Chapter four is here and with it comes the trial. I hope you guys and gals like the chapter name.

Disclaimer: I don't Harry Potter or anything I write references to. This is a work of fanfiction that I make no money from.

Albus Dumbledore set the letter he just received from Sirius down with a sigh, contemplating the last several days.

He was at his desk in the Headmaster's office, thinking of what it meant that Sirius had put in the letter.

Harry had, by shear happenstance, discovered the Black heir ring in the room of Regulus Black, the ring likely being hidden there before the young man's death.

The previous letter Sirius sent revealed how the man felt about the discovery of the ring. Harry had put it on without realizing what it was, and it accepted him as heir.

Sirius' letter had shaky sections of words, a drop or two of what appeared to be tears on the parchment. The acknowledgement of Harry as heir Black meant that he could push for the trial transcripts concerning the previous Lord apparent, which didn't exist. Without a trial record, Sirius Orion Black, at the demand of the heir of House Black, could be granted an emergency trial to determine his innocence.

Lucius Malfoy wouldn't be able to risk trying to stop it, the suspicion of attempted Line Theft would not be ignored.

The joy Sirius had in the first letter was completely absent in the latest one, Dumbledore's reply to the first being less than pleasant.

Sirius had let Dumbledore know that he would be, as was expected of Harry's godfather and the hopefully soon Lord Black, training him in Occlumency and some of the Black family magic.

Dumbledore was a man with an ironclad grip on his emotions and magic, his will being as strong as his raw power. But the last several days had taken their tole on him, starting with the day that Harry was attacked.

One of Dumbledore's contraptions, a small silver device that spun and made periodic clicks, was an object that would trace the signal of any underage magic used wherever its partner was, the partner being located in Surrey.

The device had fired off, alerting him to a signal sent to the Ministry, pointing to Harry using magic out of school.

He knew it didn't bode well. Fudge had been trying to find something to silence him, convince him to keep quiet of Voldemort's return. The man thought himself a political genius because he had Lucius Malfoy playing him like a fiddle, but Dumbledore wasn't just simply some old man past his prime.

Albus Dumbledore, though withered and bent by time, and by fate, was still one of the strongest wizards in history. Few wizards aside from Tom Riddle had been born with power similar to his, but their names were not remembered in the annals of history like his own for one major reason.

They lacked ambition.

His prodigious understanding of magic, coupled with raw power rarely seen in nearly all wizards, would not have been enough to cement him as the 'Second coming of Merlin.'

His father's actions drove him to be the best. His father's, and in a way his own, being the eldest child, inability to protect Ariana made him want to be known as something better than the son of a muggle killer, and not just a muggle killer, but a killer of muggle minors.

His years at Hogwarts were measured by how much kindness and brilliance he displayed, any talk of him being like his father disappeared when he was astute, courteous, and generous to anyone who needed it, regardless of their background as muggleborns or otherwise.

His drive to be the greatest succeeded in making him the undisputed 'Leader of the Light', a foolish title if he ever heard one.

He had been playing the game of politics for decades, before Lucius was even born. He knew of more than one way to get Harry cleared of charges, but most required certain criteria.

Dumbledore didn't want the information of Harry being the Black heir revealed at the trial. The release of that information could cause Voldemort to make his move earlier, potentially storming the Department of Mysteries during the uproar of Harry Potter, a supposedly dangerous, attention seeking Parselmouth being the heir to two Noble and Ancient Houses, something that hadn't occurred since before he was born.

The Order wasn't fully prepared, neither was the Ministry. Dumbledore hadn't resisted having his position as Chief Warlock taken from him, the position being a waste of time now.

His plans needed time that he hadn't had in abundance when he had multiple positions to fill in the government and ICW.

But he had no such positions now.

Things would get ugly very fast, and he needed to prepare everything as best as he could.

His thoughts went to the letter he sent that caused his current predicament.

Moments before his device went off, he felt the Elder Wand burn him. He felt a cold shiver make its way up his spine and he could have sworn he felt soft fingers caress his shoulder, a cold breath feeling like it was behind him. He ended up nearly blasting the device to ashes when it startled him, indicating Harry used magic.

His thoughts had been plagued by both the trial and what happened in his office.

Harry Potter, descendant of the Peverells, gets attacked by dementors precisely when an artifact made by the 3 Peverell brothers burned him when he was organizing his desk, and the specter of Death seeming to haunt him for but a fraction of a second, probably just his own imagination.

The strain of dealing with multiple things resulted in him sending a response to Sirius' proclamation of training Harry to be a proper heir, by not requesting, but stating that Sirius would wait on training Harry in Occlumency.

The training of higher end Occlumency could potentially expose the bindings on Harry's magic, something that cannot be discovered yet.

Dumbledore had come to the conclusion that what afflicted Harry, giving him pain and granting him Parseltongue abilities, was a horcrux.

He thanked whatever deity there was that he had the presence of mind to bind the boy's magic as a young child. The horcrux could have very well altered his personality, if allowed the opportunity to feed off of his abnormally strong magic, to be more like Voldemort's.

There was no doubt Harry was the child of Prophecy, the power the boy had was similar to his own or Voldemort's, only lacking in the drive to be great that drove himself and a young Tom Riddle.

I guess you may have been right, Gellert. He thought wistfully, thinking of the conversation and theory about Purebloods and Muggleborns producing stronger children.

He looked back down at the letter, the words conveying something far more biting than the flowery words that made up the message would appear.

Sirius responded harshly to his admittedly foolish demand, overstepping on a sensitive topic for the man.

Dumbledore was concerned that Harry, at the pressure of Sirius wanting to be free, would declare himself the Black heir and try to use that as a way to muscle through the trial, letting it be known that he was now a player in the game.

Assuming Voldemort was defeated, Wizarding Britain would need someone to heal the nation, Harry being the possible one to do that.

Dumbledore held on to the hope that the horcrux could be removed through the use of a Killing Curse, Voldemort's use of Harry's blood anchoring the young man to the world.

If that is the case, Harry could influence Wizarding Britain for the good, having two Wizengamot seats.

But the cutthroat game of politics meant he could very easily be exploited if they thought him naive, something that Dumbledore feared.

Shaking his head at the mess he unintentionally made worse, he turned to his familiar, who gave a soft trill to the old man.

"I fear I've made a mistake with young Harry," He admitted softly, eyes downcast, "And I'm uncertain that I can repair the damage."

Fawkes trilled softly again and nuzzled his head into Dumbledore's hand.

"I will do what I can to help him in the trial," He muttered, "Even if he remains displeased with me."

He thought it better to not let Harry hear of the foul things said about the two of them in the Daily Prophet, especially some of the rumours about how he was the last one to see young Mr. Diggory alive.

He didn't think that requesting that Harry's friends not owl him would let his mind think of Diggory's death. Survivor's guilt was a universal thing in both the muggle and Magical world. Being left in your own thoughts, letting the misplaced guilt fester, would change anyone for the worse.

The initial letter from Remus and Sirius didn't hide the fact that Harry wanted nothing to do with him, which he accepted the reasoning, knowing it wasn't unwarranted.

As he prepared to leave for bed, knowing the trial was tommorow, he thought of what awaited him and the boy who had suffered more than he ever should have.

"I pray that you can forgive me, Harry," Dumbledore whispered to himself, "For I don't think I'd be strong enough to do so for one who has wronged me."

The day of the trial was here.

Harry had been awake over an hour before his alarm was set, running through his plan. He knew it would make waves, but he planned on firing a shot across the bow, the message a clear one to Voldemort and the Death Eaters that they weren't as secure as they thought.

Taking the Black seat from Lucius Malfoy would be a great blow to his finances, and by extension Voldemort's.

The presumed innocence of the merry band of terrorists would be dealt a severe hit from Sirius, an Auror who repeatedly stated he recognized several Death Eaters killing muggles and using certain spells, being found innocent of the charges against him.

Sirius wasn't able to hide how livid he was from the letter Dumbledore sent, practically demanding that Sirius not train Harry in Occlumency or other magic that was taught to the heir.

Sitting up out of the bed, he made his way to his trunk and pulled out a nutrition potion, downing the whole thing in one gulp. Hopefully he could kickstart a growth spurt this summer that would carry over into the school year.

He then walked towards the door and exited the room, heading down to the kitchen.

Molly had been up early to fix breakfast for him, Arthur, who'd be taking him, and Sirius, who had a difficult time getting to sleep.

"Harry." Arthur greeted him, drinking a cup of tea, likely with some degree of a Pepper up potion mixed in, judging by how alert he looked.

"Mr. Weasley." He muttered, acting like he'd just woken up.

Harry sat down next to Sirius, who looked dreadful.

"What's with you, Padfoot?" Harry asked, "This trial's a sham. Nothing to worry about."

"I'm starting to have doubts about the plan," Sirius muttered under his breath, "I can wait, if need be."

Harry fixed Sirius with a glare.

"I'm not doing this because I want to stick it to Fudge and Malfoy, I'm doing this because you're my godfather and deserve to be free. You're a good man who's suffered too much for something you didn't do."

Sirius just sighed, not wanting to argue.

It's normal for people to get cold feet right at the dawn of a massive choice, Sirius being in that situation.

"This is you, Harry," He said firmly, giving his godson a soft smile, "I'll support you no matter what."

Harry returned the smile, before spotting Molly enter with a plate of bacon and eggs.

"Here you go, Harry." She said, setting down the plate with a sympathetic look.

After a quick "Thank you", Harry began eating his breakfast to stop the gnawing ache in his stomach.

The two older men received their breakfast and started eating as well, remaining silent as they did.

