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• Chapter One: Defenseless Muggles Chapter Two: Defenseless? Not Defenseless at All Chapter Three: The First of Three Visitors Chapter Four - Alastor Moody and Ted Granger Chapter Five - The Paladin Program Chapter Six - An Offer Vernon Can't Refuse Chapter Seven - Harry Potter: Spell Monger, Paladin, and Heir Chapter Eight - Aberration Day Chapter Nine - Interim Chapter Ten - Sanctuary Chapter Eleven - Conversations and Confrontations Chapter Twelve - Chatting with Hermione and Thunderfire Chapter Thirteen - Harry Goes International Chapter Fourteen - Harry and the Wizengamot Chapter Fifteen - The Three-Thirty-Three Families Chapter Sixteen - Business and Pleasure Chapter Seventeen - Private Lesson or First Date Chapter Eighteen - There's Fighting and Then There's Fighting Chapter Nineteen - Coming to an Understanding Chapter Twenty - The Founding Mothers and Fathers Chapter Twenty-One - Peace In Our Time Chapter Twenty-Two - A Day That Will Live In Infamy!
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Chapter Fourteen - Harry and the Wizengamot

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My gratitude goes to my writing coach, Kokopelli, my outstanding proof reader, ebdarcy, and my beta reader, Ninkenate. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  

A/N - This chapter is dedicated to Crys, an author on FanFicAuthors.net that inspired me to delve into Wizarding government. His story, Scion of Gryffindor, was the very first political Harry Potter fanfic I read, and still ranks in the top three of that list in my book. My Wizengamot is vastly different from his, but he's the one who kicked over the cauldron of creative juices that galvanized my imagination for government in this story. Thanks, C!

 

Harry usually woke up by 5:00 AM at the latest which meant it was barely light out, but when he awoke this day, it was very bright indeed. That in itself was strange, and this was not his bed or his room.

"It must be nearly 7:00," Harry thought. After the vampire negotiations, the last thing he remembered was noticeably trembling in Dumbledore's arms as they barely made it back to the Hogwarts Coach before his knees turned to mush.

Harry reached out his hand and wordlessly summoned his glasses. They were in his hands and on his face in moments. This room was not familiar at all, but the voice he heard certainly was.

"Good morning, Harry. When Dobby came looking for you this morning, I had him deliver your usual breakfast, and ordered the same for myself. I hope you don't mind. Of course, I had no idea how much food you normally eat to break the night's fast. There's more food here than I eat in a week of mornings." The headmaster chuckled to himself, and Harry thought he could hear Dumbledore's eyes twinkling.

"I normally eat after two hours of exercise, or more. I'm ravenous then, and I'm actually pretty hungry now," Harry stated. "Why'd you let me sleep, Professor? I'm usually up long before now."

"You needed it, my boy. You were physically exhausted or you would not have slept for nine hours. You even slept through my levitating you up from the carriage. I took the liberty of asking Dobby about your rest habits. Six hours may be normal for you, but you haven't had any down time since the battle of Little Whinging. Some Muggle militaries use the delightful term 'R and R' for 'Rest and Recreation.' Other than your pause for a few hours on your birthday, you've had no recreation to distract you from your recent troubles and your strenuous schedule.

Harry winced. "Is that what they're calling it, the battle of Little Whinging? And who named it that?"

"The Aurors and the Order, now that Arabella Figg and Kingsley Shacklebolt have retold their stories from that day. It hasn't made the Daily Prophet, yet, and hopefully it won't."

Harry rose with a questioning look on his face and Dumbledore pointed him to a small side room water closet. When Harry returned he asked, "Where am I?"

"In the sitting room for the headmaster's private chambers, just off my office. I did not wish to take you through to St. Simon's last night and I have certain privileges as headmaster that allow me to open up certain stairways and doors unknown to others. Therefore, placing you here by levitation was easier than you might think.

"I took the liberty of asking Mister George Weasley to take your Paladin 'visit' this morning. Their research facility, what they mischievously call their 'Skunkworks,' is on the grounds here, and he's participated in a few visits for us, even though Fred has taken many more. Dobby informed me that you had nothing else scheduled for the morning or the rest of the day for that matter, and he agreed that you should sleep in. Dobby does worry about you so, and I find I do, too, for that matter. I hope you don't mind, but you needed the rest. I also want to chat with you a bit more about your position as teaching assistant this coming year, and several other things, if you will."

Harry nodded with a dubious look on his face, but when his stomach growled, they both laughed. Harry then agreed to a chat if they could talk over breakfast.

After filling his plate to overflowing, Harry asked, "What's on your mind, Professor?"

"To begin, Harry, I do believe last night was the first time you've been in a fight without either being knocked unconscious or taking a Sleeping Draught shortly thereafter. Oh, and I must confess one last thing from the time of your battle at the Department of Mysteries, I slipped you a mild Sleeping Draught that night as well. Those forced rests have provided you with the release you need for your emotions right after those battles.

"Last night, you had a very common occurrence of the 'shakes' from the strain of fighting Ratner, and then negotiating with the vampires. Ask Ted Granger, Remus Lupin or Alastor Moody; they'll all tell you that you need a release after such events if you can't conk out altogether.

"Some warriors turn to drunkenness. Some go 'wenching' as they call it, or get into fights. I myself have suffered from the shakes a number of times after a battle. Like you, strong drink, loose women, and brawling are not my style. I find either chamber music or ten-pin bowling diverts me most satisfactorily.

"You, on the other hand, might like something a little more 'active' shall we say? Oh, and I should have told you earlier, that Professor Flitwick finished removing all of the hexes and jinxes from your Firebolt three days ago. Mr. Filch only found it in the dungeon seven days ago, I believe it was. So for your R and R, I prescribe a good flying session. I think I should require it of you today actually, and you might consider self-medicating with liberal amounts of flying from time to time in the future. Flying always helped me until I started suffering from lumbago in the '30s. Strenuous broom maneuvers were never very comfortable after that."

"Now, on to discussions of your new position, if we may." Harry nodded. He set down his fork, finished with his meal, and picked up his coffee cup, which had refilled since he last set it down. The now unnecessary plate disappeared.

"You did agree to the proposed position as I described it yesterday, didn't you? After further consideration have you decided to take four classes only, or do you want another?"

"Just the four we discussed for now, Professor. The business and political short courses interest me as possibilities for seventh year, though I don't have the time with this schedule, and I may not have the time next year either. In the meanwhile, Director Gultangk from Gringotts has sent me a few books on business that I'm half way through. Also, I want to discuss the Wizengamot with you, but that can wait until I fully understand my position here. Fighting this war is most important. In the future, when that is finished, I will be able to hire tutors or advisors on any subject I want to understand that I couldn't fit in at Hogwarts."

"Very good, Harry. Oh, and three of the visiting Defense professors coming to Hogwarts this year will soon be sending me their plans for special instruction for you in your personal late afternoon training sessions.. After reviewing those plans, we can search for any additional training you or I feel you require. I will train you myself in anything I can that these instructors do not list." Harry nodded and quietly expressed his thanks.

"Now, it may look like I have put you in a difficult position as a teaching assistant or TA, but I think I have not. Actually, if you look at the Hogwarts Staff Handbook and follow it, you'll find I have given you an opportunity to work the existing 'system,' shall we say, to your advantage.

"In the regular Defense and Practice Defense classes, you will be addressed as 'Mr. Potter,' even by the sixth and seventh-years. You've proven you can teach most ages. The other students, with a few exceptions, will readily accept your new role. Those students who do not want to accept your position will have to respect you as a teacher, or suffer for it as you act in accordance with the teacher's methods of punishment as outlined in the Staff Handbook.

"As long as you comport yourself as a teacher and don't react to students in your classes like another student would, you will find plenty of guidance in the Staff Handbook on how to deal with misbehavior. Follow the handbook, and I will back your actions to the hilt.

"That book clearly states, and I quote, 'Students who do not respect the position or person of a staff member may be assigned, by that staff member or other staff members, appropriate detentions and/or deletion of house points as may fit the offense.' Therefore, any student who insults you as an instructor or insults you, Harry Potter, while you are teaching, can be punished.

"I do advise you to start slowly. If Mr. Malfoy calls you Scarhead or St. Potter, I believe those are two of his favorites, start off with five to ten points and a warning. Slowly escalate from there. Do not do as you have seen Severus do, dispensing discipline based on past slights. If you discipline Draco initially remembering all of his past insults, you will be no better than Severus. And I do believe you capable of being a better teacher than he is."

"Professor," Harry interjected. "I appreciate your candor, but aren't you being, I don't know, too candid with me?"

Dumbledore twinkled. "I am having an initial orientation session with a new member of my staff. I am using examples from that staff member's experiences here at Hogwarts about how not to do his job. When newly appointed Potions Master Severus Snape and I had this conversation, I used Minerva as an example of how best to discipline students. She had been Severus's Transfiguration professor for all seven years that he was here.

"And Harry, this is strictly in confidence. Do I have to make it any clearer that the examples in this discussion are never to be mentioned to anyone else?" Harry shook his head and grinned.

Dumbledore twinkled and continued, "I believe you already know how to teach. However, a very real temptation for you to act inappropriately as a staff member will be the urge to deal improperly with those students who will taunt you. Be firm but fair from the start with Mr. Malfoy and any others who treat you incorrectly, and you'll see yourself respected even more by all the other students, and eventually, at least left alone by your detractors.

"Mr. Malfoy does not like Minerva, but she has dealt properly and evenly with all those who have tested her over the years, and so Draco does not disrupt her class in any way, anymore. However, I do believe she reports that he attempts some act of defiance at the start of each year, which she squelches instantly, providing the class with smooth sailing until June.

"I asked several members of your Defense Association to tell me how you gained their initial trust and ongoing respect as an instructor. All of them told similar stories of your abilities. I have no doubt that you will do us all proud as a teacher here. Your challenges will be along the order of Mr. Smith's questioning why you were to be in charge at the initial DA meeting. You handled that well, but had no authority to enforce his compliance. Fred Weasley, or was it George, threatened him, and that, along with all the others accepting you, added to your successful approach to enlist the trust of all of your participants.

"From the outset, you now have the trust of almost all of your students in all years, and the ministry employees you will train as well, because... well, because you are Harry Potter." Harry's eyebrows met in the middle with distaste, but Dumbledore held up his hand and said, "You will have their trust, not because you are the Boy-Who-Lived, but because of how you've proven yourself over the years. The students you led last year have spread news of your victories to the three houses you taught, and I daresay Slytherins have heard the stories as well, though probably with more than a grain of skepticism.

"Most of the Ministry employees that will be coming here for training this year will have even more respect for you. The story of your capture of eleven Death Eaters in their very own building is quite well known, and it's a surprisingly accurate rendition I might add. The parents of many of your DA work for the Ministry and have also passed around stories from their children. Arthur Weasley has been approached on a number of occasions to clarify the tales, and he has tried to squelch any over aggrandizing. Pontilla Edgecombe personally told me about the letter you sent her Marietta. Madam Edgecombe guards your reputation now as closely as Molly Weasley does. And Mafalda Hopkirk has made sure that her observations of your use of magic at the Battle of Little Whinging are known to a limited degree. She consulted with me, and we agreed not to disclose the full range and power you displayed that day, but she still has a most impressive story to tell."

Harry looked disgruntled. "I hate this, Professor?"

"I know you do, Harry, and I did not tell you about it earlier because the telling is out of my control. I could no more stop the stories than stop the tide coming in or going out. What I have attempted was to keep it accurate, or even downplay your achievements. I hope you don't mind."

Harry sighed. "No, Professor, your efforts were for the best, as usual. The gossip is something I don't want to know about, and I've made that clear, so telling me was not essential. I also see that it will serve our cause. Those looking for hope will find it; those thinking about turning to Riddle might think again. And if it makes it easier to teach more people to defend themselves, then so be it."

Harry waved his hand in the air dismissively. With a look of disgust on his face he asked, "How do you stand it? I've only had to deal with my fame for five years, and fame with popularity for only a small amount of time during those years. Over half the time people thought me the Heir of Slytherin, the Tri-Wizard gatecrasher, or a dangerous lunatic. You've had an adoring public since 1945 at least, and probably before that. Why aren't you barricaded in the North Tower and as mad as Professor Trelawney?"

Dumbledore twinkled vibrantly. "I'm afraid, Harry, the only way to survive is to learn to ignore it. I act mad and odd, and I am a bit mad for that matter. I've developed a public persona that makes approaching me something few do, but they are delighted when I approach them. It limits my contact with people but gives me a friendly reputation. I don't really know how I did it so I can't give you advice on the process. I will tell you that I do attempt to arrive unnoticed right where I want to be, when I want to be, and then show myself. Your use of that black robe and the Disillusionment charm has served you in good stead according to Remus. But you and I will both always have our detractors, I know I do."

Harry snorted his disbelief.

"No, I assure you I do, and not just from last year's smear effort by Minister Fudge and the Daily Prophet. I can give you the names of thirty or more students who dislike me to this day as their Transfiguration professor, and many more who dislike me as headmaster. You will find that I am even more disliked by a significant minority of the Wizengamot members, and trusted only tentatively by many others."

Dumbledore twinkled at him. Harry twinkled his eyes back. Dumbledore nearly choked on his tea. "How did-?"

Harry grinned a wicked grin. "I never could find a charm or spell in any book to tell me how your eyes twinkle, so I decided to study light and light refraction through liquids and see what I could come up with.

"When I first mongered the minute power variance factors of the Thunderfire charm, I discovered that I could make it very weak, which is useless. Then when I did the work to make the close-in version I used on Baron Ratner last night, I decided I could make an amount of Thunderfire so small that it would look like your twinkle. For the charm I used on Ratner I placed a renewable spell trigger on my fingers to release that measured amount when I silently snap them. I also went ahead and placed a renewable trigger in the inside corner of my right eye. It takes so little power that I can snap it off, wordlessly and wandlessly.

"The trick was aiming it, but I realized that if I pointed it straight out and applied a thirty degree dispersion of the projected light while gazing straight ahead, most looking at me would see it as my eyes twinkling like yours do. You are the first person other than Dobby and Winky to see it. Apparently it works.

"How do you twinkle your eyes, Professor, what charm do you use?"

Dumbledore blushed. "It's no bit of magic at all, Harry. I have spent over ninety years practicing how to use light in the room and the angle of my glasses to twinkle at people. How much would you charge to sell me that charm?"

Harry obviously looked stunned. "Er, that is, well, why don't we work it out in trade or barter? I haven't even thought about packaging it for sale. I'm floored by your admission."

Dumbledore twinkled at him. "I might buy it from you, or trade with you, but now that I think about it, I don't know if I could stop using my method. It's hard to teach an old kneazle new tricks."

They started out chuckling, and then began guffawing over the situation.

"Oh, laughter and music do the heart good like medicine," Dumbledore said and chuckled some more. "Oh, I have one more point to go over with you about being on staff. May I?" Harry nodded his assent. "In the Practical Defense classes just follow your lesson plans. They are truly excellent. In the traditional Defense classes, follow the lesson plan as the specific instructor outlined or as you jointly modify it before hand. Let your colleague lead the class unless the offer is made for you to lead. If you disagree with an instructor, just let him or her lead the class and discuss matters in private later. It is the instructor's individual primary responsibility, and I must stress that I do not want students to see dissension in the ranks of my teachers." Dumbledore took another sip of his tea.

"You do know I daresay that your greatest challenge will be co-teaching with Severus? I'm sure I don't tell you something new there. Once again, the Staff Handbook should guide you. The single most important principle for you to remember in dealing with other staff members is, and I quote, 'Treat others as they have treated you.'"

"Professor, you don't mean the Golden Rule, 'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you?'"

