Harry Potter and the Path to Power

Chapter XVI

Dumbledore, Sirius and Harry had adjourned to the Headmaster's sitting room.

While Harry sat in a comfortable chair he watched Sirius in amazement.

His Godfather was pacing up and down the room, a non-stop tirade against Dumbledore coming from his mouth the likes of which Harry had never heard, but never once saying why he was angry.

"You had no right, Albus. I'm the boy's Godfather, I should have been informed. He's too young, and you know it. How could you do this? You know the dangers. This is what got James..."

"SIRIUS," the headmaster called him to order. "Sit down and calm yourself. You are confusing Harry."

Harry felt his irritation and anger mount as the feeling that a lot of things were happening behind his back grew.

"Yes, an explanation would be welcome right about now, I think I deserve it after more than four years of being told nothing," he said in a voice that contained more vexation than was normal for him; it lent his voice a sarcastic quality.

"And justly so," Dumbledore answered with a sigh. "Sirius, would you please sit down. Raving like that will not make any difference."

Reluctantly Sirius sat down, pouring himself a large drink from the crystal carafe on the table in front of him. Harry couldn't be sure, but he thought Sirius was actually moping.

"I would like to know what Magistrate Fletcher meant," Harry said, his voice still scathing.

"I have a feeling I've been kept in the dark long enough."

"Yes, quite right," Dumbledore said; his voice had slightly guilty undertones.

"It is time to tell you why Voldemort killed your father and tried to kill you. I had hoped that you would be older when I told you this, but events have forced my hand."

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, seemingly staring into nothingness. Sirius, on the other hand, seemed like he could hardly contain himself, but if it was to hurry Dumbledore along or stop him altogether, Harry could not tell.

"I know you're a bit young for this," Dumbledore finally began," but have you ever wondered how the Wizarding world is ruled?"

Harry felt confused. What did this have to do with anything?

"I assume the people choose a Minister of Magic and he rules....?" Harry answered, not sure of the answer.

"Well, yes... and no," Dumbledore answered. "As you know from History of Magic, it was once the Wizards' Council that ruled. At a certain point in time this changed for various reasons; the most important was that there were too many members for it to be an effective ruling body. By a majority decision the Ministry of Magic was created. You could consider it a hired management system."

"Or you could call it the curse of paperwork and incompetence," Sirius interrupted, clearly not impressed by the Ministry.

Dumbledore just seemed to ignore him and continued:

"The controlling body, however, is still the Wizards' council, although later with the partial introduction of the Trias Politica a semi-separate court system was created and it gained even more members.

The difference between the Wizards' council and the Ministry of Magic is simple.

The Ministry governs, the Council rules."

The Wizards' council? Hadn't Magistrate Fletcher called upon him to appear before it?

Was he in trouble again?

What did this all have to do with him? And why had he been called 'heir apparent of House Potter'?

House Potter?

Harry felt his confusion grow instead of diminish, together with a headache. Dumbledore didn't seem to make sense, didn't seem to have a point.

He decided to throw in a random question, just to see where it would go.

"And every wizard and witch is a member of the Wizards' Council?" he asked.

"No, the wizarding world doesn't use a 'one man-one vote' system. Ours is a much older way. Besides, it would never work. Because of magic, people have too much individual power."

"And democracy is three wolves and a sheep deciding what's for dinner anyway," Sirius barked with laughter.

"No," Dumbledore continued, ignoring Sirius," the Wizard's Council is a family system. Every family has influence in the Council, based upon a number of factors. It is a balance that is forever changing, and to an outsider it probably looks like absolute chaos.

But balance is very important to magic, and so you find it in our political system as well... and balance is never static."

Harry felt his headache growing. There was so much information to process and new concepts to understand. And he still didn't see how this had anything to do with him or Voldemort.

"The Council is balanced in more ways than one.

As I said, influence is based upon several factors. All of them are forms of power.

Factors are political, economical, magical and even simply the extensiveness of the family. These things constantly seek a new balance."

"What you mean, Albus," Sirius said after taking a big swig of his drink, "is that each house is looking for any gain they can get. They'll plot, steal, blackmail or even kill you if they think they can get away with it and who ever wins gets to balance.'"

Dumbledore gave Sirius a glaring look and the dark haired wizard suddenly became very pale and very silent.

"Quite," Dumbledore stated dryly. "The council is also divided and balanced into a Greater and Higher Council.

The Greater Council is the whole of families, the voting body.

The Higher Council is made up out of a small number of permanent member houses, nobility if you will, who have a great deal of influence and power.

It is they who shape policy and direction for the entire wizarding world here in England.

They are ancient and proud Houses and yours is amongst them, Harry. House Potter has a seat on the Higher Council and is amongst the oldest and most influential.

That is why Voldemort wanted to kill your Father and you; that is why he killed your Grandfather.

He wanted to wipe out House Potter and its opposition to him, and in doing so he made you the last Potter and subsequently the Lord of House Potter at your coming of age.

Harry's mouth fell open, "Voldemort killed my Grandfather? Who was he? What was his name?" he spoke in a voice that contained both astonishment and venom.

