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Disclaimer: This story is based on characters, ideas, and situations created by JK Rowling and owned by her and her publishers. I own the original elements & characters. No money is being made by me, and no trademark or copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter XVIII
Thursday, November 30, 1995

Cornelius Fudge stomped into the Wizengamot meeting chamber and shouted at Dumbledore, "What is the meaning of this! You do not have the right to call an emergency meeting! You didn't have the right to call a meeting even when you were the head of Wizengamot!"

"I do have the authority, Mister Fudge," Dumbledore said.

"What did you call me?"

"I called you Mister Fudge, for you are no longer the Minister of Magic and Royal Wizard," Dumbledore said.

"I most certainly was NOT voted out of office!" Fudge shouted.

"True," Dumbledore agreed. "However, you must hold both positions. Her Majesty has dismissed you from the position of Royal Wizard, and refuses to accept you as Minister." By now, all talk in the chamber had died down.

At that moment, a man in ermine robes stepped into sight. Fudge's heart sank, for this was the head of the Queen's Magical Advisors. "Cornelius Fudge, you longer enjoy the confidence of Her Royal Britannic Majesty, Elizabeth the Second." He turned to the Wizengamot. "I have here the notice of discharge, and also a pardon for Sirius Orion Black, head of the Ancient and Noble Family of Black, who was illegally imprisoned by an executive order which was approved by this body."

Sirius stepped out of the shadows as well.

"New members may only be elected on the summer solstice," the man went on. "Until then, Her Majesty exercises her rights and calls to the Wizengamot Sirius Orion Black."*

All this finally set off an uproar from the stunned group. When it finally died down, the man went on, "Since you all seem to have either not taken the N.E.W.T. in History or slept through the relevant sections of the Seventh year, all this is well within the rights of the Monarch. In addition, since you did not select a Chief Warlock on the Autumnal Equinox, Her Majesty has reappointed Albus Dumbledore to serve until the next regular meeting, which will be the winter's solstice." Dumbledore smiled smugly. "Now, unless you wish for Her Majesty to appoint the next Minister as well, you have one hour to elect one."

The uproar that greeted this was even louder.

With all the noise around them, no one else heard Lord Severn when he leaned over to Dumbledore and said, "With luck, they'll yell for the next fifty-nine minutes."

Dumbledore smirked and created a sand-glass, which showed the time running out. Several fistfights broke out (fighting with magic was forbidden), as the factions started 'discussing' their options.


Friday, December 1, 1995

"Congratulations, Susan," Harry said, coming over to her as the slightly bewildered Hufflepuff came into the great hall. She had been called away from the Hufflepuff common room the night before, and had attended the rituals which installed her aunt as Minister of Magic and Royal Witch, and was just returning.

"How did . . . you're behind this?" Susan asked.

"In part," Harry said, not knowing that Hermione, Padma, and Luna were rolling their eyes at Harry's modesty, and signaling that he had a great deal to do with the fact that Madam Bones had been elected on the only ballot. (The Queen's Advisor had told the Wizengamot that Madam Bones was the Queen's choice with less than ten minutes to go on the imposed time limit. The vote had been 27-22, Sirius Black's vote being considered the deciding one, as custom had demanded that Madam Bones abstain. While 30 votes were needed to oust a Minister, it only took 27 votes to elect one.)

At that moment, the owls started arriving with mail, including The Prophet. "Good luck handling all the well-wishers," Harry said sincerely, extending his hand. While Susan had not given Harry her Oath (she had been worried that it might compromise her aunt's position), she had been very vocal in defending those who had, and Harry had always thought well of her.

Susan looked up into Harry's eyes as she took his hand with both of hers and said, "Help me . . . please?"

"Of course. May I tell our mutual friends your good news?" Susan nodded. "Ernie, Hannah?"

"So, now we'll find out where you've been since Professor Sprout called you away last night?" Hannah asked her best friend as the pair came over.

Susan nodded and looked at Harry.