"No, dear boy, and how I wish it were. It is exactly, 'Treat others as they have treated you.' It is a civilized version of 'An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.' Most staffers always try to be most polite and mindful of others. Cordiality solicits cordiality. Severus is most careful to be civilized to other staff members. His sharp tongue gets the better of him from time to time, but I must say that there are several staff members who can beard the lion in his own den when he becomes too abrupt. Each staff member can have friends among the staff and discuss anything and everything in the manner they choose in private, but publicly we each act as we want to be treated because to act improperly gives any one we mistreat the right to mistreat in kind."

Dumbledore looked Harry deeply in his eyes. "Harry, I have made it clear to Professor Snape that I will explain this to you in this manner. You may treat him as he treats you, if he acts unacceptably. But be on guard. Mr. Malfoy is not the only one who can trigger your anger. If you act rashly, Severus can respond in kind. I am not foolish enough to think you two will be all milk and honey in your interactions but do be careful. And be forewarned, if you act wrongly in a class, I will be most forceful in exerting my prerogative to mete out punishment to my staff."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, relieving the tension. "And Harry, there is no shame in leaving his presence if he treats you badly. Come to me, and I will deal with him for you. In the staff room and with someone like Professor McGonagall around, you can look to us to help you. He should not act poorly in front of another staff member once school begins and you officially take your new position.

"Be innocent as a lamb but sly as a serpent. If you are not, it will open you up for difficulties. You have to take the highroad and stay there in front of the students. If you do, then I cannot only protect you, but correct Severus most severely. But he is no fool and suffers fools not one bit."

"Er, Professor, too many cliches and generalities. I need examples."

"Of course, of course." Dumbledore took a deep breath and thought for a few moments. "How to explain? Ah, yes."

"You already started on the high road by expressing your apologies to him yesterday. Oh my, that does seem ages ago doesn't it?" Harry grinned. "Anyway, you started very well and set a high bar of behavior. He now has to at least appear in that realm of treatment towards you, or he has in fact broken the rule in not treating you as you treated him."

"So," Harry interrupted. "I can set a higher level of treatment to another staffer and it requires him to behave well in return?"

"We cannot compel proper actions, but when you set a high standard, you make average treatment look poorly, and bad manners that much more abhorrent. The reverse is also true as I've said."

Dumbledore set down his cup and saucer and leaned back looking out a window. Harry gave him time to collect his thoughts.

"I am an old fool but I am not foolish enough to believe Severus will always act appropriately towards you, even though he has agreed to do so. He could not hold himself accountable yesterday when I was present. He will act improperly in the future. You no doubt know that he would love to see you fail, but he has to be subtle about it. I do believe he will encourage Mr. Malfoy to test you right away. If a student causes you to act inappropriately, you and this program are called into question. That alone is not enough to see you set down as an instructor, unless you do something terrible to him. Enough other students seeing you act inappropriately will cause them to not believe in you as well, and your performance goes down with you. The merit of your position and the Practical Defense course rises and falls with you, but I must say I cannot imagine them in better hands than yours.

"Lowering the standards of staff-to-staff treatment in the classes is the most serious offense of the Staff Handbook code. Doing so in the corridors or Great Hall, school grounds, etcetera, is nearly as serious. Alone, in the staff quarters area or in the staff rooms or staff offices, any infractions will be less serious, but more likely.

"You, as a student, do not have access to the staff quarters areas. You will have an office of your own, and access to all staff rooms. Our weekly staff meetings on Wednesday mornings at 7:00 usually last only a half hour or less. I require all staff members, including you to attend.

"These are the places where Severus will test you regularly. I imagine you can guess how well liked he is among the staff when he misbehaves. He disrespects Professor Trelawney, and Hagrid. He usually avoids them as I have more than encouraged him to do. Away from them he can be a bit charming. He has a droll sense of humor and can be a stimulating conversationalist. Minerva and I have enjoyed getting to know him better this summer as we have worked together on the Paladin Program

"Severus has a keen analytical mind, though he is less than charming when shooting holes in one's theories as you might imagine. I told you he is brilliant at administration, and would serve the Ministry well. However, Severus would appear to have the patience of Job with students compared to his lack of patience for government."

Dumbledore stopped and took off his glasses, wiping them on an enormous chartreuse handkerchief that appeared from somewhere in his robes. He placed the glasses back on his nose, and twinkled at Harry. Harry twinkled in return. They both nearly giggled.

"I must say, Harry, reserve it for a perfect moment, but twinkling at Severus at an opportune time will unsettle him deliciously. Please try to save it for when I am there, or consider sharing the memory with me later."

Dumbledore's face became serious. "Harry, I believe the Staff Handbook will give you all you need to work through your difficulties with Severus and prove both yourself and the Practical Defense program. You can officially protect yourself from him. Assaulting your mind with Legilimency would bring about a severe reprimand, if not dismissal for example, so now you are protected from that."

"So staff members are protected from it, but students aren't?"

"No, I am afraid not. I must confess that I cannot ask the Board of Governors to make that a rule. I have on rare occasions had to use it on a student, though there have been a few additional times I wish I had." Dumbledore looked down with this admission.

"Have you used it on me, Professor?"

Dumbledore paused and looked hurt to a degree. "I was tempted to, Harry, but I never did. I wanted to during the Chamber of Secrets debacle; I could tell you were hiding something, but I felt that if it were truly a problem you would come to me. I was also tempted to do so when your name came out of the Goblet of Fire, but the stricken look on your face told me in an instant what I needed to know.

"I want to maintain the right to use Legilimency in spite of the potential for misuse. If I suspect a student of Death Eater activity, a clear and present danger here at the school, I want the right to search his mind. That's why I have not removed the prerogative. I have always asked that teachers who can, and Severus is the only one currently on staff who has the skill, do not use this talent on students. I believe Severus when he says that he has not, except in his feeble attempts at training you, for which I once again apologize.

"I have spoken with William Martin about the state of your mind when he started teaching you, and again just recently. He is convinced you will be fully qualified as an Occlumens by late September at the latest, and as a Legilimens by Christmas. Learning the first properly and in that order makes learning the second much easier and quicker. That will be a part of your special training schedule for the afternoons during the school year, and you may go to St. Simon's whenever you wish to continue, once you are no longer in residence there." Dumbledore paused and looked thoughtful.

"I believe that is all I planned to discuss regarding your status as a teaching assistant, a position you only have during Defense and Practical Defense classes, and during staff meetings.

"For several reasons I want you to have the rights, privileges, and responsibilities of a prefect at all times. First, I would not have you stripped of all authority outside of the classroom to act officially on your own behalf and for your friends, and to protect any and all in need. Second, I want you able to wander the corridors officially at all hours for security purposes. I do believe you have proven a bit prescient shall we say, when it comes to finding trouble going on in the school at odd hours. I want to harness that ability. However, you must not use this as a means to prank others. To do so would undermine what we are trying to do. You must guard yourself from any such involvements, more so than Miss Granger has ever done.

"Third, it gives you another reason to be in contact with other house prefects. I hope you will be able to bridge the gaps that have arisen between houses. Do you know that in my days at Hogwarts Slytherin house was as well respected as Gryffindor? They may have even had a little more honor than Gryffindor, though I am loath to admit it. They were not known then as the Dark Lord and Dark Arts breeding ground for malice and bigotry. Dark leaning witches and wizards did tend to come from that house a bit more than others, but they were few and far between, and all other houses had their share, too, unfortunately.

"I hope in giving you this role as teaching assistant and as unofficial prefect for security issues that you will be able to befriend many more students from other houses than you did as leader of your DA. I am not charging you with this task; I merely want you to be on the lookout for such opportunities. You did it naturally before, so now I want you to be a little more conscious of the possibilities.

"This leads me to the students in Slytherin house. I had hoped that Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass would enroll as Paladins. They could then have led the formation of a non-Voldemort leaning faction in that house more successfully. To be sure, they believe there is an advantage in blood purity, which I cannot fully disagree with."

"What," Harry interrupted. "The Weasleys are pureblood and Hermione is a Muggleborn-"

Dumbledore held up his hand. "Harry, every situation has its advantages and disadvantages. Purebloods usually have a strong grounding in the capabilities of the magical world as one obvious example. How many concepts, practices, etcetera, are you and Miss Granger completely unaware of that the Weasleys and Malfoys of this world take for granted and use as naturally as you breathe?"

Not waiting for a response Dumbledore continued, "In like manner, Purebloods have little or no understanding or appreciation of the Muggle world. When I was in America I saw a computer. What a marvelous device for storage and retrieval of information by the library shelf full. Not to mention the incredible ways it can be used to draw and revise drawings. I've always wanted that talent.

"Well, the Americans, wisely using the Squibs among them, have created ways for computers, all electronic devices actually, to work in a magical environment such as Hogwarts, with limitations of course. Now, if Mr. Malfoy is even aware of such marvelous inventions, I would be surprised. You have probably not been allowed near a computer at the Dursleys' I imagine." Harry shook his head.

"And yet, I would wager that our Miss Granger is not only aware of the creations, but probably has considerable mastery. And these are only two simplistic examples of Purebloods and Muggleborn having both advantages and disadvantages. Probably, a half-blood living with parents who raise him or her in both worlds has the strongest position in this comparison.

"Back to Miss Greengrass and Mr. Zabini. They come from families that pride themselves on their pureblood heritage, but do not want to discriminate against others in business or government. They tend to vote in the Wizengamot toward a pureblood agenda, but not always, and not for anything that is more obviously Dark leaning. They vote their own interests, which most of us do, so I cannot blame them for that."

Dumbledore leaned in towards Harry. "And when I say 'vote,' Harry, I mean much more than in the Wizengamot. People vote primarily with their coin purses. They vote when they choose one store over another. They vote when they do or do not send their children to this school or that, when they eat in one restaurant or another. And mostly they vote when they choose their friends. I said friends, not associates. In the Wizengamot I associate with many people that I would not invite to my home for a family dinner, yet I would invite them to a formal party for friends and associates of all areas of our world that I participate in.

"So even though Miss Greengrass and Mr. Zabini did not elect to join you as Paladins, you would serve our cause well, your cause well, if you try to cultivate a relationship with them in as many classes as you can. Miss Tracy Davis and Mr. Carl Spinks from Slytherin are both Paladins. Do you know them?" Harry shook his head. Dumbledore stated, "They are both bright and capable, but they are not of old pureblood families, though they have pure enough blood lines to suffer no ostracism for it. They are unfairly not considered leaders in that house. Do befriend them, or at least try. They are both very intelligent and can help you befriend Blaise and Daphne, as well as any other Slytherin you may decide to approach. I have chatted with them, and both are willing to cautiously work with you on this. And you have Miss Bulstrode's commitment, which should help as well.

"Any questions on this, Harry?"

"Not really, sir. I hadn't given it much thought, but I guess I don't think of Ernie Macmillan or Michael Corner as friends, but they could be valuable associates in their houses. They seem to be leaders to some degree, and I could work with them easily on many things. Both of them would probably do as classroom assistants in lower years for the PD."

"PD? Oh, Practical Defense courses. Very good, and easier to say."

"Professor, I would like to know more about the Wizengamot, particularly the Three Hundred and Thirty-Three Families."

"Yes, you said so, and I have arranged something special for you. But let me tell you just a little more about young Mr. Malfoy.

"Today is Wednesday the seventh of August. I have five more days before I cannot stop Mr. Malfoy from completing the potions series without harming him. Your fellow Paladins will take their last potion on August twenty-second by the way. Anyway, Professor Snape has arranged for a chat tomorrow morning between Draco, Severus, and myself."

Dumbledore's eyes lost all twinkle or mirth. He looked as stern as McGonagall might. "I will go over with Mr. Malfoy what I have discovered about his actions towards others, excluding you until the very end. I do not want to make this about you, Harry. I will show him that I am aware of his actions towards Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Gryffindors. Bullying those younger and weaker than him is most odious, and so unworthy of a Paladin as to be unimaginable.

"I will make it clear that I will not accept this type of behavior, and then give him a few minutes to discuss this alone with Severus. He will not leave the room without either committing to better behavior, or taking the Termination potion for the program. He will be a Paladin in deed as well as name, or not be one at all. I hope I will not have to bring up you or your close friends at all, but I will if necessary."

"Why give him time with Professor Snape to discuss this?"

"I hope Severus will help bring the light of reason to his deliberations."

Harry looked at the headmaster disbelievingly. "That, or Snape may help him figure out a way to make a verbal commitment that will still leave him wiggle room to do as he pleases, to a degree at least."

"You still suspect Severus, even after my placing you on staff?"

"Is Professor Snape the man you expect to teach Draco how to behave properly?? Harry's anger was evident. "Yesterday I apologized to him for a few infractions. You had to force him to accept it. Your Professor Snape has much more to apologize to me about, yet did he? No! He knows no right from wrong."

Harry stood in frustration and immediately sat back down. "I believe that your Professor Snape mistreats non-Slytherins the way he does because he can get away with it. Do you deny that? How will that man teach Draco right from wrong? I challenge you to use Fred and George's Extendable Ears for the time you allow Snape to counsel Draco about his commitment to this program. Are you confident enough to listen in?"

"Perhaps," the headmaster said sadly.

Harry sighed again. "Here's my commitment to you," he said. "I will read the Staff Handbook very carefully, and I will treat Malfoy in class more properly than Snape has ever treated my friends or me on his best day. With some indulgence to all, I will apply proper punishment to anyone who deserves it, no favoritism to any.

"Oh, is Draco still a prefect after his actions on Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Unfortunately, he and his cohorts acted in accordance with and usually under direct supervision of the designated authority. My hands are tied, but that is on my list of things to discuss with him."

Harry responded, "I expected something like that. Working the system to do his dirty deeds, how Slytherin, and how not doing the right thing because it is the right thing to do." Harry stood and took a turn of the small open area of the headmaster's sitting room.

"As a prefect I will follow their rules to the letter, but I will expect Draco to do so also, and I will bring his slightest infraction to your attention immediately."

"You'll find, Harry, that the rules state you must take it to his head of house." Dumbledore sighed again.

"Ah, another reason why everyone else acts as they should as a prefect, but few Slytherins prefects do."

Harry became quiet for a moment. "Professor, I will meet Draco word for word and action for action. If he says something, I'll only use words back at him. I'll even try to find a way to stop his verbal abuse instead of arguing with him. However, if he pulls his wand, I'll beat him to the draw. And if he hurts me or any one else, or even attempts it, I will fight fire with fire."

"What do you mean Harry?"

"Oh, just that if Draco, or anyone, including your Professor Snape attacks me with any sort of deadly force, I'll attack back with equal force. I'm not talking about the spells we'll use in a classroom. However, outside of the classroom even an Impediment Jinx I'll consider a serious attack. Too much can be done to someone after they are tied up."

"Make sure Snape and Malfoy know I feel this way, Professor. I'll act on it regardless of whether you do or not. If they attack me or my friends..." Harry let those words hang in the air.

Dumbledore looked down. He inhaled deeply after a moment and then slowly released it. Still looking down he said, "It is to my everlasting shame that you feel you must ask this of me. It is to my shame that you are right; I have failed in teaching what is right to all my students."

Harry immediately looked shocked. Though he meant his words of the last few minutes, he regretted the tone he had taken with his mentor. He said, in a conciliatory manner, "Professor, I am angry about this, but I am not angry at you. You've shown me great kindness, and in the last week or so you have begun to make good on your promise of creating a new relationship between us on an appropriate yet more equal footing. I am grateful for this and not unaware of how many would envy me this opportunity.

"Please realize that Malfoy showed up at the door of Hogwarts for sorting already bent this way, before you ever laid eyes on him. His father trained him to believe he had the right to do as he wanted and have his selfish way. Snape probably had similar training, although... never mind, I saw something in his memories from his childhood, and I have committed to him not to mention it to anyone. That brief glimpse, however, told me that even though his life was different, it was equivalent in outcome to Draco's as I see it.

"Perhaps, you could have done something with Snape the student. That is for you to determine, but you'll not hear me pronounce judgment on the matter. I doubt you would have succeeded. However, I will say that I think fixing Draco would have been too much, even for you."