"Your Grandfather was Lord Stewart Potter; he was killed when your father was in his fifth year by Voldemort himself after a wizard's duel. I knew him well, although we were not what you would consider friends, more like political allies. He was a proud and powerful man and I was privileged to have known him," Dumbledore said in a solemn voice.

"He was also a hard and sometimes cruel man who was stubborn and even full of it," Sirius barked, his voice a bit slurred as he downed a second glass, or was it his third?

"Sirius, you were a boy when Harry's grandfather died, I don't think it's your place to judge."

"I saw what he did to James; I know what he said about Lily and Remus. The man was no saint."

"Alas, none of us are, but can we truly judge a man whose position we cannot understand?

Maybe it would be better to concentrate on the present," Dumbledore sighed.

Harry had been observing the conversation between the two men, trying to filter out the truth.

"What does it mean for me? I mean, if I am to be this Lord, what is expected of me? Do I have choice?"

"We always have a choice, Mr. Potter, but you are not one to shirk your responsibilities, I know that much.

As I said, the Wizards' Council rules, but that has been impossible for more than twenty years.

When your Grandfather died, your father was not yet of age and could not yet become the High Seat of House Potter. That meant that the Higher Council was not complete and could not take any actions or approve laws; this has happened before, and it was deemed that the time to wait for James' initiation was acceptable so no regent was installed.

Then, when your father had gone through his initiation, Voldemort began a relentless hunt and he had no choice but to take you and your mother into hiding," Dumbledore told.

"And then he died..." Sirius said, a tear dripping from his eye. He quickly hid the emotion by emptying another glass.

"Yes," Dumbledore concurred in an equally sad tone, "he died, and you were only a baby. Fortunately, Voldemort had disappeared, although it took some time before it became clear that you were responsible for that.

Once again there was no High Seat for House Potter but no-one dared to remove it from power; your defeat of Voldemort had lifted the prestige and therefore power of your House to unknown levels, the instability that would have followed any acts against you was unacceptable.

Since you had no living wizarding relatives and your Godfather was in Azkaban, no politically acceptable regent could be appointed for you; this was unprecedented. The Higher Council was powerless. Into that power vacuum stepped the Ministry. It broadened its influence unchecked and there was nothing to balance it. Laws were replaced by Ministry Decrees."

"You mean..."

"I know quite well what I mean, Sirius. I think it better that I tell this," Dumbledore interrupted in a low voice.

"The Ministry has proven its incompetence and bureaucracy; Fudge being elected Minister by the heads of the departments and his consequent attitude are telling of the background in which it operates.

Those who take no risks and choose no sides are promoted.

To be outspoken is to be cut down.

Corruption is rampant.

The Ministry is unable to take a stand against Voldemort. The only thing that can is the Council... and the Council cannot function without you, Harry.

*****

Harry was in a room that had been prepared for him. It was his for the night, as Gryffindor Tower was not available yet and neither was the Proctor wing, although Harry apparently wouldn't have had access anyway.

His mind was overflowing with concepts and questions.

He had often had the feeling that a burden rested on his shoulders; he was The-Boy-Who-Lived and many had made it clear by action or implication that he was their champion.

Now he knew that burden was real, and heavier than he had ever imagined.

Who was he to take a seat in the ruling body of the English wizarding society? He was just a boy; no matter what anyone said or thought.

He wished he had a drink, he could sure use one.

A knock pulled him out of his thoughts. As he walked towards the door -a conventional one as this was a guestroom- he wondered who it would be at this hour.

"Hello, Harry," Sirius said in a slurred voice after Harry had opened the door. He was holding a bottle in his hand and was slightly unstable on his feet.

"I thought you might want to have a drink with your Godfather to celebrate the successful conclusion of Dumbledore's mechanizations. I swear the man must have been a Slytherin."

Sirius walked into the room, not waiting for Harry's answer, and plopped down on the bed heavily.

He had apparently thought to bring two glasses with him and he was filling both of them with what was certainly more than a double measure.

"You're a bit young... oh hell, who am I trying to kid. I was a lot younger than you when I was drunk for the first time, besides you're officially of age now. Not that anyone considered consulting me on that little matter, but who am I? Just your Godfather." The last part of his sentence was mumbled.

Harry had taken a chair and was sitting opposite of Sirius, not really knowing what to do with the unusual behaviour of his Godfather.

"Come on, Harry, take a glass," Sirius said.

Harry had been wishing for a drink, so he figured this was the universe's way of compensating him a bit. He took the glass and smelt it. It was whiskey, although not Ogden's.

"What shall we drink to?" Sirius called out. "Oh, wait, I know. We shall drink to the glory of House Potter.

Do you know what the old toast was, Harry? It went like this: To the House of the Dragon, Cedo Nulli. You're only supposed to say the last part though, being the Dragon Lord himself and all."

Harry was confused by Sirius' rambling and after taking a firm swig asked: "What do you mean House of the Dragon and Dragon Lord?"

