ACT5CH2 - THE PRICE OF ASCENSION

The jaguar was gone.

But the pressure it left behind remained, clinging to the corners of the room like humidity after a storm. Magic still hung heavy in the air, the kind that made your spine itch and your instincts whisper that something old had passed through.

Only Hedwig seemed unaffected—perched regally atop the bookshelf, preening her feathers with imperial detachment. If the weight of wizarding politics concerned her, she gave no sign.

It was Amelia who broke the silence.

“That’s it, then,” she said. “That’s all the proof we need. In Sirius’s absence, Harry retains control. Not just the House Lordship, but also the Family Magic.” 

Joshua exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Shall we sit down?”

Daphne led him to the couches, making sure she was perched right next to him, with Andi on his other side, followed by Nymphadora. Somehow, the arrangement also ended up with Fleur sitting right opposite Harry, which irritated Daphne no less.

The Minister spoke again. “Now that the dead have spoken and the gods have demanded fealty, shall we get to the part where mortals sharpen their knives? There are a few urgent matters that need to be discussed.”

Harry nodded. He had expected this and prepared himself for another interrogation.

To his surprise, it was Daphne that spoke first, inhaling…

“Yes, I’ll start. Here’s the first question — What is she doing here?”

…And promptly released it all in an impressive outburst.

Harry raised an eyebrow. Trust Daphne to stick to her priorities. It didn’t help that Fleur was giving her an amused smile. “Bonjour to you too, mon coeur de poivre.”

“No,” snapped Daphne. “She’s a problem. A problem that I have to deal with. Ever since she’s come into our lives, it’s been one complication after another. And if that wasn’t enough, her bloody mother is doing her best to claw into Harry’s name and fame, and she’s just waltzing into my home, while we’re wondering how to keep things from falling apart?”

She finally stopped ranting, when she noticed the amused looks she was being given.

Harry sighed. “Let’s not do this now.”

“Harry —”

“She speaks ze truth,” said Fleur. “Oui. That much I can agree. Maman wants you on a… ‘ow do you Eenglish say it? On a silver platter? But I don’t. Zat is why I am here.”

“And how do we believe you?” Daphne accused.

“She took an Unbreakable vow,” said Joshua. “She was most insistent about it.”

“Don’t look so surprised, ‘Arry,” said Fleur in an admonishing tone. “I WILL ‘ave you. Do not mistake zat. But I will ‘ave you on MY terms. I’ve already told you, zat you will be mine by my actions. To achieve anything less is… unacceptable!”

Harry stared at her for a moment, taken aback by her shameless declaration. “So, even if your mum’s giving you what you want, you don’t want it unless you get it the way you want it?”

“Precisement,” said Fleur, ignoring how childish she was sounding at the moment.

Harry shook his head, and turned to Daphne. “What do you say? This is your home.”

Daphne frowned, and stayed silent for a while, before nodding slowly.

“Do you see what you’d have to deal with, Susan?” asked Amelia softly, perfectly aware that everyone else could hear it.

“Yeah,” said Susan, scowling. “Not my cup of tea.”

“With that settled,” said the Minister briskly. “I would like to row this meeting back to the point.” She inhaled deeply, and procured an envelope from her pocket, offering it to Harry. “A formal summon from the Wizengamot for the upcoming Emergency session. Full attendance. All Lords. All Houses. All factions. Even the ones that prefer to rule from behind curtains are stepping into the light for this.”

“Because of me,” Harry said flatly.

“Because of what you represent,” Amelia corrected. 

“No surprises there,” Harry muttered. “Let me guess — one side are nationalists that want to preserve sovereignty. Fighting tooth-and-nail to keep the ICW from poking it's unbearably long nose into British matters. Then you have the opportunists, who smell blood and think they can use this situation to gain power, either by dismantling our Alliance, or throwing me to the ICW, or just currying favor from the big hats there. And finally we have our loyalists, allies, who are growing nervous.”

“I… was under the assumption that you’re not a Legilimens.”

“Still ain’t,” said Harry. “That’s all her. The analysis, not the Legilimency.”

Daphne preened. Harry had been planning to start teaching her and the others the Patronus charm. He wondered if hers was a peacock.

“You’re ignoring the fourth bloc, Harry,” said Joshua. “The ones that believe Ekrizdis was right.”

“Ekrizdis wanted to destroy the world.”

“So you say,” said Amelia. “But again, where’s the proof?”

“Excuse me, Minister,” interrupted Daphne. “But that’s like telling someone not to stand in front of the killing curse because it’ll kill you, only to ask — but where’s the proof?”