They maintained silence for nearly a minute. "Do we need to discuss this further, Harry?" Dumbledore had a most grateful look on his face.

"I don't think so. I'll read the Staff Handbook and the Prefects Handbook and follow the letter of the law as closely as I can. I'll not become Percy Weasley, but I'll make Hermione proud when it comes to most things."

Harry paused and then said, changing the subject, "Now, what can you tell me about the Wizengamot?"

"Ah, yes. As a Three Thirty-Three Family head, you have a responsibility to be informed. You've asked for a book or books, but unfortunately, there is little written on it. That is by law. Only a history of what actions have been taken and laws passed or not passed can be recorded for general consumption. The head of a Three Thirty-Three Family receives an officially approved book each year on the anniversary of his or her first day entering the Wizengamot Legislative Assembly."

"That room where I was put on trial last summer?" Harry asked.

"Good heavens, no, Harry. That was the Wizengamot Judicial. Each year in the spring thirty-three members of the Three-Thirty-Three stand for the Judicial and are elected to attend serious court trials. Usually they are older and retired from work, so they have the time, and hopefully the wisdom to serve in that capacity. The Head of Magical Law Enforcement, the Minister, and the Minister's Undersecretary for Law and Order are the exceptions. They are automatically allowed to participate in the Judicial also.

"The Wizengamot Legislative Assembly comprises all of the Three-Thirty-Three family heads wishing to attend, or their designees. They meet every Tuesday and Thursday starting at 10:00 AM, and generally finish between noon and one for a late lunch. They can go longer but do so less than ten percent of the time.

"I have taken the liberty of arranging for you to be escorted to a Legislative Assembly tomorrow, or starting as soon as you choose to go. There are seven more Assembly days before school begins.

"I have arranged for Elphias Doge to meet you there. He'll take you to the observation gallery, show you around, and explain to you how things work. He is preparing his grandson to take his place as a Family head when his eighteenth birthday occurs. You remember Elphias from your guard on the broom ride from the Dursleys' to Grimmauld Place last summer, don't you?"

"I remember his face, but we never really talked."

"Did you know his grandson, Trevor Doge, a Ravenclaw that just finished Hogwarts?" Dumbledore continued once Harry shook his head in the negative. "A family head can lose his right to rule for disciplinary actions, or a member can sell his right. The loss can be temporary or permanent. Elphias' great-grandfather sold his right to rule for four generations to finance a flying carpet business. He thrived but lost the business when flying carpets were outlawed. However, the family does have a comfortable savings to rest on from the venture.

"Trevor will be the generation to receive back the right to rule once he turns eighteen on...August 31st, I believe it is. So Elphias has begun training him. The two of them will meet you near the judicial rooms tomorrow, if you choose, or whatever day you'd like to start. I took the liberty of having your Paladin 'visits' rearranged for the remaining Tuesdays and Thursdays, knowing your interest in this."

"That's fine, Professor, thanks. That book you mentioned..."

"Ah, yes. You might think, particularly if you've read many magical or Muggle governmental publications, that a book by government about governing would be convoluted and difficult at best. This book is not so, because it is designed to be useful to those who actually legislate and need clear guidance. It is unavailable to those who are not Three-Thirty-Three Family heads, therefore they allow it to be more frank about procedures, powers, and privileges. If you go tomorrow, you should sit in the observation gallery with Elphias and Trevor and ask any questions you wish. Then, once the Assembly is over, go down and enter the Assembly room itself. The room will recognize you as the head of the Potter and Black families without enrolling you as an active Wizengamot member, and will produce your own book for you, current and up to date with any changes made up to and including yesterday's meeting.

"Each time a change to the book is legislated, you will receive the updated pages by Ministry owl. Place them in the front of your book and it will be updated. Each year on or after the anniversary of your first day in the chamber, you may enter that room and receive a new copy. You must have the old version with you and it will disappear moments before the new one appears.

"I cannot tell you how important it is to keep this book safe. Not that it is a security risk. When you open it, you will feel the tiniest of finger pricks as it takes a drop of you blood, sealing the book so you and only you may use it. Even though it is blood sealed, if you should lose your book, the assembly would be notified once you did not update your book after any change was enacted. Losing it would be very embarrassing for you.

"Lucius Malfoy is in prison. In two years on his eighteenth birthday, Draco will be allowed to take his father's place. Can you imagine how he would remind you over and over of the loss of your book?"

"Enough said, Professor. Why aren't you going to be there tomorrow, school business?"

"I will be working, but as you might imagine, I do not attend most of the Assemblies because of my involvement here.

"There is no emergency legislation; we active members would be Owled ahead of time for such things. No laws can be passed without being read once, and at least being read again on another day. We are all Owled on the status of each piece of legislature that can be voted on, as no law can be voted on after a second reading without a day's notice to all. You've never met Boaz Brownlee but he is an old friend and family head in his own right.

"Boaz has the right to vote my votes in my absence and knows my mind on every possible item coming to the docket. He also sits as Acting Chief Warlock, which is for the most part a moderator or chairman's position for the Assembly. Once you feel comfortable taking your place in the active Assembly, you can always ask the Chief Warlock, or Acting Chief Warlock for information about how to proceed, within moderation.

"The most important legislation in each year generally has to do with budgets. They are voted on in the summer right after school ends. Any vote can be delayed for thirty-three minutes by request of even a single Family head or designate in attendance, and I can arrive in time if needed. But I have never had to do so in the years I've been headmaster of Hogwarts."

Dumbledore looked at his pocket watch with twelve hands. "Harry, it is now three minutes after 9:00. I have another meeting at 9:30, but I have until then to talk more if you choose."

"No, Professor. Thanks for looking out for me last night. I feel much better today." He held out his rock steady hands. "No shakes, nor pains. I just guess it was overwhelming for a time."

"That's the nature of the beast, battle stress."

Harry nodded. "I'll read my two handbooks. Where can I get my own copy of the Prefects Handbook?" "Professor McGonagall is delivering them today I believe. She is expecting you to call on her."

As Harry turned to leave, he popped his forehead and turned to say, "Professor, when Millicent gave me her pledge to fight along side me yesterday, you and Professor Snape seemed very concerned at first, then you two eased off a bit. Why was that?"

Dumbledore looked at him and smiled without a twinkle. "She started her promise using the same words that a young maiden might use to pledge her chastity to her betrothed on the day of her marriage contract. Miss Bulstrode changed the wording, however to make it a promise to follow you as she stated. That's why we said nothing afterwards."

"Oh." There was nothing else for Harry to say.

As the two stood from the table and the breakfast remains, two small house-elves popped in and began the blur of cleaning. Harry reached in and snagged two rashers of bacon with his Seeker's reflexes, barely acquiring them in the whirl of elven efficiency. Expressing again his gratitude to the headmaster, Harry made his way down the circular staircase.

~*~

At the intersection of the corridors leading to the headmaster's tower and the Transfiguration classrooms, Harry met Ginny, Hermione, and Ron coming from one direction, and Professor McGonagall coming from another. They all greeted each other.

Hermione came forward and hugged Harry tightly. "The paper was dreadful this morning, Harry. Are you all right? It made it sound like you were unneeded, but I bet the Prophet lied again as usual."

Harry asked, "What did it say?"

"It said that Ambassador Glean saved the negotiations and you just charged some exorbitant amount to sell the Ministry Thunderfire."

"Well, I did charge them a lot, but I did it because they treated me badly, and I told Dumbledore and Madam Bones I'll give the money to charity. As for saving the day, Glean and Fudge almost had us at war with the vampires. I was barely able to stop it by offering the vampire leader my friendship."

"Your what?" Ron gulped. "You said you'd be their friend and they stopped wanting to kill us?" Ron smiled broadly at that.

"No, Ron," Harry laughed. "In the past Spell Mongers would offer the vampires their friendship, which is why I offered the chief vampire the Friendship of the Spell Monger. It's a formal greeting of diplomacy, I think."

"The paper said there was a fight, but didn't give details," Hermione said. "I'd wager you were involved, true?"

Harry sighed again. "It was nothing, really. One of the vampires tried to attack me, so I popped him with a trace amount of Thunderfire, just enough to blind him, not kill him. He was the troublemaker among the vampire delegation. Then, the Aurors there under Fudge tried to attack the remaining two vampires, who were temporarily dazed by the Thunderfire. I protected those vampires and prevented their being hurt, and... well, from there on out the peace treaty was easy to negotiate."

Harry looked down. He then noticed that Hermione had been holding his hand all during this time. He slowly and reluctantly let it go.

"Only you, Harry, only you," Ron said with admiration and a smirk.

"Yeah," Harry said. "It stinks to be me."

Before anyone else could say anything, McGonagall interrupted. "Potter, Weasleys, I want to talk with you for a few minutes, do you have the time?" They nodded and she said, "Oh, and Potter, I have your Prefects Handbook here for you."

She handed him the book and answered the obviously questioning looks on the others' faces before they could ask. "Professor Dumbledore has given Potter here an unofficial prefect-at-large status shall we say, in regards to security matters for the castle. He has the rights and responsibilities of a prefect, but wears no badge and stands no preset rounds. The headmaster will keep him busy, however, I daresay."

McGonagall turned to Ron and Harry who were standing side by side. "Regarding the Quidditch captaincy, gentlemen-"

Angelina and Alicia had finished school the previous year, as had the twins. They knew that Katie Bell would be head girl this year and had resigned her position on the team to make time for that and for her N.E.W.T.s preparation to be a healer.

Ron interrupted McGonagall when he said, "It should obviously be Harry; he's been on the team loads longer than me."

"No, Ron," Harry added quickly. "I don't know anything about the strategy of the other positions. You eat and breathe Quidditch."

"Boys," McGonagall tried to interject.

"But, Harry, you're the one everyone would follow."

"Ron, they'll follow you too just as soon as you show them-"

"GEN-TLE-MEN!" The Transfiguration professor finally gained their attention. "I am not here to debate anyone's merits, regardless of the qualifications you two hold. My good experience with Wood as captain for three years, and Miss Johnson's captaincy for only one year, has lead me to decide on a perfectly qualified individual with game experience, strategic acumen, and a clear understanding of all positions played."

Harry and Ron blinked in confusion. McGonagall turned to Ginny and said, "Here is your badge, Miss Weasley, congratulations. Our conversations have given me every confidence that you will lead Gryffindor House to three more years of victory." The faintest of McGonagall smiles crossed her lips, and she was on her way.

Hermione finally reacted. Hugging her friend, she said, "Oh, congratulations Ginny, I wondered why you didn't receive a prefect's badge in the school class selection owl post this morning."

"You could have been prefect?" Ron asked aghast at the idea.

"Of course, Ron," Hermione said. "She's as smart as me, and tops for her year."

"Not as smart as you," Ginny said in response.

"No, you're as smart," Hermione stated, "Just not as compulsive as I am over grades and studying. You made all O's on last years' final exams, didn't you?"

Ginny blushed and nodded. Then she turned with a scowl towards her brother who was making noises about the indecency of Ginny being smart. "Yes, Ronald I make good grades but decided I didn't want to disappoint the twins and become a prefect." She stopped and winked at Harry and Hermione. "Besides, who's the only one other than Dad who can beat you in Wizard chess?"

"I win half the games with you, maybe more," Ron grumbled.

Harry said, "That's brilliant, Ginny. I knew you were smart, and that you were terrific in Quidditch. You surely beat Cho Chang last year on that old school broom. That shows how good you are. I could try out for Chaser, my dad played that position."

"No, Harry, I'll be better at Chaser, and can watch the whole team better there. You play Seeker, you're the best anyone's ever seen

~*~

At 10:26 Harry walked through the passageway between Hogwarts and St. Simon's. He was about to enter his room when he encountered Father William Martin.

"Good morning, Father William. How are you this morning?"

"I'm fine Harry. Please tell me what happened last night at the peace talks." The priest had a rolled up paper under his arm.

"The Daily Prophet." Harry sighed. "I've heard a little, what did it say specifically?"

"I'm sure you don't want to know, son. You tell me, first, briefly."

"We arrived and I went right to the vampires, ignoring everyone. I started chatting with the top vampire, Count Kldonovitch, and then the troublemaking bloodsucker, Baron Ratner, tried to bite me. I fought him off and stunned him with a small dose of Thunderfire. Then I protected the other two vampires from those who threatened to kill them or hurt them. I negotiated a quick agreement, and Dumbledore wrote it up. The vampires signed it, and then so did everyone else. Oh, yes, and then the Count sentenced my attacker to death right there in front of us. Ratner killed himself in some sort of vampires' code of honor. That's about it."

Silently the cleric handed Harry the paper.

 

Ministry Negotiates Peace with the Vampires Unprecedented Fight at the Talks Fails to Dampen Cooperation

 

The article stated that Ambassador Glean prevailed on the vampires to settle for the predetermined negotiating points that he and Minister Fudge had determined before talks began. There were several quotes from Fudge about how well the Ambassador handled things and thanking all of the ambassadors and delegates present for participating.

Below the fold on the front page it finally mentioned a vampire did attack someone that was at the talks, but it also stated that British Aurors, cooperating with law enforcement wizards from other nations, stopped that vampire from attacking.

Finally, in a continuation of the story in the last column on page six, it mentioned that Harry Potter, Spell Monger, had acted as all Spell Mongers and charged the Ministry of Magic an exorbitant amount of money for the Thunderfire charm.

Harry looked up with fire in his eyes. He balled the paper up, and then paused. He smoothed the paper out and then apologized.

"They told me at Hogwarts it was bad. Father William, you don't..."

"No worries, Harry, but how can you stomach that sort of lying about you by the press and the Ministry?"

"It's really the Minister and a few of his close allies, not most of the Ministry. As for the press, that yellow rag has never liked me."

Harry called, "Dobby!"

Pop! "Harry Potter SIR is calling Dobby?"

"Thanks for coming so promptly, Dobby. If I wanted to send you to get today's magical papers from a number of other European capitals, how would you go about doing it? Do you have an idea?"

The house-elf scrunched his forehead and pause for a moment. "Sir, Flourish and Blotts' house-elves is bringing in such papers and magazines daily for patrons in this country. These papers is not displayed, but go by owl to wizards what asks. Dobby could pop there and ask where to go." He finished and looked for approval and/or instructions.

"Can you pop to other countries? I mean, I want the papers from France, Bulgaria, Russia, Romania, Hungary, and the Ukraine. That's got to be over a thousand miles round trip, probably much more. Can you go there at all, and can you make it there without wearing yourself out?"

"Harry Potter SIR is the most kindest and most caring-est master of any house-elves in the world. If Dobby is allowed to rest from time to time, the trip should not tax Dobby too much, but Dobby would go around the world for Harry Potter SIR."

"Dobby, I've told you, even though I am your master for your safety, I consider myself much more your friend than anything. I don't want to ask too much of you, please let me know if I do. Now, if you take your time, and assuming the elves at Flourish and Blotts can tell you where to go, how long do you think you'll need to go and return? I've had breakfast with Dumbledore as you know, and I plan to eat lunch out. I can sup elsewhere also, if need be."

"Oh, Dobby would never need that long to do this for Harry Potter SIR. Dobby would be ashamed if this takes Dobby more than five hours if Dobby rests entirely too much to the shame of a good house-elf."

"Well, unless there is something you need to tell me, then go, " Harry said. "Get the funds you need from Gringotts after talking to the bookshop elves. Pop by and tell Winky so she won't worry about you. If you have difficulty with finding any country's paper, don't worry or spend too much time on it. I don't have to read any one paper."

"Harry," Father William interrupted. "Do you know any of those languages?"

Harry reddened and shook his head.

"Gringotts has a translation department I believe," the priest stated. "After Dobby comes back with the papers, he could go there and ask for translations, for a fee of course, we are talking about Goblins after all."

"Yes, do that, Dobby, when you get back," Harry agreed. "If they need time it's okay. I'm not in any big rush, but I would like to read these papers' versions of the peace talks in a day or two."

