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ACT5CH26 - Stances
🕑 Added 2025-11-28 17:52:53 +0000 UTCApologies. Was caught up in what started off as an emergency and then turned into a living nightmare. Pun not intended about my co-author. Anyway, we're back. Expect the next chapter soon, since it's already half-done. And now, on with the chapter.
For Daphne, the next two weeks were like being in the center of a storm.
As a future Lady of a Noble House, she was no stranger attending meetings with her father. Despite her frailty, Joshua went out of his way to give her the needed exposure to navigate through the British political landscape, its existing and ever-shifting hierarchies, and the incestuous relationship it had with the wizarding economy, both on regional and international scale. Joshua’s shark-like acumen had helped the Greengrass name flourish in the tumultuous period, withstanding the entire war with Voldemort and coming out ahead without hanging his coat on either side of the fence.
Naturally, being the public face of the Gatekeeper — lynchpin of Britain and the ICW — meant endless meetings. Gringotts. Ministries. Private firms. She’d barely slept, and was tired with a capital T, and wholeheartedly believed that the other letters should’ve been capitalized as well, but one never got everything one wanted, did they?
Honestly, when her father had come up with the idea of expediting her marriage to Harry, she had half-expected him to push the date up to Yule. It would have been a wonderful time to culminate their relationship.
Now? She’d be lucky if she managed to get him to stay in one place for three days before the Hogwarts term was over for good.. Forget the Yule holidays. But before that..
“…and so, we move to the final matter of today’s agenda: the proposed ‘Regulation of Non-Magical Beings Act’, submitted by Mr. Harry Potter.”
Bones didn’t even look at Daphne as she continued, reading from the docket with the deadpan rhythm of someone walking a cliff edge in stormlight.
“The act proposes a full legal reclassification of non-human sapient species as beings, with rights, protections, and legal standing equal to that of human magical citizens of the British Isles. These include—but are not limited to—goblins, centaurs, merfolk, veela, dryads, and part-humanoid hybrids. That includes immediate inclusion in voting frameworks, property rights, and economic participation, to be enacted within one year, contingent upon the signatory support of said communities.”
She folded the parchment and looked at Daphne.
“I was expecting Mr. Potter to defend his submission.”
“Mr. Potter took your earlier request to heart and left me in charge.”
That sudden twitch that appeared on the former DMLE Director’s face made her sass worth it.
Right after signing the agreement at Godric’s Hollow, Amelia Bones had requested Harry, without mincing words, that it would be beneficial if he stayed out of most of the deliberations on the Wizengamot and Ministry Charter, only to appear once they were all tied up and ready for him to ‘glue’ the pieces together into functional protocol. Something about how being present would put the other members under duress.
Duress her arse! They were shit scared of her fiance, and they knew it. And they knew that she knew it. Really, it was like he terrified them more than the bloody dark lord himself!
She considered Azkaban.
And what followed at the Wizengamot.
Okay, maybe they did have reason to fear him more. But it wasn’t like he was going to stand up and start firing killing curses at anyone that even breathed in the wrong direction.
Some people.
That said, she hadn’t fought against that request. Harry had little appreciation for the nuances of politics. He was a man of action, and seeing him sitting in a meeting, looking slightly bewildered, with people trying to policy around existential dread would have driven him nuts. Luckily, or unluckily, Daphne had somehow bullied her way into becoming the official spokesperson for the Gatekeeper.
“My fiance entrusted me with full authority to speak in his stead. Of course, if any of you find my defence lacking, my fiance is willing to personally sit and put his views across.”
There was that twitch again. Annoying, but also hilarious.
“N —no, that’s fine,” said Smith. “Let the record show that Lady Daphne Greengrass is acting as proxy for Gatekeeper Harry Potter.”
“Great,” chirped Daphne. “Let the deliberations begin.”
“What is there to deliberate?” scoffed Lady Brown. “This act… this is delusional! Magical creature classifications exist for a reason. Next you’ll be handing over wands to goblins and letting veela enthrall noble Lords and usurp control over their seats.”
