Reading Time: 94 Minutes

Title: Stone of Theia
Author: MykkiTno
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Drama, Family, Mystery, Pre-Relationship, Time Travel
Relationship(s): Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape/Sirius Black
Content Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Hate Crimes, Hate Speech, Incest, Major Character Death, Slavery, Torture, Violence-Graphic, Violence-Against Children/Child Abuse. Depression, Death/Murder, Discussion of genocide/terrorism, Potion control, Mind control, Bigotry, Homophobia, Sexism
Author Note: Warnings explained. re: Major Character Death – as it pertains to time travel, and references to canon deaths for those that remember the alternate timeline, plus a few extras in new Timelines. re: Incest – discussion with Pureblood families – Draco/Harry could be considered 2nd cousins.
Alpha: Hourstillnoon. Shout out for Alphaing the story for me, and stopping me from spiralling, in addition to my co-workers (Vi and Sav) for letting me ramble. This probably wouldn’t be the story it is without your help and patience.
Word Count: 139864
Summary: After the war, haunted by Grimmauld and suffering from dreams and visions, Harry finds himself in an otherwise empty room, except for a rune-covered table and a crystal ball. Not understanding the significance, he grabs the ball intending to throw it.

The next thing he knows, he’s holding an amulet, there’s a ring on his finger, and he can hear Sirius pounding on the wall. Offered a chance to change things, he knows nothing will be the same again.
Artist: Coco
Artist Appreciation: I want to thank my artist again for the beautiful work they did. It’s humbling to see how the story I crafted can be visualized by others

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

It took twenty-five minutes from when the doors shut till a loud gong echoed unnaturally throughout the building. Harry was glad he’d warned his knights and companions beforehand because it was chillingly eerie. It seemed to vibrate the blood under the skin, warning those that the chamber was in violation. It was enough to make him never want to hear what it sounded like if it was under attack.

Shaking the shiver that spread down his neck, Harry adjusted his hood and stepped forward, touching the seam along the doors and pushing a little magic into it, knowing his eyes glowed purple in response.

Magic swam up the engravings on the doors, a cascading rainbow of colours that spread, seemingly burning the dirt and grime build-up, as an image became visible. He swallowed hard as the stylized image of Pendragon appeared on the doors before the dragon moved, standing straight, wings flaring open on his back as the door slammed open, and his roar echoed off the walls, bouncing along the ceiling as magic chased after the sound.

It was an odd feeling to see the spectral form of Pendragon, even though Harry knew he was still inside him, and had the brief thought to wonder if it was a form of astral projection because that ability was supposed to be a myth before shoving the thought away, he’d have to worry about it later, as the dragon landed in the middle of the room, wings still flared, clearly irate as he shouted.

“WHO ARE YOU TO CIRCUMVENT AND VIOLATE OUR LADY?”

Whatever Dumbledore responded with was lost in the growl that shook the building, and Harry took that as his queue to move forward lest his mentor try to eat the wizard, spectral, astral projection or other. Harry didn’t want to suffer the ingestion, which would be the result.

Striding forward, Harry kept his head focused on Dumbledore sitting on a ridiculous chair in front of the chief warlocks box. Snorting silently at the monstrosity, wondering if Pendragon could set it on fire just to put it out of its misery, then had to bite his cheek at the rumbling laughter that sounded from the dragon as he turned to look at him, smoke curling from his nose.

“Would it please you, Your Grace?”

“It would, actually, but maybe have Mr. Dumbledore move first? I would hate for him to suffer injury or possible death before answering a few questions for me.” Harry responded in amusement.

Pendragon snorted but dipped his head, “of course, Your Grace.”

“I demand to know what is going on here!” Dumbledore shouted over their banter, aura spiking and flaring, though it died down quickly when he flinched violently, hissing in shock.

Ignoring that reaction, Harry stood beside Pendragon, who curled a protective tail around his feet, politely including Draco in that circle. At the same time, the rest of his knights arrayed themselves on either side of him, leaving the other fourteen, including the Unspeakables, to stand behind them.

It had seemed like a lot of twenty-eight people were taking on the Wizengamot. Still, Harry was glad because he knew everyone was watching the nobles and ministry officials, accessing their every move, leaving Harry to focus on Dumbledore, who was glaring at him. However, Harry could see the fear in his eyes as well.

It was rather delicious, and Harry revelled in it for a moment before stepping over the tail and onto the platform, the floor rippling in response, “It’s straightforward, Mr. Dumbledore, you’re no longer in control.”

“But-but- I’m the chief warlock!” Albus Dumbledore protested, making Harry regret the hood as it hid his smile.

“Mr. Fudge,” Harry called, turning from Dumbledore and focusing on the man cowering beside his box, throwing himself to the ground and prostrating himself before Harry.

“Your Grace. I don’t know where you want me to start. Do you want me to recount my sins or list others?”

Harry sighed, “No, Mr. Fudge, I already know your guilt and suspect the people you wish to name, but a full confession can wait another day.”

“Oh-um, alright. How can I assist you, Your Grace?” Fudge stammered, speaking more to the floor than anything.

“You may stand and tell Mr. Dumbledore why he’s no longer in charge, as he seems to have missed that part of his history lesson,” Harry ordered ideally, moving across the platform, pushing magic into a rune.

“The Chief Warlocks seat is ministerially appointed-“

“Not that one, Mr. Fudge.” Harry interrupted the stuttering and frowned, “For all that you play at a bumbling idiot, you can drop the act. I’m neither impressed nor falling for it. I know you to be a highly intelligent and shrewd individual. You make a play of being lesser to people to get them to do what you want.” Harry said lazily as he crossed the platform, activating another rune, “but the thing is, there is nothing you can give me that I want, so I’ll never play your game. If you don’t answer, I’ll execute you now. If Mr. Dumbledore has no power, you have even less with the ICW’s involvement at my behest.”

Fudge’s mouth had fallen open, eyes widened in shock before he swallowed audibly, then seemed to straighten, though the expected anger at his exposed facade was missing. Instead, there was grudging respect and almost reverent awe filling his eyes. “I apologize, Your Grace, I’ve spent too long in the company of sycophants.”

Against his will, Harry was mildly impressed and glanced at Luna, who nodded once, making Harry sigh, though he waved his hand, knowing someone else was noting Fudge’s cooperation, “answer the question, Mr. Fudge.”

“Oh right,” Cornelius fudge flushed violently, “I apologize, Your Grace. What was the question?”

“Why isn’t Mr. Dumbledore in charge anymore?” Harry said, already feeling a headache brewing as he crisscrossed the platform, earning a rumble of approval from Pendragon, who hadn’t removed his focus from Dumbledore.

“That’s self-evident with you standing before us, Your Grace. You’re our Regent. You hold dominion over every magical under Magic’s Promise. He sought to circumvent the magic that makes up the chamber, thus violating the oaths made to Avalon.” Fudge responded instantly, adding, “We tried several times to warn him against forcing his way in, but I doubt he registered anything he didn’t want to hear, either because he thinks what others have to say is irrelevant or because it counters what he wishes to happen.”

Dipping his head at the answer, Harry crossed the platform again, “And what does my presence mean here today, Mr. Fudge?”

“The Avalon Protocols have been activated, and even if the ICW hadn’t shown up, the ministry is automatically dissolved, and a reshuffling of the chamber is to make way for your knights,” Cornelius explained, using a voice that was surprisingly soothing and a lot more engaging than expected.

Nodding in agreement, Harry crossed the platform, activating the last rune, feeling the magic ripple across the chamber in a rush of spring-scented air, and a shimmering orb appeared in the interwoven branches of Yggdrasil.

Harry took a deep breath but then paused as a distortion appeared beside the orb; Pendragon immediately shifted focus, the feeling of shock reverberating through the bond profound, and he immediately dropped to a knee as the distortion formed into a rift, and two stepped through.

The woman in front wore a pleased, amused smile, her blond hair falling like a wave rippling in water down her back. Even her clothing was affected, and it should have been strange to see Mithril move like it was alive. Instead, he was captivated by her unnatural eyes, which had no pupils but were a replica of a star-field sky.

“My lady,” Harry croaked, closing his eyes and bending over his knee, mind whirling, not expecting this in any scenario any of the others had come up with.

A warm hand touched his cheek, urging him to lift his head, and he resisted long enough to swallow before he opened his eyes, “I-I don’t know what to say to you, my lady.”

“You have nothing you need to say, Hadrian.” She responded, the musical crescendo of her voice sounding like the tinkling of bells, “I’m here for you. This day was my promise to the people, and I mean to see it through if you’ll let me.”

“I would be honoured, my-“

“Hecate.” A warm finger touched his lips, and she smiled and added in a language he only understood because of Medea, “You, my beloved, deserve to call me by name.”

Horrified, Harry went to shake his head, but she sniffed, “I insist, Hadrian, if the Moirai are going to hi-jack your life like they have, then you can call us by our names; you were once as us.”

Hating that he couldn’t argue, Harry swallowed and nodded, wondering if he would get a lecture from Draco later, “All right, Hecate.”

Pleased, she smiled and held out a hand, which he accepted though it pained him to do so, and rose to his feet, unsurprised to see all of his knights and company kneeling in deference. It was interesting to see a number of them in the chamber doing the same, including Fudge and a number he knew to be marked Death Eaters, and he couldn’t help but wonder what Riddle would think.

Turning to glance at Dumbledore, he found the man standing slack-jawed and trembling though his focus was on the tall man, even hunched over as he held onto staff, seemingly paying no attention to him as he ‘pet’ Pendragon.

Shivering, Harry wasn’t sure what to make of that because while it wasn’t him, it was at the same time, and it was decidedly odd because no one but Draco should be touching him.

Amusement flashed through his bond with Draco, making Harry inhale sharply at the sensation’s strength and realize it was fully formed. He turned to look at Hecate, who didn’t look remorseful, “I won’t apologize; it’s a beautiful bond and deserves to be nurtured.” She paused and frowned, focusing on Dumbledore briefly, “It’s also a protection of sorts; no one can interfere in a bonded pair.”

“We had wanted it to build naturally,” Harry muttered, then flushed when she laughed in delight.

“Hadrian, you’ve almost successfully bonded four times since you reunited; the only thing that’s stopped you is others.”

Pouting, Harry crossed his arms, “so not the point.”

“At the risk of being reprimanded, love is the point. We always knew it was headed here, so while I have no problems with it, we’ll still need an official wedding.” Draco said easily, though he kept his head bowed.52

Hecate elbowed him and nodded towards Draco, so Harry moved across the platform and offered his hand, pulling his Consort to his feet when Draco accepted it.

“I’m sure we can find someone to officiate the event when it’s held,” Hecate said, laughter still in her tone as Draco tensed and horror spread through the bond at the implications.

“I really hope that wasn’t a threat,” Draco muttered out of the side of his mouth.

Harry shrugged, not offering an opinion either way and unwilling to test Hecate. Instead, he focused on the old man, the knowledge of who he was immediately shared by Pendragon, though he couldn’t tell his feelings.

“Merlin.”

The old man turned to look at him, “Your Grace, do I owe you an apology?”

Harry thought it over and shook his head, “No, you did what you could to save Avalon. The actions after your death are our own. Myths, lore, and legends may have been distorted due to the failure of magic, yet prophecy, thanks to the Moirai, still has a way of coming true no matter what you do.”

“A profound thing to say for someone who abhors prophecies,” Merlin remarked in interest.

“While that is true, I’ve had no choice but to accept the inevitable,” Harry admitted, “my entire existence is wrapped up in one.” He paused briefly before adding, “I think it’s also inevitable at this point to concede defeat and accept I’ve pissed off The Moirai because I have a strong suspicion it’ll get a bit worse before it gets better.”

Merlin’s smile lit his face, and he nodded to Hecate, who stepped back, circling the orb, to stand across from him, “then knights of the Triskaidecagon, step forward one at a time and touch the orb.”

Eternally grateful that they had rehearsed this aspect, Harry watched as Greg rose to his feet, pushed his hood back, and walked forward, touching the orb with a reverent look.

Greg was followed by Vincent, then Theo, Pansy, Blaise, and Daphne; the grouping of all the Slytherins together had been Harry’s personal amusement, though truthfully, no one had argued with him, letting him have his way. Severus was followed by Sirius, Neville, Fred, George, Susan, and Hannah. Hecate waited a few minutes, watching the room in smug satisfaction before calling forth Luna and then Draco. The swell of shock when he knocked his hood back doubled when his title of Consort was called out, though it was quickly shut off by the chamber silencing the room.

As Draco took his position back in the circle around the platform, he twined his hand into Harry’s and squeezed it, eyes tracking around the room.

Harry briefly glanced at him before focusing on the room, more fascinated in watching how it reacted to each touch, family boxes shifting magically in the room as people raced to get out of the way, some pressing to the wall in a mixture of confusion and fear, though admittedly there was anger there too.

It was especially gratifying to watch the Chief Warlock’s box shrink as it shifted places, being pushed to the second ring; it didn’t merge with the ministerial box, though that box was condensed considerably from what it once held, leaving only four chairs.

Once the room settled down, Harry glanced at the semi-circle of his knight’s boxes, the cost of arms and family emblem fixed to the fronts. It was surreal that this was even happening, never mind that it was happening now, sooner than any of them had predicted initially or planned, yet for all of that, it felt right. Rage and grief had brought him here, in a way, had brought them all here, and while a small part resented having to do it over, this way they were doing it right.

He looked around the chamber, taking in the expressions on everyone’s faces; his knights stood straight and tall, faces reflecting their pride and awe, with none of the playfulness he knew they could exhibit or streaks of mischief, especially the twins. Harry looked towards the parents and guardians of his knights, unsurprised to see the conflicting expressions on the known Death Eaters. A mixture of fear, anger and pride warred for a place, though for the most part, they looked uncomfortable, like they knew they’d already lost, and now it was just a matter of waiting to see what the repercussions would be. Augustus Longbottom had tears in her eyes as she stood in the family box; having held regency since her son’s affliction, Amelia Bones stood outside the ministerial box, pride and love evident in her body language, though none of that showed on her face. Cornelius Fudge was the odd one; the awe had been replaced with absolute idolization, and interestingly, he was still kneeling, though he watched avidly.

