The New Bill

Chapter 26. The New Bill

It was just another morning at Hogwarts. Harry was sitting with the Hufflepuffs for breakfast, idly picking at his food while casting furtive glances at the Slytherin table, where Tracey was whispering and snickering beside Daphne.

The quiet blonde didn't seem to show much reaction, but the small smile and an occasional eye-roll were enough to tell him that she didn't mind Tracey's bubbly personality.

Two weeks had passed this way since Harry returned to the castle for his fifth year. And his relationship with his best friend remained estranged. She was back to her animated self, though, and did not act morose anymore. That was good… or was it? He couldn't decide if he should be relieved or depressed.

A summer away from him was all it took her to bounce back and forget about him.

Had he been that insignificant to her?

Well, it was his own fault, the consequence of his own choice. He did not deserve to feel jealous and disappointed; he could not without sounding narcissistic. He could not expect her to be forever miserable because of last year's drama. It was fine that she had moved on and was back to her usual self. He was glad to see her happy.

If only he could've convinced her to rejoin their group, then everything would have been golden. He wouldn't even have minded suffering Daphne's presence. Just being able to remain friends with Tracey would've been nice. But when he cornered her earlier and offered this olive branch, she flat-out said no, revealing that she had joined the Slytherin group and that she could not risk associating with him.

That had stung; he was not going to lie, her decision of joining the snobby Slytherins over him. But that was her choice, and it was—

The sudden eruption of pandemonium pulled him out of his head. Most students were already cursing or swearing, while some were on the verge of tears. One Gryffindor girl even broke down into heart-wrenching sobs, crying for her father.

Harry looked around wide-eyed, not knowing what just happened.

"Here." Susan pushed the Daily Prophet before him, her hand shaking.

A DECLARATION OF WAR?

Godric's Hollow No More, Bombed By The Muggles

His eyes roved through the text, and the more he read, the more confused he became. Why would the muggle government bomb a tiny village in the boonies? It didn't make a lick of sense. Their own muggle government wouldn't do it; that would invite a revolt. Maybe some foreign nation did it. But even then, he couldn't understand why anyone would target Godric's Hollow. It was nothing in the grand scheme of things. It was only important to the magicals for its rich cultural and historical value.

He glanced at Tracey again and saw her terrified visage. Things might get difficult for her in the house of snakes after this. While most Slytherins reluctantly accepted her following the reveal that she was related to the Greengrass family, few fanatics still remained with their disgust for anything impure.

For a brief moment—very brief moment—he considered leaving her to the sharks as a punishment for abandoning him. But when she caught his gaze, he could not help but nod, and was gratified to see how quickly she relaxed at his assurance. They weren't on talking terms yet, but he still considered her his best friend, and it would be a cold day in hell if he allowed anyone to pick on her.

~xXxXx~

The chamber was filling fast; one half of it was covered by tiered seating arrangements for the members, and the other half was an empty floor reserved for the petitioner or accused.

The Wizengamot usually convened every other month to pass or review laws. Sometimes it even presided over high-profile criminal cases sent over to them by the Council of Magical Law. Though that happened quite rarely since it was, at its core, a legislative body rather than a judicial one.

There were around fifty members whose votes would decide the outcome of any petition. Forty-five of these were hereditary seats, created and given to the olden noble families whose existence even preceded the country's. The last five remaining seats were awarded to those who had earned influence and fame by their deeds, and these were voted on and changed every five years.

'If James Potter had wanted, he could have recreated the Wizengamot to be more democratic when he became Minister. He could have distributed the power to the people if he wished; he had unprecedented authority and opportunity to do so,' Narcissa thought, perching on her chair with an elegance that drew many wandering eyes. 'But bribing and threatening fifty members was far easier than controlling an entire mass of fickle sheep. And like any rational leader, he made the right decision.'

"Good day, Mrs. Greengrass." She smiled politely.

Her neighbour squirmed in her seat, tapping her finger on the armrest. "Do you think we will go to war, Miss Black?"