"Crickey, Harry! Didn't you see the symbol on your chest? It's your House's Coat of Arms. It's a dragon. That symbol is more than a thousand years old. Legend has it that the first of your line even tamed a dragon once and that's why he chose it. Potters have always been known as the Dragons... except your father, of course. He wanted nothing to do with your Grandfather and rejected that name."

Dragon Lord? That would give that damned Draco a good laugh. But what was this about his father and grandfather?

"What was going on between my father and grandfather?" he asked, to keep Sirius talking.

"Well, Lord Stewart, that's your Grandfather by the way, raised your father as all firstborn male Potters have been, to be the next Lord Potter. But when your father and I went to Hogwarts we met Remus and your mother. Your Grandfather did not approve of either. Remus was a werewolf, and somehow he knew - must have found it in the ministry records or something."

"And my mother?" Harry asked breathlessly.

"I think Lord Stewart saw the affection between the two at the very beginning even though they didn't seem able to stand each other at first. Lily was a Muggleborn and Potters always married for power. To have a relationship or even a marriage with a Muggleborn was certainly not in his plans for James. He did everything to drive them apart.... as I said, he could be a cruel man."

"And then...?"

Sirius seemed to sober up just a bit, his voice took on a distant quality.

"Voldemort happened. Your Grandfather was a strong proponent of a declaration of war on him. One day he received an official challenge to a wizard's duel by Voldemort. He was a Nobleman, not to mention a Potter; there was no way his honour would let him refuse. He went, with my father as his second. The official story is that he lost and my father attacked Voldemort in a rage and was killed as well.

Your father and I always thought he was ambushed. Your Grandfather was a lot of things, but he was an excellent dueller."

Sirius seemed to be reliving his own memories, his eyes staring blankly. Harry's father had not been the only one with a loss in his family that day.

Harry was wondering what kind of man his Grandfather had really been. He had heard a lot of words associated with a man that he had no concept of until today: cruel, hard, honourable, ruler, friend, father.

Who was the man behind the words?

His gaze shifted to Sirius.

His godfather was snoring softly, the alcohol and events of the evening exhausting him.

Harry reached for his wand to seal the door, but remembered the trouble magic might give him. Instead he pushed a cabinet in front of door, making sure no one could barge in and discover the escaped convict.

He filled his now empty glass again and sat on his bed, thinking for hours.

*****

It was sunrise, and as Harry sat on the battlement of the south tower once again, he could observe the dawn in all its glory.

Sirius had woken him early, stating that he should have left the castle last night; he was, after all, still on the run.

After a quick goodbye, Harry found himself unable to go back to sleep.

Professor Dumbledore had invited him to an early breakfast, but not this early. He instead roamed the silent castle, ending up at the place he had found some peace yesterday.

As he saw the first rays of the sun hit the lake, a saying came to mind: Today is the first day of the rest of your life.

Well, his life was certainly different than it was yesterday.

*****

Dumbledore had asked Harry to receive all the Proctor candidates and direct them to the Great Hall. Several House-Elves were assisting him, carrying up the luggage of the arriving students.

Most of the students were pleased to see him and made some kind of remark about how proud or excited they were to be selected for the Protectorate Council. One Hufflepuff even went as far as to tell him about Proctors who had become quite well known. This wasn't really a problem as their individual Portkeys had been set five minutes apart.

The reunion with Katie Bell was especially humorous, as the 6^th year Gryffindor described what she would be doing with Fred and George with her new Proctor authority.

The second to last arrival was a Slytherin girl and the only other 5^th year chosen.

Although Harry had seen Blaise Zabini around, he could not recall anything specific about the girl except that she was quiet and went her own way, almost seeming to actively avoid any attention, blending into the shadows.

That image was shattered upon her arrival.

Unlike the other candidates, she was not wearing her school robes, but Muggle clothing.

She wore very tight black leggings and a white blouse that was partly unbuttoned to show a great deal of cleavage.

The girl had very blue eyes that seemed to analyse everything they met, and hair that seemed to shine in the sun although it was black as night.

Harry was a bit surprised by the discrepancy between his memory and reality, pleasantly surprised.

"Potter," she said with an acid voice, "please tell me you're not the other 5^th year candidate?"

Harry was shaken from his musings about the attractive legs the girl was sporting by the offending tone.

"Guess you'll have to learn to live with it then, because I am. You are expected in the Great Hall, a House-Elf will take up your luggage," he returned in a neutral voice, deciding to keep the peace... for now.

"I can't believe you are letting them use you for menial labour like this Potter; it is servants' work, it's below your station," she said in a biting tone.

Without another word the black-haired Slytherin walked passed Harry, leaving her trunk where she had arrived. Harry vaguely waved for a waiting House-elf to take it away.

Staring after the girl, finding he enjoyed watching her walk, Harry was slow to react when he hear the pop signalling the appearance of the last arrival.

When he turned after a few seconds he found himself looking into two very beautiful eyes with a definite Asian ethnicity. As his mind started to work again he saw that those eyes had lost the spark he had so enjoyed seeing in them, instead they looked sad and tired.

"Cho," he barely breathed.