Flicking a glance around the room, Harry noted the expressions on the Dumbledore supporters, some of whom sat in boxes as proxies for a family edging away from them as if to disassociate themselves from the thin line between treason and greed.

Curious about what the reporters were doing, Harry looked towards the back, the row only holding three, including Rita Skeeters’s familiar figure. She wasn’t writing, though and suspected it was because she was determined to see everything so she could review it in a pensive later to make the most of it, unlike her two counterparts whose heads kept moving up and down as they double-checked to ensure they got everything correct.

He smiled, amusement bubbling up inside at the reassurance the chamber provided, letting him know they wouldn’t be able to name him, not in the paper, to friends or family until his first official appearance as Regent. It was priceless, knowing that everyone here would be under a geas similar to a tongue lock hex, but uncorrectable.

Hecate cleared her throat, and he turned to look at her. She lifted an eyebrow and said, “Are you ready?”

“I am,” Harry replied, voice calm.

“Then show your face to the room and show who magic has chosen,” Hecate responded, holding out a hand. Excalibur appeared with a crack of thunder, magic glistening off the blade as fire and water spiralled in a whirlwind effect around the sword.

Turning his head slightly, Harry searched out Albus Dumbledore, unsurprised to see the man glaring at him, spite and hatred etched into every line of his face, and used magic to push the hood back, showing his face and enjoyed the utter shock across Dumbledore’s.

Then, dismissing the old man from his mind, Harry stepped forward, undoing the clasps holding the cloak on, letting it slide off his shoulders. Just as he reached her to kneel, she smiled and shook her head, then to his horror, knelt instead, balancing the sword on both hands, “Once upon a time, I let Merlin choose a choice that almost brought us and magic to ruin. Some would have it happen again if the same path continues to be walked. I see the good in you, the righteousness of your anger, and the drive of your convictions. You won’t believe just because you’re entitled to, so I ask, Hadrian Cadmus James Brenin, Duke of Warwick, Comte Mávros and Heir Pendragon, will you take up the sword and continue the path of redemption? Will you honour me and be faithful to magic? A kingdom isn’t run alone, and that was Arthur’s undoing, so will you rule wisely and listen to your counsel?”

“I will, with pride and humility; my life and magic are yours if I fail,” Harry replied, voice even.

Hecate shifted the sword, so it was hilt first, and he reached out, gripping it, the familiarity of it bursting along his fingers as it rippled, forming to fit his physic, and he let out a startled laugh as magic and lighting arcing up his arm.

Hecate grinned at him and dipped her head as she rose fluidly to her feet, “What better place to find the Regent than in a school full of children?”

“I suppose that’s true,” Harry allowed, “did they know what he held?”

“They knew he was guardian, and that was all; Godric had no wish, ambition or even the ability to rule. His first and last love was the school he and Salazar helped rise from the ground with mine and Sulis’s help.” Hecate explained, lifting a single eyebrow, “but we can discuss that later, yes?”

Rolling his eyes, Harry nodded, turning as she directed, and placed a hand on the orb, the other still holding the sword.

If he’d thought his experience merging with Yggdrasil at the bank the first time had felt like coming home, this was home. It was Avalon. It was magic, an impartial construct of acceptance, love, judge, and jury. Executioner, too, if need be, as it was also the original justice before the jury of peers was created, the irony not lost on him as the orb was everything Hecate was. The society that made up Britain had turned from it, setting it on the course that would have destroyed magic.

Harry blinked to awareness as the orb let him go. Merlin’s voice bounced around the room, “Let it be known to one and all that Lady Magic has chosen your Regent!”

***

September, 24

“Congratulations Hadrian,

While I was surprised by the news, I had been somewhat aware of it before it hit the papers, given Albus’s behaviour after the Wizengamot. He had banned all correspondence being delivered to the school, including the paper, so I sent my elf to procure one. It might please you to know he was enraged at being unable to discuss it when confronted other than to confirm that Magic had chosen a Regent.

As I’m sure you’re aware, the paper has been rife with speculation, though it amuses me that the biggest complaint has been the rules surrounding the protocols that protect your identity.

This leads me to my other news: I know it is remiss of me to call you to carpet, but blessed lady, you still can turn the school upside down, and you’re not even a student this year. But needless to say, it has been absolutely chaotic at the school. Between Dolores Umbridge being assigned to the school, Severus’s disappearance, and Riddle’s utter lack of action, the students – I suspect led by five students you might be aware of, who have also revealed a regent chosen to the student body, though it’s questionable if they’re believed – have been in charge of causing as much mayhem as possible. I mentioned I had done away with the house segregation, and I’m surprised by how well it’s worked. It’s probably the first time since I’ve taught here that the schoolhouses have united in a common cause. Magical murals have been popping up proclaiming a regent’s return since the beginning of the school. And yes, while that was only a month ago at best, the best part about it is, until now, not only had no one been able to discuss it, but Albus has been completely unaware it’s been happening because they disappear as soon as a teacher views them. They’ve also taken to harass Umbridge after the first student had a detention with her and a blood quill of everything used on a student. I can assure you words were had with both Albus and Dolores, though you’ll be less pleased to know I was ordered to do nothing. Given my contract with the school, while I can’t go against a direct order, I can and have turned a blind eye to the twins’ rebellion, often interfering or redirecting attention from them so they can carry on their plans. I thank you greatly for the map. It has been of greater assistance than I expected. I don’t know if it has something to do with your titles, but the tie with the wards has been invaluable, and I humbly request permission to see if I can copy it.

In other news, the rest of the professors have been assisting me where they can, though Professor Trelawney has taken a turn for the worse. I shouldn’t admit it, but I knew she had a problem a few years ago, but now it’s to the point where she misses classes, and I’ve had no choice but to have her remanded to St.Mungo’s and cancel Divination. The horrifying fact is that Albus hasn’t noticed, or if he has, he doesn’t care.

As for the rest of the school, like I said, there is a common unity within the houses. The restructured classes have done what I intended, though we’ll see if that continues past this year. I doubt you’ll return to our halls to see the effects. Hopefully, you’ll see the results once they graduate and enter the real world.

I have no idea if you know or receive word from the others, but I figured I’d give you the courtesy of knowing how your former friends have been conducting themselves since school started.

Unfortunately, Hermione and Ronald were separated from their classes, and that oversight was uncorrectable. I know Hermione was upset the first few days, and words were had with Ronald. I’m not sure what those words were, but it resulted from what I can see as “agree to disagree.” Ronald has turned over a new leaf in a surprising turn of events. He is getting to all of his classes and doing his homework, and while not in the top ten students for our fifth year, he is in the top twenty.

On the opposite effect, Hermione has been put on academic probation after receiving the record for the highest number of incomplete assignments and missed classes in the first two weeks of school. If she doesn’t complete those assignments within the week, she’ll risk losing the Prefect badge and being given a three-day in-school suspension until they are done. I honestly don’t know what to do. It seemed like she had taken my words to heart as she had closeted herself in the library, but after confirming with Madame Pince, it appears that Hermione isn’t doing any schoolwork. She’s been researching all histories associated with the founding of England. While she accepts that she can’t explain the references to other civilizations, she refuses to accept that magic existed before England was even thought of. Disbelieves in the existence of gods, and at this stage, she’s so ridged in her convictions I don’t foresee any of that changing. It’s like she’s convinced herself that everything started with Hogwarts, and I must admit I hate Albus for this. I looked at the syllabus for the last four centuries, half the school’s existence and what I found has horrified me and shamed me as a teacher. It’s like every single headmaster has restructured the classes to suit them or the climate outside the school, often letting ministry interfere, and sadly, Albus is the worst. He’s removed and condensed courses to what we have now, dumbed down the levels to the least intelligent student, and used that as a grade baseline. We’ve also done away with academic probation before the sixth year, using the OWLS to determine the students’ continuing education. It might interest you that in the last 64 years, instead of following the policy, the only thing to happen is lowering the scores needed to continue their education. If I try hard enough, I imagine I’d find the same statistics at the ministry, too, even if that is outside my purview.

Anyway, enough of my rambles, I greatly enjoyed your last letter. It’s been many years since I’ve gone anywhere and even longer since I’ve been to Rome. As I’m sure you’ve learnt, it is rich and full of history, both magical and muggle alike, so take it from an old lady, enjoy it to the fullest, you deserve to experience it, even if you feel ridiculous acting like a tourist.

Say hello to the rest of your friends and family,

Your devoted servant,

Minerva”

Draco lowered the letter, eyes wide, “I have to admit, I don’t think I ever expected to read anything like that.”

Harry snorted, “who would? Ron passing in the top twenty and Hermione on probation seems ludicrous.”

“Pardon me?” Severus demanded, looking up from his own pile of correspondence.

Draco glanced at Harry, who shrugged, so he handed the letter over. He briefly watched his face and then focused on Harry.

“How are you feeling?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Harry replied, running a hand over his face, glancing at the clock, “It’s surprising as much as it’s not. I always knew Ron could be more, but once he knew I was his friend, he just stopped trying. Like he didn’t care, too, and I suspect it was because he figured my fame would see him through. Now that he doesn’t have that….” He trailed off and swallowed, “Hermione is a little harder to explain. I can easily see how she would research binge and refuse to accept anything outside her notions of rightness. But neglecting her education seems so out of character, I feel guilty like it’s my fault.”

“I don’t think it necessarily your fault, Harry,” Severus said, “for either of them. Some of it is the class restructuring, which I’m somewhat jealous of. I wish it was something I’d experienced when I went to school.”

Harry grimaced, still unsure what he thought of that whole thing, but that probably had more to do with how they had all turned on him twice.

“Harry,” Severus prompted, making Harry lift his eyes from the pile of correspondence left to be read, “Minerva told you of the conversation Hermione had with the other prefects on the train. I’m more inclined to believe between Grimmauld and the hard truths that told her, Hermione spiralled and is having a hard time accepting everything she’s believed is a lie.”

“I suppose,” Harry acknowledged, “it’s just- I hate that they pretended to be my friend and that I fell for it.”

“You were conditioned to love.” Draco replied softly, “That’s not your fault.”

Scowling, Harry frowned at the desk, “I should have known better. I did know better, Dudley used to pretend just to get me in trouble later.”

At that, it was Draco’s turn to frown. “Was anything ever done about your relatives?”

Harry looked at him blankly for a second before his expression cleared. “You mean Petunia?”

Draco raised an eyebrow, making Harry flush, and it was evident he’d forgotten about them as he glanced at Severus, who sighed and ran a hand down his face.

“I forgot we hadn’t talked about this, so I went to England and took Reggie, unsure of the situation we’d be walking into. It turns out that caution was unnecessary as Petunia moved. While neither she nor Dudley have been found yet, we know it wasn’t nefarious or either Riddle or Dumbledore’s minions.”

“What?” Harry questioned, “Why?”

“Sometime near the end of August, Vernon Dudley died in a car accident in what I suspect was a minor raid conducted by Riddle’s forces. Do I believe he was the original target? No, he was in an unfortunate accident and caught in the aftermath. We have no way of knowing if Petunia knows it was magical in nature. Still, she has seemingly disappeared, though she is wanted for questioning concerning Vernon’s job as apparently, he was under suspicion of embezzlement, fraud and misappropriation of funds and merchandise.”

Stunning Harry blinked at Severus, “Wow, alright, is she still being looked for?”

Shaking his head, Severus folded the letter he’d been reading and tossed it in the discard pile, “for now, Regulus and I determined it best to leave it in Muggle hands, though we did give the detective we spoke with my contact information in case they had questions for you, after explaining you were enrolled in an international school previously paid for by your parents.”

“Questions for me?” Harry demanded.

“Yes,” Severus said tiredly, “don’t worry about it for now; Ragnok will let us know if it becomes necessary.”

“I kind of feel like I have no choice but to worry about it, considering we have formal introductions to the Queen of England.” Harry snipped, clearly put out, though Draco couldn’t tell if that was at the idea of meeting the Queen or his relatives’ questionable legal issues.

“Don’t borrow trouble; that meeting’s not until Yule,” Draco reminded him calmly, “hopefully, anything concerning your relatives will have been resolved by then.”

Deflating, Harry sighed, “Alright, but maybe some discreet inquiries. It wouldn’t do for the Duke of Avalon to be bound up in gossip before my introduction.”

Severus looked at him, nodding, “I’ll speak with Ragnok today. He indicated he would be there.”

Draco’s stomach clenched at the reminder, having successfully managed to avoid thinking of the audience set for this afternoon, the first introduction that would lift the privacy seal on their identity. It felt more intimidating than what they’d done two days ago.

“Hey,” Harry said softly, nudging his foot with his own, “you alright?”

Flashing a brief smile, Draco nodded, “Little nervous about this afternoon.”

Harry’s expression softened, reflecting his understanding, “We don’t have to formally release anything about us.”

“Fuck that,” Draco snapped, sitting up, “society is made up of fucking vultures. I will not hide that I’m your consort and leave you to fend for yourself.”

Suddenly amused, Harry flicked his forked tongue, then laughed out loud as a rolled-up ball of paper hit the side of his head, and he glanced at Severus, “Don’t flirt with each other in front of me. It’s disturbing.”

“You flirt with Sirius in front of me!” Harry protested, “And I should be flirting with Draco; flirting with one’s intended spouse is considered romantic.”

Severus pointed his finger at him, “I changed both of your nappies as babies. Don’t make me start telling embarrassing stories in retaliation.”

Draco blushed hard, already envisioning the stories Severus could tell about him, but the fervent but hesitant look on Harry’s stopped him from protesting, “Harry?”

“I kind of want to know,” Harry admitted and shrugged helplessly, “and I know it should be embarrassing, but my only memories are horrible and depressing.”