Harry had used the last few days to 'study' for preparing for the trial. Dumbledore would no doubt be there to help, probably hoping to get the charges dropped through other means than what Harry planned.

Dumbledore could either get with the program, or stay out of the way. Harry didn't require the man's admittedly impressive knowledge of the law now, he knew these laws from learning them from Daphne.

Finished with his breakfast, he went back upstairs to grab his dress robes that had been purchased for the trial. He'd put them on when they got to the Ministry, probably ducking into a bathroom.

He made sure his jacket sleeve was long enough to cover up most of his hand, but more so the ring on his hand.

He made his way back down to the kitchen, Arthur standing outside the door.

"We ready, Harry?" he asked.

Harry nodded resolutely.

Harry had mentioned in passing whether they should be more prepared for something stupid, such as a last minute change of time for the trial.

The exact same thing happened as before, with the time being pushed forward an hour.

That was why they weren't in a mad rush to get to the Ministry, they could actually have some breakfast.

Arthur gave Harry a smile and the two of them left the house, before making their way to the Ministry of Magic.

The two of them arrived at the Ministry, Harry snorting at the lax security.

Floo network didn't have a forced shutdown rune structure built into them, seldom any Aurors in the corner under Disillusionment charms, and multiple other gaps he could spot.

He wasn't paranoid about things like Moody, but the scarred Auror was right about him being the only remaining member of his graduating Auror class that still lived for a reason.

Head on a swivel, and you won't lose it.

Was one of the sayings in the Auror manual written by the man.

Harry checked his wand at the front desk, but before Arthur could speak to the automated device about their purpose to get visitor badges, Harry spoke.

"I am Harry Potter," He said grandly, trying to mimic Sirius' tone of voice and mannerisms, "And I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

To Harry's eternal joy, a badge was spat out that read.

Harry Potter. Up to no good.

"Really, Harry?" Arthur asked, trying and failing to sound stern.

"I need a souvenir." Harry shrugged, placing the badge proudly on his chest.

Arthur just shook his head, knowing Harry was trying to lighten the mood.

After they finished with checking in, so to speak, they moved onward into the main entrance of the Ministry of Magic.

They made their way through the atrium, Harry glancing at the collection of statues in the center.

He had gold to spare for the donation pool, reminding himself to put some in after the trial.

They got into a lift and squeezed into it, several other people being in there as well.

A couple of them gave Harry a side eye glance, recognizing him. He didn't deign them worthy of reacting to their stares.

After stopping a few times to let people out at different levels, it was finally just the two of them left, the lift finally reaching the lower level.

They exited it and stepped out, walking towards the chosen trial room. Harry knew the power play involved in the choice of trial room.

It was the room used during the trial of the Lestranges and Crouch Jr.

Harry caught a glance down one of the hallways, spotting Fudge in dress robes, speaking with Lucius Malfoy.

The blond haired man spotted Harry, giving him a knowing grin.

Harry returned it with more malice in it, enjoying the slight flash of surprise in the older man's eyes.

Fudge noticed that Lucius was looking at something aside from him, causing the Minister to look at where Lucius' gaze was.

The Minister locked eyes with Harry for but a moment, before scoffing and turning back towards Malfoy, say something quick, then turned to go to the trial room through a separate entrance.

"Come on, Harry." Arthur said, shooting a look of loathing at Lucius, then walking towards the main entrance to where the entire Wizengamot had convened.

Arthur stopped at the door and looked Harry directly in the eye, his face showing a softness that he usually reserved for either Molly or his children.

"I wish I could do more, Harry," He whispered, "You don't deserve this. I'm sorry about Ron. I love my children equally, but he made a mistake last year, and he and Hermione made a mistake this summer. You shouldn't feel like your friends aren't there for you."

Harry looked at the man with a kind smile, seeing how the man was taking the situation to heart.

Arthur Weasley wasn't the smartest man in the world, nor was he handsome or rich, but anyone would be hard pressed to find a kinder man.

He was the quintessential father, someone who was kind and tried to encourage his children to be the best they could be.

"I'm not alone," Harry said gently, "You're here, even if you and Padfoot aren't in there with me. I know I'm not alone."

Harry saw Arthur blink his eyes suspiciously quick, his eyes seeming to shine.

"Good luck, Harry." He clapped the younger man on the shoulder.

Harry smiled and turned to enter the room, his Occlumency in place to sharpen his mind.

The door opened with a nearly imperceptible creak, the closing of it echoing ominously in the rather large room.

Harry saw the entire Wizengamot in here, the various Lords and Ladies with hereditary seats, combined with those elected and the Order of Merlin recipients.

Everybody turned to look at him, the elevated position of them, as well as the nature of the situation, would intimidate most people in Harry's predicament.

But Harry wasn't most.

He walked towards the center of the room, gazing back at the Wizengamot members without an ounce of fear.

"Be seated." Fudge intoned, gesturing towards the chair.

Harry looked at the seat and sat down, glancing at the chains that twitched slightly.

Intimidation. He thought.

"I hereby declare this hearing in session," Fudge stated loudly for the room to hear, "The date is the twelfth of August, 1995. Acting Chief Warlock and Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Court scribe, Percival Weasley-"

Harry continued eyeing each Wizengamot member, attempting to gauge any opinions from them.

Out of all of them, Cyrus Greengrass was one he couldn't shake off.

The man's presence reminded him too much of Daphne, something he couldn't think about right now.

"You are Harry James Potter, from Number 4, Privet Drive, correct?" Fudge's voice cut through Harry's thoughts.

"Yes." Harry replied smoothly, maintaining eye contact with Fudge.

"You know the gravity of the situation you are in?"

"I was told I was to appear for a hearing concerning the use of magic," He shrugged, "Odd that such a thing requires the entire Wizengamot."

A few members had the decency to look a bit sheepish at that, mostly the Order of Merlin recipients and elected ones.

"That is not of any import, Mr Potter," Fudge glared, trying to step over that uncomfortable fact, "The purpose of this hearing is to determine the innocence or guilt of your actions."

"What are the charges that the Ministry has seen fit to be levied towards me?" Harry asked dismissively.

Harry noticed more than one Lord quirk a slight grin at his use of wording.

Fudge took a deep breath, glaring at Harry discreetly, before continuing on.

"The charges are as follows: Breaking of the Statute of Secrecy via the use of magic, specifically the Patronus charm, in a muggle area, in the presence of a muggle. The next charge is the use of magic outside of school, violating the Statute of Underage sorcery."

"Do you admit to these charges?" Fudge asked.

"Any action that had been taken was within the confines of the law," Harry waved his right hand dismissively, acting like today was just a simple chore, "I violated neither of the Statutes."

It was a dodge. He didn't 'admit' to breaking the Statutes, giving Fudge the opportunity to blitz him with questions that would stop him from clarifying.

"Pray tell, how is the casting of magic in front of a muggle not breaking the Statute of Secrecy?" Fudge asked, his tone like that of a parent scolding a child for a particularly dimwitted comment.

"The muggle in question is my cousin, Dudley Dursley," Harry replied, enjoying the flash of irritation on Fudge's face, "He was already aware that I was a wizard. In fact, he was right beside me when I learned that I was a wizard and that a wonderful hidden world existed." He added with a false wistfulness in his tone.

Drive forward the narrative that Dudley was more like a brother than a cousin, giving precedence for what he planned on soon, but Harry focused his Occlumency from something concerning him.

Where the bloody hell is Dumbledore? It's not like the man to be spiteful enough to throw me to the proverbial wolves. He thought.

"Yes, well," Fudge tried to compose himself at the sudden shift in momentum, "We shall circle back to that. The other charge is the use of magic while outside of school. You did use magic outside of school."

"By Ministry law," Harry replied, voice high and steady, "I am not underage. I was declared an emancipated minor by the Ministry due to the illegal tampering of the Goblet of Fire by one Bartemius Crouch Jr. A man declared dead and buried, someone who was sentenced to Azkaban, by the very same Ministry that you are the head of."

Harry had a large grin at the last part.

"Emancipated minors are still not permitted the casting of magic in muggle areas." Fudge tried to say steadily, but his tone was revealing a great deal of concern.

Dumbledore wasn't here, Fudge thought. The plan to make sure he wouldn't be here on time obviously worked, giving the opportunity for them to run roughshod over the boy and get a confession.

But this boy wasn't what Lucius said he was. Lucius' son had said that Potter was an arrogant braggart that didn't know a lick of political competence, but he started to seriously doubt the authenticity of those words now.

"Emancipated minors that are the heir to a Noble and Ancient House are permitted the use of magic just as much as those who have just turned 17." Harry replied, noticing a few less than subtle looks.

The more traditionalist Lord's were looking at him like how one type of predatory animal sees another one of a certain threat level.

The progressive faction and the Pro Dumbledore faction were looking at him with total shock.

Cyrus Greengrass showed absolutely no change in his demeanor, but Harry had known the man well enough to tell by his expression.

He was using an Occlumency trance to speed up his thinking and hide his emotions.

Cyrus was obviously, at least to Harry, running through multiple thoughts at a rapid pace to see what Harry was doing and if he could capitalize on it.

Just like your daughter, a quintessential Slytherin. He smiled.

"Your are incorrect, Mr Potter." Amelia Bones cut in, Fudge leaning back in his chair to let the director of the DMLE take over for a moment, "The clause pertaining to emancipated minors is only when said individual is the recognized heir of their House, and in your particular case, you would require the possession of your family's ring to declare yourself the official heir of House Potter."

Harry was about to speak, but Bones continued.