“Yes, but contrary to the situation we have here, there is ample evidence to prove that being stricken by the killing curse leads to instant death. And the only person that is claiming that Ekrizdis is opening the Gates to the Anima is… well, him.”

“But—” Daphne began, but Harry grasped her hand, pausing her.

“They — that is the faction that believe Ekrizdis was right, are claiming that all we have is the word of, forgive me, a child — claiming that the Wizengamot, and the entirety of Damocles Rowle’s Ministry, was foolish enough to secure a deal if it just ended in, as you put it, the destruction of our world.”

“And hence, we’re back to Square one,” sighed Joshua in defeat. “Where it is easier to confront the truth with lies, than accept it and move on.”

“They have been in politics for decades, and for some, more than a century, Joshua,” said Amelia. “Nobody with that much time in politics wants to be proven as wrong. Certainly not by the younger generation. It is so much easier to claim that by stopping Ekrizdis, you aborted the return of, as you put it, the Age of the Gods.”

“The ICW didn’t have trouble believing me,” Harry groused.

“Frankly, the ICW doesn’t care if you’re right,” the Minister corrected him. “If you’re right, then by your own admission, the Gate is a priceless resource — one that can serve as an endless reservoir of magic if they can tap into it, or a perfect method to correct magical anomalies if they can reverse-engineer it. And just in case you were fibbing, it only means they will come down more heavily upon Dumbledore and Wizarding Britain and hold us in contempt.”

“It doesn’t help that you proved capable of bypassing some of the strongest wards on the planet without breaking a sweat,” said Tonks slowly, carefully.

Translation — even the Department of Mysteries was afraid.

Fan-bloody-tastic! Harry palmed his face, groaning. He really should stop voicing his desire for a stress-free holiday. The universe was seemingly taking that as a literal challenge. 

“Sheep fear wolves,” said Fleur. “Zat is what Maman would say.”

Harry gave her an expression that lay between amusement and exasperation. “She would, wouldn’t she? What else would she say?”

“Zat it is appropriate they do so,” came the blunt reply. “L’Angleterre has acquired ze contempt of ze ICW for failing to control its flaws. Yet in all of zis, you have risen to a powerful position, arising ze jealousy of many.”

“I didn’t ask for it,” Harry retorted.

“But you still ‘ave it,” Fleur stressed. “Tell me you are going to bend before zem! Tell me you don’t zink zat the safest hands to ‘andle zis power are yours!”

This time Harry had no rebuttal, so he settled for glaring.

“There are many,” said Joshua, “who also believe that you’ve created this false story about Ekrizdis to hide whatever you, ah — discovered in Azkaban and sealed it behind the Gate. Zat is why you don’t want ze ICW there. Because you want to claim it for yourself.”

“Really? That’s what you think?”

“Doesn’t matter. Ze question is asked, and now everyone there is already thinking about it. Go on, Minister,” Fleur challenged. “Tell me I am wrong!”

Amelia settled for a grim expression.

“Let’s face it, ‘Arry,” said Fleur, who looked like she wasn’t backing down any time soon. “They are afraid of you. Though…. It is more favorable to you than if zey actually knew whether you had something ‘idden away at Azkaban.”

“Armour himself with their doubts,” Daphne caught on.

“Oui. They are pressing, and that means they are desperate!”

“I’m beginning to see why your mother made you her heir, Miss Delacour,” said Amelia. “Despite your obvious differences, you’re remarkably alike.”

Fleur looked like she didn’t know whether to feel complimented or insulted.

She… settled for being insulted.

“But she is right,” continued the Minister, turning to Harry. “Regardless of your wishes, Harry, you are a powerful and polarising figure. You can either use this to dictate actions for this nation, become a glorified slave, or turn into the nation’s Enemy Number One.”

Harry didn’t have a response for that either.

Silence fell.

Sirius wasn’t there anymore.

Not until he found a way to bring him back.

Joshua, Andi, and the others would be there. But at the end of the day, it would really come down to just him.

Against the Wizengamot, and by proxy, against the ICW.

That was intimidating.

“Alright,” he said. “When is this Merlin-damned meeting?”

“Tomorrow,” said Joshua. “I’ll bet my wand they’ll propose a motion demanding complete oversight of the Azkaban Gate, and attempt to strip you of its control. Maybe even threaten you with sanctions against your Houses.”

“Oversight? Of what exactly? The cosmic nightmare I’m keeping sealed away so they don’t wake up as half-ostrich, half-cockroach hybrids?” said Harry scathingly. “Maybe we should put them on a rota. Gatekeeper Tuesdays.”