“You started walking at nine months.” Sirius said from the doorway, a resigned sorrow on his face as Harry whipped around to look at him, expression hungry and watched as Sirius moved to perch on the arm of Severus’s chair, “The problem with that is you hadn’t done it in front of anyone, not even your nanny elf. James was off at practice, your mom was buried under a ton of research I didn’t understand, and Severus had passed out after conducting experiments, leaving me alone with you. I’d put you down for a nap like normal, cleaned up the mess we’d made, and sat down to do some of my reading for my mastery. I don’t know if it’s just the passage of time or a memory hole, but I couldn’t honestly tell you how much time had elapsed between all of that. Still, the next thing I remember is hearing a child’s giggle, your giggle.” A soft smile crossed Sirius’s face. His eyes looked suspiciously damp, “you were outside in the garden, sitting butt naked in the mud petting about twenty odd snakes like the there were puppies or something. It was ridiculous and got worse before the wards had to be adjusted to keep them out because they wanted to follow you everywhere.”

“You knew I was a parselmouth as a baby?” Harry whispered in surprise.

Startled, Sirius blinked at the question before nodding slowly, eyes fluttering shut when Severus gripped his hand, regret lining their faces, “another thing I suspect we were forced to forget, but yes, hearing that, I remember it. Sirius had so much trouble with Lily when she found two snakes sleeping in your bed.”

Draco reached out at the emotions that crossed Harry’s face and squeezed his hand gently. Harry flicked him a grateful look before focusing on their godfathers, “Would mom have let me get a snake as I got older?”

“In a heartbeat,” Severus said, subconsciously shifting his weight to lean against Sirius, “unfortunately, she would have had to fight your father to allow it; while Lily never cared about houses and whatnot, James did, even after we were for the most part able to bury our differences.”

“I still don’t understand Dad’s part in this,” Harry admitted, “sometimes it feels like from everything you say he was in on it, but then a little comment or added context and it appears he wasn’t. I just don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“I didn’t know him as a child,” Sirius admitted, “but it’s easy to see in hindsight that James was spoiled detrimentally, and as a result, he never received any sort of punishment for anything he did. The other unfortunate truth about James was his inability to admit when he was wrong about something. Also, he trusted the idealized concept of light versus dark. In his worldview, there was no grey, which was the biggest stumbling block your parents had.”

Frowning, Harry glanced at the clock, “Do you mean in magic or political factions?”

“Both,” Severus said with a snort, “I mean no disrespect to the man, but James was flawed in his view, a rhetoric perpetrated by Albus before he entered Hogwarts.”

Sirius frowned at him, “What are you talking about?”

Severus sighed, “Part of a memory, James and I had a talk shortly after the whole prophecy debacle, but it was during this talk that he explained his parents had hosted a party. A meet and greet for the light faction and their children. It was there that James met Peter and Remus and believed that because their parents were part of the light faction. Then, because they didn’t sort into Slytherin, they had to be good. On the side of right.” Severus ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “he also admitted he had been given a mission, a list of names of other first-year children to try and cultivate, pure-bloods and half-bloods – mine and Sirius’s names where on the list. Still, I wasn’t acceptable when I was sorted into Slytherin.”

Sirius snapped his fingers, “That’s right, I remember this; he was horrified to learn that not only were Lily and I considered dark, but Severus was also considered neutral. His entire world perception was turned on its axis because the three of us can summon fully corporeal Patronus, and James never could.”

“While that’s interesting, it still doesn’t really answer my question,” Harry said, frustration lacing his tone, even as he flushed, “sorry, I know I asked for stories.”

“No need to be sorry, I just wish I could provide a satisfactory answer.” Sirius said softy.

“Ultimately, it doesn’t matter what James’s role was; we’re all pawns in Albus’s game. James paid the price for his blind faith.” Severus offered, “And in that other future, more paid too.”

“Well, today will be interesting then, I guess.” Draco said shortly, squeezing Harry’s hand again, “Are you ready to put an end to that prophecy?”

Harry flashed him a grin and countered, eyes flashing purple, “You ready to help me start the fulfillment of another?”

Severus groaned in despair when Draco leaned over, stealing a kiss in response and effectively answering that question.

***

Standing near the doors, Severus stood next to Sirius, identity hidden by the hood Reggie had provided, watched the chamber fill with four times the number of people as the first Wizengamot sessions and was infinitely glad it was a magical expanding room, continuously adding more rings and seating to accommodate the number of people.

It wasn’t the standard duty of a knight to provide backup to the Dverger, who had volunteered to provide security for the Regent; for the most part, people were cautiously excited. A few had given lip or complained like the wizard arguing, but just like the rest, as soon as Sirius stepped forward, face distorted, they backed down, scurrying to a seat that proved he wasn’t as influential as he indicated.

Severus hid a sigh of resignation as Sirius almost bounced back into position but didn’t poke at his husband, letting him have his fun. He glanced around the room again, mostly dismissing those sitting in the common area and focusing on the lords and ladies who held boxes.

It wasn’t what he’d thought his job as first knight would be, not that Severus had ever really given thought to his duties, as he’d had no hope believing the idea that his family lore would be focused on him, even if he had been the last Prince standing. Yet, for all of that, it had been easy. Stupidly easy to shift focus and become a spymaster for Harry, using his cultivated knowledge gleaned from years of servitude when trapped between two different masters. Hearing a startled squeak, he glanced over at his husband, who had shifted, lazily pushing off the wall, sending another submitting to the security measures before ducking their heads and scurrying to a seat a little further up than the ‘first important person.’ It was like they thought they could pull the wool over anyone’s eyes, as if no one could know the social divide within the chamber.

Movement at the door drew his attention, and he straightened as Sirius sniffed and leaned lazily against the wall, even with his face distorted, showing he cared very little for Albus Dumbledore’s entrance. Severus had to give the man his due. His irritation at being scanned was there in his eyes, but he submitted readily, almost cheerfully, though by the flare of his nostrils, he wasn’t happy at all.

The sycophants that trailed behind Albus numbered more than Severus had expected, noting Ted, Andromeda, and their daughter Tonks. Emmeline Vance, Dedalus Diggle, Elphias Doge, Molly Weasley, and Arabella Figg a somewhat odd addition. Kingsley Shacklebolt wasn’t there, and Severus knew the ICW had just started working through the mess that the ministry was, but the man might have had a partner assigned by them if he’d been found innocent under questioning.

An elbow to his side made him look to his husband, who was watching the group pass, Albus escorting Molly, whose eyes were red and blotchy, down the center steps and towards the Prewitt seats. At the same time, Ted Tonks led Andromeda and Tonks towards the box that Sirius and Severus shared and had to bite his lip as a low tonal rumble echoed through the room. Pendragon appeared in a flash in the center of the circle, next to the orb that still sat there, halting their progression with a stumble.

“None of you have leave or permission to be down on these levels. This ring is reserved for the Knights and the Regent.”

Albus patted Molly’s arm consoling and opened his mouth, but Pendragon fixed a glare on the old man, pointing with a wing, “Your chair for the purpose of today’s meeting is there. I suggest you sit or be ejected from the room, Albus Dumbledore.”

The reaction was immediate and noticeable, for Albus trembled, and for the first time in Severus’ life, he saw fear flash across the old man’s face.

Pendragon glanced at them standing at the back and flicked an ear, both men taking it as a symbol to move forward.

Sirius was slightly in the lead; he reached them first and bowed formally to the spectral form “Pendragon.”

“Escort them to seats.” The dragon rumbled, smoke curling around his face as he glared at Andromeda, who opened her mouth to argue, “You have no secrets while in this room, so I suggest you stop before you speak, Mrs. Tonks, or you’ll just make it worse for yourself.”

It was gratifying when his husband’s cousin turned white, clutching at her daughter’s arm but kept her head held high, as Sirius wordlessly pivoted and moved back up the steps, escorting them to the fourth row, away from the others who had come in with Albus.

Taking that as his cue, Severus motioned for Molly and gripped her elbow to guide her to a seat on the other side of the room as Albus slipped away, head down.

As Molly settled onto the bench next to the first rude wizard, a gong echoed off the walls, but this was almost harmonic, unlike the warning of violation.

Confused, he glanced back at Pendragon, who dipped his head, beaconing with a wing, so Severus moved back down the stairs, meeting Sirius at the foot who offered his hand, which he took immediately and squeezed before releasing it to flank Pendragon, voice rumbling as he spoke, magic rippling over the room, “once the doors close if you must leave before the sessions commence you may not reenter.”

One or two twitched at the pronouncement, but no one moved. actually, rose and left the room, so Severus turned his attention to the boxes holding the nobles, surprised but gratified to see some with whole families arranged in the box, like the Greengrass and Abbott families. He skimmed the boxes with the ones he knew had been marked, noting that some of them hadn’t been tempted to try entering, and smirked in amusement, wondering if they would have been able to today.

In the ministerial box, only two of the six chairs had people sitting in them, Cornelius Fudge and Amelia Bones, both facing forward, Fudge with an ardent expression of near worship on his face.

Dumbledore sat in his box, staring directly at them, expression blank, but his eyes blazed with barely restrained rage, and it took a minute to notice that his box, out of all, was glowing slightly.

When the information regarding the glow came to him, he had to fight the urge to laugh and avert his gaze as he continued around the room. Still, it was satisfying knowing the chamber didn’t trust Albus and had silenced him and activated the dampening rune, too.

There was another box beside Albus that made Severus blink in surprise as three people slipped inside, all wearing hoods from the DOM, but he knew one of them was Regulus, as the middle man dipped his head in acknowledgment.

The rest of the room comprised the noble house and title but landless in addition to the reporters and spectators. The only thing really different from the last time he’d stood in the chamber was the addition of four boxes, one for the DOM. Two sat across from the ministerial boxes, and neither had anyone sitting in them. No emblem was on the front to indicate who it was for, but it held enough chairs that it could sit comfortably for four and six people. The other box was directly in front of him, front and center, the runes etched around it, giving the indication it was for prisoners, and even he shivered a little at that because he knew it would be directly in front of Harry when he sat down and having been subjected to his Regent’s cold stare, it wasn’t something he wanted to experience again.

The room fluctuated, and even Pendragon blinked as stairs spiralled up from the ground in the back. A balcony appeared just as Minerva McGonagall entered the room, the head boy and girl directly behind her. It was awe-inspiring, but in an almost fanatical near-military precession, she wordlessly directed the students up the stairs, watching as they climbed two by two, from first year to seventh, intercepted by professors, including Hagrid. A brief stare-off between Delores Umbridge and Minerva ended quickly when a group of Dverger warriors entered the room, moving forward to intercept. Delores rushed up the stairs, face drawn into a ridge scowl.

The lead warrior offered his arm to Minerva, who accepted it and was escorted up the stairs. The group fanned out amongst the students and stood sentry over them just as the doors banged shut.

***

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

In a move that echoed two days ago, minus the violation warning, Harry squeezed Draco’s hand as the doors opened silently, a miniature replica of the large double doors, and Bella slipped out, ceremonial robes silent. The addition of wings on her back fluttered at the movement.

A beat of silence sounded before the amplified echo of her staff rapping on the floor sounded, her voice echoing and bouncing around the chamber, “All rise and kneel before the Regent.”

The rumble of noise, indicating everyone listened, made Harry close his eyes and draw in a deep breath as Neville and Luna moved forward, followed by the twins. Draco squeezed his hand, pulling it unobtrusively, making Harry open his eyes and walk forward, Vincent and Greg flanking his position with Susan and Pansy directly behind him, followed by Hannah and Daphne, leaving Theo and Blaise to bring up the rear.

They stepped into the room, moving to the dais that overlooked the room and seats, the knights flanking the steps, with Severus and Sirius moving to the bottom steps, and posed there for a minute before Bellatrix called out, “I present, Hadrian Cadmus James Brenin, Regent Brenin, Duke of Avalon, and his consort, Draconis Armand Malfoy, Earl of Avebury.”

Counting to thirty, he tightened his hand around Draco’s and led the way to the stairs, each of the knights waiting to move until he’d passed.

Escorting Draco to the center box, Harry opened the door and let him enter, nodding for his knights to do the same. However, Severus and Sirius moved to stand in front of his box, and he joined them in the middle, and inclined his head, waiting till everyone was settled again, before moving to stand in the center of the ring, next to Pendragon.

“Good Morning, I want to start by apologizing for disturbing your day and thank each of you for coming.” Harry kept his voice steady, “I know you were warned at the beginning that once the doors close, you may leave but not re-enter, but I will let those with young children know. They may call on a Brenin house elf if needed, who will ensure that their needs are met if they don’t have a house elf.”

He paused at the ripple of shock that was felt across the room. He offered a shrug. “I understand wanting your children to experience a historic moment in our society, so I will not ask them to leave, though in future sessions, they may be removed if I feel they are too young to witness a criminal case.”

Harry watched the shock change to a chagrined dismay as if they hadn’t considered that, and a few of the families dropped their gazes while another mouthed thank you. Acknowledging that, Harry clasped his hands behind his back, “I will admit my magical upbringing has been lax up to this point. After my parents were murdered, I was sent to live in the Muggle world, with people believed to be my blood relatives, through my mother.” He glanced at the box in the middle of the front row and inclined his head, watching as Sirius detached from his side and moved towards the box, offering a hand to help her down and lead her back over. “The truth of that, except for my grandmother, Lady Emilee Brenin, her sisters, brothers and their children, I have no other direct relatives, as my grandfather neither had more children nor, in truth, knew he even had one.”

He felt his grandmother tense beside him, and he slipped a hand around hers and squeezed it gently in apology, “It was originally intended to leave this as a family secret, but as I have learnt, and you will as we go through today proceedings, truth has a way of coming out, to long have we lived under lies and misconceptions, and it feels dishonest to start my reign under the same.”

Emilee drew in a deep breath, lowering her head, but didn’t argue, and he felt the approval coming from Severus at his right. Glancing over the room, he saw the interest and approval on the faces and offered a semi-smile. “It’s not a grand story of intrigue; instead, it is as olde as time. Lady Emilee grew up as the youngest of six children, the cherished and precious favourite of them all. Plans were made, which she rebelled against at eighteen, but knew her duty, so she agreed to her summer of fun.” He shrugged, “She was introduced to a highly captivating and charismatic man, who called himself Tomas, who would have been thirty-three years old or thereabouts. Unfortunately for her, he easily enthralled her and convinced her to run away and marry him. When she suspected she was pregnant, she left and told her parents what she’d done. They rightfully panicked, having done the necessary research to learn about this man and understand who he was. Remembering a family prophecy, they contacted and received confirmation from Pythia, the Oracle of Delphi, that Lillian Guinevere Brenin would indeed be the child of that prophecy, who would bear the next Regent. Given who her biological father was, it was deemed safer to place my mother with Emilee’s squib brother, Ricard Evans and hide that truth under a secrecy spell, ensuring her safety.”