With the recent tragedy that struck House Longbottom, Lady Augusta had receded away from politics. Word was that Alice Longbottom was mostly healed, and was slowly attempting to get a good grasp of things. It didn’t help that Neville was still a fugitive and a persona-non-grata in wizarding Britain post his explosion as an obscurial that heavily damaged Diagon Alley and caused the deaths of dozens of people.
With Amelia Bones rising up as Minister and Susan being… sheltered still, House Bones had also ceased being a major voice in the traditional faction, leaving Archibald Smith and Arabella Brown to steadily become the most vocal presences in their faction. Neither of them were doughnuts of darkness like Lucius Malfoy, nor extreme bigots like Fudge and Umbridge.
But they were staunch believers of the status quo, which translated to pointless political posturing and brazen stupidity in the name of tradition and fear-mongering.
Maybe they were Voldemort’s pawns, infiltrating the other side. Or perhaps international influences trying to get Harry under their thumb.
Or maybe they were just stupid.
Like her father always said — there are only so many blackhearted people in the world, and they only get uppity on occasion. But stupid? That’s everywhere, everyday.
“While I agree it’s a valid concern,” Daphne reasoned,. “it i s not dissimilar to using compulsion charms, or perhaps, even Unforgivables in usurpation attempts. Veela allure is tricky, but its nature isn’t undocumented.”
“What you are suggesting, Miss Greengrass, will require DMLE intervention in matters of ancestral inheritance,’ said Lord Macmillan. “Inheritance has always been a private family affair in Wizarding Britain.”
“As it should,” said Daphne. “But a crime is a crime nonetheless, even if it happens within the family. How can a family expect to do justice to the Wizengamot and Wizarding Britain if it cannot offer the same justice to its own members first?”
“That might be feasible," said Lady Abbott. “But families, especially noble families, have stringent conditions in their family charter that dictate the choosing of the next of kin. Proprietary magic and secrets are sacred. Allowing the DMLE to interfere and attempt to… standardize them goes against that sacred protocol.”
Daphne frowned. “Lady Abbott, are you aware of the fate of the last three generations of the Black family?”
The woman looked flustered. “I’m… not. House Abbott has little to do with the affairs of House Black. We are not a dark family, dear.”
She ignored the looks Selwyn, Nott and Mulciber sent at her.
“Naturally,” said Daphne, standing up and giving the entire room a knowing look. “If this council permits, I’d like to revisit a small history lesson about the Blacks, a family, I’m sure you’ll agree, were among the staunchest followers of the Old Ways and their sacred protocols.”
“Before Lord Arcturus Black rose to power, the Black family followed an arcane ritual known as the Harvest, where the Lord of the House would sacrifice his own kin to the Black Family Magic. In exchange, the Family Magic — the Jaguar — gave them boons. They would be born perfect, flawless in body, talented in the magical arts. Yes, that jaguar that destroyed the Wizengamot at a mere whim.”
Anxious gazes followed her every movement.
“Lord Arcturus forbade the Harvest, and the Black Lar — a twisted abomination that Lord Sirius Arcturus Black created — went rabid and started exterminating the Blacks. Arcturus was choked to death; Pollux, driven mad; Cassiopeia — died from a cracked skull; Cygnus, Alphard, Dorea — all of them died horribly, and so on. Every member of the Black family has lost their lives in horrible and poetic deaths, all because of Lord Sirius’s decisions. Tell me, Ladies and gentle-wizards, is that justice?”
A silenced council refused to meet her eyes.
Daphne didn’t want to challenge Harry’s belief, but there was a fair chance that Sirius was gone for good, leaving only Andi and her daughter as the only survivors with Black blood in their veins. In hindsight, perhaps Arcturus Black was onto something when he cast Andromeda out of the family for marrying a muggleborn.
Wait… when Sirius brought Andromeda back into the family, he had technically acted against the previous Lord Black’s judgement. Sirius… who Harry believed, had been subtly influenced by the Lar back then.
Did Andromeda know how lucky she was to be alive? Or was it that the Lar had more insidious ideas?
She would never know. Well, except for the fact that the more she dug deeper, the uglier Magic appeared.
She blamed Harry for that.
“Well?”
“How do you know this?” Minister Bones asked softly.