“Don’t get peevish, Harry,” admonished Joshua. “The entire Azkaban event has made Wizarding Britain look dreadful. The international community has always been against the idea of Azkaban. Dementors have always been a global menace—unlike their distant cousins, lethifolds, which are rare and self-contained. Britain’s refusal to consider alternatives has long been a sore point, especially for the Balkan Alliance.”

He tapped a parchment stack with a knuckle. “And then there are the quieter factions—the ones that still cling to Grindelwaldian ideology. They’ve always resented Dumbledore’s influence over the ICW. Now they’ve found a common cause: curb Britain’s power, unseat Dumbledore as Supreme Mugwump, and impose enough conditions to fracture our international footing.”

“And you,” Daphne said evenly, meeting Harry’s eyes, “are a British citizen.”

Joshua offered a dry smile. “It’s a dirty game. They want to extract every advantage they can from your situation.”

Harry arched an eyebrow. “Why would the ICW follow Grindelwaldian ideology?”

“Why do we have blood purists in the Wizengamot despite Voldemort and his purist movement wasting this country for decades?” Joshua challenged. “Do not conflate ideology with criminality, son. A lot of magicals—not just radicals—agree with some of Grindelwald’s core principles. The idea that we must hide from Muggles, despite being more evolved, doesn’t sit well with many. The Statute of Secrecy doesn’t protect us. It protects them. Dumbledore’s philosophy asks those with power to sacrifice for those without. A noble idea on paper, but in reality, it’s like asking a wolf to kneel before rabbits.”

“But that’s — that’s insane! By that logic, my powers place me above the standard witch and wizard. Should I just….oh I don’t know — retire with Daphne to the Bahamas, and let Ekrizdis and Voldemort burn the nation inside out?”

“A capital idea,” said Daphne, sounding a little too eager. “Should I start packing?”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“You wouldn’t do that,” said Joshua, inclining his head in a gesture of respect. “Because you’re exceptional. But you must understand, you are far, far into the minority. The ideology that Magic is Might does not come from the wills of the few powerful souls who walk with legends, but from the thousands of witches and wizards who are weak, petty, and forgotten by history. For every soul like you who seeks to do the right thing, there are a thousand that cry out claiming unfairness.”

Harry considered this briefly.

“Does that mean you agree with Ekrizdis then? That returning the world to the Age of the Gods was the right thing to do?”

“I agree with his ideology, yes,” said the man bluntly. “Not his methods. That,and I trust you to be the person that would always put the needs of others before himself, so if you say that he’d have caused the world’s destruction, I’m inclined to side with you over him.”

Harry didn’t like what he was hearing. But at least, Joshua had been upfront and honest about his feelings. If nothing else, he could appreciate that at least.

“Humanity is tribal, Harry,” said Daphne. “It’s always ‘us versus them.’ Whether it’s magicals seeking freedom from Muggle oppression, or Muggleborns resisting pureblood bigotry, the division is always there. We are magical. They are not.”

“So we treat them as lesser?”

“No,” Daphne said. “But ask yourself—why must we, the ones attuned to the world’s deepest forces, the ones who can reshape reality, live in hiding? Is that fair?”

“We’re drifting,” The Minister said finally.

“Are we?” challenged Joshua. “It is my son-in-law that is being harangued here. If he has to make a stand, isn’t it proper that he must be given both facets to weigh before choosing his own path? Because like it or not, what he has done has enormous implications for the Statute of Secrecy.”

Harry frowned. “I thought the anomalies were localised….”

“It’s not about the anomalies,” said Joshua, sighing. “This is politics, Harry. And when you hear them point something out and say — that’s the problem, it means the problem is something else!”

“But —”

“Harry,” said Joshua, a maddening calm exuding from him. “The official statement from the British Ministry claims that Ekrizdis attempted to restore the world back to the Age of the Gods. Right, wrong, flawed — they are all narratives. Fun fact — narratives can always be twisted. I can convince the court that you planted that story about Ekrizdis triggering the apocalypse, to suit your own goals.”

“You think I stopped him because I don’t want magicals to rise?” Harry asked, affronted.

“Did you?” Joshua quipped, an amused smile playing on his face.

“I —”

“Honestly, Harry, your answer doesn’t matter,” said the man. “I alluded to a possibility, and you, without thinking, took my bait and asked my question for me. And now, the audience is already thinking about it. You can be the Gatekeeper, Harry, but even you won’t make them unthink it. They’ll think about it, are thinking of it, and will go on thinking about it until it is time for them to judge you.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. He had the distinct feeling of something terribly unfair having been done to him, that Joshua was a dirty rotten cheating liar, but for the life of them, he couldn’t think of anything wrong from what he had presented.