Harry took a deep breath and nudged her arm, telling her wordlessly if she wished to sit, she could, but instead, she lifted her head, baring regal and unashamed, “While many of you may question the necessity of this or complain that you where robbed, I assure you completely it was a valid concern. As her legal husband, he could have assumed the proxy of the Brenin title once I was born, a fate worse than the one we’ve lived under for the last thirty years. Our way of life would have entered a darker period if that had happened and would have ensured the death and destruction of magic and the life we know, for he was once known as Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

Harry couldn’t help but snort and shake his head at the blank looks on the faces. “The first obscurant is presented, but we’ll come to that later today.”

Gripping his grandmother’s hand, he led her back to her box, bowing formally over her hand before assisting her inside. “Our first order of business is the restructuring of olde titles, most of which have served faithfully, while others have made questionable choices for their families and in their duty to magic.”

Harry ran his eyes over the assembly of lords, “but before that can happen, we need to root out the lies and deceit that have perpetuated our society for decades. That has directly impacted my life, including treason, the threat of my line’s continuation, and the theft of three magical houses.”

Turning his head, he stared straight at Albus, who had risen to his feet, “Sit down, Mr. Dumbledore, your opinion is unnecessary.”

The old man opened his mouth to argue, and scales erupted along Harry’s neck while smoke curled from his nose in a mirror of Pendragon curled protectively at his feet, “Sit down!”

The room rumbled its agreement, forcing Dumbledore to sit, face reflecting his shock and outrage at being dismissed. Yet, Harry turned from him anyway, addressing the crowd, “I’ve officially held my title since August 15 and educated myself with everything at my disposal. One of those was upholding a pact magic made with the Creature’s Counsel. I informed them that I was greatly disappointed in their efforts because, while it can be acknowledged that they would intercede if it concerned magicals and creatures, when it included creatures and Muggles, they turned a blind eye. I gave them several tasks, including the restructuring of their organization and the capture of Fenrir Greyback, of which they sent me word today that while they had some issues, they had accomplished that mission.”

The doors to the left swung open, and the group strolled in, surrounding seven blindfolded people bound in magical chains. If they were unnerved to be in the room, they didn’t show it as they approached the dais, forcing the people they had with them to their knees before kneeling.

“Who will be your representative today?” Harry asked them.

Ragnok’s wife inclined her head, “I’ve been elected to speak, Your Grace.”

Nodding, Harry shifted his weight, leaning against the dragon, “Very well, High Priestess.”

Beannacht rose, “When we met, you charged us with a duty to uphold the values and gifts magic provided us, and you were correct. While we dealt with issues surrounding creatures, the representation offered on the council was disparagingly absent, even more so when we consider those who can force a change in status, whether they be Wiccan or Muggle. Because of that, it forced us to cooperate and work out our differences, and we are happy to report we were successful.” She gestured to the bound men, varying degrees of shabbiness evident in their clothing, “Fenrir Greyback was unfortunately already dead when we conducted our raid. If necessary, we can provide you with memories to confirm that, but we captured four who survived. However, we haven’t determined guilt, and then two curiosities the Acolyte thought might interest you.”

Harry glanced at Bella, who inclined her head, “Debts must be paid, Your Grace.”

Now curious, Harry waved his hand, the blindfolds falling away, already growling as his eyes skimmed one man before his eyes snapped to Remus Lupin, who looked horrified. “How interesting…” Harry drawled, focusing on Remus, who was white as parchment, and trembling as he knelt, “How many victims were in the camp?” Harry asked, addressing the council.

“In addition to the four in front of you, twenty-three, Your Grace.” The Shaman responded, “We helped who we could, but unfortunately, we could only save three others we knew to be true victims. We, the Dverger, have taken them in and provided the healing they need both in mind and body, but it will be a long journey for some of them; for the rest, we offered the mercy of magic and sent them home to the lady.”

Aura arcing, the room rippled in reaction, and Harry stocked forward, only stopping when Beannacht cleared her throat, “Your Grace.”

Harry glanced at her, and she linked her hands together. “While Fenrir is guilty of the heinous crimes untold, we spoke with other hostages of the camp, some of whom have been there a long time. It’s only been in the last month when a power shift resulted in the death of Fenrir, and a new man stepped in to assume control of the pack. The only problem with that is he did nothing to assist those already suffering by offering a true bite and, from what we have been able to determine, has been torturing all of them with dosages of Wolfsbane.”

Faltering in confusion, Harry narrowed his gaze to the one man who smelt off, “What’s your name?”

The man flinched at the demand, unbalancing himself and pitched forward, bashing his face off the stone dais. Blood soaked into the floor, making Harry shiver at the influx of information that flooded his system, and he had to direct his attention to Remus Lupin to keep from ripping the man’s head off, “and what’s your part in this, Remus Lupin, how did you come to be in that camp?”

Remus’s face went through a series of emotions until he finally shook his head, making Harry sigh, “How quaint, unbreakable vow?”

The werewolf didn’t move, making Harry laugh, “you know your silence condemns you as much as being caught there, right?”

“Accused are normally allowed to seek legal advice,” The man with a still bleeding nose said snidely.

“True, but you’re the one who was caught in an encampment of a known and notorious werewolf who preferred taking children as young as five to force the change.” Harry said conversationally, taking a seat on the step, “Like Remus here, so it’s interesting you were found there, considering you are fully human. I detect no bite on you, you give no indication you have any injuries, you ate within the last twenty-four hours, unlike four others, and even more interestingly, you don’t seem to be aware of who I am.”

“A kid with too much power,” the wizard said dismissively, “I demand a right to legal representation.”

“Did your victims demand a right to be let go?” Harry countered, smoke curling around his face, “Did you ask before you started experimenting on the half-turned with Wolfsbane, did you offer them the gift of mercy, or did you just write down the effects and whatnot? Did you even care that some of those victims probably just wanted to go home again? Or is that what you promised them until you could help them escape? That you would let them go if you did your testing?”

“He didn’t ask.” One of the werewolves blurted, earning Harry’s direct look. “He just- we woke up naked in cages, magically tethered, leashed like animals.”

“Do you know how he came to be in the encampment?” Harry asked with a frown.

“Lupin. He let him in, convinced the boss he wanted to come home, feed him something that made him sick and lethargic,” the man panted, “fed it to us too, but still haven’t figured out what it was. There’s no taste or smell to it, but he-Lupin, once Fenrir was down, he let the man in, and-and he pinned Fenrir out, skinned him alive. said it was retribution. It made them even and then kept him alive until the full moon,” the werewolf blinked tears from his eyes, licking dry lips, “it was horrific. None of us argued after that. We didn’t always agree with Fenrir; most of us hated his policies, but he didn’t deserve that. You don’t torture a rabid dog; it teaches them nothing; you just put them down.”

“I agree,” Harry said and then directed his attention to the human wizard in the group, eyes turning purple, “so tell me, Damocles Belby, why have you spent half a lifetime creating and distributing poison that kills the wolf?”

“Because he wouldn’t give it to me!” The man yelled, panting, “he was my friend. I stood by him when he was first bitten. I kept him safe and helped him on the nights of the full moon, but every month, he pulled away more and more, looked at me in disgust and pulled away when I gave him his medicine. I realized then it had to be the curse. It had to be; my Greyson wouldn’t treat me that way, so I had to get rid of the wolf, see? Get rid of the wolf and not the stopgap, I was attempting to control it. If I could do that, Greyson would return to me.” Damocles pleaded, tears spilling down his face to mingle with the blood on it, “I reached out to an old friend, and he helped me find an old ritual, said it would work, though we had to piece together aspects of it.” The wizard’s eyes fluttered as if lost in a memory, “That was a good month; Greyson was good. He listened, didn’t fight, and when it came time for the ritual… I still don’t understand what happened, but Greyson, he-he changed, fully changed and spoke. Said he knew what I did, what I wanted, but would never give it to me, said I was poison, and cruel, tainted. It hurt. I loved him. I’d loved him for years and thought he loved me, so I begged and begged, and he laughed. He laughed. Said he should kill me before I could hurt anyone else. I panicked and left, apparated out. When I went back in the morning, he was gone.” Damocles sniffed pitifully, “he found me a few years later after rumours of a werewolf taking children and turning them hit society, destroyed my lab, and set back my work. Still, I persevered. I vowed to find a cure, and I did. He just wouldn’t take it; he said he didn’t want freedom from the wolf; he said my poison had already tainted the connection, and he’d never achieve a full merger. He blamed me for his actions and for taking the boys. He said it was all my fault; everything he’d done was my fault.” The man fell silent except for the pitiful crying, and Harry let him, flicking a glance at Remus, who was looking green and horrified. Damocles continued speaking, “I asked him why he went after little boys, if it was my fault, and it hurt. The answer: he said he took them because I’d already tainted them, marked them, and infected them; if they weren’t bitten by the time puberty hit, they’d die anyway.”

“And what did he mean by that?” Harry demanded, tone smooth and hard like silk on steel, “What had you done?”

“In the 50s and 60s, mass vaccination was done, I swapped them, I needed more test subjects, I needed answers, and no one would volunteer.” The answer was given, voice flat and monotone, when he blinked, a look of undisguised fear filling his eyes as they darted around wildly, “What-what have you done to me? Where are we? You can’t do this. This isn’t lawful!”

Harry smirked, “Which question would you like answered first, Mr. Belby? Because I assure you, everything I’ve done is completely lawful. There is no one above me in the ranked hierarchy in this room except for Lady Magic, and I doubt you’d enjoy her judgment, though you probably won’t like mine either, but that’s neither here nor there. As for where we are, that’s simple: you are in my domain, my playpen, as it were. I am judge, jury, and executioner, if need be, and I think it might be needed in your case.”

Harry snapped a hand out, wand appearing as he rose fluidly to his feet, and stalked to the stairs, Severus immediately at his back.

“What do you think you’re attempting to do, Mr. Dumbledore?” Harry asked, stopping in front of Dumbledore’s box and tapping the wand against his thigh as he waited for an answer.

Dumbledore looked back at him, his face impassive. “I was only trying to draw your attention, Your Grace. Mr. Belby is correct in his right to request legal counsel, as is any person accused of a crime. To publicly try a person without due process is a stain upon your magical legacy-“

Harry held up a hand, cutting off the flow of words, “You realize that I could pull Excalibur right now and try to remove your head, and the only way it would fail is if magic judged you innocent, right?”

Albus’s eyes widened, “pardon me?”

Snorting, Harry slid his wand into the holster and leaned both arms on the box, staring directly at Albus, “The magic of this room is directed and controlled by Hecate, who won’t allow me to become a tyrant. I say I’m judge, jury and executioner because I’m her hand on earth, but her will guides me, and if she finds fault with what I do, she will intercede.”

“You need help, counsel, my boy.” Albus started and visibly flinched when Harry slammed his hands on the railing, the sound echoing like thunder.

“I am Pendragon! Don’t disrespect me again.”

“I apologize, Your Grace.” Was the graceful apology, “I forgot myself.”

Narrowing his eyes, Harry tapped his fingers before turning away, stalking back towards the front, and the man who had collapsed to his side, watching his progress with eyes wide, “You’re, oh sweet lady, you set me up!”

Harry tilted his head with a frown, realizing the raving wasn’t directed at him, and waved a hand at one of the runic sequences that calmed the man down. “Why did Fenrir think his actions were your fault? What did he believe you’d done?”

“He’s name’s Greyson!” The man snapped, then seemed to deflate, “I set him up to be bitten. I baited and made him smell irresistible, but his blood was poisoned. I needed the body of a werewolf and a freshly turned one to continue my work.” Damocles admitted, leaving Harry stunned and sickened, but he forced himself to ask.

“Why? What was your work?”

“I wanted to prove that the regeneration and healing abilities could be shared without transmitting the infection so I could save my grandfather.”

Harry turned his head, focusing on Draco, who looked green and couldn’t help the shiver of revolutions Damocles Delby’s confession caused.

“How is Remus Lupin connected to all of this?” Harry asked.

“Your Grace, I must protest your continuous questioning of the man, he’s clearly in need of medical attention and should be seen by experts at the Janus Thickly ward.” Dumbledore said quickly.

“He needs to die.” Harry said flatly, “he’s admitted to-fuck. I don’t even know what the official charges would be.”

“Ritual torture, multiple counts of medical experimentation,” Susan called out, “it could be argued he’s responsible for the death of Fenrir Greyback twice but is officially guilty of conspiracy to be bitten.” She frowned and glanced down, face turning pale, but picked up a piece of parchment, “One hundred and ninety-six counts of ritual torture and experimentation, six hundred and forty-three counts of medical experimentation in regards to the vaccine tampering in the first generation, two thousand three hundred and sixty-six counts in the second generation, nine hundred and thirty-six counts for experimentation with Wolfsbane, thirty-six counts of death through experimentation,” she swallowed, hand trembling, “three-thirty counts for intentionally planned attacks resulting in a bite victim… do I need to continue, Your Grace?” Susan asked, voice trembling and expression horrified. Harry shook his head.

“No, I think everyone understands the gravity of the situation.” He turned to look at the man who was still lying on his side, mumbling to the stone platform, “he doesn’t deserve to live.”

“Everyone deserves a second chance, Your Grace.” Came Albus’s chiding tone.

Harry froze and turned to face Albus Dumbledore, rage causing magic to crackle at his fingertips, “a second chance? Are you as delusional as him?”

“Not at all, Your Grace, but I believe in redemption. He’s clearly sick.”