“Because my fiance is Harry Potter, and he’s got the most destructive sort of luck imaginable. Because I’ve got legitimate proof that his luck usually works against him. And because… after the episode at the Wizengamot, both of us were attacked by the same Black Lar. Harry ended it.”
She made sure to stress on the ‘ended’ part. Before Harry came into her life, people died when they were killed. But ever since her fiance entered the picture, things weren’t exactly the same.
Peter Pettigrew.
Lord Voldemort.
Ekriz-freaking-dis.
Among others.
“I see,” said Minister Bones in a manner that said she didn’t, but understood that further poking into this matter was not worth the headache she’d get out of it. “Well, I am convinced the idea has merit. Assuming anyone else here doesn’t have a problem, we can add it to the Act, with a stipulation for further debate. Since this mainly deals with the Nobility,. I believe there is need for both caution and further deliberation on the matter.”
“Be my guest,” said Daphne, crossing her arms.
“You raise good points, Miss Greengrass,” said Selwyn. “But let’s talk numbers. If this Act passes, goblins alone will represent nearly 10% of the magical population. If we add merfolk colonies, centaurs, and veela enclaves, we’re talking about a seismic shift in the electorate. What happens when wizarding Britain is no longer run by wizards?”
“You cannot maintain cultural institutions if you open doors to those that don’t share your culture.”
“You mean you can’t maintain power,” said Daphne flatly.
Selwyn looked a little surprised at her blunt rebuttal. “Miss Greengrass —”
“Let’s stop pretending this is about preserving culture and traditions. That is the exact same logic used by Death Eaters and their Dark Lord to throw Britain into decades of war. Muggleborns, goblins, centaurs, mermen, veela — it’s the same thing. You want to hold power over them, stand on their shoulders and call yourselves tall. Well that philosophy’s exactly what led us here — stuck between a half-declared rebellion and global diplomatic embarrassment."
Selwyn glowered at her.
“I’m surprised you’re so welcoming of veela, Miss Greengrass,” said Mulciber in his oily tone. “Last I heard, a certain veela has been trying quite hard to put her claws into your fiance. Why, there is talk of her becoming his wife for House Potter — now Peverell. Do you truly believe opening doors to veela is the right idea?”
“No personal attacks,” snapped Minister Bones. “Miss Greengrass, you do not have to respond to his taunt. Lord Mulciber, I made it extremely clear that only productive input is allowed in these halls. It is why your friend and benefactor Lord Nott isn’t among us.”
After the devastating end of the previous Wizengamot session, Minister Bones had put her foot down, claiming that Nott wouldn’t be participating in these events. Honestly, Daphne was surprised that Smith, Brown and Mulciber weren’t banned as well, but turns out, there existed nobody else to act as proper representatives in their absence.
She frowned. She might not ‘have’ to answer the question, but she knew it well that the council would judge her on her silence just as much. In fact, more than her vocal response.
Plus, she had no intentions of letting the smug bastard have his way.
“I’m glad you’re so concerned about my relationship with my fiance, but it’s unnecessary. Harry Potter is Death’s Vessel, and absolutely immune to veela allure. If he does choose to eventually marry Fleur Delacour, it will be because he intends to, and not out of enthrallment or influence. And trust me, if he hadn’t enjoyed his immunity, I’d have been glad if the DMLE investigated the situation.”
Mulciber scowled but said nothing.
“Yes, veela can manipulate emotions,” Daphne went on. “So can a skilled legilimens. Or any witch or wizard with the right potion. Yes, goblins have a different set of ethics. So do Unspeakables. Centaurs perceive time differently — so do Seers. We’ve always permitted exceptions when they suit our kind. Playing the cultural difference card only means you don’t want to share the center of the room.”
Rowle narrowed his eyes. “And if we say no?”
Daphne shrugged. “You already know the answer to that question. You no longer have the non-humans bound by laws. Refuse this, and the goblins will close their vaults The centaurs will abandon the ley crossings. The merfolk will retreat. And the veela will take their alliances, their networks with them, and join the Balkan Alliance.”
“Is that a threat, Miss Greengrass?” asked Brown. “We are aware of Harry Potter’s private entreaties with Gringotts. If you think you can demand such outrageous things by blackmailing us…”
“I’m not asking for anything,” said Daphne. “And neither is Harry. If anything, he’s the one keeping them from rebelling. Feel free to reject this. I’m sure Harry would be elated that he’s got one less burden to bear.”
