The Gray's Secret: Scene 12 (Patreon)

Zero Days before the Wizengamot Weekend: 7:00am

*Beep* *Beep* *Beep *Beep* *Beep*

Harry smashed a fist down on the magic alarm clock by his bed. He sat straight up and stared down at the timepiece. Seven O’Clock? Rats!

Whipping aside the curtain to the four poster, he flicked his wand and began a lightning-fast morning routine.

Blaise Zabini stared at Harry as his toothbrush worked itself around his gums while a brush started to lather up for a shave that probably wasn’t necessary, but was damn well going to happen regardless.

“Never seen you up this late,” the Italian-born wizard remarked.

Harry’s pyjamas ripped themselves from his body on his way to the shower.

He’d only had a few hours to work with the memory block, but in that time, he’d worked the many locks and chains down to the point where very little force would be required to bust the memory open. He wasn’t going to do that, of course – the only one capable of putting a memory charm on himself was him—he was sure the memory charm wasn’t from before his time traveling—and he trusted himself – but he also was sure that he’d have put contingencies in place for if or when he’d need the memory in future, and if or when that time ever came, he wasn’t about to waste hours tinkering in his mind. No, he was going to bust that sucker open the moment he knew it was time.

That did mean his schedule this morning was going to be a lot tighter than normal. And luck had chosen possibly the worst day imaginable for him to discover such an important nugget of information about his own psyche.

Enspelling mouthwash into his mouth while a fluffy towel dried him from the flowing water, Harry walked out of the shower as his clothes dressed him and shrugged. “Had a late night,” he remarked absently, before sweeping out of the boy’s second-year dorm and towards the common room.

As he passed through the common-room, Alex jolted up from where she’d been bent over a writing desk with a parchment and quill, furiously writing away, furtively shoved the parchment into a pocket, transformed into her grim form, and trotted to his side.

As he exited the portal, he found Luna on the other side, who latched onto him, crying about the injustice of the awful punishment she’d been forced to endure, before perking up, petting Alex, and falling into step on his other side.

As they passed the Hogwarts Entrance Way, Ginny jogged into view through one of the windows and joined them, sweaty and out of breath, through the main doorway, wearing workout clothes and carrying a broom, clearly just back from a morning workout.

And as they made their way towards the Great Hall, they heard a loud commotion coming from the corridor that led to the library, followed not long after by Hermione, trailing a dozen harried-looking muggleborns, all carrying books and parchments up to their necks.

With Harry in the center of the four girls—plus the muggleborns behind them, the doors to the Great Hall swung open, and all heads turned.

The usual chatting from student to student dropped as they entered, but quickly picked up again, albeit with a rather more conspiratorial tone.

“They’re all going to the Wizengamot.”

“Bloody nobles.”

“Granger’s muggleborn.”

“I actually forgot that.”

“You think they’ll be expelled?”

“Lord Slytherin would never allow it.”

“Yeah, but Lovegood’s a buggering Tyrannosaurus. And Potter’s a Chimera!”

“He beat a whole dueling team single-handed. What does it matter if he’s also a Chimera?”

“You really have no clue, do you?”

“What about Weasley? Think she’ll be allowed to join the England Squad?”

“Not before Black joins the National Duelling Team.”

“Quidditch is more important than duelling.”

“Is not.”

“Is to.”

“Is not!”

“Is to!”

“You people do realize the most important thing is the Muggle Protection Act, right?”

“Shhh… They’ll hear you!”

Daphne Greengrass, sat at the head of the Slytherin table, stood as Harry neared — an act that none of the politically savvy children sitting around the table, which was pretty much all of them, would fail to notice.

The fact that Harry, as Slytherin’s protégé, seemed to be the deafacto leader of the Slytherin students, even though he had never played any of the traditional power games in the Slytherin Common Room, hadn’t gone unnoticed either.

Daphne Greengrass officially had a more solid claim to the title of leader of the Gray Students. It sort of made sense why she might defer to him, given Potter’s sheer ridiculous magical power, though many speculated on how happy she could be about this, given that she was supposed to be Slytherin’s betrothed, and therefore, should technically outrank him.