“Like Grindelwald?” Harry demanded, and he could see he startled Albus at the subject change with the slight widening of his eyes. “He’s responsible for the death of countless families throughout Europe, fifty-two pureblood families, including grandparents, parents, and kids, totalling seven hundred and forty-six people. Why’s he still alive? Redemption? Love? Repentance?” Harry waved a hand, invoking the magic of the chamber and pulled memories from Albus’s mind, watching them play out on the wall behind his seat, “you made a blood pact with him so you couldn’t kill him, but you wouldn’t grant the people the right to their justice, so you’ve kept him prisoner for almost fifty years without a trial, for what? Your own redemption?”

Panic flickered across Albus’s face as he watched his memories play out, eyes closing as the last one showed them kissing, offering no answer to Harry’s questions. Not that it surprised Harry; he hadn’t expected it to be easy after all.

Turning back to Belby, Harry squatted beside him but looked at Remus, who looked like he was fighting to keep his lunch and composure, “how do you fit into this, Remus? How were you introduced to this madman?”

Tears filled the older man’s eyes, but his jaw remained locked, and Harry sighed, shaking his head, “Mr.Belby, can you answer the question?”

“Promised a willing test subject, experiment 217, started taking Wolfsbane at the age of fifteen, wanted to start younger, but was denied access, told other pieces at play. During first-year observations, the test subject was willing to take Wolfsbane, but during the lapse of summer, he exhibited signs of unwillingness when the subject returned to school. So had to reconfigured timeline of dosages, if subjects took Wolfsbane the week leading up to the full moon, he presented no overt issues and learnt that it was more effective.” The monotonous recitation was horrifying and only worsened the longer the man spoke. He described the side effects, the general effects of an incorrectly brewed batch, the accidental overdosages and unintentional poisonings. The madness and frenzies of each subsequent full moon, the bouts of memory loss, the injuries – both intentional and self-inflicted, and then the man started raving about having landed the jack-pot because the test subject had impregnated someone, a previous unexplored thought, but had expanded the testing parameters by a substantial amount. Yet, the more Damcoles Belby talked, the more disgusted and more pissed Harry got, and he risked looking at Remus, who was looking more and more heartbroken by the second.

“Stop,” Harry called out, then glanced at Ragnok, who had slipped into the room. Two familiar figures stood behind him, and then he focused on the Shaman who stood there, aura crackling enraged. “He’s fully human, but he’s wrong those amongst you, so if you wish, I can give him over to you for your Justice.”

Without looking at the others with her, Beacnutt shook her head, “No, Your Grace, he can meet yours.”

Harry’s fingers twitched, but he inclined his head, “Very well, Damocles Belby, you’ve heard the charges; you’ve had your say. Is there anything you’d like to add?”

The man lay there blinking owlishly with no response, and Harry fisted his hand, “Croaker?”

“Your Grace,” the man in question responded, rising to his feet.

“Find his research, interrogate him, and find out if he currently has any victims or accomplices. He’ll meet justice in a week.” Harry replied, watching dispassionately as Dverger warriors swarmed the man, lifting him and moving him from the room while Croaker had a whispered conversation with the captain of the guard, who nodded once and left the room. Croaker returned to his seat, pulling a journal from a dimensional bracelet and made a few notes before returning his attention to the dais.

Harry drew in a deep breath, focusing on the four other werewolves, “Will you submit to an interrogation by the Department of Mystery, along with a session with Dverger mind healers?”

The tears of relief that filled their eyes told Harry he’d made the right choice and nodded once, watching them escorted from the room, then turned his full attention to Ragnok, “Was it done?”

The chieftain inclined his head, “There is no way it wasn’t known to be there either. The wards are more holes than anything; the heart stone offered me a reading,” he paused and swallowed, “It’s horrific the things that have been allowed to happen there.”

“Indoctrination has to start somewhere,” Harry replied bitterly.

“Indeed, Your Grace, that is especially true this time.” Ragnok held out a parchment with a look of disgust and a non-descript book.

Harry accepted both, unrolling the scroll and freezing as he stared at it. He lifted his eyes to Ragnok’s, “Do you demand retribution?”

Ragnok shrugged either way, “According to the treaty of 1692, her life is forfeit either way; if you wish to supersede that and demand instant justice, we will not be opposed.”

Harry regarded him before tracking the chamber, eyes flashing purple, the rage, anger, and injustice from the previous timeline overcoming him in waves, “Delores Umbridge!”

The woman squeaked in fear, scurring from the balcony, throwing herself prostrate on the ground, “Your Grace, how many I assist-“

“For your crimes of torturing students with a blood quill, a magical artifact only to be used in accordance to the treaty of 1692 under preview by the Dverger, you may die.”

It was instant, the crowd recoiling in shock as Delores Umbridge toppled to the ground, unmoving, only to be swarmed a second later as the Dverger removed the body from the room.

Harry took a deep breath and then another, flipping open the book with a thoughtful hum before returning his attention to Rangok’s wife, “do you have anything to say about Remus Lupin’s actions within the camp?”

If Beannacht was disturbed by Delores Umbridge’s death, she didn’t show it. Gold eyes flitting to the werewolf who had lowered his head to the floor, body tense, but shoulders slumped in defeat, “We can confirm he let Belby into the compound and assisted with his experiments. He refused to bite any of the young, even though it would have been easy to identify that it would have been the only thing to save their lives. He ensured the children were fed, but he refused to give water to the adults. We’ve been unable to identify the poison used to incapacitate Fenrir and the rest, but he admitted he administered it and had been for weeks at the time.”

“It was thallium, a tasteless and odourless metal highly soluble in water.” Searching the crowd, he found Andromeda leaning forward, eyes fixed on him and lifted a single eyebrow, “I imagine if you have records, you’ll find trace elements in the Black and Potter accountants.“

It was gratifying and immensely satisfying to watch her stiffen, breaking eye contact, and Harry looked back to the Shaman, “Anything else?”

The Shaman’s eyes had narrowed briefly, and she gave a sharp nod, “When we breeched the compound, he didn’t fight, but he didn’t help either; he just stood there.”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair, while the other tapped the book against his thigh, then waved a hand, breaking the bindings, “Remus, did you grow up in the Wizarding World?” Harry inquired curiously.

“Yes, my father was a second son of a pureblood family,” Lupin replied, rubbing his wrist.

“Ah…. but he wasn’t, was he?” Harry prompted, earning a glare.

“No, he was the result of my grandmother’s indiscretion, but my grandfather still claimed him,” Remus explained, voice hard and bitter.

“Until he married your mother, a Muggle and was disowned, assuming your grandmother’s maiden name.” Harry continued ignoring the glare he could feel from the crowd. “How old were you when you were bitten?”

“Seven and a bit, almost eight,” Remus swallowed, “I found out much later that I was on the older side when it was known Fenrir preferred younger.”

“And did you question if you’d ever go to Hogwarts?” Harry questioned.

Remus took a breath. “I didn’t, though I overheard my parents discussing it once.”

Harry hummed, “And how did you get your acceptance letter?”

Remus finally lifted his head, a slow realization in his eyes, “It was hand delivered.”

“By who?” Harry demanded, taking a step closer.

A bitter laugh escaped the werewolf, eyes black with anger, “You figured it out, didn’t you?”

“Of course.” Harry agreed, waving the book, “This is the book of admittance; we both know you were never legally enrolled in Hogwarts, so how did you get in, Remus? What was the agreement?”

“The headmaster delivered my letter.” He snapped, flinching as Sirius growled, eyes darting to the man at Harry’s side.

Harry smiled, overlapping growl with his own and leaned over, whispering the question. “And who is the headmaster to you, Remus Lupin?”

Remus’s eyes bulged, and he started to gag, but Harry gripped his chin and flashed his eyes in warning. “The room will force the answer; you might as well give in graciously before it kills you.”

“Mercy.” The werewolf gasped, “Please, I have a child on the way.”

“My parents weren’t granted mercy when you collaborated to have them murdered. Why should I grant you the same?” Harry demanded harshly.

“I-“ Remus’s gagged, eyes widening in horror.

“You did. The day you got your acceptance letter, you were told your job, and in exchange, you’d become known as the werewolf who helped cure lycanthropy.” Harry snarled, scales once again erupting up his neck, “Who is the headmaster to you?”

“My grandfather.”

Harry let go, scales receding as they watched Remus collapse to the floor, panting harshly, “That wasn’t too hard, was it?”

“Why are you doing this? Why are you ruining lives?” Remus whispered, rolling to his back, “None of it matters; who cares that you’re Regent? You still have to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

Harry laughed, “What makes you think I haven’t?”

Remus stopped, staring at Harry, “But you have to die. It’s your duty to us. It’s your fate. Prophecy demands it.”

“I assure you, Riddle is quite dead, isn’t he, Lord Nott?” Harry asked, looking at the pale man sitting outside his box, rubbing his arm. “Was it painful?”

“Not as much as I expected, Your Grace, but it’s strange to be free of the taint.” Thaddeus Nott responded softly, then added, “Thank you; even if the crimes brought to light leave my life forfeit, I will forever be grateful for that before I die and for saving my son, my fate.”

Surprised, Harry glanced at Theo, staring at his father in shock, before addressing Thaddeus, “Do you still have Lucius Sine Nomine captive?”

If he was surprised by the question, he didn’t show it as he shook his head and stood, “No, Your Grace, the Dark Lord took him a week ago, implied he had a job for him, but I wasn’t informed what it was.”

“He’ll be found,” Harry said, catching Severus’ nod indicating his agreement. “You may sit in your box for the remainder of our session, but note it is not forgiveness or absolution.”

“I understand, Your Grace,” Senior murmured, eyeing the box hesitantly before opening the door and stepping inside.

He glanced at the Senior Crabb and Goyle, “And you?”

“We agree with Thaddeus.” Goyle answered swiftly, “Neither of us wanted to be marked in the first place.”

“Then sit but heed my words. It is neither forgiveness nor absolution.” Harry said, turning back to Remus. “Do you know the prophecy?”

Remus shook his head, “It was unnecessary. Fate only needed me to complete my assignments.”

“What a crock of shit!” Harry snarled, the room rumbling, echoing his anger. He drew a deep breath and forced his voice to keep even, “Fate doesn’t require assistance or help. It just is. If it’s meant to be, it will.”

Remus’s smug little smile grew: “Without a guiding hand, you wouldn’t stand where you are, Your Grace.”

“Yet if you had your way, I’d be dead,” Harry snapped, “and Magic’s Promise would have turned to dust. I am the last of my line, and in your twisted mind and the grasping hands of others, you thought to control me to do what you wanted, all at the behest of the true recipient of the prophecy.”

Remus blinked in confusion and opened his mouth, but Harry spoke over him, voice overlapped by Pendragon, Pythia, Bella, Luna, and Beannacht, whose eyes had all turned white.

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…”

The echo of the overlapping voices left a stunned, unnatural silence that wasn’t enforced by the runes in the chamber, and Harry drew in a stuttering breath as Medea whispered sorry in his head, and he closed his eyes at the onslaught of tears and couldn’t help but ask. “Was that the last secret?”

Medea sent a warmth of love and affection, indicating it was. He nodded absently before opening his eyes to meet Sirius, who had dropped his hood and stared at him in shock. He let out a breathless laugh before pulling him into a hug. Harry fell into, returning it somewhat desperately, audience be damned, “she knew.”

“Apparently, if she recreated the spell Nonna used.” Harry muttered and then pulled back, shaking himself, “Later, alright?”

Sirus nodded, eyes glossy, stepping back to Harry’s left, leaving Harry to collect himself, and he searched the room, finding Regulus, who inclined his head, then Narcissa, who was gazing at him with tears in her eyes. At the same time, Bella regarded him guilelessly and nodded once, and Harry knew she knew, even if she couldn’t say it. Risking a glance, he looked back at Draco, who was smirking. Harry shook his head, smiling at his consort’s amusement at the irony of them being truly related, even if that was a few degrees removed.

Pendragon butted his hand, making him glance down, caressing the scales in the dragon’s head, “summon him.”

The dragon’s look was almost feral, as he shimmered and strolled through Harry, appearing in front of him, wings arched, “Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, we summon thee.”

The circle lit up like a sunset, and a crack heralded the arrival of Albus, who lay sprawled on the ground; shock, anger, and then fear flashed across the old man’s face as he stared at Harry, holding up a pleading hand, “Everything I’ve done, has been done for the greater good, Harry. Everything.”

“Für das Größere Wohl.” Grinning like a Cheshire Cat, Harry heard the swift inhale from the audience and leaned on Pendragon, who echoed the laugh building in his chest, “What greater good has been served to try to control my life? You influenced circumstances to see my parents targeted. We both know who the secret keeper was. You cast the Fidelius originally, yet you let an innocent man spend twelve years in Azkaban in a bid to control me. You gave me to people who abused me, knowing they hated magic, and ensured my education was lacking when I entered the magical world. You manipulated me through compulsions and potions to ensure I’d pass the test you created. You bought and paid people to befriend me and keep me contained and separate from anyone else in the school. You even influenced my decision in schoolhouses by sending Hagrid to introduce me to the magical world when it should have been the Deputy Headmistress. You arranged and then forced me to participate in the Triwizard Tournament in the hopes that it would lead to Riddle’s resurrection, and you did all of that to keep me focused on Tom Riddle because you didn’t want me looking at you.”

Dumbledore shook his head in denial, trying to hide his panic at the growing looks of scorn, “No, no, Harry. No, it was the scar. It was unusual. I couldn’t be sure what it meant.”

Laughing, Harry shook his head, “You admit to leaving a Horcrux in the head of a fifteen-month-old baby?”

“No, I wasn’t sure until your second year!” The denial was swift, and by the widening of Albus’s eyes, he seemed to realize Harry hadn’t had the chamber enforce the truth.

Harry trailed a finger down Pendragon’s snout, curious, “So you allowed it to stay for another two years? You realize that in and of itself is a crime against magic, right?”

“No one knew you were the Regent!” Dumbledore snapped, making Harry laugh again.

“You think this has to do with me being Regent?” Harry asks in amusement, “No, Dumbledore, this has to do with your own shortsightedness; you see, you allowed foul black magic to live; you, in your bigotry, didn’t reach out to the Dverger to garner their assistance. You even resurrected an entire illegal vigilante group before his resurrection to keep me prisoner. In your bid to be remembered as the next Merlin, you needed a scapegoat. You allowed Riddle to run unchecked in this world, causing his havoc because it distracted from the larger picture.”