He looked at the crowd, and found them surprisingly silent, watching this byplay. Even the Minister herself was keenly observing him. 

“I… have a lot to learn, don’t I?” He asked at last.

‘You do,” said the Minister. “But you are an academic and war-wizard, Harry. Not a politician. Nobody expects you to get everything right on the first try.”

“True, true,” said Joshua. “His education is greatly lacking.”

“My education?” Harry stammered. 

“In politics,” the Minister clarified. ‘But in your defence, it is too early for you to be facing such a strong, extremist stance without prior preparation.”

“My dear Minister,” said Joshua, smiling. “That was neutral, I assure you.”

Bones shook her head. “If that’s your idea of neutral, I would hate to see what you consider inflammatory. See Susan?” She addressed her niece. “This is what you have to face in the future.”

Susan swallowed, and said nothing else.

Harry groaned. And here he was thinking he had finally gotten somewhere in life. 

“What should I do, Andi?” He asked his aunt. 

Andromeda looked visibly uncomfortable. “I am a healer, Harry, not a politician. I can see the board, but I wasn’t trained to move the pieces. That went to Narcissa. All I remember are my father’s thoughts on marital alliances. From what I can see, we’re in quite the volatile zone.”

Right. Because he didn’t have enough problems to deal with.

“Lay it on me.”

“House Black had been, until most recently, a cash-cow that Lucius milked for his own profit. But even so, House Black was the face of the Dark Alliance. Then Sirius entered the scene, washed the House off its old sins, and formed a coalition with House Potter, and House Greengrass, shifting the stance to neutral.”

Harry nodded.

“My father always said the neutral faction is always the most unpredictable, and often swayed with the prevailing winds. Tying your engagement with Daphne was a good choice, but the Greengrasses have been… swayers, and most recently, allied with House Malfoy. So not much of a foundation to anchor us.”

“I feel like I should feel insulted,” said Joshua, amused. 

“House Potter had stayed under Dumbledore’s influence, and it has you — the Boy-Who-Lived as its USP. It helps that House Longbottom stood with you, and that family is as stubborn as they come. And when the news of Minister Bones’s pending engagement with Sirius hit the news — it meant a lot for House Black. The Minister has always been a strict follower of the law, and stayed carefully neutral. Together, the coalition — Black, Potter, Greengrass, Bones and Longbottom — was a strong alliance that could anchor each other.”

“And now Sirius is gone,” said Harry softly.

“Sirius is gone. And the general perception is that he’s dead.”

“He isn’t —”

“I said the general perception is that he’s dead,” Andromeda corrected him. “Which means the entire deal with House Bones might as well be void. House Longbottom is… for all intents, done for. Frank Longbottom perished in the attack, and the heir Neville Longbottom turned into an obscurial — a dark creature. Augusta is reeling with shock and loss. She cannot hold herself together, much less present a united front with us.”

Harry clenched his fists. So many people affected, so many lives lost — all because one monster and his team of psychopaths wanted to hurt him.

“You’re the Black heir, but only in name. The general perception is that the Family Magic of House Black vanished with Sirius, rendering the House dormant. They are uncertain how it affects the deal with House Greengrass, for the marriage was supposed to be between Daphne and the ‘Black heir’. Well…. At least that perception will change, what with the totem and everything.”

Joshua looked like he wanted to say something, but decided not to.

“But with the ICW claiming you, your current standing in British Wizengamot is in a grey area.”

“Why?” Susan voiced, surprising Harry. “I mean, even if Harry is the Gatekeeper, House Potter and House Black have been part of the Wizengamot for centuries.”

“True Susan,” said Minister Bones. “But House Potter is limited to just one person — Harry himself. And like Andromeda said, Daphne is set to marry the ‘Black heir’, not ‘Potter’. Any offspring they might have will take the Black name, not Potter.”

“Unless,” said Fleur airily. “‘Arry marries me, and forms an alliance with ‘Ouse Delacour like Maman said. Then he could just be a Freeholding Lord at the ICW, or settle as part of Le Grand Conseil.”

Harry blinked. He had no idea what a Freeholding Lord was, but decided that the Grand Conseil was probably what went for the French version of the Wizengamot.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Daphne asked sweetly, fooling no one.

“Oui,” said Fleur, flipping her ponytail. “If I were shallow. Or if I wanted Maman to prey on ‘Arry. She’d probably say that ‘Ouse Greengrass ‘has nothing to gain from this marriage. That it should step away from a sinking ship.”

Daphne looked ready to curse, but restrained herself. 