Father William added, "You could ask that only the articles on the peace talks with the vampires be translated. That would save time and expense."

"Yes, do that, Dobby, if you will. Great idea, Father William, thanks."

Dobby gave his usual exclamations of delight at being able to serve his noble master, and Harry was able to send him on without too much more fanfare.

~*~

Harry spent an hour on his Firebolt practicing every known Seeker stunt, and a few new ones he was inventing. Dumbledore was right, he mused; flying was therapeutic to him. St Simon's had a non-forbidden forest as a part of its grounds, and it was warded to keep out just about anyone magical or Muggle. Only pilots flying airplanes over at more than ten thousand feet would not be affected by the Confundus charms.

After that hour Harry made his way to Diagon Alley with his hood up, and walked into Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. He allowed Lee to see his face, placing his finger before his lips to keep him from saying his name.

Lee stepped to the back of the counter space and signaled for Harry to join him. Lee cast a quick localized Silencing charm and asked, "Do I need to close the store for a few minutes, Harry?"

"No, I'm in the market for a Pensieve. Where would you suggest I look?"

Lee looked at a customer examining a Canary Creme, hoping he wouldn't eat it here. "I don't think there's a one on the Alley, at least not Diagon Alley, and I doubt you could find one around here unless... you might get lucky at Borgin and Burkes, but that's a dicey place, Harry."

"I know, I've been there once before, by accident. Do you think it's busy this time of day?"

"Hardly," Lee snorted. "They don't open until noon, and then stay open well into the night; who knows how late. We serve a different clientele, as you might imagine."

"I'll go under the cover of this hood, Lee, and I can get out quickly if need be. I'll check back in before I leave. If you haven't heard from me in say, thirty minutes, send up an alarm."

"I don't know, Harry, but all right. Try to be back sooner, okay?"

Harry strode down Knockturn Alley in his best Death Eater imitation stride. He slowed at Borgin and Burkes' door and looked through the dirty glass. No one seemed to be in there, even though the sign indicated they were open. He moved in, and a small bell in the back rang out his arrival.

An elderly man, late seventies at least, came out and looked through, over, and then through again, the pince-nez glasses dangling precariously from his nose. He sniffed, and then said, "May I be of service, direct you to anything, hmm?"

Harry turned and gazed through the hood opening knowing his face could not be seen. After a time the elderly gent shivered at his blank glare; Harry then shook his head soundlessly.

Harry noticed several very heavy silver cups on a shelf. They were ninety-nine percent solid silver according to the castings' undersides, and Harry grabbed all six available. He made his way to the counter.

Their price tags indicated twelve Galleons each. The man behind the counter realized this was going to be a profitable early afternoon, after all. He donned an obsequious smile and asked, "Is there anything else you are looking for, hmm? We do searches for a finder's fee if we don't have-"

Harry held up his hand. "These baubles just caught my eye for no real reason." Harry had lowered his voice in an attempt to make himself sound just a few years older. "I am interested in a Pensieve."

The man's eyes nearly twinkled like Dumbledore's but out of avarice. "Of course you know that such an item is very rare and very old, hmm?" Harry realized this man was one of those annoying people who put a universal sound at the end of just about every sentence. How irritating. Without another word, Harry pulled out his Gringotts gold medallion and held it carelessly from its chain.

The shopkeeper nearly swooned. "I'm Potiphar Burke, five times great-grandson of the founder of this fine establishment and current owner, hmm." The man looked like Christmas had come in August. "Pensieves are indeed extremely rare, although Solicitor's Pensieves are readily available for a price. They are limited in their uses though, hmm.

"I have one traditional Pensieve, however. It's only one hundred and three years old, made by the last of the Guild of the Mind Craftsmen. These newer models are so, so, not old enough to be seasoned for use, shall we say, hmm? I hate to part with this one, even Lucius Malfoy had expressed interest in it, before... er, that is to say-"

"I am fully aware of where Lucius is at this moment, Mr. Burke," Harry rumbled. He hoped that this little man would assume him a Death Eater, or at least of an old Pureblood family and Dark Arts leaning. It seemed to work.

Burke leaned in conspiratorially, and winked. "I do hope we will see my good friend Lucius soon, hmm?"

"The Pensieve!" Harry growled.

"Yes," the man started, and then blanched at Harry's demeanor. "Er, yes, but of course. You are a busy man." Burke scurried to the back of the shop. Harry looked over the counter and saw a set of eagle feather quills. He called them to himself, wordlessly and wandlessly, timing it so Burke would see his abilities as he walked back in.

Holding up the Pensieve as an offering to some evil deity, he stated, "As I said, hmm, from the hands of the last of the old Guild." He placed it on a piece of black satin, and stepped back almost reverently. Harry examined the device with his wand first, casting a dark arts detection spell he'd read about. He turned it over and noticed the scratchings on the bottom. He set it down and shook his head.

"How much?"

"Why, I couldn't part with such a treasured device, last of its kind really, for less than five thousand Galleons, hmm? And at that I make no profit above my expenses."

Harry shot back, "That's stolen and probably evidence in a Death Eater attack from fifteen years ago or more. The quality is dubious, and the new mass produced units have greater capacity and longer lasting buffers to reduce image degradation. New ones are thirty-two hundred. To save me a trip to Paris for one of them in stock, I'll give you twenty-four."

"Twenty-six hundred and I'll include the cups and quills."

Harry knew he had started negotiating too high when the man only countered two hundred more than his original offer. "Twenty-five for all," he said, and crossed his arms.

"My wife will skin me, hmm, but... deal." The man held out his hand. It wasn't held side ways to shake; it was palm up and open for the Gringotts medallion.

Harry swiped it across the top of the ancient cash register after the man rang up the final total on the device.

The words 'Potter Vault' appeared on the display as well. Burke's eyes went wide and he backed away. "I'll, er, that is, I'll just go into the back and get a gift box to make it easier to-"

Burke turned to look at the door to his storage room. When he turned back around he and his words froze in place.

Harry was on Burke's side of the counter. Harry's wand was less than an inch from Burke's left eye, almost touching his pince-nez. "I don't fancy you calling your Death Eater friends just now. Petrificus Totalis!"

Burke fell against the nearby wall, stiff and unmoving except for his frantically darting eyes. Harry slowly lowered his wand. "Mr. Burke, unlike your friends, I don't damage my hostages. I doubt you are a Death Eater, but you are a sympathizer. I've finished my shopping for the day and I'm heading back to Westmorland." Harry intentionally gave him an inaccurate county name. "If you don't call any of the Death Eaters right now to Diagon Alley, I won't tell the Aurors until tomorrow about the illegalities I've seen here. In the meantime, you'll unfreeze in six or seven minutes. Good day to you, sir," Harry sneered.

Almost soundlessly Harry Apparated from the store. In six minutes and thirty-one seconds Burke was released, and his first words were, "But my wards!"

~*~

Harry composed his thoughts for the first paper Snape would require from the sixth-year Defense class. It was due on the second Friday in September, and the assignment was three feet of parchment comparing and contrasting the two different Shielding spells they would discuss in class. Although a Pensieve is most commonly used as a reservoir for memories, one can also be used to contain and organize thoughts and ideas, as well as remembered events. Harry gathered his thoughts for the paper, drew them out, and deposited them into the Pensieve.

Harry had read the textbook twice this summer, and could perform those two shields in his sleep, and two others as well. Protego, the first shield he had learned, he could do wordlessly producing as strong a shield as he did with the incantation, and he could produce almost as strong a shield with the words and without his wand. In a little over a week, Mr. Lovegood hoped to release an issue of The Quibbler with Harry's instructions on a producing a stronger Protego shield.

Harry had organized in his mind what he felt would surely be at least three feet on the shields listed. After he dropped his thoughts into the Pensieve, Harry transfigured one of the silver cups from Borgin and Burke's into what he called a 'concentrator,' which he connected magically to the now charmed eagle feather quill floating above a scroll of parchment near the Pensieve. Then he inserted the concentrator into the memories. He drew his wand and incanted, "Meditor integrum scriptor." In a few seconds, the quill began writing at the same speed Harry would write if he knew the subject matter well.

Harry went to his desk and began to read a new book about runes anchoring systems for wards. After about five minutes, Harry stood up and looked at the manuscript in progress. It was about as far long as it would have been if he'd been writing it himself for this amount of time. Harry saw a place where he would go back and edit it for clarity. It looked just as it would if he were writing it even though he wasn't, but it was his writing style and penmanship. This was going to work out just fine.

~*~

On Thursday, August eighth, Harry sat eating breakfast at his table in the friary. He'd already had a knife-fighting lesson with Ted Granger that morning, after which he had exercised for one and a half hours. Harry thought about how much the slow motion coordination building exercises he'd learned from the original training with Hermione's father had actually helped him when he began training with a blade.

Mr. Granger had a unique perspective on fighting. Never do anything expected, and never do the same thing for too long. He had Harry slashing at assailants with his own Fairbairn knife, then Harry would step back and fling specially designed throwing knives at targets near and far. Then Harry could pop out his wand and shoot off a few spells. "Unpredictability is the sister of Constant Vigilance," stated Ted with a disconcertingly Moody-esque grin on his face.

All during Harry's training efforts, the man whom he'd initially considered to be a mild-mannered dentist was running around Harry throwing things at him, pushing objects into the path of his feet, and generally making Harry's job of learning knife-fighting that much more difficult.

Of course, that was the point - the worse it is in training, the easier it will be in a real fight. Of course Ted and Harry both knew it was never easy in a real fight, but the object was to gain every little possible edge.

~*~

Just before 6:00 AM Thursday morning, right as Harry finished his latest session with Ted Granger, Hermione came into the basement workout room at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The lowest level of the extensive basement could easily pass for an ancient torture dungeon. This top most floor of the lower regions held a good deal of storage and a near identical workout facility to the dojo area of Harry's large circular room at St. Simon's. The only exception was that the training equipment was duplicated here so Hermione and Ron could perform the same exercises at the same time in the prescribed workouts for the Paladin curriculum.

Harry easily determined that one set of equipment was original, and the second set was a conjured duplicate. He knew that duplication in Transfiguration is a little easier and more permanent when the replicated item stays in close proximity to its twin. It still was a neat bit of Transfiguration; probably done by either McGonagall or Dumbledore himself.

As Harry banished his targets and grabbed his towel to dry off a bit, Hermione walked in. She only hesitated for a second and then walked over to greet him warmly.

"Excellent, Hermione. You have the aberrant effects well under control. I've wanted to see you but I've hesitated, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable, otherwise..." Harry let this thought trail off to nothing. Better not go there he thought.

Ignoring Harry's words, Hermione leaned in for a quick hug. Her nose wrinkled and she whispered, "You're a bit pungent, Harry. Dad told me about your training with him. He's impressed with the speed at which you picked up blade fighting. I told him that I'm not surprised, since you do all things well when it comes to fighting."

Her expression suddenly darkened. "Oh, Harry. Dumbledore came by yesterday and told us all about the negotiations with the vampires, although he probably didn't tell us everything about your struggle with that Baron Ratner. You are fine, aren't you?" The slightest worry lines appeared on her forehead.

"It was over in a few seconds, Hermione. He lunged at me, I flashed a small bit of Thunderfire in his face, which knocked him out, and then I jumped up to prevent anyone hurting the other two vampires. Fifteen, twenty seconds max, it was over, and we were on to negotiating the treaty."

"And now you are called Friend of the Vampires by their Margrave," she said, shaking her head in amazement and smiling again. "You do know a human hasn't held that title since the late sixteen hundreds?"

Harry just shrugged.

"Only you, Harry, only you-" Hermione stopped speaking when she laid her hand on his arm.

Hermione seemed to be lost in thought for a moment; at least that was what Harry guessed was happening. He took advantage of the brief pause as she stared at his torso to notice that she looked particularly beauti- no - fit is the word, he couldn't start thinking about how beautiful she was, she was Hermione.

Ted Granger cleared his throat. They both broke apart and neither looked up to see the look of guilty pleasure on the other's face. Ted said, "Hermione, you wanted to train with your new knife?"

Harry turned back to her. "You have a knife now?"

With an obviously faked bit of anger in her voice and a genuine smile on her face, Hermione said, "Of course, you don't think girls shouldn't play with weapons do you?" Harry just chuckled. "No. It's just that you seemed against it at my birthday party."

Now Hermione blushed the slightest bit. "I had a long chat with my Father that day." She shook her head. "It took me nearly two days to come to grips with the fact that my parents have both killed people. But after talking to them, I fancy I grew up a bit, and lost some naivety. But that's been happening ever since the troll in our first year. I'm sure more of it will die before... well, before we win."

Harry grasped at the first thing he could to change the subject. "My I see your knife?"

Hermione looked up and smiled. From a Disillusioned arm sheath she drew out a smaller version of his Fairbairn blade. "Dad calls it a Baby Fairbairn. He says it's a better fit for my arm."

She handed it to Harry in the proper manner, handle first with the blade pointed away from her palm. He drew his own full-sized Fairbairn and compared them. Besides being a little over an inch longer and slightly heavier, his had a gunmetal bluish-black finish, except for the sharpened edge, and a black leather handle. Hers was chromed with a medium brown composite grip.

He admired the heft of it and handed it back. "The lady's not just a pretty face, but dangerous as well."

"I plan to be, Harry. I plan to be as much use to you as I can. And if I can learn to slice someone, then so be it."

The both stood silently looking into each other's eyes for an eternity in that moment.

"I'm sorry you have to do that, Hermione," He held up his hand to stop the response he knew she'd give. "I'm not apologizing like I'm the one who made you need to fight. I'm just saying that I'm sorry any of us have to."

Harry looked off for a long moment. Ted Granger moved a piece of equipment and the noise ended their reflections.

"I'm free some tomorrow I think. I'll send Hedwig or Dobby to you to set a time to get together to discuss Spell Mongering, okay?" She nodded.

"You have a special 'father-daughter event' scheduled, and someone said that I need a shower. I'll see you soon."

"Keep well, Harry."

They parted, but each glanced at the other before Harry finally exited the training room.

~*~

After the hour with Mr. Granger, Harry had come back to his haven at St. Simon's and attended Morning Prayer in the chapel. Harry found he felt the day was just that much better after attending; he felt filled with hope from participating in the service. At 7:00 Harry was back at his rigorous exercise regimen, and by 9:00 he was finishing a cup of coffee, and speed reading through the rubbish that was the Daily Prophet.

"Dobby, delicious breakfast. I'll eat lunch out today, and I'll call if I'll miss dinner, but I'll probably be here."

"Does Harry Potter Sir want Dobby to bring him the translations of the newspapers when they is ready?"

"No, I'll read them tonight sometime. And thanks again for going to retrieve them for me."

Harry brushed his teeth and straightened his necktie. He then put on his plain but elegant dress black robe, and his charcoal outer cloak. He walked to the outgoing Apparation point at St. Simon's, pulled up his hood, and Apparated to the main arrival concourse at the Ministry of Magic. Eric Munch checked in Harry's wand and then handed it back to him. No one was close enough to hear the guard speak his name. His badge read:

 

Harry Potter
Wizengamot Legislative Assembly

 

Harry planned to meet Elphias Doge and his grandson Trevor after 9:45. He was nearly thirty minutes early, but Harry had another stop to make first. He entered the lift with several other people and several memo paper aeroplanes. The button to the second level was already lit. Though Harry stepped off alone, several memos preceded him. Following the signs, Harry made his way to the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office and knocked.

The door opened. "Harry!" Arthur Weasley exclaimed. "It's so good to see you." Mr. Weasley rose to greet him, shook Harry's hand warmly, and lowered his voice as he said, "Are you supposed to be here, lad? Safety and all?" He shut the office door after pointing his visitor to a chair.