Dumbledore shook his head in denial, “I couldn’t trust anyone; it was too important to be spread about; if Voldemort found out I knew about them, he could have moved them.”

Gesturing with a hand, Harry stepped back as Ragnok emptied the sack he’d been holding, setting them down, one by one at Albus’s feet, “We only needed one, Dumbledore, and we would have done the work. His grace is right; you did this to set yourself up for success. What better way to do that than defeat a second Dark Lord?”

Albus lifted his chin and glared, “You’re missing one.”

A strangled scream broke the air, jolting Albus, whose eyes widened in horror at the large snake that slithered up to the circle, shifting and transforming to step inside the still-glowing shield, dark eyes filled with loathing. There was a faint accent in her voice when she spoke, but none of the hate, as she folded her arms, “Unlike some Albus, His Grace isn’t one to overlook details.”

Gobsmacked, Albus shook his head in denial, “It’s not possible; there is no cure for Maledictus.”

“There is if you ritually petition magic, though that’s not something you’d do.” Flicking out a forked tongue, Nagini sniffed, “For you fear what you don’t see or know, which is why you never suggested or thought of it, but Croaker did. He petitioned on my behalf, and that of our Regent, and it was granted; I have full control now and have given that gift in service to the crown.”

“Which I’ve accepted. Nagini has already proved invaluable help, Mr. Dumbledore,” Harry said in amusement.

“it would be headmaster, Your Grace,” Albus said snidely, lifting his chin.

“It would if you were still headmaster, Mr. Dumbledore, but that is no longer true. The position has already been offered and accepted by Minerva McGonagall, and if you’d had the wards working correctly, you’d know that already.”

“But- that’s not possible.” Albus protested, eyes widening.

“Just like it’s not possible, you’ve spent a lifetime working to ensure a prophecy you heard shortly before your mother’s death came to pass?” Harry questioned, inclining his head to Nagini, who curtsied and left the circle, followed by Ragnok.

Albus was shaking his head in denial, “You’re wrong. Your parents didn’t defy me. I loved James; he was like a grandson to me.”

Laughing, Harry pointed to Remus, “As opposed to your true grandson?”

Albus glared at him but didn’t respond, shifting to stand, which Harry let him do, “as for James defying you?” He shrugged, “he didn’t, but you still marked me. Fate knew and still made you act.”

Confusion swamped the old man’s face, his shoulders dropping in defeat, “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t?” Harry asked in amusement, “It’s quite simple, James was sterile; he isn’t my biological father.”

“What?” Albus demanded in shock.

“Euphemia Potter contracted Dragon Pox when she was five months pregnant with James, but her want to have a child meant she couldn’t receive treatment, as it would have terminated the pregnancy,” Harry explained, watching the old man’s face. Seeing the thought process play out was almost fascinating as it cycled through confusion, denial, understanding, and anger. When Albus lifted his eyes, they were blazing with fury, making Harry smile. He held up a hand, ticking the points off on a finger, “The first defiance was Lily handfasting Sirius and Severus in their seventh year and refusing to dissolve it, the second defiance was Lily choosing Sirius and not your recommendation, and the third was then refusing your requests for furthering their education. Lily went to work for the DOM as Unspeakable, and Sirius to the ISM for his mastery.” He let out a breathless laugh as he finished and grinned, “And the best part about all this is you never once suspected because of the spell constructed around the secret. You sealed your fate when you let me live as a toddler.”

“You misinterpreted the prophecy,” Albus said, drawing himself to his full height, and opened his mouth to provide a lecture, but Harry growled, the subtonal sound echoed by Pendragon and spoke before Albus could.

“You’ve been targeting the Black family since you could toddle, indoctrinated by your mother and grandmother’s stories of losing the title,” Harry responded flatly.

Righteous indignation flavoured Albus’s tone as he snapped, “I have not.”

“What’s your mother’s name?” The demand was swift, and he activated the magic of the chamber.

“Kendra Waverly.” The answer caused Albus’s eyes to widen in panic.

“Who was publicly humiliated when she approached Phineas Black about her infatuation, only to learn he was already contracted to marry Ursula Flint in what was known as a genuine love match.” Harry countered, “So your mother settled for Percival Dumbledore, a pureblood true, but a pureblood that gave up his title for his Muggle-born wife, something you still resent today. Because that’s what you want, you want to be able to claim nobility because if not for your fifth-generation grandmother and her deceitful behaviour or your mother’s demands, you could have been the head of the Black family, right?”

“How do you know this?” Albus whispered hoarsely, eyes darting around the room in a panic.

“The same way I know why you have a personal issue with the House of Black that goes beyond a familial history.” Harry retorted, pacing in a little circle.

“I seriously doubt that,” Albus replied snidely.

Harry lifted his chin, “Who was the deciding vote for your father going to Azkaban?”

“Those filthy muggles got what they deserved,” Albus snarled, particularly vibrating with rage.

“While I concede they deserved some sort of punishment, as I’ve read the reports of what happened to them, it’s particular that re-examination of the files indicates the muggles had been dead for over thirty-six hours before your father found them.” Harry said using air quotes with a little frown, “it’s also interesting that none of the parents reported them missing to muggle police. Indeed, none of the parents seemed concerned until police informed them their children’s bodies had been found.”

“You have no right to re-examine a closed case. It’s an affront to the families that suffered during that time.” The pompous tone was just a touch too shrill, his body too tense, but Albus kept his back straight, defiant and stubborn to the bitter end.

“As Regent, I have every right to re-examine cases, closed, dismissed, active or forgotten,” Harry countered instantly, “do you know what I figured out from the reports?”

“I couldn’t fathom a guess.” Albus snapped.

“Liar.” Harry said, rolling his eyes, “Percival Dumbledore didn’t attack those boys, but Ariana did, and it was your fault for letting it happen. You slipped away to swim in the lake, leaving your six-year-old sister alone. When your father got home, he raged at you because it was your duty to protect your sister, but given what she was, none of you could admit to the fuck up. Thus, the cover story of Percival attacking them was born.”

“My sister was an innocent child attacked-“

“Ariana was an obscurial, and your parents knew the only choice to save her life was for Percival to be sent to prison – there was a small, tiny chance that if they could present it in such a way that the justification would counter the crime, but your father knew his chances of prison were extremely high.”

“Phineas didn’t have to vote against him!” Albus shouted.

“Then your mother should have kept her mouth shut and let your father approach him to inform him about what was happening. Phineas was senior in their voting block and head of their political party; if anyone would have gotten Percival off, it would have been him.”

Stunned, Albus stared at him, “Phineas Black was not a member of the light party.”

A bark of laughter left Harry, shaking his head, “Don’t be ridiculous. Your father and the Black lord weren’t light; Mávros has always been neutral. You do realize you could have cleared up this entire misconception you had about Phineas if you ever bothered to ask his portrait. You know they’re incapable of lying.”

Albus’s face flushed red, and Harry blinked, “It’s why you didn’t; you didn’t want to know; it ruined your justification for attacking my family. It’s why you conspired with Andromeda Tonks; you convinced her to allow her daughter to marry the wolf so your great-grandson could take the title.”

“Yes! Yes! Damn you!” Albus shouted, “What of it? So, I’ve spent a lifetime trying to punish a house for their embarrassment to my ancestors; how do you know this?”

Turning his head, Harry looked out over the avid faces in the audience, eyes flashing purple. “Nymphadora Tonk approach.”

The young woman stood, her mother with her, face ashen and pale, cradling the small bump on display, and approached the dais, wobbling an inelegant curtsy, “Your Grace.”

“What is the punishment for treason, incitation, willful harm, obstruction and espionage?”

Swallowing nervously, her fingers clenched at her robes, “Imprisonment or the kiss.”

“And the punishment for failure to report a crime and join a vigilante group as an arm of the DMLE?” Harry demanded.

Heading dropping, Nymphadora took a shuttering breath, “prison, monetary fine, and loss of job.”

Harry hummed, “And line theft?”

She flinched, tears filling her eyes, “a binding of one’s core, but I didn’t know! I swear it.”

“Your mother did.” Harry bluntly stated, “What about magical extinction through an undeclared blood feud?”

The blood washed from Nymphadora’s face, and her knees buckled, dragging Andromeda down with her, who glared hatefully at Harry. “My daughter is innocent of any crimes; Your Grace and your public embarrassment is an affront to my ancestral name.”

Harry chuckled, shook his head, and held out a hand, unsurprised when Bella slipped her hand into his, “acolyte.”

“Your Grace,” Bella responded instantly.

“I can’t give you back the years she stole, but I can give you this; she wants to accuse me of public embarrassment, then embarrass the fuck out of her.” Harry responded, squeezing her hand encouragingly, “This is your redemption, own it.”

Bella regarded him with wide blue eyes that glistened before she shut them, a single tear rolling down her cheek, but her whisper was amplified throughout the chamber.

“Two lives will be lived, the first dark and lost with pain untold…. Families are torn asunder until only one remains, surrounded by grief and ghosts. He’ll be presented with a choice… Cissy’s son will marry a king, dark and light, opposites in looks, but mates, perfection and loved.

A metamorphosis you will have, but that won’t satisfy. In desperation and anger, a gamble is made, cursing your sister leads you down a dark path, brother turns against brother, cousin against cousin until only one is free. However, another has brought salvation to the line through his sister of heart. Know when you conspire with a wolf-bound traitor, what you’re trying to steal is already claimed. When your daughter marries the wolf, know you have failed. Life is a circle; one undeniable fact remains that the truth will come out when the lord is chosen by birth and blood. Be prepared, for he is king.

One sister of three will be bound in a curse, forgotten, ignored, and disbelieved by all but two, tortured and abused, threatened with the unimaginable, death impossible. Justice is sought in the arms of the mother, but be forewarned, you’ll be saved one Fate; another happens that could be worse than the first…. You’ll know what you do, but can’t stop your actions, though redemption and forgiveness may be possible in Fate’s hands, you’ll be reborn again….”

Andromeda’s panic showed on her face, but she lifted her chin defiantly and sneered, “Of course, you’d listen to the mad sister; you’re as crazy as she is.”

“That’s what you wanted everyone to believe,” Harry returned evenly, “but it’s hard to when she is a Valkyrie, her original destiny before you told your uncle about the Curse of Kassandra.”

“Mum?” Nymphadora whispered white with a green cast to her skin.

“Don’t believe him. He’s lying to make me look bad.” Andromeda snapped.

“Am I?” Harry questioned with a laugh and gestured to Regulus, making the man sigh but rise and approach the dais, “You’re guilty of more than just driving Bella insane; you’re complicit in the torture and eventual death of Walburga Black and the disownment of Sirius.” He nodded to Regulus, who lowered his hood, drawing a strangled gasp from Andy, who stared at him in fear, “You refused to help Regulus when he came to you for assistance and, in fact, passed the information he provided to another… it could be said that you are responsible for the death of the rest of the Black’s considering how many died within five years, every single one of which had one last visit with you. You’re also guilty of conspiring with Alphard Sine Nomine, who attempted to steal the title for himself after he was ritually cast from Mávros’s line.” He waved to the silent audience, “But you never thought the details of your personal life would be discussed in front of a live audience….”

Tonks curled a hand over her stomach, eyes darting around the crowd in front of her, horror and hurt etched on her face, “How do you know all this?”

“He doesn’t know anything!” Andy snapped angrily. “He’s twisting it to make it sound good.”

“No, no, you’re-you’re willfully blind,” Nymphadora shouted, pulling away and shaking her head, her eyes darting between Remus, Albus, and her mother. “It was right there.” She pointed at Bella, “She just said, Oh blessed lady, what have you allowed me to do?”

“Oh, stop being dramatic, Dora, it’s unbecoming of you.” Andromeda snapped, shaking her daughter off rudely and rising to her feet, waving a hand expressively, “he’s just spouting shit because it sounds good.”

Harry whistled sharply, waiting until they both looked at him, and he pulled the amulet from inside his shirt.

“You’re Comte Mávros….” It wasn’t a question, just a whisper of disbelief, but Tonks turned to look at her mother in dawning understanding, “You set me up?”

Andy lifted her chin, lips pursing but not answering.

Turning back to Harry, Tonks held out her hands, palms up, “With all due respect, Your Grace, I humbly request a divorce, being married under false pretences.”

“We’ll see. You still haven’t answered for the crimes you’ve been accused of yet,” Harry said and then lifted an eyebrow when she paled, “Oh, did you think those punishments I had you recite were for another?” Harry shook his head chidingly, “You were in that house during the summer, Tonks; you weren’t opposed then and helped make many of the plans.” He frowned and looked at the audience, “though that reminds me, we’re missing some. The Weasley family and Hermione Granger, join us.” Harry redirected his attention to Tonks and added, almost chirping, “I also have to decide Remus Lupin’s judgement. You could end up a widow before that comes to pass.”

“I’m your father’s oldest friend!” Remus shouted.

“You’re also a fraud and a lair.” Harry returned, dismissing the werewolf to watch the remaining Weasley be escorted by Dverger warriors to the dais, noting with interest that Molly and Ginny clung to each other, greed still evident in their eyes. At the same time, the rest looked downcast and shamed, with a vast space between them.

“I don’t even know where to start with you,” Harry admitted, “out of everything that’s happened, your personal betrayals hurt the most because I thought you were genuine. The realization this summer that everything was a facade was probably the worst thing about it.”

Molly sniffed and lifted her chin but didn’t respond.

“Was it for the money, prestige? Did you honestly think anything you did would have restored the Weasley name?” Harry questioned, frowning when Molly remained silent. “I’m not marrying your daughter, Mrs. Weasley.”

“You have to!” It burst out of Molly, “She owes you a life debt that is magically required to be honoured.”

“I don’t care.” Harry pronounced, waving the shock roll of Molly in a wave, “You trapped your daughter by allowing her to keep the diary – you knew the second it entered the wards at the Burrow, but you also hoped it would lead to something that would require a life debt, but what you don’t seem to understand is the stain and taint on her core, and the lack of healing has rendered her barren.”