Alexandra Black’s deference to Potter made even less sense. Black had more than equaled Potter’s performance on the Duelling field, given that she’d actually won her tournament, while Harry’s run had been stalled by the ‘accident’ with his brother. So why this witch, who officially ruled the Dark students of Slytherin house, through trickery and subterfuge, could be seen practically glued to Potter’s side, whenever Potter actually deigned to be in the Castle at all, was a curiosity.

Some suspected a secret betrothal between the houses of Potter and Black. Perhaps signed when they were still babies. Maybe when the two lords had been drunk. Or as a secret alliance to secure the houses while Voldemort was still at large — that Harry had been sent away to be secretly trained… in secret… and that Black had grown up knowing that she would one day meet her true love — that their first meeting had been a disaster, but that the Black Princess had learned to see the human side of the cold and calculating machine that was Harry James Potter — or that Gringotts had stepped in and provided the proof of their betrothal before the parents had been ready to reveal it, which led to the schism between them and now Potter was a secret agent working for the Department of Mysteries and Black was actually the secret protege of Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel, sent to bring justice and freedom to all!

Although by this point, the ‘some’ had slowly turned into just one fifth-year wizard who enjoyed reading ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ fan-fiction, which had recently started being posted as a weekly supplement by the Quibbler, to the general surprise of all — with the official approval of Headmaster Lockhart, of course.

Alexandra Black shifted from her Grim form and sat down next to Marigold Chesterfield, one of Hermione’s Muggleborns who’d been carrying one of the largest stacks of books and parchments from the library.

“I have everything we need, Harry,” Hermione said proudly, whipping the first book off Marigold’s pile and showing him a book of common Wizarding law so full of little sticky markers that there were literally more sticky markers than pages. “Whatever they throw at us, I’ll be ready.”

“As will I,” Daphne stated firmly. “I too, have prepared everything we need.” She tapped the side of her head. “I know I have made tactical and strategic mistakes in the past,—” This got a round of surprised looks from the Slytherins less in the know— “but this time, nothing will get past me.”

Violet Chesterfield charmed a slice of toast to start buttering itself.

“Absolutely nothing.”

Marigold happily bit into a breakfast sausage.

“I swear.”

Harry looked into Daphne’s eyes, so full of fire, a stark contrast from the ice-princess persona she usually wore. “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied.

He looked between Daphne and Hermione. “I’ll be relying on you two for information. We won’t be able to use our ‘special comms devices’—he refrained from saying ‘ear mirrors’ in front of the general student body—“in the Wizengamot itself, so I’ll also need you to play owl.”

True, they also had their morse code rings, but they were limited in the sophistication of the messages that could be sent, the time it took to send them, and who could send and receive.

Daphne and Hermione both nodded.

“Alex, Ginny, and Luna,” I’ll just wish you the best of luck.

All three nodded.

“Oh, man, I’m so jealous!” Tracey Davis whined. “I wish I could go on an adventure like this!”

Draco snorted. “Standing in front of the Wizengamot while they stare at you like a dangerous creature isn’t all that fun. Trust me.”

For the rest of breakfast, Slytherin’s chosen students ate under a constant stream of stares, whispers, and speculation from the rest of the student body and by the time all of them were done, Ginny had changed into something a little more suitable, the owls had arrived, informing them, that, “THE WILD WIZENGAMOT WEEKEND STARTS TODAY!” and the high table had cleared out of most of the teachers, except for the headmaster, who’d been eyeing Harry almost all breakfast the way a tourist without a car might eye a lion without a meal.

Harry pushed his chair back. “It is time.”

And indeed, the six of them only got a few meters down the hallway outside, when the door back to the great hall opened again and Lockhart stumbled out and towards them.

“Um, Harry, I—” Headmaster Lockhart began, before stopping at the realization that six pairs of young eyes were now staring up at him.

He jerkily motioned Harry to whispering distance, meeting him more than halfway there. “Is it okay to talk about ‘stuff’—he put extra emphasis on the word—in front of them?”

Harry looked back at Daphne, Hermione, Luna, Ginny, and Alex, then gave the man a deadpan look. “You’re the one writing my biography. You should know.” Which wasn’t entirely fair. He’d given Lockhart a version of events, sure, but, obviously, not everything that he and the girls had done was going to make it in. In fact, there were going to be quite a few rather large deviations from reality.