Tina Greengrass née Wood was once one of the most sought-out beauties in wizarding Britain. Her long, luxuriant blonde hair had made even Narcissa burn with envy, and her naturally full, curvaceous body was prone to constant lustful attention. Many men had vied for her hand, wishing to gain her attention, desiring to marry such an alluring noble woman. However, she had been too sweet and innocent to take advantage of her beauty, and her family fiercely protected her virtue, treating it as a prized possession. They were driven by their ambition to secure her a marriage in a distinguished household, in order to elevate their social standing.

But then the war came, and they got their wish, albeit in a twisted way.

Most of the Wood family were murdered in a Death Eater raid led by Harold Greengrass. And he was already notorious for the unspeakable deeds he committed against women. So it came as no surprise when Tina was despoiled. It was a dark time, and people were too busy saving their own skin to offer her any help. And the very men who previously craved her attention spurned her away, suddenly not finding her attractive.

In the end, an amused Harold Greengrass offered her marriage when he found out she was pregnant. It was more of a killing blow than mercy, binding the wretched woman forever to her misery. And Tina Wood could do nothing but accept it, marrying her tormentor.

Narcissa had been glad when Harold was sentenced to Azkaban to suffer under the Dementors. That man deserved nothing less than to be tortured by the soul-sucking monsters until he became a husk of his former self.

Many women had suffered similar fates in the last war, and while Narcissa was a traditionalist through and through, she had never been so relieved to see her own side lose and condemned. There was a difference between staying true to tradition and using it to commit barbaric acts. It was obvious what any sane person would choose.

Even now, she did her best to maintain their rich culture with the few who listened to her, namely her Slytherin pupils. But she never advocated practising cruelty towards others to feel superior. They were already superior; there was no need to become an animal and lose their superiority. Alas, few of her pupils couldn't understand this simple fact, which created problems for everyone.

"I can't say. It will depend on the Minister." Narcissa leaned back in her seat, observing the crowd with a sharp gaze. It was the truth; everything would happen as the Minister wished, and all they could do was offer a token fight before complying.

Politics was a dirty game, and for all his holier-than-thou attitude, James Potter was a master of it. The man had single-handedly crippled the traditionalist faction, locking all Death Eaters and sympathisers in Azkaban and creating a power vacuum to his advantage, leaving their women and children to fend for themselves.

If Narcissa hadn't decided to join him for the Horcrux gathering, her faction would've become extinct in the past decade. Now, he had even her under his control and the traditionalist faction through her. Every single member here was trapped in a web James Potter had spun from the day Hogsmeade was massacred. He had kept gaining power and influence until he was on top. He had the entire Wizengamot under his thumb. And she couldn't help but respect him for that.

There were rarely few special ones who had such ambitions and the means to realise them.

She looked on as Dumbledore arrived, taking his seat in the separate section away from them. And slightly below the Chief Warlock's podium, adjoined with it, were three empty seats: one for the Minister, one for his undersecretary, and one for the head of DMLE.

It seemed everyone but the Minister and his ilk were here. Even the public gallery was brimming with common folks and news reporters. Her eyes narrowed when she noticed the international press. The entire magical community's attention would be on this meeting. It was going to be a lot bigger affair than she had expected it to be.

A sudden hush fell over when Brenda Strongheart, Amelia Bones, and James Potter hurried into the cavernous chamber. The two women took their seats quickly beneath Chief Warlock's, while James remained on the floor, standing straight with a scowl on his face.

Dumbledore brought down the gavel and began the emergency session.

"As you all know by now, Godric's Hollow was bombed last night. From what we have investigated, dozens of muggle fighter planes flew over the village and dropped explosives," He said through gritted teeth, putting his arms behind his back, not concealing his displeasure. "Not a single man, woman, or child survived. There's only ruins where Godric Gryffindor was born."