Molly was shaking her head in denial, but Harry wasn’t done. “What disgusts me the most is your fallibility and your greed. Arthur wasn’t innocent of any crimes, but he died thinking he tricked you into marrying him because he set you up to be caught, but really, that was all you. You planted the idea; you pretended to play shy and scared, but you really wanted to get out from under your father’s thumb because he bypassed you in the line of succession when your brothers were born.”

“Arthur was easily led,” Molly said snidely, glaring at him.

“He was until Ginevra was born,” Harry agreed readily, “but that’s when he realized what you had done. Did you know the Weasley family was cursed to have only male children before you married Arthur?”

Molly lifted her chin, refusing to answer.

“Did you confess what you’d done? Or did Arthur guess?”

“It was a difficult period between us, but we worked through it.” Molly allowed stiffly.

“And what made you think getting her married to me would overcome your actions?” Harry asked.

The older woman shrugged, “We speculated that your fame might be enough to overcome the stain we might endure,” Molly shrugged, seemingly unconcerned by her confession, “but we never thought it would be a reality; it was a dream and nothing more.”

“And when were you approached concerning the plans about me, did you ever hesitate in following through?” Harry squeezed his hand into a fist, unsure he wanted the answer, considering he already knew they had followed through.

“Not even once,” Molly states coldly, “Ginny will always be my priority. She doesn’t deserve the shame my actions caused, compounded by Arthur’s familial legacy.”

Focusing on William, who had shifted uncomfortably, a look of confusion on his face, Harry tilted his head, considering the rest of the Weasleys in front of him. Besides William’s confusion, he looked pale and shaken; with a faint tremor in his hands, he tried to hide in the folds of his robes. Charlie was blank-faced, but a shimmering build-up of rage grew in his eyes, reminding Harry of the dragons Charlie worked with in Romania. In contrast, the hurt look of betrayal on Percy’s grew until he seemed to reach some sort of epiphany, and he actually took a step back, the look turning to horror, “Oh blessed lady…. I always wondered, there was something there, but I couldn’t- Mum, what did you do?”

Molly flinched but rounded on Percy, “What I’ve always done, I’ve ensured this family survives!”

Harry snorted, interrupting her before she could go off on a tangent, “It will sound hurtful, but you and your brothers, Percy, were acceptable sacrifices on the altar of Molly’s need to hide her shame at consorting with a Djinn-“

The scream of outrage stopped him mid-pitch, and he lifted a sarcastic brow to Molly, who glared at him furiously, “Don’t speak his name; you don’t know what it’ll mean.”

“It’ll mean the life of your daughter, a woman tainted and stained, guilty of violating a life debt, and barren,” Harry replied evenly, knowing he sounded cold and unfeeling. However, it was better than the rage their betrayal still invoked.

Molly’s eyes filled with tears, and she dropped to her knees, hands held up in submission, “Please, I’ll do anything; just don’t take my daughter.”

“Anything?” Harry repeated, jaw ticking as he tried not to grind his teeth.

“Yes, yes, anything, please.”

“I want a signed confession of your crimes, with the understanding that you won’t be charged, but they will be known, and your judgment will wait until you stand before our lady.” Harry lifted a hand to stop the rapid nodding of Molly’s head, “In addition, I want a magically binding vow that you nor your daughter will attempt to interfere with my life in any way going forward. I won’t prevent you from living, but I want nothing to do with either of you. This is also with the understanding that Ginerva will never be married to me, and if any future interactions happen, she and you must treat my consort with every single ounce of respect for his position and be no threat in word, deed, or action to him, or our future children.”

“You say nothing of yourself, Your Grace.” The hint of snideness elicited a growl from Pendragon, and the dragon swung a massive head to stare at Molly Weasley, who paled rapidly.

Harry answered almost causally, “Any action on me will result in instant punishment, most likely death, Molly. You know how a life debt works.”

The woman swallowed, nodding, “Very well, I accept your terms.”

“Mum!” Ginny hissed furiously beside her mother, who ignored her, raising her chin and asked, “May I draw my wand?”

Inclining his head, Harry watched as Molly drew it, reciting the vow with only a slight tremble in her hand, the magic of the chamber swelling in acceptance of the vow as it spiralled out, encompassing both her and her daughter, who shuddered at the impact and burst into tears.

Not wanting to listen, Harry silenced her, uncaring of the glare she sent him, and nodded to Molly, “Croaker will take your statement later as a matter of record, but until then, you and your daughter may return to your seats.”

Molly faltered, trying to stand, “My sons?”

Snorting, Harry folded his arms, “They all bear various levels of guilt, and you asked nothing for them, proving your concern is as short-sighted as the honour you live by. Return to your seat.”

Body shaking, Molly pushed to her feet, tears filling her eyes, as she gazed at her sons, who resolutely refused to look at her, Percy even taking a step back, holding up his hands as if to ward her off, “don’t pretend to care now, we all know it’s as false as a wish being granted without consequences.”

Molly burst into tears, covering her face with her hands, but allowed Ginny to lead her back to a seat, the no man’s land around them evident that people were already verging on the shunning Harry had been warned could happen, no matter his words or actions, and silenced her were she sat, not the least bit interested in her pity party.

Gazing flitting to William, who had kept his head bowed the entire time, to Charlie and Percy, who had accepted his brother’s hand, to Ron, who hadn’t stopped swallowing convulsively, even as he wiped the angry tears from his face with the other. It was only when his eyes met Ron’s that he realized Ron had been trying to do so, as his former friend hit his knees without breaking contact.

It was startling in the extreme when Ron drew in a deep breath, placing his wand in front of him in a universe sign of surrender, and bent forward until his forehead touched the ground, voice wavering but clear as he spoke, “I, Ronald Billus Weasley, call upon magic, requesting the shame of my family name be stripped from me, and willingly submit myself to what punishment she deems for my familial and personal betrayals so that I may serve faithfully and devotedly to the Regent for the rest of whatever magics deem my life to be worth.”

Stiffening in shock, Harry opened his mouth but felt Draco move up beside him, placing a silent hand on his shoulder, preventing him from speaking as he projected a calm that did more to soothe Harry than he expected.

The shock increased as the three other brothers followed immediately, their voices overlapping as they requested the same.

Nothing happened.

The intensity built until it was shattered by a gong ringing throughout the building, the sound low and mournful. Harry closed his eyes as the men shuddered as one, crying out involuntarily, hair taking on more brown than red. However, the red remained, blending in with the chestnut colour.

“Seven sons to love and honour. Seven sons to teach the pitfalls of betrayal and deceit. Seven sons to get it right. Seven sons to prove magic’s weight, seven sons to remove the stain and taint, though nobility will never be restored, is the judgment you must bear. Two who are one will have left for Fate’s hands, leaving four to stand in judgment for your deceit for the birth of a daughter will forfeit the line and lead to the end of Weasley’s name.”

Pendragon spoke with an eerie echo in his voice that indicated it wasn’t just him talking. Then he blinked, focusing on the oldest, “will you submit to a new name?”

“With dignity and humility, Your Grace,” William whispered hoarsely.

“Pledge your allegiance to the Regent and be known as the Newcomb brothers, the founding members of your new family line.”

Harry felt something settle in him as they recited their allegiance and swallowed as Draco squeezed his hand, “This is not how I expected my reign to start,” Harry admitted honestly when they finished and rose to their feet.

Ron cleared his throat, “It might not mean much, now or ever, but I want you to know I regret what I did and what I was becoming; it was not what I wanted to be.”

“But you were, and I can’t forget that; you were my first friend, yet you poisoned that.” Harry replied carefully, the weight of everything unbelievably heavy at that moment, seeing genuine regret on Ron’s face, “I accept that magic doesn’t believe you genuinely guilty, just mislead, but the taste of that betrayal is too fresh to attempt repairing it now, maybe in the future that will change.”

Ron bowed formally, “I understand. Thank you for the second chance, Your Grace, and tender my apologies to your consort; my actions against him were unbecoming as mine towards you. Your bond is beautiful and deserves to be nurtured, not envied as I was led to believe.” His eyes flicked to Hermione, who had been suspiciously silent the entire time, and he cleared his throat, “I only have one thing-“

“Any contracts signed under your former name are no longer valid, Ronald.” Harry said, hearing the swift inhale from Hermione, “Magic has provided a second chance; live up to it, and take a chance on your dreams.”

Ronald swallowed hard, eyes glossy, but included his head as Harry focused on William, “we’ll arrange a meeting in the weeks to come, regarding your new house and status, but live your life as you where with no repercussions for your deadname, in accordance to the laws of the land.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” William returned with feeling, glancing at Percy, who already had a look of intense concentration on his face.

It left Harry to suspect that the former Weasleys would find themselves under a very different code of conduct and ethics in the coming months, which he thought was all for the better. Still, it couldn’t help but add, “as a polite reminder, but it should go without saying that Molly and Ginevra Weasley are not to be included in your magical household; a circumvention of their punishment will not be tolerated.“

William drew a breath and released it slowly, inclining his head before changing it to a bow, “We understand Your Grace. May I clarify that Fred and George are exempt-“

“They’ve been Prewett’s since the end of August, since they ritually disowned the Weasley name so they could assume their seats and take their place as knights and lords of my circle.” Harry explained simply with a nod, “Return to your seats.”

All four bowed and left, leaving Harry to focus on Hermione, Andromeda, Tonks and Remus, happy to ignore Albus, who had to be fuming.

“Who should I start with?” Harry asked, curious to see if they would turn on one another, and wasn’t surprised to see Andromeda lower her chin as if to withdraw his attention.

More amused than annoyed, he let her have it, knowing it wouldn’t last long, as he looked back at Hermione, who looked back with anger, embarrassment, and exasperation etched onto her face.

“Hermione,” Harry said, inclining his head, “did you glean enough information from your books to believe what’s before your eyes? Or do you need to be made an example of, too?”

She nodded, swallowing swiftly, “In my defence, I only did what I was told was right,” Hermione added, though she twitched self-conscious at the admittance.

“And when were you told of these rights?” Harry demanded, “Was it before or after my name was entered into the Triwizard Cup?”

Shame lowered her head, “before.”

“And this year? What was the plan for the fifth year, Hermione?” He pulled the warding report from a pocket in his robes and waved it. “Was it to allow me to be tortured by the blood quill Umbridge used to terrorize the Muggle-born, too?”

Tears appeared in Hermione’s eyes as she bit her lip and nodded, “But I didn’t know what it would do, I promise, Harry-“

“You don’t have leave to call me that,” Harry said, interrupting her.

She flinched and nodded, taking a shaky breath, “I already had questions about everything before school started; I really did, but I felt trapped, caught in a web of lies and deception because I listened to people, I thought I could trust. Everything I was told sounded logical, like it made sense, and I was made to believe if you didn’t do as fate demanded, my life….” She trailed off, the tears that had threatened spilled over as if the enormity of her situation and the truth of what had been intended for him hit her all at once, and she collapsed, arms wrapped around her body in a reflection of self-comfort. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Waiting a few minutes for her to calm down, Harry glanced at Draco, who hadn’t moved from his side and received an encouraging nod that made him sigh, “Knowing you as I do, if I decide to forgive you, have you figured out a plan to move forward and past this?” Harry asked, unable to help his curiosity.

“Not a very good one, Your Grace, but it starts with an apology to-” She stopped and cleared her throat, correcting herself. “Headmistress McGonagall, I haven’t been focused on my school work but have taken strides to correct that lapse. I have done all my work, including the extra credit offered. I was just waiting until Monday to turn it in.” When Harry lifted an eyebrow, she flushed, “I also plan to step down as a Prefect. I’ve proven that while I possess the intelligence and smarts to do my work, I’m not suited for the role that should serve as a guide for younger students. I need to concentrate on learning more about the world and society, and the gift of magic has been bestowed upon me. I am in the early stages of drafting a petition to have classes added to the curriculum at Hogwarts to help further that understanding.” She inhaled and let it out slowly, “I’ve also taken steps to re-educate myself and embrace the changes the Headmistress has taken at Hogwarts. It was an eye-opening and humbling experience to learn how diverse but similar the other houses are when there is no expectation but cooperation in doing the work assigned.”

“And after that?” Harry prompted, admittedly a little surprised when Hermione shook her head.

“I can’t, in good conscience or with any integrity, plan further into my future without properly educating myself. It’s humbling to realize there is more to this world than I previously thought, and it shames me knowing what I almost helped in destroying.”

Somewhat hesitant about believing Hermione’s maturity, he glanced helplessly at Draco, who raised an eyebrow but inclined his head to keep their conversation private, “I believe her, but it might be prudent to request a vow against future interference.”

Harry pulled back to look at him before nodding and turned to address Hermione, “While I would like to believe your honesty, I can’t help but think of all the times you belittled or pushed to get me to do what you wanted so while I appreciate that you have taken the news seriously enough to educate yourself even without knowing who was Regent, I require a vow to ensure you have no intentions of interfering or directing my life in the future. If you can do that, then I will consent to let that stand as your punishment, given I do understand that for all your actions, you were directed to them by a master manipulator.”

Nodding quickly, Hermione moved to pull her wand but fumbled as she flinched, “I-sorry, may I pull my wand?”

Inclining his head, Hermione pulled it free. “I, Hermione Jean Granger, vow that every word I spoke regarding my plans for my education is true, and I have no intentions of interfering with or directing your life in the future. I’m willing to provide a written statement of everything I know, with no expectation that it will lessen my guilt or betrayal of you.”

Magic rippled across her skin as the oath settled, and she drew a breath, releasing it slowly when she cast Lumos and her wand lit up.

“Croaker will reach out and arrange to take your statement in the week to come. Be prepared for an intense discussion.” Harry informed her, even as he heard Regulus sigh behind him, and pull out his journal again, the scratching of a pen reaching his ears.

Hermione picked herself up off the ground, glancing at Croaker curiously as she did, though she didn’t question the order and curtsied more gracefully than Tonks had, “If I could be permitted, Your Grace, I would like to add one thing.”

“One thing, then you’ll return to your seat.” Harry agreed easily.

“It’s not the same, but I wanted to let you know you were my first friend too, so I understand how hurt you are by our betrayal, and I can only hope that I can prove myself in the years to come.”