Harry dragged a hand through his hair. It was all too much. Even after everything—after Ekrizdis, after Sirius, after sealing the Gate—peace still eluded him.  Instead, new problems sprouted like hydra heads.

And if that wasn’t enough, he was having to restrain the grass beneath Joshua and Fleur’s feet from reaching out and snapping their necks, since they were the ones that were presenting the most antagonistic arguments. 

Apparently energy wasn’t the only thing the plants were demanding about. They bent to the tune of his emotions, and reacted accordingly.

Breathe. Compartmentalize. You are not allowed to give up, he told himself, repeating what was slowly becoming his mantra. You are only allowed to solve the problem.

The key, as always, was to start small. Focus on building solutions for problems he could answer. Build some dry ground to stand on. And after you have put some work in, and were lucky, then the mystery of the overarching question becomes knowable. Like stepping back from a photomontage to witness the ultimate image revealing itself.

He had to separate himself from the fear, the paranoia, and the sheer frustration and simply tackle this problem as if he were back in the lair, pondering over the list of questions he had decided to tackle and solve.

Build some dry ground to stand on.

He closed his eyes, steadied his breathing, letting the cold owl instinct flood through him. Focus. Forethought. Reason. Sound judgement. That was what was going to get him out of this.

Fact One. The ICW was threatened by him, and was coming at him strongly. They wouldn’t stop until he bent before them, handed the Gate and the power… or until he bent them.

Fact Two. The Purists do everything to erase Sirius’s legacy, and trap him with their twisted interpretations. Some would claim him to be a threat to the Statute, others, a liar. And even others, a wannabe tyrant. His own Alliance was in tatters, either lost or licking its own wounds. And if he wanted support from the Light side, or the neutrals, he needed leverage, and if not, then a suitable spectacle. 

Fact Three. He had the option of giving up, or simply saying nothing. But public opinion got shaped by absence. If he said nothing, the press would write his story for him. The last few years at Hogwarts had taught him that much.

Fact Four. Sirius was gone, and Harry needed to find a way to get him back, a feat that everyone believed was impossible.

Fact Five. He could still feel the restless churn of the Azkaban Gate. The pressure from the Other Side. The ebb and pulse of the Anima where it rubbed against the edges of reality. He needed to locate the other anomalies and begin addressing them, before things went south.

Fact Six. Unimportant compared to the rest, but Daphne had expedited their marriage. And it was quickly approaching.

Fact Seven. His own magic was behaving erratically. Summer wasn’t supposed to be this… all-encompassing. Tezcatlipoca wasn’t supposed to feel this… potent. And he could only wonder how Death might have changed.

And there were only so many options left to him.

He took the least terrifying one. Or the most. He wasn’t sure which it was. 

“You were right,” he said at last, opening his eyes, looking at Joshua.

“Erm, I was —? About what?”

“That I am among the exceptions. Like Dumbledore. The ones that are willing to sacrifice themselves for the weaker population. And I will probably keep on doing that. They know it, and I dare say they’re right too. Except for one thing.”

His eyes shone with an eerie radiance. Had he been more observant, he would’ve seen his shadow flare.

“I am not Albus Dumbledore. He beat Grindelwald, stood atop the world, and then went back to teaching. He never asked for influence. Never demanded respect. And what did that get him? He’s the Supreme Mugwump, but too proud to demand better terms for Britain. Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, but they still let Fudge and Umbridge rot the system from the inside. People sneer at him. Mock him. Because they know—Dumbledore won’t fight them for real.”

He stood up. “I am the Gatekeeper. I am the Defence Professor of Hogwarts. I am Lord Potter, and Black. I am Death’s Vessel, Child of Summer, and retainer of Binding. I have to find a way to get Sirius back, get rid of Voldemort and most importantly, live my life with those I care about. And anybody that thinks it’s a bright idea to come between me and that goal will have to face consequences. They will have to learn the hard way that power doesn’t ask for permission.”

The Minister stood up. “Harry —”

“I’ve finally understood why people fear Voldemort,” he went on. “Not just for his cruelty—but for his decisiveness. If Voldemort wanted something, no one dared stand in his way. He doesn’t ask. He commands.”

Silence.

“I’m not him,” Harry said. “But I understand him. And honestly? I’m tired of begging to be understood. Of defending myself for existing. At the start of the year, the Ministry hated me. But they didn’t touch me. Why? Because I was the boy who drained fourteen Death Eaters of their magic. They feared what I might do next.”

“Harry,” the Minister breathed. ““That road doesn’t end where you think it does. Are you telling me you want to terrify them? Subjugate them?”

Harry smiled. He felt Daphne reach out for his hand — like she needed to remind herself she was still with him. 

“If that’s what it takes.”