The chamber surged with angered shouts; everyone was yelling and cursing the nameless enemy, unable to contain their sorrow. It was not long before a single question pierced through the incensed clamour. "Who did it?"

James paced back and forth under everyone's expectant gaze. "We don't know. Our muggle counterparts are confused themselves. According to them, no enemies breached the Isles' airspace. And they refuse to accept that it might be their own military. It's a maddening situation where we can't do anything due to the lack of proof."

The rageful crowd was back—indignant and dissatisfied. Narcissa herself was barely holding back her fury. First it was Hogsmeade, and now it was Godric's Hollow. She was starting to wonder if it was really a coincidence or if someone was aiming to eradicate the magicals from the face of the planet. And that very thought made her blood boil. They have survived for thousands of years, and she refused to lie down and take it from these inferior muggles.

But screaming like a banshee would only mar her reputation. And giving in to her instinct to blow off some steam wouldn't be productive in the least. Sure, it would make her feel better, but the dire circumstances would remain the same. No, letting her anger cloud her senses wasn't a viable option.

"I hope that's not your final verdict, Minister. Or else I would start doubting my decision to vote for you," she said calmly, and it echoed louder than the resentful grumblings.

A stunned silence ensued, and many looked at her as if she were committing a political suicide in broad daylight. It wasn't everyday that someone challenged the Minister so boldly and openly, after all. For all his honour, James Potter was, in the end, a tyrant.

Unbeknownst to them, it wasn't an actual challenge but a prompt to allow him to answer, to allow him to rage and join the masses, and to give him a chance to connect with them. And as the two glared at one another, the glimmer in his eye displayed his appreciation.

"Your lack of confidence wounds me, my lady." He chuckled mirthlessly, not hiding his frayed temper, scanning everyone with confidence and peering at them with a fiery glower. "I pulled our dying nation from the brink of destruction. It was me who was prepared to give up mine and my family's lives for this nation—to end Voldemort. It was me who doggedly pursued every Death Eater scum and threw them into Azkaban to rot. It was me who brought equality and justice to every citizen. It was me who ended the long tradition of pureblood supremacy. It was me who funded innovation and brought prosperity to this nation by mixing magic and technology. Do I look like someone who'd turn a blind eye to this sickening genocide?"

Everyone was quiet, and then they roared. "NO!"

James nodded and roared back, "The muggle government is incompetent! They can't decide what is their mouth and what is their arse! But I won't pay for their incompetence. I won't let my people suffer because of their corrupt monarchy and government. I won't let them tell me what to do. We have lived with them under an unwritten contract. 'You take care of your own, and I'll take care of mine'. It isn't the first time we have butted heads, but it is the first time they've refused to take responsibility. Will I lower my head and shrug off this slight? Fuck no!"

Everyone jumped to their feet and hollered in approval. Even Narcissa was among them, filled with a sudden burst of pride that she couldn't explain. This was a man made to govern, to rule—a competent, ruthless man prepared to do anything for his people. She was brimming with such devotion that she'd have kissed him if he were near. He would be a perfect man if he were a traditionalist.

"The muggle government might not have swung the sword that killed my people. But their inadequacy did put the sword in the wrong hands. My people have died. My people have felt pain. My children have lost their mothers and fathers. My people have suffered. And they dare to tell me to shove it under the rug? They dare to tell me to control my people? The fucking dare to tell me how to serve my nation? Do I look like someone who would bend over to their whim?"

"NO!" She shrieked along with everyone. The inferior muggles, who revered a monarchy with a bloodline younger than most magical nobilities, dared to order them around! How did they get so arrogant? What gave them the authority to belittle their betters? She would not stand for it. She would fight in the war herself if she had to.

A sudden realisation finally sank in.

It had never been about whose blood was pure. It was always about whose blood had magic. These pitiful muggles had forgotten their roots. They worshipped a foreign God and ridiculed those true Britons as pagans. These people were no longer Britons. They were no longer their people. They were just an inferior breed whose memory was so short that they rejected truth as mythology and believed in falsehoods. Perhaps they shared a similar race, but their hearts would never be the same. Magicals and muggles could never coexist. It was impossible.