"Furthermore, I believe we wish to know why you felt the need to cast magic, specifically a Patronus charm, in a public muggle area. If it were something as silly as you wanting to show your cousin an admittedly impressive feat of magic, then it would be more understandable. But it was in a public area. Thank Merlin there have been no reports of glowing silver mist mentioned by muggles."

"The need, Madam Bones," Harry nodded to the woman respectfully, "Came from something that would have caused a fate worse than death for me and my cousin both, had I not known the Patronus charm."

Harry noticed several Lords begin to shift around, a couple intakes of breath being heard.

"On that day, my cousin, my blood, and I were attacked by two dementors."

Several "What's" were heard, several people began sitting up and speaking loudly, demanding clarification.

"Order! Order!" Fudge shouted, hitting the gavel to try and bring order to the room, "That is a likely tale concocted by a boy that wished to have a little fun using magic outside of school. You obviously read up on certain laws to try and get away with it. It is not possible for dementors to have been in Little Whinging. The dementors are under the control of the Ministry and the Ministry alone. And it is rather convenient that the only other there was your muggle cousin, who is unable to see dementors."

Dig your grave, you bastard. Harry grinned viciously, seeing another piece come together.

"Unless you are able to procure proof of what you say," Fudge continued, "We could only ever take your word, which is rather shoddy, if I must say."

Several Lords, and Bones herself, shot Fudge a glare at the thinly veiled comment, if you could even call it that.

"May I request the use of Veritaserum?" Harry asked.

Veritaserum wasn't often used for certain trials, the use of Occlumency enabled individuals to give misleading answers or ones that were truthful in the intent, but not in understanding.

"You cannot." Fudge said simply, "The use of Veritaserum is heavily-." he was interrupted by none other than Cyrus Greengrass.

"My apologies, Minister, but the use of Veritaserum is only restricted from use as verification for those that have knowledge of Occlumency," The man said loudly and clearly, "Mr Potter is just recently turned 15 and has been muggle raised. I dare say it's not likely he has training in its use."

So that's your angle. Harry thought.

Cyrus found an angle to give Harry a 'leg up' in the trial, likely as a means to procure favour.

I wonder how he'd react if I said I would be his ally because I shagged his daughter? Harry thought amusedly.

"Well that still doesn't mean-" Fudge tried to say.

"I would very much like to see if there is any validity to what Mr Potter has said," Cyrus proclaimed loudly, glancing at the other Wizengamot members, "Dementors are under the control of the Ministry, but if there is even a small possibility that it occurred, it points to either they went rogue, in which case it is fortunate that Mr Potter was able to save himself and reveal that there is a problem, or he's lying about it, in which we can move on to sentencing."

Several members were nodding along, most being from the Progressive faction and even some of the more neutral ones.

Fudge closed his eyes and took a deep breath, resigned to having to call for a vote to use Veritaserum.

"Very well," He exhaled, "All in favour of the use of Veritaserum?"

Just over half raised their hands.

Fudge, Umbridge, and several of the Dark families looked irritated at the vote.

Harry made eye contact with Cyrus for a fraction of a second, noticing a slight triumphant look in his eyes.

Amelia Bones looked at the Auror guard on duty.

"Dawlish," She commanded, her tone that befitting the head of the DMLE, "Fetch Veritaserum from Scrimgeour, he has it under lock."

The Veritaserum that the Ministry possessed was almost always in the area of the Head Auror's office, being accessible only to certain individuals, those being the Director, Head Auror, and those that had authorisation from the two.

Dawlish nodded and left the room with a brisk pace.

Harry again felt his thoughts racing slightly.

Where in Merlin's name is the old bastard? Either he wants me to be alone, or something truely stupid has occurred.

After but a few minutes of silence, Dawlish appeared with a small bottle in his hand.

"Mr Potter," Amelia Bones stated, grabbing his attention, "As you have requested the use of Veritaserum to substantiate your testimony, I as the Director of Magical law enforcement will ask you a series of questions. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded.

"Yes, Ma'am, I do."

"Auror Dawlish, you may proceed."

Dawlish stepped towards Harry and pulled the cork off of the Veritaserum.

"Head up and open your mouth," he stated, his tone flat, "three drops will be administered."

Harry fortified his Occlumency to its strongest, ensuring his face didn't slacken slightly from the sign of an Occlumency trance.

Any question asked out of hand or by someone that wasn't the selected questioner, in this case Bones, would be declared as not prosecutable. Any crime that was admitted to ran the risk of being dismissed.

To ensure that one couldn't bribe someone to intentionally do it to get them off on something as bad as a murder charge, whoever questioned out of hand could face the same charges that were admitted to.

Harry opened his mouth and felt three drops of the potion hit his tongue, his mind beginning to fog somewhat. The effects of Veritaserum felt somewhat like the Imperious curse, but not the same.

He blinked for a moment and felt his face involuntarily relax, his thoughts slower, but still his own.

At the look of detachment on his face, Bones leaned forward and cleared her throat.

"What is your name and date of birth?"

"My name is Harry Potter. I was born on the 31st of July, 1980."

"And why are you here?"

"I was charged for casting a Patronus charm in a muggle area to protect myself and my cousin from dementors."

The room had gotten quiet when the questions began, but several started muttering loudly.

A raised hand by Bones silenced them.

"Tell me everything that happened on the night of August 2."

Harry regaled them with everything that happened that night, his voice flat from the Veritaserum. He could have completely fought off the effects after several seconds with the aid of Occlumency, but he refrained from showing any sign of resisting it.

After he had said everything, he blinked repeatedly and acted like he finally 'came to'.

"Well," Bones stated matter of factly, "That is quite a story. A corporeal patronus at 15 is very impressive."

"I learned it at age thirteen," Harry clarified, enjoying the reactions, "The dementors stationed at Hogwarts enjoyed the taste of my memories so much that they nearly killed me twice."

Harry said the last part while giving Fudge the most sinister grin he could manage.

"Twice?" Bones asked, a look of shock on her face.

"That is not the purpose of this trial," Fudge stepped in hastily, "What previously happened means nothing to thi-"

"It sets a pattern of defiance, Minister," Bones glared at her superior, "A pattern of not listening to orders is definitely pertinent to this trial. If it happened before, it is even more likely it happened recently."

Multiple Lords, including Cyrus, voiced their agreement.

At the obvious turn of opinion towards Harry's favour, Fudge deflated, nodding to Bones.

"Very well," Fudge shook his head, his voice tight, "What were the two incidences?"

Harry grinned.

"The first incidence of nearly being killed was when several dementors stormed the quidditch field at Hogwarts in my third year. I pursued the snitch, before noticing everything going cold. Multiple dementors attacked me hundreds of meters in the air and I lost consciousness."

Harry gave a show of shaking slightly, his voice cracking.

"I heard a woman screaming," He breathed unsteadily, "She was begging for mercy. Not for her, but for her child...She said, "Not Harry. Don't take my son. Kill me instead. Don't take him."

Harry began shedding tears as he spoke.

Several people gasped in horror, even Fudge looked taken aback.

"You," Bones asked quietly, "You remember that night?"

"Only when dementors are near," Harry managed to force out, "That is the only memory I have of my mother's voice."

More than one person tried to use Occlumency to keep themselves composed, their expressions flattening for a fraction of a second.

"And the second?" Bones asked.

"Sirius Black was in the Shrieking Shack," Harry explained, his gaze almost vacant, "My friend Ron was injured and my other friend, Hermione, and I went to try and rescue him."

Fudge's expression twisted into a look of realization, his posture tightening.

"What is this?" He demanded, his voice breathing slightly erratic, "This has nothing to do with the history of dementors. There already seems to be a pattern of them liking to target you, such a problem shall be addressed, Mr Potter, I swear it."

Fudge then turned to the Wizengamot, his hand already beginning to raise.

"Those in favour of dismissing the charges on the basis of self defense?"

You will not take this from me! Harry snarled.

"No!" Harry shouted, "You will not hide what has happened, Fudge! I won't let it!"

"Those in favour of dismissal?" Fudge ignored him, raising his hand.

Every single person raised their hand.

"Cleared of all charges." Fudge declared.

"No," Harry shouted, "I am not finished!"

"If you have any other concerns, you may make an appeal through the courts on another day."

I will not let Sirius be trapped in the home that he detests. I won't let him be a prisoner in his own home.

"I demand an emergency meeting under the basis of attempted Line Theft of a Noble and Ancient House."

Multiple traditionalist Lords jeered at that.

"What ludicrous claims," Fudge declared, looking at Harry like he was a fool, "You are wasting our time with such a claim. And you cannot declare an emergency meeting unless you are the official heir or Lord of the House, which you are not either. You cannot claim attempted Line Theft and declare an emergency meeting from being the last Potter as you do not have your ring and are therefore unable to demand it."

Harry's face twisted from fury into a look of feral triumph.

"I do not demand an emergency meeting as a Potter," He declared, thinking he might have heard the sound of the door close, "I demand such as the heir of the Noble and most Ancient House of Black."

As he finished the last word, his left hand rose up, his sleeve falling back to reveal the ring upon his middle finger, said digit outstretched towards Fudge.

The entire room erupted into loud shouts of denial and shock, nothing sounding coherent in the chaos.

Harry noticed something in his peripheral vision, a site that did nothing but cause near fury to bubble up in him.


The man had decided to make his presence known right as Harry planned on doing something that Dumbledore had warned against.

You won't rob me of this. He snarled internally, fixing the old man with a hateful look.

"Order!" Fudge shouted repeatedly, trying to bring control to the courtroom.

"How the bloody fuck have you got the ring?" One of the Lord's, Nott Senior by the looks of it, demanded.

I'm going to skin your son alive. Harry growled to himself, feeling his skin itch slightly from his magic desperately trying to escape from his control.