"Dumbledore knows I'm here, he sent me actually," Harry said. "I'm visiting the Wizengamot Legislative Assembly today. I'm hoping to learn to understand it well enough to use my Black and Potter family votes to do some good. We haven't studied government at Hogwarts yet, and if I understand the secrecy of the Wizengamot, I may not begin to understand it until I receive my copy of the book and study it."

"Hmm, yes," Mr. Weasley said absentmindedly staring at a plaque of some sort on the wall. It looked to be very ancient, very colorful though faded somewhat, and ornately hand lettered. Harry's eyes were drawn to it and he rose and walked towards it.

 

Magna Magicae Carta Three Hundred and Thirty-Three Family Weasley

 

"Mr. Weasley," Harry exclaimed, "The Weasleys are a Three Thirty-Three Family?"

"We were a Three Thirty-Three Family. See this?" Arthur pointed to a particular bit of writing scrawled across the document. The rest of the writing on the grand parchment was hand lettered with the care and artistry of a skilled calligrapher, but the following words were crudely and carelessly done. They weren't even centered:

Abnego Interrex Stativus

"'Deny Temporary Rule Indefinitely' it says, or some such other translation of the Latin," Mr. Weasley stated. "It's not worded very well, as I understand it, but it makes the point." He touched his wand to the first words and nothing happened. He touched the last word and a dull yellow spark emitted from the text a faint bit of foul smelling smoke. Arthur wordlessly waved his wand and the air cleared.

"But why?" Harry asked.

"Actually, I can truthfully say I am rather proud of the reason that it's there. It's hard to lose the right to vote in the Wizengamot, apart from certain crimes, including treason. Of course Lucius Malfoy could leave Azkaban, if the Minister could figure some such justification to release him and declare him innocent, and he could return to the Wizengamot. If Malfoy was convicted, his heirs could rule even though Lucius himself would have lost the right."

Arthur turned to Harry. "That's why Malfoy hasn't been to trial. Fudge has just put him in Azkaban without a court hearing and no ruckus has been raised. The Malfoys could insist on it, or they could have solicitors by the train car full demanding the right of a fair trial, but they know he'd be convicted. All they'd have to do is have him raise his sleeve and show the Dark Mark that's there. There's a law on the book from the last war with You-Know-Who that makes bearing the mark a valid reason to lose the right to rule for one generation, if you're a Three Thirty-Three Family anyway. But there's also a law protecting Three-Thirty-Three Family heads and members from 'inspection of their persons.' As usual, it's one law for the Three-Thirty-Three, and another for the rest of us."

The senior Weasley cleared his throat. "But back to my ancestor, seventeen generations back, I believe, Percival Weasley. We named Percy after him. Old Percival was quite a force in the Wizengamot, had control of a number of Family votes, too, if I understand it. He was all for pure-blood rights as well."

Harry looked at him disbelievingly. "It's true," Arthur continued. "Well it was the middle seventeen hundreds or so, and he went to the American colonies to return order to the trouble makers there. Seems a few British witches and wizards went over and started teaching magic to the Muggleborn magical folk popping up over there. Seems there was quite a breakout of them, and the resulting half-bloods. Well, some of them got themselves burned at the stake. They had no training in magic and didn't know the simple charm to prevent being killed that way.

"Those few witches and wizards that went there went without official sanction from our Ministry, and they had the nerve to start their own school of magic in the colonies, again without official approval. Percival volunteered to go and straighten them out. He was a staunch supporter of the view that Muggleborns were servant-class or working class, and half-bloods only a little better.

"And here's what I'm proud of. He came back two years later, and immediately started a crusade to allow the colonial school to continue, and to sponsor legislation in the Wizengamot to grant Muggleborns and half-bloods their first rights in our country.

"It was a long battle, but he succeeded without losing too much of what he wanted for them, although, as in most legislative deliberations, some compromise was necessary. Well, he rammed it through ruining his health in the process. His son had died while Percival was away, and his grandson was not of age yet. So my sickly many times great-grandfather Percival had to face the wolves at his door alone and in poor condition.

"He'd spent most of his wealth pushing through the law, and he had little to defend himself with afterwards. Those who had opposed him punished him by removing the family right to rule." He touched his wand to the offending words again and the sparks and smells returned. "There sits the evidence of how effective his attackers were." He cleared the air once again.

He returned to his chair behind his desk and pointed Harry to the other chair. He sighed, and Harry had never seen him so melancholy. "I'll let you vote my votes while I'm in school, if that's the way it works," Harry offered.

Arthur was stunned for the moment, but then smiled. A happier look appeared on his face. "I do believe you would at that, Harry, and for that thought I thank you, but there are several reasons why it won't work. First, the only employees of the Ministry of Magic that can be active members of the Wizengamot are the Director of Magical Law Enforcement, the Under Secretary for Law and Order, and the Minister of Magic himself, if he comes from a Three-Thirty-Three Family. Funny how someone can be Minister without being a Family Head. Anyway, your friend, and I use the word lightly, Auror Dawlish, heads his Family but his vote is voted by Minister Fudge. Albus, or his designate votes Amos Diggory's votes. And so it goes.

"But the main reason I can't vote your votes is that only a ruling head of a Three Thirty-Three Family or his delegate can vote another's. No, I'm out of it, and have never been in it for that matter. It's just that last year brought this to my mind more strongly than it's ever been. "Why's that, sir?"

Gloom reappeared for just a moment. Then with an impassive face, Mr. Weasley said, "Because the family that pushed through the Weasley punishment and took our Family's right to rule and however many votes Percival had, that family goes by the name of Umbridge. And the current head of that Three-Thirty-Three Family, voting our votes, goes by the name of Dolores."

They sat silently for over a minute. Finally Arthur said, "To what do I owe this pleasure? Surely you didn't come here to discuss my family's gloomy past."

"I... er, I, well, I wanted to ask you if you have plans to buy Ginny a new broom now that she's Quidditch captain. I know you bought Ron one...."

Arthur looked a little bemused, but said, "Yes, Molly and I thought the same model that we bought Ron would do for her, as a matter of fact. Ron and Charlie both asked for brooms when named prefect and Quidditch captain, respectively. Bill and Percy became prefects and both asked for owls. Ginny now gets a broom for that and her birthday. It's all she wanted."

"That's why I came by," Harry said. "You were there, so you know I received a lot of money from Sirius. Well, I've been given my Potter inheritance as well, and sir... I'm very wealthy. VERY! But you know me; I don't care about money. I've bought a new wardrobe, some new books, and a few knick-knacks, but it's pocket change. I find no satisfaction in it for myself, but I'd like your permission to buy Ginny a really good broom. The best and fastest made for a Chaser. I could probably buy Quality Quidditch Supply and wouldn't feel it. As a matter of fact, I think I own the land it sits on and may own a minority piece of its stock. That gives me no real joy, but buying Ginny a broom would." Harry held his breath. If he had insulted this man he loved, he'd know in moments.

"Which broom did you have in mind, Harry?"

Harry smiled, and they spent the next few minutes discussing Chaser brooms and coming to an agreement.

~*~

Harry made his way by lift to the ninth level of the Ministry, and took the stairs by the entrance to the Department of Mysteries down to the tenth level that housed the Wizengamot Judicial as he now understood it. Harry shuddered inwardly when he passed that Department of Mysteries entryway, but he shuddered equally when he passed Court Room Ten.

"Ah, there you are, Harry. We're a little early and so are you." Elphias Doge greeted Harry and introduced him to his grandson, Trevor. Harry remembered Trevor's face from Hogwarts, but they had never talked or even nodded in the corridors of school.

"I told Grandfather about our perspective when you brought back Cedric's body even though you were hurt and in such danger. Thanks for having that article published. No one had told us Puffs what really happened, and I'm glad we now know. Sorry you had to go through all... that...."

Harry stared at Trevor blankly once the subject of Cedric was broached.

"I'm sorry to bring it up, Harry," Trevor rushed to say.

Harry shook his head and said, "No, Trevor, you don't need to apologize. I thought all the Hufflepuffs had been told what happened, or I'd have told you sooner. No one should be ignorant of how brave and admirable Cedric was, right up to the last second. Was he a friend?"

"Yes, we were a year apart, and I didn't play Quidditch, but I'd like to think I was a friend of his anyway."

"Well, then," Harry said. "You're a lucky man for it and I'm sorry for your loss."

Trevor and Elphias both beamed at him.

Harry looked at his watch, desperate to change the subject. "It's less than ten minutes 'til. What can you tell me, sir, before we go to the gallery to watch?"

They had walked past two wide doors, and inside Harry could see an amphitheater of sorts. There were several men standing at the doorway all dressed the same. They either had long hair like Lucius Malfoy, or they wore wigs, mostly white wigs, that were as long. The one woman present wore her hair straight down behind her back as well; it went to her waist.

Each man wore a black robe with an absurdly high and heavy white trimmed collar. The trim came down from the collar and met in a double wide white path of trim running the length of the robes in front. White wooden toggles closed the robes. The men wore starched white shirts underneath and had cravats in the house colors of Hogwarts. The one woman there at the moment wore a feminine design similar to what the men wore.

"Those are the official robes of the member attending the Legislative Assembly," Doge stated. "You don't have to wear them, but you will be laughed at if you enter not attired that way. If you can hear some of them over there, you'll note they address each other properly now, even though not in session or inside the chamber.

"Each man is called Mister, er, Potter as it were. But you have to pronounce the 'mister' correctly. It's 'Miss-TAH Potter.'" The elder Doge made the first syllable like a snake hiss starting with an 'm' at the first, and made the 'tah' on the end explosive sounding and sharp. "Women are called 'madam' as the title is written, but here only it is pronounced oddly also.

"That's Madam Marchbank, who I believe you meet during your O.W.L.s last year." Harry nodded and Doge continued, "In there only she is called 'Ma-DAAAM Marchbank.'" The 'Ma' at first was barely heard, but the last syllable was drawn out for more than a second, but not quite two.

"It's odd, I must say," Doge did say. "But that's the way things are, and if that was the oddest bit about it we'd be in much better shape."

Harry noticed that Cornelius Fudge had made his way to the entrance area. Fudge wore the appropriate robes and a long white wig slightly off center. They looked at each other coolly and nodded as Harry had nodded to the Slytherins on the Quidditch pitch his first year, before Malfoy made that tense contest more of a war than a fierce competition.

Harry's view of Fudge was blocked by a man approaching them. He was in his seventies, Harry guessed, a little on the thin side, but quite distinguished, with his own white hair grown down to his shoulders, and standing ramrod straight at about Harry's height. He had a pinched look on his face as he looked at Harry for the briefest of moments and then addressed the elder Doge.

"Elphias, I see Dumbledore sent young Potter here to you, does that mean the headmaster will not be here?" The man spoke a little louder than was necessary, and Minister Fudge looked up, Harry saw, and shuffled a step or two their way. When Doge confirmed this man's statement, the man continued, "Blast the man! What was he thinking? We need his persuasiveness if we have any hope to carry the additional Auror funding. Blast and thunderation!" He stormed off without introducing himself to Harry.

"That's Isaiah Smith, a good friend of your grandfather's, Harry. He'll be a valuable ally in the-"

"Mr. Potter," Fudge interrupted, pronouncing the word 'mister' drawn out like the other delegates, 'Miss-TAH Potter.' "I agree with Miss-Tah Smith. I plan to vote my vote for this bill, but fear it will not pass. Dumbledore's presence and positive support might have swayed enough votes, who knows, but now it's lost, unless..." He looked into Harry's eyes and Harry felt like a he'd accidentally stepped in something 'unwelcome.' Fudge stated, "I speak to you now as Minister to a potential Wizengamot legislator, and a force for good in our society. I ask you to take your family place in the Wizengamot, as a Potter and a Black as well, and speak out for this vital funding increase." With that, Fudge looked meaningfully into Elphias's eyes, nodded, and left them to enter the Assembly chamber.

Harry turned to Doge and said, "He's trying to set me up for a fall, isn't he?"

Doge was turning green and sweat broke out on his forehead. "Most probably, Harry, but it is very hard to turn down a formal request from the Minister of Magic when he addresses another Wizengamot member. He can't ask you to vote a certain way as Minister if it goes against your intentions to vote, but his request for you to speak is not out of order."

"So, I should go in and do as he says, even though he's probably setting a trap for me?" Harry asked.

Doge gulped and looked like he might be sick any moment. Then he obviously thought of a solution. "Go in and go straight to Isaiah Smith. You still have several minutes and should be able to tell him right away that Fudge asked you to do this, then ask Smith for his guidance." Elphias gulped another deep intake of air and said, "That will work. For your grandfather's sake Smith will look out for you. Hurry, you have to wait in line, receive your book, and then go straight to Smith. Quickly, you have three minutes."

"Grandfather!" Trevor called. Harry looked over his shoulder and saw the younger Doge holding the door to the gallery, keeping it from shutting.

Harry made it to the line and looked closely at the man right in front of him. He drew his wand and transfigured his clothing to look like what the others were wearing. It was an excellent piece of transfiguration, accurate to the last detail.

The man in front of Harry looked back at him and sneered at this action. Harry glared back at him, and then closed his eyes. He brought up a tiny slug of raw magic from his inner being and forced his hair to the length roughly of every other male present. This made the man in front of Harry open his eyes in amazement. Harry smirked at him.

As each person in line walked through the double doors by themselves, a deeply resonant bell chimed, thrumming a vibration heard and felt by all near at hand. Each person smiled or nodded. They were apparently approved to be in the Assembly by the magic of the room, Harry guessed. Each in front him held a book under their arms, and Harry guessed this was the book for legislators Dumbledore had mentioned.

The woman two people ahead of him held her book as if making an offering. As she walked through, her book disappeared for a second and a newer looking version appeared in her hands.

Harry walked through in a moment and held his hands out to accept his book. The same deep bell sounded and Harry figured he was approved. The book appeared in his supplicant hands as he had expected, but his clothing rustled around him. Most of those assembled chuckled. Some laughed out derisively. Harry looked and saw that his transfigured clothing had changed back. His hair had stayed the same length however.

When Harry realized his clothes had changed back, he naturally blushed in embarrassment. That caused a good deal more laughter, and Fudge was laughing as loudly as any. Umbridge stood next to the Minister, and her girlish giggles infuriated Harry. She wore a white wig all the way down her back, but some of her ridiculous curls of her natural hair showed in the front. Harry realized now he'd most definitely been set up and considered leaving. However, the two non-Death Eaters he hated most were laughing at him and had probably arranged this just to embarrass him. Harry would not give them the satisfaction of leaving.

Harry looked around and saw Smith in a corner. He made a beeline to him, and while doing so Harry noticed that the Wizengamot members all sat at ornate desks, built so two people could sit at each one, with plenty of room for their possessions. The desks were arranged as an amphitheater, of fourteen desks to a row, and twelve rows high, each row a step up higher than the row just below it.

Smith rose to meet Harry, and whispered loudly, "Potter! What do you think-"

Harry interrupted him. "The Minister made a formal request for me to enter and speak in favor of the Auror funding. I felt sure it was a set up even before I entered the chamber. Mr. Doge told me I probably had to grant his request and at least come in and vote. He instructed me to come straight to you and tell you all of this but he agreed with me that it probably was a trap of some sort. My welcome confirms that. Please, sir, will you help me?"

"Okay, Miss-TAH Potter. You're here and that's settled. Double blast Dumbledore for not sending you to me instead of Doge. But I'm not in his precious Order. And double blast Fudge to Perdition! Sit and do not speak. He definitely wants to trick and embarrass you. When the time comes, just vote your votes, all-"

Smith stopped when a man, apparently the Chairman of the Assembly, rose, cleared his throat, and called the meeting to order. "Now that we have been rude to the newest Family head to join our august ranks, I would like to make what small amends that I can. Miss-TAH Potter, I am Boaz Brownlee. I am Acting Chief Warlock, and I welcome a new head of the Potter Family to our assembly. It has been far too long since a Potter has graced these hallowed halls, and I am truly glad you are present with us."

He bowed slightly towards Harry and then turned to address all there. "Now my esteemed colleagues, let us begin."

