Greengrass vs. Potter

Lord Jacob Greengrass, of the Ancient and Noble house of Greengrass, was looking through Flourish and Blotts for the latest edition of Who's Who of Magical Britain.

"Good day, Lord Greengrass," said a voice behind him. He turned and found himself face to face with the all too familiar face of Lord James Potter.

"Good day, Lord Potter," he said, his voice making it clear it had just become less so.

"I was wondering if you've given any more thought to supporting the upcoming bill on restricting dangerous artefacts?" The man smiled the smug smile that he wanted to hex off every time he saw it. "You know it's something that has to be done."

"I still know nothing of the sort, Lord Potter. Perhaps I'd be more willing to support such a bill if what it defined as a 'dangerous artefact' wasn't worded as to potentially include such things as quills and trunks."

"Oh, come on. It's not that bad. And we have to give the ministry some room to interpret the law as needed for the situation." Lord Potter gestured to the figure of Lord Sirius Black, chief auror of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, who was standing and chatting to his Lady Greengrass.

"Yes. That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're asking us to ratify a bill that would give him," Jacob nodded towards Black, "the power to confiscate any item at all, on his own discretion."

"Oh nonsense, there will be safeguards."

Jacob suppressed a snort. "To be decided upon later no doubt? Preferably when Merlin returns from beyond the veil, no — I'm sorry Lord Potter. The neutrals, as we seem to be known, will not be supporting this bill — not until it includes sensible wording, safeguards, and a specific list of prohibited items."

Lord Potter's eyes narrowed. "We're going to win this, you know."

"I know you're going to try."

"You think we aren't aware of how much of the Greengrass wealth comes from items of dubious legality."

"There is nothing we trade in that is not legal."

"Only because of loopholes in the law." Potter's voice lowered. "Loopholes that you are trying to stop us fixing."

He sighed, frustrated. "The so called loopholes you speak of are not loopholes, they are exemptions, put in the law for good reasons. And now, if you'll excuse me, I really have to find this book and be on my way."

Lord Potter straightened, but couldn't quite suppress a sneer. "Of course, Lord Greengrass." He left.

Jacob stared after the man who was now fussing over his son, John Potter, the much worshiped Boy-Who-Lived. A small girl with weasley-red hair was hanging off the boy's arm.

"How was your conversation with Lord Potter, Dear?"

He turned and beheld the most beautiful woman in the universe. "Still a sanctimonious git," he said. "I'm really not feeling great about this bill."

"Oh?" His wife, the Lady Sunny Greengrass, took his arm, and gently led him away from the bustle, towards a quieter nook.

"Our position is worsening. In the last year we've lost Parkinson to Malfoy, and Abbott to Potter. How much more can we take until there is no one left to fight for a sane world?"

"We are doing everything we can, my love."

Lord Greengrass sighed. He knew that was true. He was pulling out everything he had to shore up the rag tag alliance that was the neutral faction, no matter how distasteful.

"How did Daphne react when you told her?" he asked.

Sunny's smile faded. "She was… less than pleased."

Jacob winced. He loved his girls with all his heart, and to do what he was doing tore him up. But what choice did he have? If the alliance fell apart the Greengrass family was finished. Politically, socially, financially, and, if they chose the wrong side in any potential war, physically. Over a thousand years of history, gone. And it would all be his fault.

He desperately wanted to change the subject. "How was your conversation with Black?"

"Oh, he's his usual loud self." She smirked, looking over a nearby shelf towards the wizards of the Light. "Although, it does seem he may be having a problem with his beloved daughter."

"Oh?"

"Apparently, she's starting to get dangerous ideas." The smirk widened. "She keeps asking questions about the morality of magic, about why some magic is classified as dark and others as light."

"Oh yes," he said, starting to smirk as well.

"Her Daddy is worried she may be going down a dark and dangerous path."

"A Black? Walking the path of dark magic? Surely not."

"Apparently his biggest worry is that she'll get sorted into Slytherin, and he'll lose his little baby girl forever." Sunny was barely holding back laughter now.

Jacob craned his neck over the nearby shelf and spied the distinctive long, black hair of Alexandra Black. While most of the Potters, Blacks, and the Weasley hanger-on were grouped together, laughing and being loud, the Black heiress was on her own, and if his memory of Flourish and Blotts served him, was in a less than light section of the bookshop.

"I suppose it would be too much to hope that we could drag her into our camp," he said.

"Well, she is just a year below our Daphne, and a year above Astoria, so if she gets sorted into Slytherin, it's not impossible."

"I just hope we last that long."

"We will." She kissed him on the cheek.

Ten minutes later, after finding and buying the book, Lord and Lady Greengrass walked back down Diagon Alley to the Leaky Cauldron floo connection. He'd entered the pub, and was about to reach for the floo powder after his wife, when a man approached him.

"Lord Greengrass, of the Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass?"

"Yes?" Jacob answered.

The man was hooded — his face, hidden.

"I was wondering if I might impose upon you for a chat at some point in the not too distant future? I have something to discuss with you that will be of interest."

He was about to firmly rebuff the unknown, hooded gentleman when the man brought his empty hands to his front and very deliberately rubbed the back of his hand, drawing attention to a ring that appeared on his finger. Jacob's eyes bulged.

It was a head of house ring, but that wasn't what shocked him.

'No,' he thought, his brain struggling to make sense of what he was seeing. 'The line's lost. It's been lost for centuries.' But there was no mistaking it. Every boy and girl who'd spent seven years in the snake pit could draw that crest by memory, blindfolded.

Then his brain finally caught up with his eyes, and he remembered who the most probable candidate for heir to the Slytherin line had been. He gulped.

"No, I am not he," the man said, presumably seeing the fear that must have leaked onto his face through his occlumency barriers.

"…But, you are…?" he looked at the ring again.

"Yes."

"What do you want to talk about?"

"I know of the situation you face in the Wizengamot. I believe that I hold the answers to many, if not most of your problems."

Lord Greengrass looked at the man, properly this time. The black robes, tinted with green, and tastefully embroidered at the edges with silver, were of the finest acromantula silk, and below the robes he caught glimpses of dragon hide. What little the man displayed screamed wealth, power, and sophistication. "I would be honoured to welcome you into my home, at two o'clock tomorrow, if that suits your fancy."

"It does, Lord Greengrass." And with a short bow, he turned and walked away, before disapparating with a loud 'crack!'

Jacob stared into space before realising Sunny was probably going mental on the other side of the floo. Although, now he thought about it, it was likely nothing to her reaction when she learned that they had less than twenty-four hours before they hosted Lord freak'n Slytherin.

.....

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