disturbing one.
The man had undoubtedly delved into magicks he should have left well alone, and somehow returning from the dead had only made him more unhinged, and even more paranoid than he'd ever been.
What had he done to himself, or better yet, what had returning from the dead done to him?
He'd never been the soundest of people when it came to his emotions and sudden outbursts of fury, but Severus had never forgotten the brilliant mind he possessed.
Seldom few could ever profess to be as intelligent and gifted as the man he'd once chosen to serve, but his mindset had always been as troubling as his excellence.
"You see, Severus, I have been busy preparing for all eventualities, and though I had hoped to simply subjugate the Ministry to my will quietly, but given what has happened in recent days, my plans have changed. Oh, my subtlety throughout these past months will not be overlooked, but I have decided that a more sudden approach is necessary."
Severus said nothing as the Dark Lord opened the door to the basement, though his eyes widened as he looked upon the sight that greeted him.
He did not know many of the people bound within the basement personally, but they prominent figures in the wizarding community he knew of.
There were dozens of them, each tied to a chair, and being carefully observed by several Death Eaters.
Severus quickly deduced what was likely to happen, and he felt a sense of concern fill him.
The Dark Lord had indeed been cunning in what he'd achieved, and he'd accomplished it without Severus's assistance.
The Potions Master frowned at the array of people before him, and he realised the severity of what had occurred.
Magical Britain was in more danger now than it had ever been, and he could only hope that what had happened would be noticed before it was too late.
(Break)
"Something isn't right," Harry murmured quietly as Amelia Bones retook her seat.
"What do you mean?" the woman whispered, not drawing attention to herself by looking at him.
"I don't know, but Dumbledore sees it too. Something is very wrong with all of this."
"Potter, the Wizengamot is under great strain…"
"No," Harry cut in. "This isn't because of the Wizengamot. This is something much worse."
Bones frowned as she carefully looked around the room.
"I think you might be right," she whispered. "Something feels off, but what?"
Harry closed his eyes briefly as the meeting continued, and he could feel something in the air that didn't sit right with him, but it was as he caught the faintest of familiar aromas wafting beneath his nose that it all fell into place.
Before he could speak, however, all but less than two dozen people within the room stood, each sporting black robes, and a bone white mask of the Death Eaters.
"And there it is," Harry murmured darkly, readying himself for the inevitable.
(Break)
The clumps of hair missing from each person was telling, and Severus could only imagine the amount of planning that had gone into executing such a large-scale coup.
Most of the members of the Wizengamot were in the basement of Malfoy manor, which meant those currently attending the meeting were not who they appeared to be.
"Having seen Barty fool Dumbledore using the same disguise, I thought it was a rather apt approach to take again. The old fool knew Moody well, but the same cannot be said for all of the members of the Wizengamot. Before he realises what has happened, it will be too late. Oh, and do not worry yourself about warning him, Severus. I have decided that such a liability can no longer be allowed to cast doubt over my judgement. You have served me well, Severus, and if you are truly loyal to me, you will understand why this must happen."
"My lord…"
Any further protest he would make died on his lips as something impacted heavily against his back, and as Severus turned to see what had struck him, he was greeted by the sight of a pair of red eyes boring into his own, before a large maw opened and closed around his throat.
(Break)
"Merlin, do you have any bright ideas to get us out of here, Potter?" Bones asked nervously.
"Yu will all hand over your wands!" one of the Death Eaters instructed. "No one needs to die here today."
Harry snorted amusedly, and the Death Eater looked towards him.
Even beneath the mask, he could sense the man's disdain.
"Laugh whilst you can, Potter," he spat. "The Dark Lord will deal with you soon enough. You will be coming with us! There is no escape, not even for you!"
In truth, the Death Eater was right.
Whatever had been planned here today had been executed as perfectly as can be.
It wasn't lost on Harry that the majority of the Wizengamot had been taken captive. Wha he couldn't fathom, however, was why didn't those present just vote for Yaxley and be done with it.
"They must provide as sample of their blood to secure their vote," Amelia murmured with a frown, evidently having been pondering the very same thing Harry had. "They can't vote on behalf of a Lord or Lady."
"So, they're planning on just taking the Ministry," Harry replied. "Well, that's not something we can prevent. It is already lost. Even if you could sound an alarm or send for help, it would be too late. I can guarantee that the building is already full of them. BY now, they would've secured it."
"So, we're stuck here?"
Harry shrugged.
"You know the security better than me."
Bones frowned thoughtfully as the Death Eaters began collecting the wands from those around them.
"There are protections in place, but they can only be activated by the current Minister from his office."
"Well, that's just fucking brilliant," Harry snorted humourlessly as he closed his eyes. "And it just gets better."
"What do you mean?" Amelia asked.
"There are scores of Dementors waiting above us. They are being concealed, but I can feel them well enough now."
"So, what the hell can we do?"
"Well, for the most part, I will do what I always do."
"And what exactly is that?"
"Make it up as we go along, but for now, we will need some help."
"From whom? If you haven't noticed, Potter, we are significantly outnumbered."
"True, but my wife is quite the woman, Madam Bones," Harry said with a grin.
The woman rolled her eyes.
"Your wife isn't here," she pointed out.
"No, but she is now on her way, and she is rather pissed off."