She stood up, ready to leave. Then she paused and addressed the man.
“You know, the Wizengamot’s amphitheater design dates back to the Romans. I read somewhere that back then, the kings built these amphitheaters so that the people would be distracted in mindless entertainment, while the king did whatever he wanted. For the last two centuries, this nation has been pointlessly engaged in blood politics, with little to show for actual magical growth. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
“What are you implying, Miss Greengrass?” asked Fawley, frowning.
“My fiance often says that today’s witches and wizards are more interested in their lineage rather than their own accomplishments., choosing to revel in what they’ve gotten from their ancestors instead of providing a platform for their progeny for higher greatness. If you ask me, I’d say that instead of trying to push other races down, we should actively attempt to enhance ourselves instead. Seek our own ascension. Reach Family Magic, delve deeper into the mysteries of the Anima and the secrets of Magic.”
She held up her right hand, and flames of gold erupted out of it.
“My fiance gave me a chance to do just that. To master the Greengrass craft and become one with my family magic. And before you say it, it’s not because I’m his fiance. Harry would have done it for anyone, for that’s what heroes do. And while Wizarding Britain has done little to deserve it, Harry Potter is a hero. My advice — instead of fighting him, accept the opportunity and rise beyond your petty squabble,or be left behind.”
She nodded briskly. “That will be all. Thank you for your consideration.”
And then she left.
With the softness of the afternoon breeze, Albus Dumbledore found himself suddenly standing on a vast, solitary island in the middle of nowhere. Before him, the mighty construct — if one could call a four-dimensional tessellating beast a construct — loomed like an ancient colossus, standing at the borders of myth and reality. All around him was the faint greyish dome that insulated the island from the rest of the world. And no, he didn’t even want to think about the titan-sized vortex at the center of the gate, a bruise on the face of Reality itself. Staring at its edges brought static to his old eyes, though he doubted that age had anything to do with it.
This… this was the edge of the world.
This was where the Anima had breached into Reality and attempted to unleash the horrors within.
This was Azkaban Gate and…
“Is that a hut?”
Albus squinted past the grey haze that curled around the island’s edge. Nestled awkwardly to one side, like a housefly resting on the shoulder of a god — stood a building. Larger than Hagrid’s home, yes, but unmistakably similar in vibe. Thick slabs of stone stacked together with no sense of polish or symmetry. The windows were uneven, the chimney leaned slightly to the left, and one wall bore the unmistakable imprint of having been reconstructed twice and given up halfway.
“Built it myself.”
Albus blinked, pausing at the pride in Harry’s words. “It’s... quite something. Though you might do something about the jagged corners. And the leaning walls. And the chimney.”
Harry Potter scowled, crossing his arms. “I’m a defeater of arcane menaces, not Michelangelo.”
Albus arched an eyebrow.
Harry Potter sighed and dropped his shoulders. “I can’t transfigure. If I try, it just blows up.”
“And Miss Greengrass—”
“Why do you think it looks this ugly?” He asked, scowling. “Daphne’d rather shatter it to dust than help me build it. She says her husband should live with her, and for Merlin’s sake, I can’t bring myself to disagree.”
Personally, Albus thought that marriage to Daphne Greengrass was a little too early for Harry. He knew the conditions that led to the original proposal, but things had changed. Harry had gotten rid of that insidious Black blood curse, and healed young Daphne for good. There was absolutely no need to push the young man into the complexities that came with married life. Especially with Harry having a great destiny ahead of him and…
And…
And people destined for greatness often walked the solitary path. There were few bindings as deeply entrenching as marriage, and it would be an obstruction to the sheer discipline and focus Harry’s trials would demand. It was a thought deeply rooted in his personal life experience, and had little to do with his gender preferences.
“Harry, have you thought about what you want to do after this?”
The young man looked up at his eyes, tilting his head.
“After… this?”
“Things aren’t the same anymore,” said Albus. “As much as you’d reject the notion, the truth is that the world has changed, and you’ve played a big part in it. Like it or not, every action you take will be subject to scrutiny by the ICW.”