Blinking back tears, Harry nodded and turned away, needing a few minutes to collect himself, easily submitting to the comfort Draco offered even as he asked, smoothing the furrow on his brow.

“You doing all right?”

“I-it’s a lot,” Harry admitted, catching his hand.

“If you need to take a recess, you can,” Draco reminded him, but Harry shook his head.

“Maybe in future sessions, but this one starts the beginning of my reign and an end to old men meddling in our lives,” Harry said, squeezing his hand, then kissed his palm, making Draco smile.

Releasing Draco’s hand, Harry turned to face the chamber, eyes flicking past the four standing before him and then out into the crowd, “Theodore Tonks, step forward and join your wife so we may determine your guilt and culpability.” It was startling when Pendragon spoke for him but didn’t give any outward reaction, trusting him to know something he didn’t.

Nymphadora hit her knees, “Please, not my Father.”

Harry lifted an eyebrow. “he was in Grimmauld periodically over the summer. Even if we never officially met, his guilt is suspect.”

“But-“ The protest was cut off as Ted approached the dais, the golden dome flaring, making him flinch and draw in a gasping breath, stumbling to his knees as he stared at Andromeda in revulsion and disgust before his eyes slid closed and he started convulsing.

Seconds later, he was hit with a stasis charm and was swarmed by Croaker at the head, listening intently to the whispered diagnosis, and lifted his head to meet Harry’s eyes. “Long-term Amortentia use is being flushed from his system. He needs immediate treatment, Your Grace.”

Jaw tightening, Harry inclined his head, gesturing to the Dverger, who approached and lifted him to a conjured stretcher. He accepted the portkey Croaker created and passed over, and the group disappeared in a flash.

Rounding on Tonks, who was curled over, crying into her hands, Harry advanced, air crackling with rage, “Did you know?”

“I sus-suspected I have memory gaps, holes in days where I remember everything else clearly, but-but I couldn’t- didn’t want to admit it, because how do you accuse a parent of something like that? It would have meant my entire life was based on a lie, and-and….” She dissolved into a flood of tears, rocking side to side.

“Enough.” The word was growled, the room rumbling with it, and only waited for Tonks to comply before stalking to Andromeda, who drew back, but Harry wandlessly cast, pulling her left arm out, and renting the sleeve of her robes.

A smug expression filled her eyes when he met hers, and he smiled, a cruel edge to it that caused a swarm of confusion as he hissed a single word that made her jerk even as restrained as she was.

Harry’s hand tightened painfully as the room swelled in indignation as her magical signature was reread, and he turned her arm over, unsurprised to see the magical stain left from the tattoo appear on her arm, “the spy no one knows exists. I imagine you were a significant boon for your Dark Lord.”

“But of course,” Andromeda returned, lifting her chin, hate in her eyes, “playing both sides of the field has been very profitable for me.”

“Did he know you have the madness you made everyone believe Bella had?” Harry questioned.

“I was rarely punished and often got rewarded for completing assignments or passing along information,” Andy shrugged, “so if he knew, he seemed to have no problems with it or give an indication of that knowledge as he continued to assign tasks for me to carry out.”

“And Nymphadora’s?” Harry inquired with a raised eyebrow, watching Andy falter, and offered a smile. “Ted is not her father.”

“Shut up!” Andromeda hissed.

“What?” Tonks whispered, eyes darting between her mother, the scar on her mother’s arm, and Harry. “He is my father.”

“No, he’s not,” Harry replied, catching Andromeda’s wrist as she went to move. “But you already suspected that, Tonks. You just never wanted it confirmed.”

“I hate you!” The hiss came from Andromeda, “You’re ruining everything!”

Laughing, Harry pushed her back, activating the rune she stepped on, “What is Alphard’s part in this?”

Rubbing her wrist, Andromeda glared, “A means to an end; it was a relief when I found him dead.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry said flatly and then smirked as she froze, “oh, did you think that was natural causes?”

“But-but-“ she shook her head in confusion, “he was hidden and disowned.”

“I am Mávros, Andromeda Tonks, chosen of Medea, and blessed with the stone,” Harry snapped, aura crackling around him as the scent of ozone flooded the area, “no matter your blood status if you have Black blood, I will find you anywhere in the world. I knew Alphard was alive, so I demanded my due for his betrayal, just like I demand yours.”

Andromeda jerked her head in denial, “I don’t believe you.”

Harry laughed and shook his head, “On September 18, at 2:43am, you found him slumped over on the sofa and cast a diagnosis charm to confirm his death.” Then, meeting her eyes, sent her the memory of what followed, watching the fear build in them as he pulled out the stone, hissing the command to touch it, “Andromeda Tonks nee Black, for the crimes against family and the taint embedded in your core, as the patriarch of your paternal line, and Regent strip you of your name, magic, and life.”

Her body dropped like a stone as Harry felt her soul enter the stone, and turned away, ignoring Nymphadora’s cry of shock, and addressed Ragnok, “Have it removed and tossed through the veil; vultures don’t deserve indigestion her body would cause.”

“You killed her!” Albus shouted in shock, blinking like he was trying to process what he saw, “Why are you doing this?” The question burst out of Albus as if against his will, leaving him staring sullenly at Harry.

“Why did I kill her? Or why am I exposing your fallibility to the world at large?” Harry tilted his head at the question, “That’s a very interesting question, Albus, and one I’m not even sure if I can answer.” He held up a hand when Albus opened his mouth to protest, adding almost ponderingly, “I could be flippant and say you deserve to have your facade – the whole ‘leader of the light’ destroyed, or for attempting to highjack my life, or it could even just be the sense justice that fate demands it of me, I don’t really know. But I do know and can say with 100% certainty that even you didn’t know Andromeda was a death eater, so be happy those crimes can’t come back on you. I do know that if you hadn’t laid the foundation that created Riddle during Grindelwald’s reign, none of this would be happening now. While it’s somewhat true you neglected the prophecy attempting to reach your goals, my birth derailed that, and you were horrified when you realized I fit its parameters. Yet the only thing that prevented you from realizing the full truth was, as you said, James hadn’t defied you, so you tried to make the prophecy fit Riddle.”

“What of it?” Albus bit out, jaw tight with suppressed rage, but the sneer heard in his voice, “You survived, you’ve won, and now the powers went to your head, a tyrant in the making; what a great start to your reign, Your Grace.”

“A tyrant?” Harry asked with amusement, layering his tone, “No, Albus Dumbledore, this is vindication.” His voice grew cold, a steely-eyed look entering his eyes as he turned to address Lupin, “Your grandfather offered you a place at the school so you could be his spy amongst children. You subjugate your fellow Gryffindors, obliviated James Potter and Sirius Black so much that it’s a wonder they graduated. You hated that Sirius had no interest in you and were enraged when Peter told you Sirius had gotten handfasted in your seventh year. My mother and father’s genuine love for each other and their desire to have a child was the downfall of your plans. His undying loyalty to her kept breaking the spells and compulsions you placed on him, which you couldn’t explain or counter, so during the war, you accepted assignments that kept you away, hating being under my mother’s keen eye. You were worried she’d see what you’d done, terrified you’d get caught.”

Remus swallowed, bitterness filling his tone, “you wouldn’t understand. You’ve had everything handed to you on a silver platter.”

“Well, that sounds familiar,” Harry muttered bitterly, “I have everything because I fought and bled for it. I spent eleven years being beaten by people I thought were my relatives. I was routinely starved, neglected and forced to do things outside the recommended age and size. I had no one fighting for me, no one to stand up for me, and when I entered the magical world, I was still held to a higher standard because I survived the impossible as an infant. Yet no one ever thinks of asking how that’s possible. Do they?” Harry demanded, rolling his neck and feeling it crack, scales catching on the collar of his robes. “It was nothing I did, and the fact that society at large believed a lie that a fifteen-month-old had anything to do with the fall of Tom Riddle the first time is delusional.”

He waved his hand and sighed, “It’s why you felt so uncomfortable around me in the third year; you denied what you could physically see, but Moony knew, didn’t he?”

Remus jerked his head in denial, “he saw nothing.”

Eyes turning purple with scales erupted over his face, as Harry stalked towards Remus, snapping his fingers, the semi corporal form of a true wolf appeared beside the man already bowing low and whimpering. “Do you want your freedom Moony?”

The wolf tilted his head up, whine breaking free, “I won’t do it for him, but I’ll do it for you. Grayback had one thing sorta right, the only freedom you’ll find is acceptance of the wolf. Neither of you asked for this, but you don’t deserve to be subjected to his cruelty and torture.”

“What- what is that?” Remus whispered

“It’s Moony, as he should look, but you’ve spent years poisoning yourself with wolfsbane looking for a cure that you’ve deformed and tortured him to become what you are.”

“I want that,” Remus demanded.

“No.” Harry said simply, “Moony’s going home.”

A rift opened as if in response to his words, and a pale hand beaconed to the spirit, and Harry nodded encouragingly, “Go, Moony, the lady wants you home.”

Moony swung his head, looking between them, before moving forward, butting Harry’s hand and Sirius’s, the wolf’s expression sorrowful before bounding towards the rift and jumping through without looking back.

Waiting for the rift to close, Harry turned to look at Ragnok, “Arrange a bank draft for ten thousand gallons from my private account and convert it to UK pounds; Remus can pick it up after the session.”

Eyebrow quirking, Ragnok nodded in agreement, “Of course, Your Grace.”

“Now you have what you’ve always wanted, freedom.” Harry said, turning to look at Remus, who was looking suddenly lightheaded, letting the scales retreat, “You’re judgement, Remus Lupin, freedom from your wolf, and a lifetime living amongst muggles. You will never be able to speak of magic, and in a few years, you will forget we exist. Any words you write to remind you will become unreadable as your body adjusts to a life without magic.”

“You-you can’t do that. I’ve been given no chance to defend myself!” Remus cried.

“Was anything I said a lie?” Harry asked curiously.

“No.” The look of surprise that crossed Remus’s face quickly turned white, “how-“

“you had a half-baked plan to have Moony bite me?”

“Yes, though I knew it would never work. It was more dream than plan.” Remus replied, staring at Harry in horror.

“We can get veritasium if you prefer?” Harry offered, “Both options are painless, as you’ve already experienced, but I wouldn’t want to be accused of being unfair. Just so you and everyone know, I can not lie in this room. It is impossible to do so, as the magic that controls it won’t let me; it’s a fail-safe to keep me honest.”

Remus shook his head, “how am I to live in the muggle world?”

“I thought you lived in the muggle world most of the time because of the prejudice against werewolves.” Harry said with a frown, “Unless you lied?”

“No, but everyday things, like cooking and cleaning. I had magic to do those.” Remus said, trying to explain.

“Learn a new way.” Harry said unconcerned, “This way, this life, magic, is no longer your gift.”

Harry watched as emotions flew across Remus’s face, as the realization of his situation hit him, and he couldn’t seem to decide who to look at, Tonks or Albus, though Albus won out in the end. “Was I ever anything more than a pawn?”

“It was for the greater good, my boy. Think of how much you accomplished in furthering our goals.” Albus responded blithely, his voice calm, like he wasn’t standing on trial.

“Do you get it now, Remus? He doesn’t believe he’s guilty, but he doesn’t care about you or anyone else, so he’ll toss you over the bridge while he fights to save his skin.” Harry explained.

Licking his lips, he looked at Harry, “Earlier, you-you said something about his fifth-generational grandmother; what did she do?”

Harry raised an eyebrow, “Miriam Sadler was a muggle-born witch born in 1517, raised in a strict religious household. It was only through a fluke that she was allowed to go to Hogwarts, and she befriended several ladies from pureblood society who brought her to parties and balls during the holidays. During her last year, she met Casimir Black, fresh out of mourning for his third wife and instantly infatuated with Miriam. He courted her aggressively for three years before proposing, and when presented with the contract, Miriam refused, stating she would only sign it if Casimir sealed the family magic away. Citing ‘that sort of power was unnatural and unnecessary, as we’re an enlightened society.’ Casimir conceded in the end and did as she’d demanded, the unintended consequences resulting in what became known as the Black Madness, the death of Casimir and the very public embarrassment and humiliation Miriam received when she tried to claim they’d married in secret, and the child she carried was a Black of blood. The family, skeptical over the claim, brought the case before this court, where she perjured herself lying under oath when magic revealed they were not married nor the child was Casimir’s, yet when pressed, couldn’t successfully name the father.”

Harry looked around the chamber, noting the still avid expressions, then focused on Albus, who was staring back with a glint of smugness in his eyes. “Now people could wonder what happened next, and it was very simple, Miriam left the wizarding world in disgrace with her bastard child, swearing vengeance against the Black line, bound it in future generations but neglected to share the real reason she didn’t declare blood feud, proving even further she had no honour to begin with. Something that passed on down to you, Albus Dumbledore.”

The old man slumped and sighed, saying nothing, only tensing when Harry spoke again, “You stand accused of multiple counts of treason, espionage, willful harm, obstruction, larceny, fraud, line theft, murder, conspiracy, and magical extinction through an undeclared blood feud. The evidence is overwhelming; from your lips, you have admitted your guilt, and Fawkes’s abandonment confirms your guilt. For those crimes, your life is forfeit; the only thing I grant you, for what little good you did in this world, is the method. How do you wish to die?”

Albus was quiet for a long time, but Harry didn’t rush him, not wanting to indicate in any way what he wanted the old man to choose. Harry knew he needed to cement his right to rule, and, sadly, society, for all that it was magical, would only accept it one way.

He knew there was still work to be done. There were people to be found and punishments to be distributed, laws to be changed or abolished, and new ones to be enacted. The education needed to be overhauled and revised, making it a positive experience when introducing children to their world for the first time. For all that he had started off believing himself an orphan, time-travel had given him more than he thought possible, and he wouldn’t change any of it. He had the support of his Knights, friends, and family, including his father, grandmother, aunts, uncles, cousins and eventually, a husband, and hopefully, many children.

Right now, though, the start of his reign began now, with the ending of the old regime, it might have been a little unfair that when Albus raised his chin with an open challenge in his eyes and said, “Excalibur,” Harry smiled, and summoned the sword, knowing he had won.

***

THE END

 

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