The minutes in brief of the last meeting were read. Old business was discussed, and Harry paid as much attention as he could during the boring parts. He was tempted to read his new book, but decided that not focusing on the proceedings would be disrespectful to those present and to the role he hoped to play in the future.

Finally, the new stop-gap funding appropriation for the Auror Corps was raised. It was mentioned that this was a second reading and a final vote could be made this day. Brownlee asked if anyone wanted to speak for or against. Most people looked at Harry, but Smith rose instead.

You would not call Smith an eloquent orator. He spoke frankly and earnestly, but his speech was laced with oddities that soon made Harry realize that he needed to address this assembly in a similar manner. Certain words Smith used would not be used unless they were necessary, and they must be used precisely. No big words crossed his lips, nor did he sound like a politician currying favor, but there was definite legal jargon thrown in every once in awhile.

Smith spoke straight from the heart, with building passion, and with a fire that drove his words into the minds of those present. He spoke of the Aurors' present difficulties and backed it up with facts and figures from his memory. He spoke of the pressing need to hire new Aurors and to also increase the compensation for existing Aurors, whom he said had not had a raise in pay in over four years. Smith even attempted to shame them with the fact that the Wizengamot had voted themselves a pay raise just the previous year, a raise he mentioned that he had voted against.

Smith ended his speech abruptly. He barely muttered thanks to his fellow Wizengamot members for listening, and he sat down with a dejected look on his face.

Brownlee rose slowly, thanked his friend, Isaiah Smith, and vaguely referred to what this speech might cost Smith personally. Before Harry could figure what that last comment meant, the Chairman confirmed that no one else wanted to speak and called for the vote.

There was an odd alphabetic, then not alphabetic order to the voting. Alfred Ablebody rose and cast one vote 'aye.' Twenty-four others cast one vote, ending when Sarah Williamsmith casting one vote 'nay.' Tiberius Ogden, the elder wizard who had resigned along with Madam Marchbank the previous summer at Dumbledore's ousting from the Chief Warlock position, was one of the people casting one vote 'aye.' Then Mildred Allenton voted two 'ayes.' After three more people voted two votes, Matthew Brooks voted three 'ayes,' followed by several others voting three votes each. Madam Marchbank voted three 'ayes,' and then Clarence Spinnaker voted three 'ayes' and one 'nay.'

Interspersed between those voting one, two, or three votes, were a number of names Harry recognized from school: Abbott, Macmillan, Parkinson, Warrington, Hopkins, Baker, Greengrass, Maple, Zabini, and Corner.

"Ma-DAAM Sheets" was called. She rose with an imperious air and sneered at one and all, perfecting her vehement glare when she finally landed her gaze on Harry and Smith. She was a woman of average height and average build, aged somewhere in her sixties Harry guessed.

She said, "I cast all nine Sheets family votes as 'nay.'" There was a fire in her eyes, directed at Harry's corner, singling out himself and Smith with individual and spiteful glares.

Tilden Farmer rose when called and voted thirteen 'ayes.'

"Mister Smith," polled the secretary of the Assembly, hissing and drawing out the mister appropriately.

"I vote the Smith vote and sixteen more as 'ayes.'"

There was a counter above the assembly that added the vote totals. The 'ayes' led by a comfortable margin, and Harry thought most of those present had been called.

"Miss-TAH Fudge."

The Minister rose and put on his best politician's smile. "I, of course, Miss-TAH Chairman vote the Fudge vote 'aye,' as well as the Dawlish vote." Fudge stopped and nodded in recognition to Auror Dawlish. He and Williamson were there as Fudge's body guards this day. Dawlish nodded curtly back to the Minister, and Fudge said, "And I regret that I must vote the other votes as 'nay,' all sixteen of them."

The tally board had the 'nays' ahead by one vote.

"Miss-TAH Potter."

Harry stood. "I vote the two votes, Potter and Black, as 'ayes.'"

Harry's small smile at pushing the 'ayes' ahead by one was drowned in caustic laughter erupting from a number of places all over the room. Harry sat down perplexed. Looking at Smith, he noticed the disgust on the man's face. Then the elder gent removed that look and nodded for Harry to follow what was next.

"Ma-DAAM Umbridge."

"Hem-hem." Harry cringed at those first syllables out of her mouth. Her lumpy torso made even these distinguished robes look like so much wrinkled tarpaulin material. Girlishly, belying the evil to come, the former High Inquisitor said, "I vote the Umbridge votes, all forty-seven, as 'nays."

She said this looking right at Harry the entire time. Harry knew she wanted him to know she was voting to spite him, even though he figured she never would vote for increased funding for Aurors unless it could be directed solely towards hunting werewolves, imprisoning half-giants, or anything else of this manner.

Brownlee rose. "The motion has been defeated. It may be voted on again in no less than three months. Is there any more business?''

The Assembly was over for this day. Harry felt like he had lost a Quidditch match against Slytherin. Then he almost punched himself in the arm for Hermione. This was much more serious than any game, even Quidditch.

"Miss-TAH Potter."

Harry turned to Smith. "Sir?"

"You should know to only address me in here as Miss-TAH Smith. Please tell me what Miss-Tah Fudge said to you."

Harry told him in better detail than before, and ended the recitation calling Fudge an idiot. "It's not 'that idiot, Fudge,' in here, Miss-TAH Potter. It's 'that idiot, Miss-TAH Fudge.' You must observe the rules. So, it's not Miss-TAH Dumbledore's, or Doge's fault, or your own then. Our esteemed colleague, Miss-TAH Fudge is to blame. He wanted to discourage you from coming back, and to embarrass you out of doing him harm." Smith looked at the Minister and Harry followed his gaze for a moment, but looked back at Smith. The man had a look of fury on his face directed towards the Minister.

After a moment, Smith's eyes softened. He finally said, "Well, I'll let Doge tell you what for, but the least I can do is see you properly attired. I assume since you are here and were not expelled from this room, that you have somehow reached eighteen, though you're in my great-grandson's year at school. Do you have access to the Potter or Black funds? The proper robes don't come cheap, Miss-TAH Potter."

"I would venture to say I could buy my robes and yours if need be, Miss-TAH Smith."

Harry and Mr. Smith made their way towards the Assembly Chamber exit, but they were intercepted by a small man with thinning hair and a gold tooth for his upper right incisor.

"Miss-TAH Potter. I am Ledbetter, Clerk of the Wizengamot. Which vault do you want to receive your daily remuneration, the Potter or Black vault, or split it between the two?"

"Nice to meet you, Miss-TAH Ledbetter. Er, what remuneration?" Harry asked.

"Oh, no, sir. I don't receive the honorific as merely the clerk. Just call me Ledbetter. As a Wizengamot Family Head, you receive three Galleons a day for each vote you wield, when you attend a session."

Harry gazed off into the distance for just a moment. "Mr. Ledbetter, please send it to the Potter vault, and thank you for helping me with this."

Ledbetter smiled an odd sort of smile. "It will be as you wish, Miss-TAH Potter, and good day to you sir. Good day to you, too, Miss-TAH Smith."

 

By this time the two had made it through the double doors. Both Doges rushed up to them. In a grouching tone Smith said, "Elphias, I don't suppose you thought about tackling this too-bold-for-his-own-good Gryffindor to keep him out of there, did you? Bloody Hufflepuffs."

"Most Smiths are Hufflepuffs, Isaiah."

"Yes, but I was a Ravenclaw, and would have figured you'd have to use physical harm on a Potter to prevent the likes of Fudge doing what he did to him. The whole Potter lot are more Gryffindor than most Gryffs." Smith's tone was a bit vicious, but Harry did not think he truly meant malice to either the lion or badger houses, otherwise Doge wouldn't have been smiling so.

"Harry," Elphias said, "I'd planned on taking you to lunch and discussing what went on today, but the session went later than expected-"

"Never mind, Elphias," Smith said. "I have to go to Tattershalls myself. The least I can do for Benedict's disappointing grandson is to see him look the part."

Harry was furious again.

A house-elf wordlessly approached Smith, who removed his official outer robe. Smith handed the garment and his Wizengamot book to the small creature. The elf then handed Smith a simple but elegant midnight blue robe in exchange and popped away.

Harry drew a square in the air with his wand and said, "Winky." In several seconds Winky appeared.

"Harry Potter SIR is calling Winky."

"Yes, Winky, how goes it with Clarinda?"

"Mistress C'linda is, is..." She stopped and ran towards a wall head down. Harry leapt forward and caught her.

"Winky," Harry said gently, "I know Dobby told you, and I repeat: I do not allow my friends to be hurt, and even though you are my bound house-elf, you are my friend first. You need never fear telling me bad news; I want the truth regardless, good or bad."

Harry would have thought it to be impossible, but somehow Winky's eyes seemed to open even wider than usual. "'Tis true. Harry Potter SIR is descended from the First Master."

Harry grimaced. "I guess, but we'll talk about that later. Please take this book and put it in my trunk. Charm the trunk so that only you, Dobby or I can open it until I decide how to best protect it. OH! But first, is there a problem with Clarinda?"

Winky paled again, if a house-elf can pale, and said, "Mistress C'linda is sad, is not finding suppliers selling her fabric at standard robe-maker prices."

Harry frowned for a long moment and then said, "Take the book to my place, and then please tell Clarinda for me that we can worry about our cost structures later - just open as soon as possible with as many styles to show as possible. Can you remember that?"

Winky raised her chin and said, "Winky serves Harry Potter SIR with a very fine memory."

"I am sure you do, Winky," Harry said with a chuckle, "And I didn't mean to insult you. I apologize."

Winky paled again and before she could say anything Harry said, "Go ahead, please, Winky. Clarinda needs to know what I told you, and let her know I'll be by later today or tomorrow morning to discuss the problem."

"Yes, sir, Harry Potter SIR." Snap! She was gone.

Harry turned smiling to himself and stopped abruptly. The two Doges were speechless. Smith said, "Singular," and lapsed into silence for a moment.

Trevor said, "Was your house-elf somewhere in this building?"

"No, I mongered a spell so I can call one of them from anywhere outside my house."

"Spell Mongery," Smith said as if it were a plague. He turned and walked briskly towards the stairs.

Harry thanked the two Doge's and said that he'd Owl them with his plans for attending more Assemblies. He ran to catch Smith. Harry barely made it on to the same lift before the door shut. Smith pointedly ignored him among the others in the cramped space, and Harry quietly fumed. Smith made his way briskly out of the lift ahead of Harry.

Harry caught him after passing Eric Munch at the wand check-in station, and just before the Apparation and Floo Concourse.

Harry ran up beside the man, causing him to slow. Harry said, "Zacharias Smith. He's your grandson, er, great-grandson I believe you said, and you prejudge me based on his assessments from school." It was an accusation, not a question.

Smith barely said, "No-" when another voice interfered with their conversation.

Five in black robes, one probably a woman based on her size, were putting on Death Eater masks as the sixth, with his mask already in place, said, "Isaiah Smith. You were told not to vote for the Auror-"

"Sheets, it's Potter!" one of the Death Eaters interrupted.

The Death Eaters were less than ten feet from them when the one named Sheets began speaking, as each group continued walking toward the other. Harry and Smith were within six feet of the Death Eaters before they realized what was happening. Smith fumbled for his wand but was hit by a Cruciatus Curse in mid-draw. A large wizard, not Sheets, had stepped forward and applied the Unforgivable to Smith.

The torturous curse ended in less than a second. Isaiah Smith fell straight back on his bottom with the start of the pain, but it had lasted so briefly, that he had not fallen further onto his back or side. He therefore saw everything that occurred from his position sitting on the floor, though it took a Pensieve later for Smith to determine that he had truly seen what he thought he saw.

Harry had drawn his Fairbairn knife and thrown it at the Death Eater cursing Smith. The sharp knife hit the man's wand arm just back of the wrist, and it went clean through the arm, right between the two bones in the forearm. It was so close to the wrist that it damaged several of the metacarpal bones in the wrist. The pain was so excruciating that the Death Eater passed out.

As the knife flew through the air, Harry drew both of his wands and sent tandem Reductor Curses at the next two Death Eaters who were pointing their wands at Smith. One Reducto connected with a Death Eater and shattered his right arm, shoulder, and several ribs.

The second Reducto connected with the head of the one called Sheets as he ducked down. The cranium is an extremely hard bone. It can be shattered, but it takes severe, exact circumstances for it to happen. The Death Eater leader Sheets' brain bucket as it is crudely called remained perfectly in tact. However, the curse shook the cranium so fiercely, that several of his neck bones were crushed, and all neurological information from his mind ceased traveling below his neck. He was dead even though his brain had no way to tell the rest of his body.

The fourth Death Eater started rapidly shooting strong Stunners at Harry. The young wizard blocked them and returned the same spell with both wands. This Death Eater found he could no longer do anything but defend.

The next Death Eater tried to use an Imperius Curse on him, but the young Gryffindor shook it off with no effort - it was a feeble attempt compared to Voldemort's Imperius or Barty Crouch Jr.'s in fourth-year Defense class. Harry's single violent Stunner knocked this Death Eater out and careened him to the ground over eight feet away.

The Death Eater previously blocking Harry's stunners took the opportunity while Harry dealt with the Imperius to turn to Smith and start the Killing Curse. Harry just pointed his wand at the man and shouted incoherently in anger. The Death Eater's wand arm was ripped off of his body and that side of his torso caved in. His instantly crushed body flew over ten feet away. The damage to him was ghastly.

The sixth and female Death Eater had circled around Harry. She started to cast the Cruciatus Curse on him. Eric Munch shouted, Impedimenta! and she stopped in her tracks.

Harry spun at once and saw the security guard standing staring at the temporarily frozen assailant. Harry quickly hit her with a Stunner, increasing the length of time she'd be immobilized, and cast Incarcerous! at her and the other surviving Death Eaters. Thick ropes added to their inability to escape.

As Harry thanked Eric for his assistance, the security guard started shaking and stuttering incoherently. Harry knew this man was not hurt, so he rushed to Smith's side.

"Sir, are you all right? Do you need to go to St. Mungo's?"

"No," he stopped talking to cough. "No. Mr. Potter, I'm fine. Please give me your hand, if you would be so kind."

By the time Smith was standing again, several Aurors were on the scene. Harry hadn't really heard the screams that had probably sounded around the concourse, but a number of people were leaning against walls, huddled together, and still trying to move away from the death and destruction.

Harry looked up just in time to see Madam Sheets from the Wizengamot run up with Dawlish in tow, his wand hand bandaged, but obviously servicable. The Auror smiled with glee and said, "Potter, I see you've killed again. Well, you won't escape this time."

Madam Sheets screamed and hurled herself past Harry and the others. "Reggie!" She knelt on the floor and examined the Death Eater that had led the group - the one whose neck was pulverized. His head lolled about in a gruesome manner. She gasped loudly and scurried back. Slowly she turned from the broken body towards Harry. He'd retrieved his knife from the first attacker while he watched the distraught woman warily. Harry cleaned the blood off with that man's robes, before placing it back in his arm sheath.

"You murdered him!" She rustled around and finally drew her wand from her robes.

Before she could speak the first part of any spell or curse, Smith called out, "Expelliarmus!" Her wand, pointed at Harry, shot from her grasp.

"Florence," Smith said gently. "Your grandson was shouting the Killing Curse at me when Potter stopped him. Mr. Potter saved the life of a Three-Thirty-Three Family Head from a Death Eater. Anyone lethally attacking a Family Head would be sentenced to Azkaban, and a Death Eater would receive the dementor's kiss."

She rose swiftly and ran at Harry, but stopped short. Looking at Dawlish, she yelled, "Arrest him for killing a member of a Three-Thirty-Three Family."

Dawlish looked delighted but Smith said sternly, "Dawlish, do so at your peril. Mr. Potter as you will call him, heads two noble and distinguished Three-Thirty-Three Families, three Families actually. Today he entered chambers for the Potter and Black Families. You know how you are to proceed."