As the mollified crowd took back their seats, as the people stared at their Minister, the Chief Warlock spoke up. "What are your plans, Minister?"

She was astounded to see Dumbledore's old grey eyes, eager and full of vengeance. She had thought he would be the one person trying to pacify both sides. His pacifism was well known to all. But perhaps even his limit had been crossed. A person can only take so much beating before he is forced to change his tune. And a second massacre was less of a beating and more of a public beheading. If even Dumbledore wasn't trying to rein everyone in, then their cause was surely beyond noble and clear of any doubt.

James remained silent for an entire minute and simply looked at them, waiting for them to quiet down, waiting for a pin-drop silence. "Has anyone ever thought about why I go to such lengths for my country?" He asked softly, pacing before them once again, his eyes shining with pride.

He continued when no one interrupted him. "I mean, I'm sure that quite a few of you must have been disgusted by me when I gambled my family's life in a bid to end the Dark Lord. No matter how noble a cause, one's family is always dearest to him. So was—is mine."

Narcissa looked around, and just like her, others were uncertain where he was going with this. Yes, a handful of people must have been enraged to see a man commit such an act, but in the end, everyone was just relieved to see the Dark Lord gone. And the safety of their own family had made them view James Potter as a patriotic hero rather than a heartless man.

He nodded at their hesitant faces. "I wouldn't begrudge my own position. You see, my father revealed to me a secret on his deathbed. He told me something that changed my entire worldview. And with that secret came a responsibility so heavy that I'm still struggling under it. I watched with a broken heart as my first wife rightfully left me. I was forced to stay away from my firstborn. All of this because of this responsibility. And sometimes I hate it, but most of the time I feel too proud to ignore it."

She wasn't the only one leaning forward to hear this secret. The Minister's voice had gotten quieter by the end. And every neck was craned, and every pair of eyes were fixed on him. Every reporter's quill was trembling in excitement, ready to write the secret that had forced such hefty responsibility on Minister Potter.

"My father revealed that the Potters are the direct descendants of King Arthur. He said that he will come back from our bloodline. He said that the King will be reborn when his people need him the most. He promised me that Avalon will rise. He promised me the King's undying kingdom will be a paradise for us once again," James Potter whispered, but every single word echoed in the vast chamber. And all they could do was stare at him open-mouthed. "I thought this divine messianic figure would come in the future. I thought it my duty to take care of his country in the meantime. So I did everything to bring peace and advancement to a country that will one day be the Kingdom of Arthur. I considered everyone mine. My family didn't only consist of my wife and child; no, it contained every magical Briton."

Narcissa's heart raced, her mouth dried up, her belly tingled, and goosebumps covered every inch of her skin. She couldn't stop the quaking of her legs and pushed her palms down on her knees to stop them from tapping against the floor.

Potters were the direct descendants of King Arthur? It might be a lie, but it might be true too. Their bloodline was old enough to be connected to the legendary ruler.

"Is he lying? You must be thinking." He laughed in a hollow manner, examining their disbelieving reaction. "I am not. I myself have doubted this fact, questioning whether it was real or a dying man's ramblings. That was until something happened. That was until I realised I am King Arthur reborn himself."

…

Under everyone's stupefied stare, he raised his right arm upward. Something shimmered, and then he was holding a blinding sword. A sword so beautiful that it could buy everything. The silver blade shone, and the golden hilt radiated a dazzling light. Her heart dropped in her stomach as a wave of energy slammed into her. She freezed and almost toppled from her chair, but she held onto the armrest and gaped at the sword.

Excalibur.

It must be the Excalibur. There was no doubt about it. The magic radiating from it was dense; she feared her body would burst if she went near it. The aura was so strong and potent that a few members passed out from the sheer overload of magic. They lay on the ground, saliva gurgling from their open mouths.