Harry exhaled. “So long as they leave me alone —”
“You have an entire life ahead of you, Harry. You already have young Miss Greengrass debate politics with Minister Bones, and soon, the Wizengamot will be functional. And like it or not, you will have one, if not the strongest bloc in it. Babajide has already spoken in your favor, and shared his newest discoveries and their implications. Several nations have already made exceptionally lucrative offers for your cooperation. Your ability to discern magic down its deepest, most fundamental levels have many agencies literally on their knees requesting for you.”
Harry’s brows went up.
“Babajide’s discourse on what he’s been calling the ‘Biscuit Paradox’ has been debated quite extensively in the magical community. Both campus Magico and Ilvermorny desire you to host lectures on the Paradox, and how reality at that micro-level differs from ours, but’s clearly a ploy to influence you and get you on their staff.”
“Still haven’t gotten my OWLs yet, Professor.”
“They’re willing to wave off the usual norms in this case. As it is, you’ll be visiting Spain during the Inter-School Exchange, assuming nothing changes. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the other schools in the neighbourhood request you to drop by, for a quick meet and greet if nothing else. And of course, Nicholas Flamel has offered you his apprenticeship in Materia-Phase Transmutation, but you already know about that.”
“Actually, I was the one that demanded it,” said Harry. “Nicholas just wanted to buy me out using a bloody Philosopher’s stone. I asked him to teach me how to achieve stable transitory states, and achieve supercapacitance, like how he does with the Stone.”
“You want to… learn how to craft your own stone. A Death stone.” He paused, and then rethought it from a different perspective. “No, that’s not it. You want to achieve supercapacitance for energies similar to the potency of the Philosopher’s Stone. Energies like —”
“Family Magics.”
Dumbledore stared at him inscrutably.
Harry sighed. “Like it or not, my fate is tied with the Gate, Professor. And it’s no secret that Tezcatlipoca, the Black Binding magic, has a lion’s share of that. I need to know how to use Death to make the Gate more precise, sunder selective threads of Magic, yet allow what should be allowed in. I need to know that because the next time some ancient god tries to possess me, I can just avoid the sixteen steps to contain it and instead destroy it for good.”
Albus felt a sniff of melancholy. “It feels almost like a different life, when you were trying to grasp the mechanics of the summoning spell with Miss Granger.”
The boy laughed. “Can’t disagree there.”
“Does that mean you have agreed to his proposal? Is that why he’s coming to Hogwarts next term?”
He watched the young man grapple with how much information to reveal. The time when he’d have thought he knew better and attempted to use Legilimency to sneak into his thoughts was long gone. Harry had grown marvellously, even absurdly, one might say, and his actions spoke for themselves. Clearly there was much more to his queer relationship with Nicholas Flamel.
He had a hunch that it went far, far beyond the apprenticeship or Nicholas’s desire to study Death’s Vessel.
The only thing that bothered him was why Nicholas was going all-out to provide this ensemble. Even with Albus himself, Nicholas had straight away demanded that Albus stay at the Flamel Estate while they did their research together.
It helped that complete and unfettered access to the Flamel library was an incentive unlike anything else the world could provide him back then.
There was no doubt that Nicholas wanted Harry under his thumb just as much, if not more. He must have shown the boy his secret laboratory, his library and perhaps… his oceanarium too. So why would Nicholas leave all that setup and come all the way to Hogwarts?
“I… have some obligations at Hogwarts, professor,” said the boy evasively. “And Nicholas knows this. I still might have to pop back with him to the Flamel Estate occasionally for experiments, but overall, I’d be staying at Hogwarts.”
“...I see.”
“You don’t seem too bothered by it,” Harry pointed out suspiciously.
“Regardless of our differences, me and Nicholas actually do get along quite well. And I’m certain whatever business ties you to Hogwarts, you will not let that disrupt the schooling and education of the other students here. It will be unfortunate that we might have to let you go as the Defence Professor soon, but your own future and your responsibilities take priority. But I have to ask, Harry —- have you considered all of this carefully? Is this.. wise?”
Harry arched a brow.