To everyone else, Harry looked in control, but on the inside, he was using his Occlumency to maximum effect to keep his thoughts on point.

Dumbledore decided to finally show up at the worse time and he has to deal with Nott Senior.

The chaos seemed to quiet down when the room noticed that Dumbledore had arrived.

"Dumbledore," Fudge said angrily, "Why are you here? How did you get in when the trial was underway? Auror Dawlish, please escort Mr Dumbledore out."

Harry noticed, now that Dumbledore was only a few yards away, that the man looked paler than normal. His posture was tense and he blinked slightly quicker than what was normal.

"As an Order of Merlin recipient, I was supposed to receive a missive to be a part of the trial," Dumbledore replied, fixing Dawlish with a look of pity, "Do not have poor Dawlish try to illegally remove me from a hearing I am entitled to be a part of simply because the time had been changed without a letter to me, which I see I was the only one who wasn't given a message of the time being changed."

The stressing of the word try did not go unnoticed.

Fudge was sweating noticeably now, from the arrival of Dumbledore, but also from the nature of how the entire trial had come crashing down on him.

"The trial has already concluded. Mr Potter's demand, as the heir of House Black will be overseen by the Lords only, as is the law." Fudge gave a slight grin aimed at Dumbledore.

"Legal counsel is permitted, no?" Dumbledore asked innocently, offering Harry a soft smile of assurance.

"Your concern is appreciated, Mr Dumbledore, but unnecessary." Was Harry's short reply.

You could hear a pin drop at the silence in the room.

Dumbledore's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, before he seemed to conceal his shock.

"Harry," He started, before being interrupted by Harry.

"Your presence is still requested, as you are a witness to certain events that pertain to the attempted Line Theft."

"Make your case, boy," Fudge nearly shouted, throwing his hands up exasperatedly, "Your case is already a hindrance enough."

"I thought it more convenient to do so now, with the entire Wizengamot here already, instead of having them all convene another time. They are people with lives of their own, after all."

More than one person looked amused at Harry's supposed reasoning.

Fudge glared at Harry with complete hatred, before he sighed irritably.

"You have declared a meeting as the heir of a nearly extinct House. Those who are not Lords or Ladies, please leave now, your presence is no longer needed and thank you for being here for the previous hearing." He then hit the gavel.

The individuals in question up and left, the sound of them rising from their seats fairly loud.

They made their way to the door and exited, the door closing with a clack that echoed.

The Ministry officials were still present, being the governing body.

Amelia shifted and rose from her seat clearing her throat.

"As regent of House Bones, I will be hearing this not as simply the director of Magical law enforcement, but also as a Lady."

Fudge managed to hide his irritation, but nodded.

Turning to look at Harry, he fixed him with a withering glare.

"What grounds do you have to declare attempted Line Theft?" Fudge asked, the barest level of concern in his voice was heard by Harry.

Harry shot a glare towards Dumbledore, before stepping out from the chair he was in and rose to his full height, a confidence in his posture rarely seen for someone surrounded by such a number of Lords.

"It began when the house elf in the employ of Lucius Malfoy attempted to prevent me from returning to Hogwarts in my second year." Harry began, "I was unable to get through the platform at King's Cross and in my ignorance, used an enchanted car to try and get to Hogwarts."

"Mr Potter," Amelia Bones cut in, " I apologize for sound rude, but what is the importance of this?"

Harry grinned.

"That elf used a levitation charm to drop a cake on a business associate of my Uncle, a muggle that was unaware of the magical world."

Several mutters were heard at what was just said.

"No such record exists, Mr Potter," Bones said, looking slightly confused, "You have a record of being given a warning from using a levitation charm. Are you saying that this house elf used this as a means to frame you?"


"Do you know why?"

"I cannot say what the elf's orders were, as I don't know what the elf's orders were," Harry answered simply, "But this elf not only nearly broke the Statute of Secrecy, this elf also attempted to stop me from arriving at Hogwarts, possibly causing undue attention when I crashed into the barrier, the elf then sabotaged a bludger during a quidditch match, nearly killing me and succeeded in shattering the bones in my arm."

As Harry kept speaking, multiple Lords began eying Fudge.

It was no secret that the Minister was in Lucius Malfoy's pocket, but Draco Malfoy was the presumed heir of House Black, likely being given the title at age 17.

Line Theft was considered one of the most heinous crimes in Pureblood culture. The taking of something as sacred as a hereditary seat was near heretical to them.

The hatred for muggleborns and laws that banned or restricted 'Dark' magic was out of a sense of besiegement by a culturally foreign group that didn't understand the nuance of magic. Spells that had been made by family was seen as a part of the family you lost from years ago. To ban or restrict such magic would be akin to having what makes you you attacked by fresh faced arrogant mudbloods that think they know best.

At least that's what the more aggressive Purebloods believed.

Line Theft was seen by Traditionalists as worse than mudbloods braying like a bunch of self-righteous moral busybodies. Purebloods were at the top of society because they had knowledge, as well as wealth, accumulated over the course of centuries, giving their offspring a leg up on all but the most prodigious of muggleborns.

An assault on them because of what they saw as envy was welcomed. It validated the Pureblood's sense of superiority, the belief that they were under assault by scheming, wretched thieves that desired what wasn't theirs fed that.

But a Pureblood doing it was worse. Purebloods, seeing themselves as better, held themselves to a much higher standard than the 'Greedy and treacherous mudbloods'.

Entire families had been wiped out in the past from the killing of all of them so that a cousin would become Lord. Multiple families, the Blacks the biggest ones, wrote most of the children and grandchildren of female Blacks out of the Line of Succession to stave off kinslaying. Only the direct grandchildren of the Lord were saved from such a thing most of the time.

It was generally accepted by everyone that Dorea Potter nee Black wasn't any different from other women of her family in being written out of the line of Succession by her brother Arcturus, but only Harry and a select few knew about the plan by Arcturus to ensure the Black family survived. The man adored his younger sister and did not write her out of it, seeing a possibility of a quasi cadet branch of the Blacks being possible through the Potter line.

As the legitimate Lord presumptive, Sirius could declare anyone with Black blood his heir, but the fact that Harry's grandmother hadn't been written out made it ten times easier to be accepted, the heir ring didn't particularly like being forced to yield to an override command from a new Black Lord.

Harry looked straight at Fudge, daring him to say anything.

"Where is this elf, Mr Potter?" Amelia Bones asked.

"At Hogwarts." Harry said simply.

"If this is an accusation of attempted Line Theft," Fudge said quickly, "Lucius, as the accused, is entitled to be present."

Most of the Lord's nodded along, agreeing with it.

"Dawlish," Fudge ordered, "Fetch Lucius."

The Auror nodded and left the room, coming back with an irate looking Lucius just minutes later.

Harry gave the man an innocent look, which succeeded in angering the man further.

"Lucius Malfoy," Bones declared, "You are accused of attempted Line Theft by the heir of the Noble and Ancient House of Black, Harry James Potter, what say you?"

Lucius' eyebrows rose to his hairline, his face paling noticably.

"I," He tried to say, before a wave of forced calm appeared on his face, "What madness is this? My son is to be Lord Black, not Potter."

Harry did the same thing he did to Fudge and flipped Lucius the bird, showing off the heir ring.

"This says otherwise."

Lucius again had a look of anger on his face.

"I deny any attempts at Line Theft." He spat, his anger clearly visible, "I resent such accusations."

"Then why was your elf responsible for nearly killing Harry Potter?" Bones asked.

"I know no such thing." Lucius shrugged.

"Mr Potter," Bones turned to him, "What do you know of the elf?"

"The elf's name is Dobby and I discovered he was the Malfoy family's elf at the end of my second year."

"My elf was beginning to show signs of madness that year. I presented him with clothes near the end of the school year."

"A likely excuse." Harry said loudly, "You fail to kill me and try to cover it up and blame it on your elf. You already have a pattern of trying to kill Blacks before to keep your son in the Line of Succession!" The last part was aided by a wandless Sonorous charm that was disguised as him flinging his arms out as an expression.

"Order!" Fudge shouted, striking the gavel, "Explain, Potter. Or this shall be dismissed."

"Sirius Orion Black had a kiss on sight order sent out on him with the official backing of Lucius Malfoy. A MAN THAT WAS GIVEN NO TRIAL!" Harry shouted the last part out when an uproar began to occur.

If the previous shouts earlier were loud, this one was nearly deafening. Lords began shouting while Fudge and Bones were trying to bring order.

Umbridge has been very silent throughout the trial, probably realizing she was out of her depth in aiding Fudge with anything.

Throughout the several seconds of shouting, Harry felt a Legilimency probe hit his mind.

Instinctively, he violently lashed out with his shields to absorbed the probe, directing it to a painful memory of his and forcefully flinging it away.

Harry noticed how Dumbledore gasped softly, his face tensed in pain.

Bugger off, bastard. He growled internally.

He hoped Dumbledore enjoyed the little prize he won for intruding on him. No one ever enjoys feeling like they've been lit on fire, stabbed, and electrocuted like what the Cruciatus from Voldemort feels like.

Order had finally been brought to the room, Fudge looking between Lucius and Harry.

"What?" Fudge demanded, "What nonsense is this?"

Harry managed to control his anger at Dumbledore and responded to Fudge's statement.

"Sirius Black received no trial." Harry said, Fudge looking at him with shock.

"Impossible," he scoffed, "That is simply not the case."

"Where are the trial transcripts?" Harry demanded.

"They are not necessary." Fudge waved his hand dismissively.

"As heir of House Black, I demand that evidence be brought forth that my sworn godfather, Sirius Black, received a trial and was sentenced for his alleged crime. Otherwise, his escape from Azkaban was not illegal as he was fleeing from unlawful detainment."