"Fudge was sacked yesterday," Harry told them. "The Wizengamot wouldn't do it, so the Queen did, the first time that's happened since about 1820, when George IV was finally able to take over as king instead of regent. Her Majesty also exercised her Royal Prerogatives and reappointed Dumbledore to head the Wizengamot until their next regular meeting, and appointed my godfather, Sirius Black, until regular new members can be selected next summer. Susan's aunt was nominated by Her Majesty, and the Wizengamot approved, Twenty-seven to Twenty-two."

The Hufflepuffs were stunned. Susan started trembling, as she realized just how controversial her aunt's appointment was going to be.

Hermione stepped around and put one arm around Susan, while Harry the same from the other side, as he was concerned for his friend. "Obviously, some elements are not going to take this well. I know you're Susan's friends and would stand up for her anyway, but remind my supporters that this has my full support."

The two nodded, unsure what these new developments might mean but glad that Susan would have their lord's support. Luna placed a hand of Harry's shoulder, knowing that despite the appearance he was giving of confidence, inside he was trembling. This had been his idea, and therefore it was partially his responsibility if things did not work out.

"My lord?" Tracey Davis asked.

The tableaux of support broke apart. "Yes, Tracey?"

Tracey held out a copy of the newspaper. "May I ask your lordship's opinion of this morning's news?"

"It has my unconditional support," Harry said.

"I shall spread the word to your sworn Slytherins," Tracey said, bowing. Tracey then lost her formal manner and turned to Susan. "Congratulations on your aunt's appointment." The two hugged, and then Tracey went back to spread the word while Luna, Padma, and Hermione did the same at their tables (not that it was really needed, since everyone had seen what had just happened).

Harry walked up to the Headmaster, who was pouring himself hot chocolate. "Yes, Harry?"

"I understand things went as well as they did yesterday because of you," Harry said. "Thank you."

"And what do you think happens now?" Dumbledore asked.

"I hope the Ministry can organize a better response, including destroying any rogue dementors, if not all of them," Harry said.

"I meant within the Wizengamot itself, Harry."

"I'd look into purging some of the Darker members, but I don't know if that is really feasible," Harry retorted. "I also imagine you're deciding if you want to try and keep your old job."

"And if I do?"

"I only have influence with a few of the Wizengamot members, not a majority," Harry said. "As for the reforms I'm in favor of, about the only one that I know Sirius will be pushing are the werewolf law reforms. Anything else will likely have to wait until after Voldemort's gone."

"I am pleased that you are aware of that," Dumbledore said, dismissing Harry.

Harry smiled and left, already deciding to take the Coven's recommendation on supporting Charles Trowbridge, one of the Ancient and Most Noble members, to take Dumbledore's place. A long-retired auror, he was well-known for having both a disdain for the Muggle world but being against discrimination against the Muggle-born.

What few people knew was that Trowbridge's favorite great-nephew had been bitten by a werewolf back in the 1960s. The young man had been driven to suicide by the condition. (Those who knew included Trowbridge's niece, the boy's mother, who was a member of the Coven.) Trowbridge wanted to engage Voldemort nearly as much as Madam Bones, and was sympathetic to Sirius.

Sirius' membership could not be challenged until the next June, when the Wizengamot would vote to ratify his membership. Any opposition would need to draw the full thirty votes against him for him to be expelled.


Saturday, December 9, 1995

"Where are Hermione and Padma?" Harry asked. "I thought they were coming with me to see Hagrid after this?"

"They agreed to let me try something new, master," Luna said.

Harry blinked, and then he realized that Luna was asking to indulge her submissive side privately. She had had a few light spankings, but that had been as far as things had gone. "Like what?"

"Well, you know how I've been trying to deep throat you, master?" Luna pointed out.

"Of course," Harry agreed.

"I thought maybe you could just fuck my mouth and throat. . . ." Luna's face dropped as she saw Harry shake his head.

"I don't want to choke you, my love," Harry said gently.