The Auror's face went from delighted, to stunned, to confused, to angry - all in a matter of seconds. Defeated he lowered his wand from the high ready, a dueling position where the wand could be used in several different methods of casting spells.

"I'll take over from here, Dawlish. I have the Wizengamot desk today." Up strode Kingsley Shacklebolt. He towered over all present at roughly six and a half feet.

Dawlish turned, and walked slowly from the scene of battle.

"You're nothing but a murderer, Potter," Florence Sheets screamed.

It suddenly hit Harry that the members of Three-Thirty-Three Families seemed to live in their own world, playing by their own rules - in some ways living above the rest of the population. He instantly decided he would have to immerse himself in it and play a dominate role, or forever be the little boy in the Wizengamot.

Harry walked over to Reggie Sheets' body and ripped his left sleeve off. He stood and triumphantly held up the limp arm, displaying the Dark Mark tattoo. Straightening he looked at the woman trembling with rage. "Madam Sheets, there is your murderer. I merely defended-"

She ran at him again; this time it was apparent that she would not stop. She had her hands up and her sharp nails aimed at him. Isaiah Smith deftly intervened, roughly grabbing one wrist and then the other and pulling her away from Harry.

"Imperius!" she shouted. "Reggie was under the Imperius Curse!"

Smith shook his head. "You know full well, Florence, that no one can take the Dark Mark under the Imperius Curse. It has to be taken willfully. That's why you and so many others insisted on the legislation fifteen years ago that no Three-Thirty-Three Family member be required to show their arms, to prevent proving who was and was not a Death Eater. Your son and grandson were protected that way."

The woman screamed so loudly that she obviously damaged her throat doing so. Her screams sputtered into ragged coughs. Smith released her wrists. He pulled a handkerchief and handed it to her. She took it and wiped her mouth and nose. Then she hurled it to the ground. "You are both dead!" She hissed hoarsely. She half ran, half staggered away to an Apparation Port, and Disapparated moments later.

Harry looked at Smith. "She'll have to stand at the end of a long line to kill me."

Smith smiled wanly. "But no one more adept at maneuverings in the Wizengamot has made that threat to you. She makes Fudge, Umbridge, and even Malfoy look like amateurs when it comes to political machinations." Then he smiled more broadly. "But she hasn't hated you nearly as long as she's hated me."

Kingsley took their statements, and Smith called over several other Wizengamot members who had witnessed the attack to give their accounts.

Isaiah Smith said, "Well, I hope you've no plans for the afternoon, Potter. I'm taking you to Greenbees for lunch and then to Tattershalls. Have you ever been to Greenbees' private Apparation point? You can Apparate, I hope?"

"I can and I haven't been there, but I can follow you."

"Can you really, without knowing me well?"

They walked to an Apparation point as they spoke. They stepped into a circle and Harry stopped and concentrated on him for a moment before saying, "You may leave now."

Smith made respectably quiet cracking sounds as he left and arrived. Harry was almost soundless following him a second later. Smith almost didn't hear the soft snap Harry made moments after he arrived at the prestigious restaurant. Smith raised an eyebrow at the lack of noise, but said nothing.

"Mr. Smith. Ah, and Mr. Potter." Harry Greenbee turned to Smith. "So nice to see you again so soon, sir." He then turned to Harry. "And wonderful to see you again, sir, after almost three years. Congratulations, may I add, for your recent admission into the Assembly."

"News travels fast I see," muttered Smith snidely.

Harry first met Harry Greenbee the summer before his third year. He had blown up Aunt Marge and was spending the last weeks of summer holidays at the Leaky Cauldron. Mr. Ollivander had taken Harry to Greenbees as part of his thanks for Harry's helping him with inventory.*

Harry was again amazed that such a deep melodious voice came from such a little man. Harry Greenbee stood all of five feet three, and was always impeccably attired in dress robes.

"Thank you, Mr. Greenbee, too bad I missed the Wednesday lamb special this week."

"Ah, but the same beef dish you enjoyed before is a special today if you wish to reacquaint yourself with it, or there are a number of other specials, including several rather unique offerings, and our most excellent regular menu."

Smith smirked at the two of them. "Enough fraternizing. Do you have a private room of any sort, Greenbee? We'll need it for a couple of hours I imagine."

"Right this way, kind sirs."

Smith stopped half way to the private room. "Greenbee, I need to speak to Cuffe." Smith grabbed Harry's arm and maneuvered him towards a table in the center of the room. A grotesquely overweight man sat with the remains of a huge meal before him. Soup or gravy dripped between two of his several chins. Smith stopped before him, and before the man could wipe his mouth to speak Smith began with no pleasantries. "Barney, this is Harry Potter. Potter, Barnabas Cuffe, editor of the Daily Prophet. Barney, when you make your way back to that scurrilous rag of yours, you will see a report that young Potter here has captured, hurt, or killed six Death Eaters at the Ministry of Magic's Floo and Apparation Concourse. Before you write your usual inaccuracies, let me warn you that Mr. Potter took his Family place in the Wizengamot Assembly today as the head of Potter and Black Families. You will report that he acted only in my defense to their precipitous attack, and saved my life from two different Killing Curses."

Smith lowered his voice, leaned in and continued. "The one leading the Death Eaters, having the Death Mark on his arm, was Reginald Sheets, grandson of Florence Sheets. You will no doubt come under great pressure to write that Harry attacked them first and that they were not Death Eaters. But mark my words, you can protect Florence's family all you want, but say one thing bad about Potter in your rag on this and you'll make an enemy of me - a public enemy."

Smith straightened and said, "Good day, Barney, enjoy the rest of your meal," before walking off with Harry in tow. The whole time Cuffe sat with his mouth agape, a piece of half chewed bread showing in his maw.

After they were seated, both men ordered after quickly consulting the menu. Smith ordered the beef special with hardly a glance. Harry requested the fish special to prove he was flexible. Smith requested a large brandy, and the bottle. Harry asked for chilled butterbeer if it was available.

Smith downed one double shot of brandy, and shakily poured another. He curmudgeonly complained about the price of good brandy these days, sighed, took a deep breath, and slugged down another double. The elder wizard mumbled to himself about public safety, rising prices of goods and services in general, and the cheek of Aurors regardless of their family status. Smith held his hands out in front of him and Harry noticed the shakes had almost gone.

When Smith downed a third glass of brandy Harry decided to start the serious conversation. "Why does Zacharias dislike me so, Mr. Smith?"

The elder gentleman looked at him long and critically. He finally stated, "It's not that he dislikes you, so much as he's disappointed in you. Oh, dispel that look of anger. I don't mean you've disappointed him. Zachy told us, with a degree of admiration I might add, that he'd never have made his Oustanding O.W.L. in Defense Against the Dark Arts if it weren't for you and your little illegal study group.

"No, Zacky's disappoint-mented in the, in the fact that you had no-ot been prepared for your place in zo-society as he had, which is not your fault, not your faults at alls. The blame's sall Dumbledore'zizz.

"And with that zlur in my speech, I clozze this bottle of Brandy and go to tea." Just as their two drinks and the brandy bottle had appeared seconds after Greenbee left their table, the liquor disappeared from the table and a pot of hot tea with accompanying cream, sugar, honey, and lemon appeared. A small vial of a green-tinged purplish potion appeared also. Smith uncorked it and drank swiftly. His shudder told Harry the potion probably tasted as bad as the ones Madame Pomfrey gave him for his various physical mishaps.

Silently Smith poured a cup of scalding tea, and drank it down without pause. He shivered and shook his head, closing his eyes for several long moments. He muttered to himself, "That curse never improves." Then he opened his eyes to Harry and said, "Thank you, Mr. Potter for saving my life."

"I am at war with the Death Eaters, Mr. Smith," Harry stated. "I stop them whenever, wherever, and however I can. I accept your thanks but I didn't do it for your gratitude, or to make you obligated to me in anyway. And please call me Harry, at least in private, but apparently it should be Mr. Potter in public except in the Assembly."

Smith stared at him with an indecipherable look on his face. "My thanks are given wholeheartedly or not given at all. Therefore I give them once and am done." He took another long pull on his teacup. "Now, Harry, on to a brief and brutal education about the legislative Wizengamot. Oh, and you can call me... Mr. Smith."

"That's as it should be, sir."

They both grinned.

After those two long swallows of scalding tea, Smith took his time to fix a precise cup of tea with lemon and honey. He then continued soberly. "At first I was mad at Dumbledore for sending you into the Assembly unprepared. I now see he is only guilty of not anticipating that Fudge would try to embarrass you the first time you showed.

"I don't care, for now, why my great-grandson does or does not like you. You need to know what's going on whether you plan to come back or not. However, I venture embarrassing you may have been the way to make sure you learn all you can and act contrary to Fudge's wishes, am I right?"

Harry nodded fiercely, but Smith interrupted his attempt to speak.

"Smiths and Potters have been friends or at least partners in the Wizengamot since the Three-Thirty-Three Families formalized the assembly's status in 1205 AD. We'd been friendly long before that really, but we were not as consistently thrown together before that year.

"However, your family and mine go back to the founding of magic here in England. There are few families older than the Smiths among the founding families of magic, but the Potter family is one of those few."

"Conlander Smith was the first metal worker to come to Loundon's Town after Torban Loundon and his followers started it," Harry stated. "Of course Torban also worked metal, but Conlander was the first to migrate to the existing Loundon's Town."*

Smith frowned. "How do you know about that? I know from your grandfather that the Potter family has no personal journals from that time. They were all destroyed during the War of the Roses."

"I spent a few days helping Mr. Ollivander take his inventory three summers ago," Harry stated. "He told me the story of how magic came here, and how his ancestor Willen started making wands. Egorn the Potter came with Torban to found Loundon's Town. Egorn was not magical, or didn't have 'the Touch' as they called it back then, but his wife did, and all of his many sons were magical as well. I always wondered if I was a descendent of those Potters."

Smith stared at him for a moment. "Well, the Ollivander journals and records are significantly more complete than any others from that era, so I daresay you heard the truth as Willen the Great Olive Hander recorded it." He cleared his throat, and muttered, "Extraordinary."

"Yes, well," Smith continued after a pause, "You are of that line, though scion of which of Egorn the Potter's sons we do not know. Probably the eldest, or the eldest son with male heirs."

He cleared his throat again, but lunch was served before he continued. The two ate in silence, except for their brief comments on the quality of the food. When Smith had nearly finished he said, "As I said, the Wizengamot was formalized by the Three-Thirty-Three Families in 1205. It had loosely existed in less official form since some time in the late eighth century.

"Few magical folks will admit it, but it was copied from the Muggles. The Muggle 'Witenagemot' for all of Britain existed from the seventh century, after the Anglo-Saxon unification. Before that even, the Muggle monarchs of the minor kingdoms mostly had smaller versions of such advisory groups or Witans, made up of wise men or counselors. In the mid-ninth century the major Wizarding powers of this land agreed to a loosely confederated 'Wizengamot' for our country. From there on, the Muggles copied us.

"This organizing of our society finally showed the need for a school, and the most powerful men and women of the day, none of whom were Wizengamot major family members, founded Hogwarts. You know of the four I talk about and their basic story.

"In 1066 William the Conqueror landed on our shores and eventually gained dominance over the Muggles. French wizards soon followed and tried to take over as well, but we banded together and fought them to a draw. A few of the great British magical Families fought along side the French, thinking wizards should be more active in the Muggle world, to dominate them as our slaves that is.

"I am proud to say that the Smiths and the Potters along with a number of others fought in the forefront of the battle against the French, and some of us died fighting. The Malfoys whom you know, and the Devereaux family whom I assume you don't know, were leaders of the invading French wizards, who included the Butler, Gerard, and Leseyne families. Although we prevented the French takeover, there was no overwhelming victory for either side.

"The exact founding date for Hogwarts is unknown, but by the time of this French invasion, the school had been around for about one hundred years, so it was firmly established. Beauxbatons was started in 1109, but had a rough go at first, not wanting to follow Hogwarts' lead in typical nationalistic pride. The word 'chauvinist' is of French origin.

"Wizards did not live as long then as they do now. By the year 1205, the generation of Anglo-Saxon and French magical folk that had fought each other were dead, and so were most of their children. Even their grandchildren were dying off. The good news is that most of their great-, great, great-, and great, great, great-grandchildren all attended Hogwarts together - regardless of French or Anglo-Saxon origins. They did not forget their heritage as many still have not today, but they all saw themselves as British by this point. All considered this island their home.

"During that hundred and forty years or so, by attending Hogwarts, the younger members of the former French Wizarding families had become friends with those of the Anglo Saxon families -- families that tradition said they should despise. Education and youthful friendships overcame prejudices. When these friends reached the age where they began taking their places of leadership in society, they comprised the majority of those leading the nation, and they called all the major Wizarding families to meet at Hogwarts in the summer of 1205 to write the Magna Magicae Carta.

"Using this document to guide them, our forefathers substantially modified the existing Wizengamot of the time, and codified the establishment of the legislative version we know today. This assembly then created the judicial version of the Wizengamot, choosing the oldest and wisest among them to mediate between them. The Ministry of Magic was reformulated from its archaic version to much better manage day-to-day governmental needs."

Smith paused and took several sips of his tea.

"The Muggle Americans make much," Smith continued, "Of the fact that they were basically the first nation in modern times to govern by the consent of the people, using no monarch or lifelong supreme leader, and calling their leaders to answer to the people who elected them. For so large a nation even at that time they have a right to brag, and they have for the most part held true to that foundation, with certain rough times challenging its continuity. However, our form of government was just as radical for its time, which was over five hundred years earlier, even though it didn't include giving all magical people a vote. That would have been inconceivable at that time."

Smith took another sip of tea before saying, "For its day, the Magna Magicae Carta was far reaching in its fairness to all folks involved. It talked of 'everyman' as if it meant every man, but it really meant all magical people with magical heritages of two generations or more. It even provided to a small degree for the few Muggleborn and slightly more common half-bloods.

"Muggleborn witches and wizards at this time were quite often killed by their families or villages through superstition. The half-bloods born among Muggles were almost always bastard children of purebloods, and they were taken in by magical families and often made servants or wizard soldiers, although a few were given more formal status - rarely but occasionally adopted if there were no other heir from the legitimate line.

"Well, there were three hundred and thirty-three magical families of any prominence that signed the agreement and made all this work. They drafted the Magna Magicae Carta and made it the law of the land. A golden age of prosperity for our world followed and lasted until the Black Death hit England in 1348. Even then, the Wizengamot helped make the impact on us less than the effects on most other magical societies, and much less than the devastation wreaked on the Muggles.

"Though we Magicals had mostly abandoned actively working with the Muggles after the great Roman slaughter of the Druids in 63 AD, we didn't leave them totally to their own devices. Even now we maintain a connection with all of the Muggle government heads of state, as we did back then. Of course in the Middle Ages we did little real magic out in the open. Wizard counselors to kings and major noblemen were trained to act oddly in public and do parlor tricks, as Muggles know them today. We deluded the masses into thinking that was magic. The nobles knew we were truly magical but that we would not help them fight wars and such with magic.

"However, in 1215, when the truly pathetic King John had frustrated the Muggle noblemen out of their wits, we gave them a sanitized non-magic related version of our governing document. They modified it and called it the Magna Carta. Their Witenagemot was ineffectual in light of this new charter and they eventually formed their Parliament in 1295.

"However, we had evolved the Wizengamot from its early days. The Magna Magicae Carta merely strengthened it, and the formalization of the Three-Thirty-Three Families as rulers ensured that powerful forces had a vested interest in maintaining its effectiveness. It has worked well for the most part, but it's needed some 'course corrections' from time to time shall we say.

"We've had to squelch the occasional attempt to legalize Muggle hunting, and I personally believe we've done poorly by the goblins. However, I'd hate to judge any of those who'd fought those fierce creatures and then negotiated peace with them.