Que another uproar at the news of Sirius Black being his godfather.

"If an Auror of a Noble House was sent to Azkaban, he must have had a trial," Cyrus declared, "Give us evidence that justice was served." He demanded from Fudge.

Several more Lords joined him and began shouting "Evidence!".

This is an absolute nightmare, and I'm loving every moment of it. Harry grinned.

His acting throughout had been on point. The choked explanation of hearing his mother's voice was a stroke of genius to sway their opinion to one of pity.

Fudge, realizing he had no choice, looked to Amelia.

"Get the damned trial transcript." He ordered.

Amelia gave Harry a slight look of knowing, before she stepped down and left the room with speed.

Amelia Bones would see it for what it was, a travesty of Justice, and she'd force through a trial for Sirius even if Fudge would complain about it.

Lucius could do nothing but give him a continued look of hatred at what he managed.

There wouldn't be enough evidence to get Lucius imprisoned, the prospect of a mad house elf and coincidence being a defense were strong, but there'd be enough to put doubt on his reputation as a victim of Voldemort.

Quite some time passed before Amelia Bones returned with only two sheets of paper.

"There is an arrest record and an emergency order for temporary imprisonment signed by Crouch." Amelia said, holding up the sheets, "No trial ever occurred."

Que outrage. Harry grinned, his smile growing further as he was proven right.

After another round of shouting and forced silence, Fudge began to speak.

"I trial will be held for Mr Black," He said with resignment, looking like he hated every word he sounded out, "But to the matter of alleged Line Theft, is there any other evidence you have to add?" Fudge asked Harry with a tired look.

Good dog, Harry thought, You've learned your lesson.

Harry saw Dumbledore begin to speak, but he cut him off quickly.

"I have none, Minister." Harry tilted his head to show 'respect'.The Line Theft accusation served no other purpose than to get Sirius a trial, and it paid off magnificently.

Enough evidence wasn't available to force through a Veritaserum interrogation on Lucius. Even if the man wasn't competent enough in Occlumency to throw off the questioning, Harry new for a fact that the Blond Malfoy wasn't intending Line Theft at the time, but no one else did.

Fudge looked around at the Lords and Ladies assembled.

"Those in favour of a guilty charge?" He asked

Less than one third raised their wands in the air.

No surprise. Harry thought.

"Those in favour of the clearing of charges?"

The rest raised their wands.

"You are free to go, Lucius." Fudge said tiredly.

Lucius nodded and turned to leave, shooting another hate filled glare to Harry.

Harry discreetly blew him a kiss, eliciting a more poisonous glare.

"Mr Potter," Fudge said, "The charges against you have been dropped due to the self defense aspect of you using magic, you are free to go." He struck the gavel to end the court session.

"A trial will be set up within a month's time for Sirius Black," Amelia said, Fudge offering no resistance when more than one Wizengamot member eyed him critically.

Barely able to hide his grin, Harry turned to leave now that the hearing and emergency meeting were both over. Before he could begin to leave, Dumbledore stepped towards him.

"We need to speak, Harry." He said quietly, his voice firm.

Harry snorted and quirked a brow at the older man.

"I'm on a rather busy schedule, Mr Dumbledore. I'll try and work you in, but I make no promises."

Harry felt another probe at his defenses.

"Whatever you're doing, I advise you to stop, it won't end well for you."

Harry couldn't very well state that he knew what Legilimency probes felt like, especially in a courtroom where he had been given Veritaserum under the condition that he wasn't extremely competent in Occlumency.

Dumbledore looked at Harry like he grew a second head, his posture shifting to a more guarded one.

"We will speak tonight, Mr Potter." He said firmly, his blue eyes seeming to glow slightly.

"How fortunate," Harry grinned, "I just so happen to have an opening. I'll see you then."

Harry then walked past Dumbledore and out of the courtroom, giving Arthur a nod of confirmation when he spotted the man waiting outside the door.

"Everything good?" Arthur asked.

"Very good," Harry smiled, the two of them walking towards the lift, "I'll explain when we get back."

Arthur nodded and the two of them left, the younger of the two in a fantastic mood.

This is was an eventful day. Cyrus thought to himself as he got home that evening.

His daughter had obviously been extremely wrong in her judgement of Potter, to the point that he was caught completely off guard by what Potter had managed to do.

He revealed himself to be the Black heir, shattering a great deal of political pull that Lucius had, cast doubt on the 'innocence' of the man, made Fudge look like the fool he was, and let the details be known of his capabilities in magic.

It wasn't just a patronus, it was a corporeal one, and at the age of thirteen no less.

His friend, Henry Davis, had been in a rush to get back home, but Cyrus had stopped him so the two of them could plan accordingly for the inevitable power vacuum.

A historically staunch traditionalist House was now in the hands of Harry Potter, the quintessential figurehead of the 'Light', and if the boy's intellect and magical prowess revealed today could be trusted, a possible successor to Albus Dumbledore.

After speaking for hours to plan things out, Cyrus finally got home, the gates opening to him instantly.

He got into his home, ignored Astoria trying to get his attention, and signaled for Roxanne, who was lounging on one of the couches reading, to follow him.

She widened her eyes at how he looked, tensed and alert, before she said she'd be a moment.

He went on to his study, pulled off his dress robes and kicked his boots off, and called for Flopsy.

With a crack, the elf appeared in front of him.

"What is master wanting?" She asked.

"Where is Daphne?" He asked, "I must speak with her immediately." The last part was stressed.

Flopsy shook her head, causing her ears to flap slightly.

"Mistress Daphne be at Davis' home now, master."

"Damnit." He muttered, turning to his fire place.

He heard the door to his study open, probably being Roxanne.

He grabbed a handful of Floo powder from a jar by the fireplace and threw it in.

"Davis residence." He said clearly.

After a few moments, he saw the face of Henry's wife, Julia, appear in the fire.

"Cyrus," She said with surprise, "I was wondering when you would get back. It's been hours. Where's Henry?"

Her head then jerked to the side.

"Oh, that would be him. What are calling about?"

"I need to speak with Daphne," He replied, his tone serious, "It is urgent."

Julia's face betrayed the worry she felt at his tone.

"I'll get her now, stand back." She said, stepping away.

Cyrus backed up and just a minute later, his eldest daughter came out of the fireplace.

"What's going on, Dad? Mum?" She asked, looking behind Cyrus.

At the confirmation that Roxanne was behind him, he took a deep breath and went to sit in his chair, conjuring a temporary seat for Daphne with a flick of his wand.

"This will take some time," He said tiredly, "It's best for the two of you to sit for this."

His wife and daughter both sat down and were giving him looks of concern.

"The trial happened today," He started, looking at the two of them, "And to say it didn't go as planned would the greatest understatement of all time."

He went on to explain everything that transpired, the absolute domination on Potter's part in the trial, the knowledge of his abilities with a patronus, and the knowledge of him being the Black heir being used to force a trial on a potentially innocent man.

Daphne looked almost as white as a ghost when he finished.

"I was so sure," she mumbled, not knowing what to think, "I was sure I knew what he was like. How could he have been that good at hiding things?"

"He evidently fooled everyone," Cyrus said, "Even Lucius Malfoy of all people."

"How on Earth was the possibility of Potter being the Black heir overlooked?" Roxanne asked.

"I have no idea," Cyrus shook his head, "But this will cause a complete reshuffle of things."

"At least I can look forward to Draco no longer prancing around about being the future Lord Black." Daphne snorted.

"This is far greater than just the Malfoys loosing influence, Daphne," He said, fixing his daughter with a serious look, "Sirius Black identified multiple Inner Circle Death Eaters based upon some of the spells they used. Those spells were ones that the Black family knew were from different Noble Houses . When he was declared a traitor and supporter of the Dark Lord, it added credence to the belief that several of them were Imperioused and that Black was lying to destroy the lives of 'innocent' people."

As he spoke, his daughter's eyes widened in realization at the true scope of what had just happened today.

"If he's innocent," She said, her voice slightly unsteady from the realization, "He could possibly destroy them."

Cyrus shook his head slightly.

"At this point, convictions wouldn't occur. But the optics of doubt on their innocence could work out for us."

At the questioning looks from his wife and daughter, he elaborated.

"The traditionalists that aren't suspected Death Eaters or Blood supremacists will attempt to politically distance themselves from the supposed Imperioused ones. Black was thrown in prison and Dumbledore didn't push for a trial. As his godfather, Black would have magical custody of Potter, and by how Potter acted, he has encountered Black before and undoubtedly believes him innocent. No one looks up a clause to force a meeting of Lords under the guise of Line Theft and drops the fact of no trial existing for a man supposedly responsible for his parent's death."

"Black would likely hate Dumbledore." Roxanne voiced aloud, Cyrus nodding.

"Potter almost hid it completely, but he is irritated with Dumbledore."

Roxanne stiffened and looked at him with her eyes widened so much that he could see the ring of green in her otherwise completely blue eyes that their daughter had.

"You think you can bring back the grey faction?" She asked quietly.

Up until the war with Grindelwald, the Wizengamot had a fairly healthy mix of three different factions, the progressive, grey, and traditionalists.

The grey faction was a group that self named itself that by referring to both extremes as absolute fools that preferred their own little fiefdoms of influence instead of putting aside small little issues to help Wizarding Britain.

Britain had joined the war late, much of the more Progressive faction actually shared a few beliefs with Grindelwald, including the concept of muggleborns being equal to Purebloods and were deserving of an equal share in governance.