"You're too gentle, my lord and master," Luna softly chided. "I am not that fragile and you are not that out of control."

"But you must remember that I have the alternative future to draw on," Harry reminded her. "You don't want me to fuck your mouth, you want me in your throat, blocking your air, with no possible safe word or action available. You want me to grip the back of your head, push into your throat, and block your air until you black out, just like you did after your mother died, and you experimented with hanging yourself."

Luna went very pale. "You know me too well, my lord."

"I know that the spell block that backfired and killed your mother made her choke to death," Harry said gently. "I know that it's one of your secret obsessions. So, if you really want to suck me hard and gag yourself on me again and again, I won't stop you. I won't help, because then we might go over the line. If you do it yourself, you can't."

Luna knelt before Harry and leaned against him. "I love you, Harry."

"And I love you."


"Harry. . . ."

"Yes, Hagrid?"

"Ya said I could talk with ya?"

Harry had met up with Hagrid at lunch as they had agreed, and they were walking towards his hut. "What's on your mind?"

"Harry, ya've been goin' inta the forest, haven't ya?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Don' fool, Harry," Hagrid warned. "Grawp's tol' me tha' a little wizard with black hair came an' talked with 'im." Hagrid stopped and looked squarely at Harry. "You told 'im tha' yer a Jack, didn' ya?"

"I did," Harry said, "and I showed him that I have the power to destroy a giant. I never want to, Hagrid. I swear I don't."

"He wouldn' tell me wha' ya did, but ya scared him."

"I scared the shit out of him," Harry said, "and I mean that literally." Harry shivered with disgust. "It was nasty."

"Well, I mus' say, he's better behaved," Hagrid allowed. "Ya did somthin' to Aragog and Bane, too, didn' ya?"

"I had a talk with them," Harry answered. "They should be avoiding Grawp. The centaurs are going to be retreating even deeper into the forest."

Hagrid nodded, understanding.


Saturday, December 23, 1995

A very angry Dumbledore was glaring at Harry as they ate their breakfasts.

"What's his problem?" Neville asked.

"He basically told me that politics was not any of my business, so when some people asked if I could support another candidate for chief warlock, I decided I could," Harry said.

"What? You mean Dumbledore was voted out yesterday?" Ron asked, surprised.

"Well, he only had a temporary appointment," Harry said. "By voting in someone else, they could unleash some of the frustrations the Queen caused by pointing out their proper job to them."

"What was the vote?" Neville asked, since the mail had not arrived yet.

"Charles Trowbridge got thirty-one; the Dark/Purist alternative, Percival Throckmorton, got eighteen; and Dumbledore got one, his own."

While they all rather liked and certainly admired Dumbledore, there's little a teenager likes more than to see an authority figure embarrassed. There was therefore a great deal of snickering that morning in the great hall.


Harry kissed two of his three lovers 'goodbye' at the station. He had discovered tracers had been put on their luggage, and after removing them and warning Mr. Lovegood and the Patils, he traveled with the Grangers just to make certain they weren't followed in some other way. Then Harry popped over to Grimmauld Place.


Christmas Eve

"What's wrong, Father?" Padma asked after tea. She would be leaving that evening at 9:00 via portkey to join Harry. Chandragupta beckoned his daughter into his study and shut the door. Padma sat on the small chair reserved for the use of the children of the house when called there and folded her hands on her lap.

"It is not that I disapprove of Lord Potter in any way," Chandragupta said after a few moments of silence. "And I did send you to Hogwarts. Still, I find my self . . . disconcerted."

"In what way, my father?" Padma asked in Sanskrit.

Chandragupta nodded. "Exactly," he answered in the same language. "I find I do not wish my grandchildren to be raised as foreigners to our customs."

"Then they shall not be, my father, providing my lord agrees," Padma answered. "Knowing him as I do, he will have no objections."

"Still, the pull of caste and traditions are stronger within me than I had thought, my daughter."