"Probably the two most important battles won in the Wizengamot have both been championed by Weasleys. In the mid-eighteenth century Percival Weasley paid dearly for fighting to give Muggleborns and half-bloods near equal status, though in this closed society, a vote in the occasional election thrown out to the people is all the impact they are able to have on our laws. They do, however, have the right to petition and ask for redress, and Arthur Weasley pushed through the Muggle Protection Act, which is amazing considering he's not a Wizengamot legislator and has no fortune.

"Of course no one can legislate whom we like or dislike, trust or ignore. Would you like to be told to, oh, let's say, would you like a law saying you had to like all Slytherins?"

"Never," Harry quickly responded.

"And even if such a law existed, you wouldn't like all of them anyway. You might act kindly towards them to avoid breaking such a law but you wouldn't necessarily like them. I taught my son and grandson, God rest their souls, and Zacky, that it's all right to get to know a man or woman, and then dislike them. There are a number of extremely unpleasant people out there. I know; most think I'm one of them.

"Zacky was always one to give anyone a chance regardless of their family name or house, liking them or disliking them based on first knowing the individual. It's why he was sorted into Hufflepuff mostly likely, although his father and mother were both badgers, too. Zacky has a number of friends in all houses, even Slytherin, although not the more vocal pureblood advocates. He never prejudged anyone that I know of except you."

"About that," Harry started.

Smith held up his hand. "I'll go there soon enough; it's not your fault or his. It's my fault and I'll explain, but first, on to understanding the Wizengamot better, and why people laughed at you when you voted."

Harry sat back; there was so much he wanted to know.

"As you can imagine if you think about it, the Three-Thirty-Three Families have not remained intact for the last eight hundred years. I find it a fascinating study of the names and origins of the families that make up the Three-Thirty-Three Families. But I'm not going to submit you to the full history of all of the names of these families just because I find it intriguing. There is an important point to it that your grandfather, Benedict and I used to our advantage, and you can use even better I think, once you understand it and a number of other factors."

Smith took a long swig of tea, and fixed another cup. Harry said nothing, and it seemed Smith nodded in approval of his patience. "Based on what you know of our society and the comments you might have heard, what do you think is the most important factor to determine those who have influence beyond their number of votes?"

Harry pondered this for a moment. "It has to be either money or bloodlines, probably both, but that isn't just one factor."

"Right you are, Harry, those are major factors indeed. Now, Florence Sheets' family is very comfortable but not able to project that much financial pressure. Lucius Malfoy has used his money very skillfully, much to our detriment, but he doesn't have the power of Florence. Of course I've described Florence as a deadly capable legislator, but that is not her power among the people shall we say.

"Pureblood factors are what I'm referring to. Just as the Muggles revere their Royal Family and noble titles even though the Royals have little real power, we witches and wizards here in Great Britain give great deference to the purebloods. The likes of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the Death Eaters have actually done harm to the glamour and respect we've historically given purebloods for the past two hundred years or so.

"Two hundred years?" Harry queried. "But I thought..."

"Yes, two hundred and fifty years at the most," Smith said with a smile at Harry's confusion. "I mentioned Percival Weasley and his landmark legislation giving Muggleborns and half-bloods legal status. That happened in 1751.

"You have a Muggleborn in your house, a Miss Granger I believe. She's a powerful witch, if I've been correctly informed."

"Yes," Harry said, "Hermione Granger is one of my two best friends, and a brilliant and powerful witch."

"She would be," Smith said with a mused look on his face. "Did you know that Muggleborns usually rank in the top half of their year at Hogwarts? It's not uncommon for a Muggleborn to be in the top ten as far as magical power goes, as well as in grades. Half-bloods are up there also. Granted, in the distant past many Muggleborns were killed by Muggles, but a fair number survived, and made it to Hogwarts even at the outset of the school. That's where part of the struggle between Salazar and the other three founders originated.

"Muggleborns and half-bloods tended to be powerful and intelligent, rising to be the trusted servants and leading fighters in Wizarding house armies. They were as capable then as they are now. Did you think it would be any different back then?"

"I don't... I, er, I guess not, now that I think about it," Harry said.

"Well," Smith added wryly, "Just imagine how the older families might have thought about it back then? Many, the Smiths and Potters among them, saw it throughout the ages as new opportunities to improve the family power factors. Though we knew nothing of what Muggles today call genetic research, most people knew a lot about animal breeding back then. We knew that inbreeding weakened horses and oxen, so we knew new strong blood lines from outside the usual reservoir of families would strengthen our magical powers in our families.

"Before that time those who did not marry Muggles from time to time, or bring in wizards or witches from outside the country would lose personal magical power over the generations. However, being as provincial as wizards are, few want to marry off a daughter to go to another land.

"Potters and Smiths, like most of the Three-Thirty-Three Families married Muggleborns. We'd even marry non-magical Muggles on occasions who were strong, intelligent, and quite often of noble stock here in Great Britain. Over the centuries plenty of noble families with extra daughters would marry one to a magical family for the right dowry. The nobles were well educated and healthier, and that will always be an important factor in how healthy any future offspring will be - magical children are no different." "Mr. Smith, the pureblood advocates say that marrying Muggleborns, or worse, ordinary non-magical Muggles increases the likelihood of Squibs. They say that's where Squibs come from."

"They say that, Harry, and there is a small truth to it, but very small. I don't really know the statistics, but maybe one in a hundred strong bloodline wizards and witches will produce a Squib. A so-called pureblood and a non-magical Muggle might produce one in seventy-five. But those Squibs, Harry, are brilliantly smart and very capable of making it in the world through their intellect. There was a Squib Potter in the early fifteen hundreds that was a genius at potions creation.

"The other way to produce a Squib is to let pureblood families interbreed and never introduce new blood. Cousins marry cousins who marry cousins. They produce children who are even weaker magically and none too bright, as well. That's the type of Squib purebloods bemoan, yet they are the product of pureblood inbreeding. When the lines become so weakened, introducing a healthy bright Muggle or Muggleborn witch or wizard into those bloodlines will almost always produce much smarter and more magically powerful children in the first generation, but by that time the families have little left but their pureblood pride. They are nothing but Squibs in a few more generations, or less.

"And once a Three-Thirty-Three Family is nothing but Squibs, they lose the right to rule. I'd venture that thirty or so of the Three-Thirty-Three Families that have lost the right to rule since 1751, lost the privilege and responsibility for that very reason. Many of the Wizengamot members with two or three votes have a vote or two ceded to them by a Squibbed Three-Thirty-Three Family."

Smith took a sip of tea and leaned forward as if to confide in Harry. "That very fact, young Miss-TAH Potter, is why you have about forty percent of your fourteen Potter votes and thirteen Black votes. People laughed at you today because you voted two 'ayes' when you could have voted twenty-seven."

~*~*~

Dear Harry,

I need your help. That is, I need you to visit my father and me,
and I would like for you to visit us at The Quibbler at
your earliest convenience. Sooner rather than later that is.

Oh, that sounds rude of me.

It is no rush, Harry, but please come to see us when you can.
Please hurry. Oh. I'm being demanding again. Let me explain.

It all started, or fell apart, or whatever, when I finally convinced
my father a few days ago that he needed to practice casting the
Patronus charm following your excellent directions...

~*~

Harry was stunned at Mr. Smith's announcement. "I control twenty-seven votes in the Wizengamot?"

"It should be that many," Smith said casually, "Give or take one or two. Your grandfather last cast fourteen votes in the Assembly, and I'm almost positive the last time a Black voted he controlled thirteen ballots. Now, today, with Umbridge managing forty-seven votes, we'd have still lost if you'd voted all twenty-seven, but we'd have been closer, and some of the swing votes might have seen you in a better light and considered voting with you next time. The Potter name still commands the respect due it before the pureblood issues arose, and you can combine that with the Boy-Who-Lived factor and swing opinion, that is influence, beyond your twenty-seven votes."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I hate to use my fame from my parents dying. I don't know what happened, but it was probably my mother's effort, not mine, that defeated Voldemort when I was one. But-"

"Don't be a fool, Harry." Smith interrupted. "Use whatever you must to accomplish the right thing, as long as it's legal, moral, and ethical."

Harry held up his hand. "I was about to add with my but, that I am ready to do what it takes within reason to accomplish what needs to happen. I used my fame with the vampires the other night. I'll probably use my name to promote a start-up business I'm investing in, and I'll use it in politics if I have to, to overcome the Fudge-Umbridge domination of the Wizengamot, if that's what I saw today."

Smith looked at him for a long moment. "That's very mature of you, Harry. Zacky told us you dislike your fame, and that I should never believe what I read in the Daily Prophet until I speak to someone I trust to confirm or deny it." Smith looked up at the ceiling of the private room they occupied. "Would you mind telling me about the vampire negotiations, Harry?"

Harry sighed and started a quick rendition of his understanding of what had happened at the talks before his arrival, and what did happen after he and Dumbledore appeared. He thought about leaving out items that might make him look good, but decided he needed to tell Smith the unvarnished truth as best he could.

After Harry finished, Smith finally spoke after pausing in thought for nearly a minute, "I, er, that is, thank you on behalf of the Wizengamot for your brave efforts the other night, Harry. It's not my place to extend such thanks on our behalf, but accept them for what they are worth. No one else will probably give you any gratitude, unless they can hear those events from you as I have."

Any observer to the conversation over the next minute would have easily seen that Smith was trapped willingly by the intensity of the green eyes across from him, burning with righteous anger and determination. Harry said, "I do nothing for the gratitude of the people or government. They have been fickle and two-faced at best towards me over the years.

"I negotiated with vampires, I fought and will fight with Death Eaters, I will attend the Wizengamot whenever possible; I do all this to stop the senseless death and destruction I've already seen too much of in my life. There's no reason for it. None!

"There's no good reason to have killed those Death Eaters today. Oh, I'm glad I was able to save your life, and the others they'd have attacked after killing you. There's no good reason for it, though. Blood purity is stupid, and I thought that before you told me what you did just now. Do you know Voldemort's real name is Tom Riddle, and he's a half-blood? His father was a Muggle who hated the witch that bewitched him for a time and bore his child."

"He's a what? You're kidding, right?"

"No, word of honor," Harry said. "I'm trying to figure the best way to release that information to the public, but until the Prophet is brought to heel, or until we figure a better way, I'm keeping that quiet for now. I'll only have one chance to make a big splash about that. But I'll release that information with all the particulars in a month or two at most."

Harry ran his left hand through his hair. "Mr. Smith, it makes no sense for purebloods, half-bloods, and Muggleborns to be at odds with each other. And if there were no Dark Lord at the moment, it seems we'd still be fighting to the point of drawing blood just because we can. I mean, I have schoolmates who are Chinese, Indian, Scottish, Irish, Welsh, and English; black, brown, yellow, and white. In the Muggle world those are often causes of hatred and war even. It's admirable that in the Wizarding world all we do is argue over national Quidditch teams and who might have the best native dishes, but we also enjoy a good match and appreciate the cuisine from each country. Most of us are color blind.

"Why can't we witches and wizards be proud that we are whatever we are, secretly feel we are just a little better for our particular heritage, and then appreciate and benefit from each other's unique abilities and upbringings?

"But NO! We have the Malfoys and the Sheets whom I just met. They think they deserve to have things their way just because of their family name. Malfoy is insulted that I have the nerve to be better than him in Quidditch, of all the stupid things. And now this Sheets woman thinks it fine for her grandson to kill and torture just because he's a Sheets and a pureblood. Well, I've just declared war on that kind of thinking." Harry ran his left hand through the hair on the back of his head.

Harry actually stood in their private room, and then quickly sat back down. He gave a wan smile to Smith, whose face appeared to be merely thoughtful. Finally Harry said after calming himself, "Mr. Smith, you said that you and my grandfather were peers and friends, fighting for your views in the Wizengamot. You also seemed to imply that we have some advantage other than blood purity, some trump card to play because you're a Smith and I'm a Potter." Smith nodded. "I'd like to use whatever advantages I can to change the way things seems to be happening in the Wizengamot. Great day in the morning, why don't we try to change our whole society while we're at it?"

Harry smiled sheepishly. "I'm not foolish enough to think we can fix this before school starts next month. It'll take my lifetime perhaps. But can we please start? I'd like to think I won't be fighting Death Eaters for the rest of my days. I know there will always be enemies to society as long we can say that sin exists in the world, or however you want to explain it. But can we at least attempt to end this prejudice for the most part?"

Smith stared at Harry with the barest of smiles on his face, which did not reach his eyes. Harry guessed Smith was thinking and chose to let him do so for as long as he wished. Smith fixed another cup of tea from the never emptying and perpetually hot teapot.

Eventually Isaiah Smith asked, "First, tell me about being a Spell Monger?"

Harry looked intently into Smith's eyes. He saw no ill will or prejudice that he could tell, but Harry realized Smith was probably able to hide his emotions and opinions. The younger man spent nearly twenty minutes telling of his involvement in the much maligned trade he was learning. Just a few minutes into the explanation Harry's infectious enthusiasm was evident to anyone listening. Smith then asked Harry to tell him of the events of the fight in the Department of Mysteries, which the younger wizard did only after a moment's hesitation.

Harry sputtered to a stop in his recounting. It was clear that Smith had carefully paid close attention.

"All right, Harry. You want to change our world. I'll help you understand the Wizengamot and how it interacts with the Ministry of Magic. Let's leave here and go to Tattershalls for your legislative robes. I'm tired of sitting. We can then find somewhere else to speak in private after that."

~*~

End of Chapter

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* A/N - The story of the start of magic in Great Britain in the PotterVerse that I refer to can be found in my tale, 'Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.' You can find here on my site at FFA.

A/N - Let me thank all of you for your kind words and support for my comments in my last chapter about religion in Harry Potter fanfiction in general, and in my story specifically. No one flamed me on this site. Many of you do not believe as I do, but support my right to write as I choose, as I would support you similarly. Cheers!

Special Request for Your Thoughts and Ideas - JKR stated in an interview once that about a thousand students attend Hogwarts. I have chosen to loosely follow that concept in this story, even though canon seems to have only about six to ten students in each year in each house. Also, the number of teachers mentioned, and only one professor in each main subject, makes a thousand students impossible to imagine working. I doubt the instructional staff all use Time Turners to teach for sixteen to twenty-four hours a day.

Here's my question to you - How do you think this works? Is there more than one instructor in a subject even though canon seems to refute that? Is there more than one Boys Dorm Room per age in each house? What do you think? Please let me know in a review. I plan on mentioning these aspects very little in this story, and I may not use any of your ideas, but I'm interested in theorizing with you about this. Thanks for your insights in advance. - Aaran St Vines.

 

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Disclaimer--- What belongs to J K Rowling is J K Rowling's. Everything left is mine, I guess, but remember the old adage: "There is nothing new under the sun."

However, that which is mine is copyright 2007 Aaran St Vines.

 

• Previous
• Chapter One: Defenseless Muggles Chapter Two: Defenseless? Not Defenseless at All Chapter Three: The First of Three Visitors Chapter Four - Alastor Moody and Ted Granger Chapter Five - The Paladin Program Chapter Six - An Offer Vernon Can't Refuse Chapter Seven - Harry Potter: Spell Monger, Paladin, and Heir Chapter Eight - Aberration Day Chapter Nine - Interim Chapter Ten - Sanctuary Chapter Eleven - Conversations and Confrontations Chapter Twelve - Chatting with Hermione and Thunderfire Chapter Thirteen - Harry Goes International Chapter Fourteen - Harry and the Wizengamot Chapter Fifteen - The Three-Thirty-Three Families Chapter Sixteen - Business and Pleasure Chapter Seventeen - Private Lesson or First Date Chapter Eighteen - There's Fighting and Then There's Fighting Chapter Nineteen - Coming to an Understanding Chapter Twenty - The Founding Mothers and Fathers Chapter Twenty-One - Peace In Our Time Chapter Twenty-Two - A Day That Will Live In Infamy!
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