Most Pureblood Lords were repulsed at the idea of giving equal shares of governance with those that did not add to society in their eyes as much as their House had. The rationale of Lordships being given the most seats in the Wizengamot over that of a completely elected body, was that certain families had shown a historical pattern of either fighting enemies of the public or funding great projects to help Wizarding Britain as a whole. The very first Wizarding council in Britain was called for by Myrddin Emrys, who gathered the strongest families in the Isle, charging them with protecting the magicals of Britain, and gifting each family two rings for the Lord and heir.

Those rings had different capabilities that could only be theorized on what they could do.

The Greengrass ring enabled him to sharpen the potency of his Occlumency, making it much easier to gather his thoughts faster, while his father had a theory that the Black rings could act like a rudimentary wand, giving the illusion of peerless prowess in wandless magic.

But the grey faction came crashing down when the Wizengamot became deadlocked on whether to intervene in the war, things becoming extremely heated.

The traditionalists wanted to take the fight to Grindelwald, pledging to fund an expeditionary force to land in France to aid the ICW. They saw Grindelwald as a threat to their own traditions, and also seeing how willing he was to kill them if he couldn't 'convince' them.

The Progressive faction wanted to adopt a wait and see approach, dragging their feet.

The grey faction had a similar schism in their ranks, several not wanting to get involved in the war.

The deadlock stayed there until Charlus Potter, then just a recent graduate from Hogwarts and forced to take up the Lordship of House Potter from his father's untimely death, told the entire Wizengamot to 'Bugger off' and that he was going to the first portkey to France to fight.

That of course caused an uproar due to sitting lords not being allowed to join a war unless the Wizengamot agreed on a declaration of conflict.

Charlus responded by taking his ring off and declaring he would abdicate if need be, which later was not an issue.

The action spurred multiple heirs, mostly from traditionalist and grey Houses, to join up with him and joined the ICW in France as a privately funded force of like-minded Purebloods.

History, especially the kind told by the Blood supremacists and Lords that later sided with and funded the Dark Lord , didn't mention that nearly half the volunteers that joined up meer weeks later were muggleborns and half bloods, the only ones they were interested in talking about was their own kin instead of the people they decried as suspicious and possible Grindelwald sympathizers. Nor was it stressed that several Progressive Houses joined up very shortly after.

Most of the non-pureblood veterans that fought against Grindelwald and weren't supporters of the Dark Lord were targeted and killed by Death Eaters with extreme prejudice.

The percieved inaction and caution by the Progressive faction, and Dumbledore for whatever reason, caused several otherwise grey or normal traditionalists to shift more towards supporting the more aggressive Pureblood Lords.

The arrival of a mysterious and powerful wizard that vowed to safeguard the futures of the Ancient Houses was a very appealing one to many people, the stance of hatred towards the 'mudblood lovers and Grindelwald bootlickers' was used intensely, the memory of a few Progressive Lords failing to act being remembered.

Even a large number of half bloods were convinced of the righteousness of He-who-must-not-be-named's cause by the pointing out of how the muggle world war was aided by Grindelwald, the heinous acts committed in that conflict could be laid at the feet of those who refused to intervene and strike down Grindelwald years before.

The Wizengamot, just like Wizarding Britain, was split at the seams. Anyone who wasn't in your camp was seen as the enemy, conflicts sparking in the streets without the aid of Death Eaters at times, stretching the Aurors thin and making certain areas more vulnerable to Death Eater raids.

Even with nearly 15 years of peace, the political climate was still divisive. Cyrus had managed to hold together several seats in a loose coalition that tried to keep a balancing act, but it was difficult.

The possible destabilization of the Dark faction, and the possibility of Potter not being a Dumbledore sycophant, gave Cyrus a possible opening to truly restore the Wizengamot to what it was when his grandfather had been Lord Greengrass.

Cyrus looked to his wife.

"Yes, I think I can."

Roxanne gave her husband a near blinding smile, realizing her husband's dream was within reach.

"Daphne," He turned to his daughter, who straightened up from thinking in-depth about what had been said, "I set the possible framework of speaking with Potter about things by supporting him in the trial. Would you be able speak with him as the heiress of House Greengrass?"

Daphne blinked for a moment, her face shifting slightly like she was thinking deeply.

"The issues between Slytherin house and Gryffindor will make it difficult, but I think I can manage."

"That's all I ask," He smiled softly, "If he has no interest in working together, no matter. We'll already be ahead simply from the traditionalist faction scrambling for damage control, with the less aggressive ones asking to be a part of our faction now that the Black seat will definitely not be in their section now."

No way in hell would Harry Potter side with the same faction that had supported the Dark Lord, but working with the neutral faction was perfectly possible.

"That's all," Cyrus said simply, "Anything else is what I talked with Henry about."

Daphne scowled at that.

"I can assume Tracey is receiving a similar talk about this?" She asked, more like stated a fact.


Daphne threw arms up in exasperation.

"There goes my day with my best friend. I'll be in my room." She grumbled, leaving his study.

After the door closed, Roxanne looked to her husband.

"You know this could easily be pointless if the Dark Lord is really back, yes?" She raised a brow.

Cyrus just shrugged.

"We win either way. We can leave the country if he is confirmed to be back and can't be stopped, which based upon how Potter conducted himself, I'm starting to think it's possible. But, and this is something Henry and I spoke about, but Potter can cast a corporeal patronus, and did so at thirteen. What if he is like Dumbledore, but hid it?" he asked.

Roxanne furrowed her brow a bit, thinking for a moment.

"It's possible, but also, why are you wanting our daughter to talk with Potter? You know how that will look."

"I don't care how it looks," He said irritably, "Our daughter isn't like that. We raised her better than that."

A young beautiful girl taking interest in the newly declared heir Black wouldn't necessarily look good, but that wouldn't matter.

Daphne would be able to stop those rumours promptly, especially since without the possibility of being heir Black, Draco had little chance of trying for a power play amongst the Slytherin students. It left Daphne as one of the most connected and intelligent students there.

"Why so upset?" Roxanne smiled with a predatory hint to it, "Do you not think Potter would be a good match?"

"Don't." He warned, a slight grin showing he meant nothing by it, "Do not speak of my daughter that way, woman."

"Or what, Lord Greengrass?" She asked, sitting up from her chair.

Cyrus also got up from his chair and grabbed his wife firmly, her eyes alight with amusement as he did so.

"I'll be forced to discipline you." He said firmly, his hand snaking down her back and past her waist.

"Oh, plan to take what is yours, my Lord?" She asked, leaning closer to him.

Cyrus growled and kissed her fiercely, turning the two of them around and pressing her onto his desk, clearing some of his papers off of it.

Daphne Greengrass could not have chosen a worse time to come back and ask her parents a question.

"Dad, I have a ques-, FIVE BLOODY MINUTES AND YOU'RE ALREADY AT IT!" She shouted, her face turning red in both anger and embarrassment, "Lock the door next time!" She turned around and slammed the door shut.

Cyrus and Roxanne looked straight at each other, inches away from each other and panting slightly. Cyrus cracked a slight grin, before the two of them burst into laughter at the absurdity of the situation.

"We are not letting her interrupt us again " Roxanne ordered her husband.

Cyrus reached over his wife's head to grab his wand, casting a locking spell on the door.

"There," He said, setting his wand down, "No more interruptions."

Roxanne smiled and kissed him fiercely, the two finally having time to themselves.

It was now late evening and Dumbledore had finally showed up at Grimmauld Place.

The conversation Harry had with Sirius nearly shook the walls with how much Sirius was jumping around laughing at what happened, joyful that he was getting back a trial.

Sirius had been especially amused by how Harry had worked Fudge into a trap.

"I know I've asked several times," Sirius said, "But how the hell did you pull that off?"

The two had sequestered themselves in the Black library, getting a slight reprieve from everyone else in the house, the celebration finally winding down.

"Blind luck, Padfoot. Nothing else." Harry said, "Those Occlumency lessons might've done enough to stop me from showing everyone what I ate this morning."

Sirius laughed at that.

Sirius had been surprised at how quickly Harry had caught on to Occlumency, theorising that whatever connection Harry had with Voldemort through his scar might have strengthened his mind to outside intrusion. Harry wasn't planning on correcting him.

Sirius stopped laughing and his face twitched slightly.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Wards just felt Dumbledore come in." Sirius said with a frown, "Bloody wanker."

"I'll let him explain," Harry said, trying to calm Sirius, "Something may have happened that made him late to the hearing and I'll ask why he thought he could stop you from teaching me."

Sirius nodded and took a deep breath to calm himself.

"Fine," He grumbled, getting up from his chair, "You want to talk with him here?"

Harry shrugged, not really caring for where they had the conversation.

"Regulus' room it is." Sirius decided, leaving the library with Harry standing up as well and following.

Harry got to Regulus' room and sat down at the foot of the bed, reinforcing his Occlumency in preparation for speaking with Dumbledore about Merlin knows what.

"Dumbledore." Sirius said simply, none of the usual brightness in his tone.

"Sirius," Dumbledore nodded politely, the two men being just outside the kitchen.

"Harry said you wished to speak with him?" Sirius asked.

"Yes. I have some concerns that I wish to speak with him about."

"And those concerns are," Sirius raised a brow, his tone dripping distrust.

Dumbledore sighed at the near hostility from the younger man.

"On whether the mistakes I've made have led him to hate me."

"So you admit you buggered up?"

"I wouldn't quite use those words, but yes, I admit I erred most terribly, both cutting him off from those close to him and trying to impede you teaching him." Dumbledore said, his tone apologetic.

Sirius was quiet for several moments, pondering Dumbledore's admittance. After a few moments of silence, Sirius nodded.