“Limiting yourself to Hogwarts,” Albus clarified. “I cannot believe I am saying this, but Hogwarts — its library, its professors, and its curriculum will be of little use to you in the future. The Incarneum Guild, which deals heavily in the spiritual aspects of magic — the soul, and to an extent, demonology — have already expressed an active interest in the Gatekeeper, and have offered you direct admission into a Mastery course. Full scholarship, of course.”
Harry blinked. “I.. err — but I didn’t even apply.”
“I doubt you need to,” said Albus, his eyes twinkling merrily. “Your magical animagus form is actively discussed in their circles. There are those that believe that between your animagus form and your role as the Gatekeeper, you would be instrumental in developing greater understanding of the boundaries between spiritual realms.”
“They just want to explore what lies beyond the Gate, and this is their latest excuse to wrap it up in legalese distractions.”
“I’m glad I don’t have to spell it out for you,” said Albus dryly. “But even so, there is a lot you can learn from them.”
“It’s not like the idea has merit,” said Harry slowly. “But I’d like to keep my options open for the future. Erm, I can discuss potential side projects with them later, right?”
“Usually, people are humbled at getting a chance into one of them, much less ones dealing with Theta-Grey ranked magics, but I’m sure exceptions can be made. You shouldn’t be surprised when I tell you that the Necromancer’s Guild has also offered you the same. In fact, they sent me a letter — as your Headmaster — offering you admission — right after you attained Warlock status. The only reason they have yet to contact you directly is because I held it off, claiming that you needed to at least pass your OWLs as per Britain’s educational policy. With everything that’s happened recently, they’ll no doubt redouble their efforts.”
It didn’t take a genius to figure out that they were psyched about having a literal avatar of Death among them. They’d likely learn more from experimenting on Harry’s powers than he would from them.
“Why do I have a feeling that dealing with these organisations is going to be more lethal to me than Voldemort?” Harry asked, head bowed low in mock depression.
“Because you’ve got a good head on those shoulders?” Albus chortled. “The bigger question is — what do you want, Harry? Where do you see yourself, ten, fifteen, perhaps thirty years from now?”
It was not a question he had ever anticipated asking. Ever since he had come across Riddle’s diary, he had been afraid of how things would end for the boy he had come to love as a grandfather. Now though — vistas of opportunity were beckoning him from every direction.
The time when he had wanted to give the boy a normal childhood was long gone. Or maybe, it never existed in the first place, and Albus was merely delusional for believing in it. No child of prophecy was ever allowed to have a meagre existence, and Harry would be no different.
“Honestly,’ Harry craned his head, looking at the towering behemoth looming over them. “I haven’t really given it a thought. All these years, it was all about trying to stay afloat of Voldemort trying to kill me, and surviving… erm, whatever new mess every new term brought me. This year it’s been a little more — my Warlock powers, and Daphne… and Fleur.”
“And you’ve already made significant progress on both fronts,” said Albus. “Miss Greengrass has been completely cured of her blood curse and… I couldn’t imagine saying this a few months ago, but even Tom is no more an issue at this moment. His body was destroyed, and I believe it will be quite some time before he raises his head, giving us ample opportunities to figure out his ....”
He paused, but then remembered where he was.
“...horcruxes.”
Harry nodded. He looked like he wanted to say something, but held back.
“Something troubling you, my boy?”
“It’s….” Harry started, but it was obvious he was trying and failing to find the exact words. “Remember how you told me earlier, how you thought Voldemort might’ve given his Inner Circle his horcruxes, for safekeeping?”
Just like that, all levity vanished.
“I remember, yes.”
“Turns out he instructed Regulus Black, Sirius’s brother, to help him out with securing one of them. A locket, inscribed with a serpentine S — a relic belonging to Salazar Slytherin himself.”
“Oh? Where is it?”
“...I don’t know.”
“But it’s there even now, I assume?”
“...I don’t know that either.”
“...”
“I do have a memory of the island where it was though.”
“Well that’s a start,” said Albus, his mustache quivering. “And how old is this memory? Perhaps if we have a look, we can start identifying potential locations.”
“Yes, but before that, I need one thing from you.”
“Anything, my boy.”
Harry’s resolute eyes met his own. “Tell me about this Prophecy.”