She clutched the armrests and held onto them, doing everything not to fall unconscious.

Then he slammed the sword right into the floor and caused an earthquake that unseated everyone. Narcissa lurched from her chair and stumbled on her hands and knees, unable to stand up with the weight of the sword's aura pressing down on her shoulders. If there had been any doubt about his claims, then it was gone now.

"This sword made me realise I am the messiah Britain was waiting for. And I will create Avalon for you with any means necessary."

And just like that, the sword disappeared and took the suffocating pressure with it. James Potter stood before a crack that ran through the floor and up to the stand, where everyone was on their knees. People made their way back to their chairs and slumped down dazedly. Narcissa wished she could say she was different, but she too dropped into her chair ungainly.

The recipient of the awed looks waved his hand, and files flew around from his undersecretary's desk. By the end of it, everyone had one file in their laps.

"I've been creating islands around the world since the moment I took office, having feared what would happen if the Statue of Secrecy broke. The archipelago where we will reside is situated in the centre of the Atlantic Ocean, away from all other nations. It is an extensively planned country that has been in the works for years. There are a total of thirteen islands that can contain a population of about half a billion. My plan is to withdraw from the ICW and finally come out of hiding. We won't conceal who we are anymore. We won't be under the mercy of the muggle government, which can't protect us. We will live by our rules in our own sovereign nation of Avalon." He proposed and got an expected flurry of questions.

"But what about our house and land?"

"What about security? Can we defend ourselves from the muggles?"

"What about Hogwarts? What about Diagon Alley?"

"What about other magical nations? Would they allow us to break the Statue of Secrecy?"

"What about the parents of the muggleborns?"

"Silence!" Dumbledore used the gavel. "Minister, answer the questions."

James sighed and conjured a chair before plopping down in it. "I know it is sudden, but it is needed. If not this decade, then the next will be the end of the Statue of Secrecy. Muggles have gotten too advanced to hide from. As for your questions, we have abundant houses and land in Avalon. What you will get will depend on what you have. As for defence, I've prepared weapons that would make others hesitate to violate our sovereignty. Yes, I have nuclear weapons and a well-trained army. That should be enough to give us protection—"

His voice was lost in another flurry of hysterical questions.

Narcissa ignored the commotion and began reading the bill. This event was indeed bigger than she had expected, and it was obviously an understatement. But whatever happened, she would try to get all the benefits from it. A nation for only magicals sounded like a dream come true.

~xXxXx~

In the public gallery, invisible to everyone's perception, stood Lily. She was using the Magiscape, her tendrils, to connect with everyone in the chamber. It was the first time she had created hundreds of thin tendrils at once, but her power appeared to not have a limit. Even with an umpteen number of minds under her control, she didn't feel any fatigue. It was as easy as controlling one person.

She rolled her eyes at James' speech, which must be a mixture of truths and lies, and instigated necessary emotions in everyone. She fanned the flames of their rage when needed. She dampened their disbelief at his claims. She infused them with sympathy for his difficult situation. And she heightened their awe and admiration.

Of course, nothing was hallucination. There were cameras here, after all. She only controlled their emotions. A sword did materialise in his hand after his proclamation. Was it Excalibur? No, it was a heavily enchanted and truly powerful blade, but it had no divine powers. Here, she filled their minds with so much wonder and intimidation that some passed out.

Everything went as planned, and by the end of the meeting, everyone was in favour of passing the bill. Everyone was prepared to leave the country for a new one. But since it was such a massively important bill, it would take a couple of more meetings to iron things out. Her work here was done. She had suffused their minds with all the right emotions, and it wouldn't dissipate once she stopped. This session would live in their minds until their deaths, and James could count on their reverence and admiration.

When James summoned her earlier and asked her if she was strong enough to manipulate people's feelings after the enhancement to her magic, she said yes. And here she was now, paying up. Of course, she did not go into details of her 'spells', and he was fine with being ignorant of her methods if he got his desired results.

She was no longer indebted to him. They were even now.