"I'm still not happy, but I'll forgive it if Harry does."

"I hope he does." Dumbledore said to himself.

"He's in Regulus' room," Sirius gestured towards the second floor, "Second room on the right."

"Thank you." Dumbledore nodded, making his way to the stairs.

The following 20 seconds felt like an eternity for him, the events of the day weighing heavily on him.

He'd been aware of a likely time change, a rather juvenile and predictable tactic. He'd planned to make his grand entrance right as the names of those present were being declared, but one word sent his perfectly crafted thoughts and Occlumency shields crashing down.


He had passed by the hall that led to the main entrance to the Department of Mysteries.

He knew somewhat of the kind of things the Unspeakables did. He was aware of the Veil of Death being experimented on, and that the Veil was definitely a direct portal to the afterlife.

Ever since his taking of the Elder Wand, he had never gone back to study the Veil like Head Unspeakable Croaker and his predecessor had wanted him to, the Veil feeling downright hostile, and the Elder Wand feeling like it was trying to bite him when near it.

But right as he went past the hallway, he heard not just his name, but the voice that it was said in.


It was her voice, but not her voice when she was a teenager at the time of her death, it was the voice she had when she was around six.

Six years old, a time when she seemed to positively shine with happiness. A memory of her begging him to lift her up with magic, something Aberforth had been jealous of that Albus could use a weak levitation spell to lift up their little sister, even if it was practically all he could do without tiring himself.

He remembered her screaming in that voice, the sound being one of the things that haunted him whenever dementors were near.

He saw his little sister writhing on the ground, magic violently blasting out involuntarily and her begging for it to stop.

The single minded purpose in his father's voice when he told his mother to not inform the authorities, before giving him a look and saying 'protect the family', only to go out and murder the three muggles that attacked Ariana later that week.

Percival Dumbledore simply apparated to the Ministry and confessed to murdering the three muggles, saying there was now less filth to walk the Earth.

All those memories seemed to strike him as he heard his sister whisper his name, robbing him of all the fire and strength he had going in to the trial.

He had blinked and cast a tempus charm, being shocked completely when it showed he'd been rooted to the spot for close to 15 minutes, before he rushed into the courtroom, desperately trying to pull together a resemblance of equilibrium in his thoughts.

He got in there right as Harry did what he was worried about, announcing his position as the heir to House Black.

Politically, it would have been a magnificent play, worthy of commending by any politician. It caused a schism amongst the greatest threat to Harry and it cemented him as a political player that was not to be trifled with.

But he wouldn't deny that he had fear in his heart, fear for and of Harry.

Harry was acting differently from what anyone would expect, he knew Occlumency, and very potent mind shields at that, and he had a certain charm and confidence in his voice that wasn't there just a scant couple months prior.

Something had happened.

He seriously doubted that Harry was a natural Occlumens, something that he had witnessed only three times in his life, Gellert and Tom Riddle being two of those.

Ginny Weasley had been what he thought was the fourth. He had begun doing something that he found extremely distasteful and was discreetly scanning the minds of his students during the attacks that occurred just 3 years prior.

He had also done the same thing when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened the first time. That was when he discovered that young Tom Riddle had supremely sharp mind shields, just like Gellert.

Ginny Weasley's mind at the time felt almost exactly like Tom's, leading him to think the young girl was one of the rare ones with the ability to do so without training.

That theory died a fiery death when he tested her mind after the diary had been destroyed.

She had no shields whatsoever, the Occlumency that he thought was her's was something that the diary temporarily imbued into her, something that he had investigated the possibility of over the summer of that year.

Possession was something that had very few tomes that addressed it, and for good measure. Projecting the self into another person was extremely dangerous for both the target and the caster.

But any of the downsides of it wouldn't be there for a horcrux.

Young Ms. Weasley and Harry were both lacking in Occlumency shields, but Harry now had mind shields that were developed to a high degree that would have taken a few years of development, even with a dedicated inclination to learn it.

He knew that something was off, and it chilled him to think of the most likely theory.

Harry didn't show any malice or anger at young Ronald Weasley after the first task against the dragon. On the contrary, he was surprised that Harry had forgiven him that quickly, especially with Ms. Granger immediately believing him.

But the anger Harry had towards his friends and him were new developments.

He would have shaken it off as justified anger, if not for the skill in Occlumency and the sharpness in his words and ability to think of a plan to get Sirius a trial.

Looking back, getting Sirius a trial would gave been a good way to drop a mess in the laps of Voldemort's followers, but it was an oversight that cost him.

Harry had been attacked by dementors, and the greatest fear Dumbledore had was that it wasn't Harry that he had spoken with and seen at the trial.

Dementors suck out the soul, what happens when more than one soul inhabits a body?

A second Voldemort with a similar power level would mean the end of Wizarding Britain. And Dumbledore didn't know if he had the strength to do what needed to be done.

"Albus." He could almost hear her voice. He thought he felt cold fingers settle themselves on his shoulders, the wand clutched tightly in his hand seeming to freeze in his grip.

He desperately sought to not be his father, to not be a killer.

"Protect the family."

He wasn't strong enough to protect his mother or Ariana. He wasn't strong enough to curb Gellert's more extreme stances, nor was he strong enough in spirit to say no to the blood pact they made. His lack of constitution caused the death of his sister, the death of any familial love with his brother, and the losing of Gellert to the war that was unleashed in the pursuit of a better world.

But was it worth it? The 'better world' never came to fruition. The millions of deaths, the death of nearly 1/5 of magicals in Central and Western Europe, the rising hatred for muggleborns and half bloods from many of Gellert's Inner Circle being those who sought to bring down the Lordships that existed for centuries. Even if he had triumphed, would it have been worth it?

Even if he wasn't responsible, he still felt he was.

Just before he got to the door to open it, he made a wordless prayer to whoever was listening.

Whatever gods may be, please let me wrong. And if the worst should come to pass, grant me forgiveness.

He didn't know if he had the strength in him if Harry was dead and the horcrux was using his name and body like a sick puppet, and he hoped he was wrong with his fear.

Dumbledore's hand reached out and wrapped around the doorknob, turning it to enter the room.

He saw Harry at the edge of the bed, his expression flat, before he saw who was there, his face then shifting to that of a more bored mood.

"Professor." Harry said flatly.

"Harry." He nodded, his Occlumency completely in place.

"Sorry that there isn't any chairs," Harry shrugged, "I don't really need them."

Dumbledore just shrugged and pulled out his wand, conjuring a plush chair in front of the bed.

The slight tensing of Harry's posture when he drew the wand wasn't missed.

Dumbledore slid his wand back into his pocket, the wand sticking in place from the charms placed in the fabric of the pocket.

He then settled himself into the chair, looking at Harry with a piercing gaze.

"What do want to speak about?" Harry asked, returning the look Dumbledore was giving him.

"I wish to apologise for what transpired this summer," Dumbledore started, maintaining his gaze, "I should have realized that you being isolated from your friends would have let your mind wonder to Mr. Diggory's death. My intention was to spare you the knowledge of what the Daily Prophet was saying about you and me when you had just experienced a terrible year. I see now that it was a terrible choice on my part." He finished, looking at any change in Harry's expression.

Harry held his gaze, before he relaxed and gave him a less hostile look.

"I'd wondered why you did it," He said quietly, before frowning, "I'm still not happy about it, and it will take me time to not be upset with you, but I see you weren't doing it to hurt me."

Dumbledore was pleased with how the conversation was going.

"I've also noticed how you have acted differently, Harry. I'm concerned about what has caused it."

Harry took a deep breath and exhaled, giving Dumbledore a resigned look.

"This summer was where I did some thinking," he explained, his voice clear and steady, "I've been lucky throughout everything that has happened, the stone, the chamber, the tournament and the graveyard. The only time I put my mind to fixing things myself was when I learned the Patronus. I can't afford to be weak any longer."

Could this be why? Dumbledore thought.

It's possible that the shock of what was at stake, especially seeing it instead of being told what would happen, galvanized Harry to take a more proactive role in his magical education, but he still couldn't be sure yet.

"You don't have to learn to kill, Harry. The spells used by the Black family are quite lethal."

Harry gave him a look of irritation.

"Voldemort and his band of inbreds will try to kill me and my friends," he said icily, his eyes seeming to adopt a sharper look to them, "If I'm not strong enough, they will be taken from me, just as everything else has."

Something that Dumbledore had done to his glasses was also what he had done in part to Alastor's prosthetic eye. His glasses, although nowhere near the sophisticated nature of the eye, were able to pick up a magical outline, rendering all but the best Disillusionment charms visible to him in a hazy silhouette. But even cheap invisibility cloaks were not visible to him.

He could see Harry's magic frothing slightly, looking much more defined than before the summer.

But it looked under control, similar to how an Occlumens would try and put a leash on their magic if it was rather potent and they were emotional at the time.

He himself and Gellert had a habit of needing to do that.

For this to be happening, the bindings would have to have been compromised. Dumbledore thought grimly, his hand ghosting to his pocket.

More and more things were pointing to what he feared, he now needed to test one more thing, on final thing to see what Harry would say, or he'd hit him with the strongest Legilimency probe he could to find out the truth.

"Something terrible happened when the dementors attacked, didn't they?" He asked, noticing Harry tense.

His hand made its way to his pocket, the feeling of the wood of his wand touching his palm acting as an assurance of what may happen.

I will not fail again. He thought firmly, feeling his magic sharpen and yearning to be used.

"Am I talking to Harry, or Tom?" he asked simply, his hand gripping the Elder Wand.

Oh bugger.