“Ah, right. Yes,” Lockhart babbled. “I suppose that means yes. Yes, of course I can talk about ‘Stuff’ in front of your Hera—errr, people.” He quickly bit off the word ‘Harem’. “Okay. I just thought you should know,” he continued. “It’s the Ministry. They’re really not happy about the whole ward situation with Hogwarts. You know, you still haven’t given back control—after the basilisk thing—and as Headmaster, I think, that is, I thought, that is, it might be a good idea…” He trailed off in the face of Harry’s stare.

“It will be fine,” Harry eventually said. “I have matters in hand.”

“Will I still be Headmaster next year?” Lockhart asked, sounding defeated.

Harry floated up in the air and put a hand on Lockhart’s shoulder. “If you’re not, I promise I will not leave you hanging. A talent like yours is wasted writing children’s adventure books.”

Alex pouted but didn’t butt in.

“How is our little project going, by the way?”

At the mention of his current most lucrative contract, Lockhart’s spirits rose significantly. “Very well, actually! I think I’ve cracked how we’re going to spin this for maximum effect! I must admit, figuring out how to sell… you”—he hesitated briefly before plowing on—“and what you are without making the world piss its pants isn’t easy, but I’m sure I’ve got it now!”

“Good. How long before we have a first draft?”

“One month!”

“Excellent.”

Now joined by Lockhart, they continued onwards, making their way towards the headmaster’s office, when they were intercepted by a predictable pairing.

“Can I help you?” Harry asked as Professors Potter and Snape met them halfway down a corridor.

“I’m hear to take you to the Wizengamot,” Lily said in a voice that sounded so tense it could snap at any moment. “You do need an adult.”

There was an awkward silence. Well, it was awkward for Lily, Harry suspected. All of his girls were glaring at her — saving Luna, who’s look suggested she was trying to imagine how flexible his mother might be if hogtied to a roof beam. At least, that’s the kind of thing he assumed she was thinking. Even now, he could never really tell.

“I do already have an adult to escort us,” he eventually replied.

Lily’s face fell.

“Buuuutttt.” Harry continued slowly, an idea occurring to him, “If you wanted to exercise your parental responsibilities as a magical guardian, I can think of some ways that could be useful.”

Snape gave Lily a warning look, but Lily completely ignored it. “I’ll do anything!” she gushed.

Right next to him, Luna giggled.

Damn it, Luna, not now!

Thankfully, she didn’t make any other comment.

“Then join us,” Harry answered Lily’s statement imperiously.

The older redhead looked like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing as she stepped and turned into the group’s little formation.

Snape regarded them with a cool eye. His gaze took in the scene, Harry in the middle of a small crowd of witches, plus Lockhart, with Luna on one side and Daphne on the other.

“You need to be careful, Potter,” he said, now explicitly focusing his eyes on him. The words didn’t feel like a threat. More like a statement of fact. “Will you hear advice from your old head of house?”

“...Go on.”

Snape pointed at Luna on his left.

“She, is the betrothed of your mentor, Lord Slytherin.”

He then pointed at Daphne on his right.

“She is also betrothed to your mentor.”

He then pointed directly at him.

“The way you stand now, in many noble circles, would constitute a claim of ownership over these two witches. While you may believe you have Lord Slytherin’s complete confidence, do not fall into the trap of complacency. The Jealousy of men can be a terrible thing.”

Harry thought about this.

Then he thought about his mother standing behind him.

Then he bowed.

“Thank you for your advice. I accept it in the spirit it was offered.”

Snape nodded. “Then I wish you the best of luck at the Wizengamot.” And with that, he turned and swept away.

The group soon found themselves in the Headmaster’s office, having been joined by Lady Sunny Greengrass, Daphne’s mother, at the Gargoyle at the bottom of the stairs.

Sunny threw a pinch of floo powder into the fire and gestured Harry forward.

Harry walked into the flames.

“The Ministry!“

Once everyone was through, the office fell back into silence.

Ten minutes later, John Potter and Susan Bones arrived at the Gargoyle outside.

“Hey, why’s Mum not here?!”

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