Harry thought himself, he thinks I'm the horcrux.The talk, he initially thought, was going to be about his concerns for his behavior, something he already planned on addressing by stating what he said to Sirius, that he had seen how outclassed he was and made the choice to work harder and be skilled enough to protect his friends.

Dumbledore, being the paranoid intellectual he was, derailed that plan completely now.

Harry, going with the emotion that he had become extremely well acquainted with over the last week, looked at Dumbledore with pure loathing.

"How dare you." He said quietly, his posture shaking visibly.

He saw Dumbledore tense like he was ready to strike.

"Do you have so little faith in me that you don't think what I managed to do could be from my own improvement?"

Dumbledore seemed to relax slightly, but Harry was taking no risks.

"I stayed up late into the night, reading law books and the journal of Arcturus Black, trying to do everything I could to free the closest man I have to an Uncle or father." his voice started to lose the anger he held, his magic starting to calm down.

"Something happened to me," He whispered softly, looking away from Dumbledore, "The dementor kissed me."

He heard Dumbledore audibly gasped, probably fearing such a thing had occurred.

"I thought it was over," he continued, looking up towards Dumbledore's eyes, the blue seeming to glow slightly, "But instead, I heard screaming like something was dying and felt something get pulled out from here." he gestured towards his forehead.

Dumbledore's eyes widened when he realized that the scar was heavily faded, almost to the point that it looked like a normal scar instead of a curse one.

"And I'm scared of what's happening to me." Harry started again, grabbing Dumbledore's attention once more, "I made my alarm clock explode when I got annoyed at it and my skin keeps feeling like something is constantly shocking me and it itches."

Everything he said was what happened with magically powerful wizards that had noticeably above average magical strength. Having magic that was more reactive to his emotions also played a role in it.

"The Occlumency book and Sirius said something about how that happens with people who are magically powerful," Harry said quietly, "It said magical outbursts could be dangerous if not controlled and that Occlumency could help."

He needed Dumbledore to think that his motivation was out of fear of accidentally hurting someone, assuaging any of the man's suspicion.

Dumbledore didn't seem to be looking him in the eye, looking towards his faded scar instead.

"Harry," Dumbledore cleared his throat, his left hand looking like it was shaking slightly, "Do you have any pain coming from your scar? Any strange dreams? Any issues at all from it?"

Harry acted like he was thinking for a few seconds before he answered the man.

"No, Professor, I haven't. Not since the dementor attack."

Dumbledore took a shuddering breath and relaxed visibly, looking like a weight had been taken from his shoulders.

"Do you know what I did at the trial?" he asked, referencing the Legilimency probe.

Harry looked at the man like he didn't know.

"I'm not sure, Professor, was that Legilimency?" Harry asked, already being covered on what it was from Sirius having mentioned it.

Dumbledore smiled softly and nodded.

"Yes, it is. I'm sorry for attempting to see into your mind. I fear I let my worry on whether Tom had been trying to influence you."

"How would he influence me, Professor?" Harry asked, playing ignorant.

Dumbledore gave him the theory he had of Voldemort of him having a mental connection from the Killing Curse, avoiding the mention of horcrux. He also said how it may have been possible for Harry to have been made vulnerable from the dementor attack.

"So it turned out for the best that the dementor kissed me?" Harry asked, sounding skeptical.

"Ironically, yes." Dumbledore answered.

Harry scoffed at that.

"They say your first kiss is special. Never thought mine would be special enough to break a connection with Voldemort."

At the rather dark joke, Dumbledore stared at Harry for a moment, before he cracked a smile that turned into laughter.

Harry laughed along with the joke he made, relieved that he was able to stave off an attempt by Dumbledore to get into his mind.

It wouldn't have gone well for either one of them.

"A joke in poor taste," Dumbledore cleared his throat, containing the humourous reaction he had, "But something that was needed to break this stifling tenseness."

Harry just nodded, keeping the grin on his face.

"If you would indulge me, Harry," Dumbledore asked, "But how has your Occlumency training coming along?"

"Very well," He smiled, letting his relief at the light-heartedness in the conversation now, "Sirius said it would take time, but all the steps seem easy, almost like my mind wanted to be defended."

Harry had heard about natural Occlumens, Dumbledore's spirit had commented about it in the future. It was the most plausible thing he could offer that didn't include the words "Time travel", "Death", and "Master of Death".

Dumbledore beamed at Harry, his whole demeanor completely different from when he first came in. "You are just like your parents, Harry. I know you may hear that often, but you have the best of Lily and James in you. Your mother's kindness and father's confidence. The motivation you have to protect your friends will take you far in the world. The motivation I had at your age helped make me into who I am now."

Dumbledore went to stand up from the chair, his knees popping slightly.

"Never get old, Harry," Dumbledore grinned, hiding the wince at the noise, "It is positively dreadful."

"And miss all the fun in scolding the 'foolhardy whippersnappers' for doing stupid things?" Harry laughed.

Dumbledore simply chuckled at what Harry said.

"Something like that." Dumbledore smiled, before he prepared to leave.

"I'll need to get going. The trial has caused things to shift and I'll need to plan for that, not including preparing for a new school year."

Before he opened the door to leave, Dumbledore turned to Harry.

"You have no idea how much of a burden this has taken off my shoulders, Harry," Dumbledore whispered softly, an unguarded look of relief on his face, "No idea."

The door opened with a groan and Dumbledore left the room, heading towards the front door of the house.

Once Harry heard the door close, he dropped his Occlumency and took a deep breath, trying to calm down the flurry of thoughts going through his head.

That whole conversation felt like he was treading through a mine field, trying to not give suspicion that would make Dumbledore cast aside decorum and try to tear through his mind to see if he really was Harry Potter.

Everything seemed to have worked out though. Dumbledore wouldn't be suspicious when his grades would improve, his mood shifting in priorities, or his overall skill down the road.

Keeping his emotions 'aired out' was what he'd be focusing on for the next hour or so, before he'd call it an early night and sleep the mental fatigue off, he planned on working hard for the next couple of weeks leading up to the start of school.

Harry laid down on the bed and let his mind drift off, relaxing in the quiet solace

Dumbledore had, with the help of Fawkes, flashed back to Hogwarts, sitting down at his desk.

He took a deep breath and relaxed the Occlumency he'd been using throughout the day, before exhaling the air he drew with a sob.

He let all the fear, anger, self ridicule, and finally relief at everything that had occurred today flow out of him as he wept.

He had, right as he asked whether he was speaking with Harry or Tom, decided that he would solve the problem through lethal means, killing the clone of Voldemort.

The relief when Harry spoke back to him made him feel weak in the knees, the near terror he had been feeling melting away like the winter snow when spring arrives.

From a terrible incident came a near miracle. The horcrux ended up getting sucked out by the dementor, freeing Harry from the parasite that was Voldemort's soul shard.

Dumbledore thought it possible, if not likely, that Harry was a natural Occlumens, the horcrux possibly inhibiting his mind from forming the shields that they would have under normal circumstances.

With the window closed off into Harry's mind, his magic being completely free, and the fire that had been lit in Harry's determination, Dumbledore saw the possibility to mold Harry into a wizard that Voldemort truly would fear even more than himself.

"Neither can live while the other survives." Dumbledore said to himself, having recomposed himself.

Harry now had the political power, the raw power, and the will power to ascend from being a competent wizard, into a great one.

Dumbledore began making plans, plans that would be reliant on how the next several months shaped up.

If Harry kept this motivation and showed an immense progress in his classwork, he would have no worries about training him personally in certain fields of magic, the horcrux no longer providing a means to spy on him.

Fawkes trilled affectionately and hopped on to his desk, rubbing his head against the old man's shoulder.

"This day seemed to only get worse as it progressed, my friend," Dumbledore whispered kindly, resting his hand on the magestic bird's head and caressing it, "But everything righted itself in the end."

He knew that dark times were ahead, times that would try men's souls. But today, even if it were to be the last one, shown with a ruthless brilliance that drove the cold ice from his old bones.

A spark of hope that he was in desperate need of had appeared, and it filled him strength that he had needed to lead the fight against a Dark Lord for one final time.

For over a century, he had walked the world, but he still remained standing after all he had experienced.

And he had no plans to die soon at all.

End Chapter:

The trial scene took more time than any individual scene I've ever written. So many routes to take that wouldn't sound and feel ridiculous in leaps of logic and not able to make up my mind on how to do it made sure I took my time on it.

I wanted to do some world building on how certain hatreds could be enflamed enough that Voldemort could get traction in Wizarding Britain as effectively as he did. From what I've found, Purebloods account for about 15 or 20 percent of all magicals in Britain. Mathematics and attrition are not on the side of Voldemort, even if you went the route of Purebloods having immensely higher levels of skill from the centuries of accumulated spells and education from birth. There had to have been a sizable chunk of the half blood population that believed in the cause enough to either actively aid them, or to at least not offer a hand of help towards muggleborns or the Ministry. (Nearly 1/3 of the Colonists during the American Revolution stayed neutral in the conflict).

The privately funded army coalition of Brits that Charlus Potter initially started was partially inspired by the Abraham Lincoln brigade, a volunteer group of Americans that fought in the Spanish Civil War, and more so the Rough Riders under Teddy Roosevelt.

As you can see in this chapter, Dumbledore is aware of his mistakes and is trying to rectify them how he can. I humoured the idea of him thinking that Harry was influenced by the horcrux, if not completely possessed throughout a large part of the story, but I decided not to have that kind of conflict occur in a fic that's based in Fifth year (Which I did so because I wanted to be at the part where our favorite half blood with a phoenix tail feather wand was amongst the living once more, Note sarcasm).

Anyway, here's a beautifully long chapter and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Comments are most definitely welcome and may you have a wonderful day.