"We are Brahmin, but while Harry is an outsider, he is both Kshatriya and Brahmin in spirit, and in reality, the magical crossed caste boundaries more often than is now admitted," Padma stated.

"The warrior I can easily see," Chandragupta agreed, "the sage, the philosopher, the religious leader, I cannot."

"Harry honors life and wisdom and compassion more than anyone I have ever met," Padma said. "He does not believe in non-violence, as so many of the sages, both within Hinduism and those who broke away from it have believed, but he does honor life as they do. Harry will never be a philosopher." Padma smiled. "No, you are likely right and Harry does not fit into our tradition. He would more perfectly fit into an older tradition, that of the priestly-warrior king. To Hermione, Harry is the Duke of Marlborough, Thomas Paine, and the younger George Washington, all rolled into one and without their glaring flaws. To me, he is Cyrus the Great, Ashoka, and a Greek hero, perhaps Theseus or even Odysseus."

"Should I ask what your friend Luna would think?" Chandragupta said, reverting to English.

"I would not dare answer for her," Padma replied.

"The lad does seem to try and do the right thing," Chandragupta went on, "although I do wish you were not the last consort."

"We may yet succeed in persuading Harry to take at least two more consorts," Padma said. "Would third of five or six be better?"

Mr. Patil sat there stunned for a moment. "I don't want to know," he finally said. "To get to the point, Lord Potter either did a little research himself, or one of the others suggested it to him. In either case, he sent over sixty ounces of raw gold along with some jewels, and asked that it be made into, or exchanged for, the right type of body jewelry. Granted, that is not something women of your high position bother with, but it does show a willingness to learn. My Second Wife chose the designs, claiming they will please both you and your lord, even if they displease me greatly. " He handed Padma the heavy box. "You may wish to try it on before you dress to go."

"Thank you, father!" Padma kissed her father and ran squealing from the room.

Chandragupta Patil shook his head. "I hope she's wrong," he muttered, for he remembered Cyrus and Ashoka not from their later periods of wise rule, but from their earlier periods of bloody conquest.


"Pumpkin, may I have a word with you?"

"Sure, Daddy," Luna said happily.

"Have a seat, my love."

Luna eyed her father warily. There was something about his tone that was setting off her alarms. She perched on a sofa and looked at him. She wondered, not for the first time, why her father was the only person she could never read.

"It's past time that I told you some things," Lionel said. "Things which I thought you understood, at least at some level."

"Oh, Daddy," Luna said, "I assure you what little I hadn't picked up one way or another I've learned now. Madam Pomfrey gave me a good lecture on the medical implications back when I had my first period, and Hermione has this lovely little book she calls 'the manual'. . . ."

"Luna. . . ."

"The four of us have had such fun."

"Luna. . . ."

"I mean, who would have thought spankings were so enjoyable?"

"Luna. . . ."

"Or that Harry is so gentle, despite his nearly ten inches, we all hope that he will take us anal. . . ."

"LUNA! STOP!" Lionel protested. "Not those kind of facts, and believe me, no father wants to know what his daughter knows about those. No, let's start this way. What did your mother and I do before you were born?"

"You both worked for the Department of Mysteries. Mummy was a Spell-Tester in the Experimental Charms Unit, and after I was born she continued the work part-time. You never said what you did. . . . You were an Unspeakable, weren't you?"

Lionel nodded. "And I still can't tell you what I did. I should tell you that your Gift was inherited largely from my side of the family. I can't read you, and you can't read me. I think that's why I've made such a terrible mistake with you."

"What terrible mistake?"

"In a moment, my darling. First, I am sorry if this hurts you. To get back to the story, I left the Ministry in 1984 because I hated to see where our Ministry was drifting and, to be honest, because I inherited quite a pile from your great-great-great-uncle Albertine."

"The recluse."

"Exactly. The family hadn't heard from him since 1921, and who knew he had settled in northern Canada and accidentally laid claim to what later because a uranium mine? Anyway, your mother and I talked before I left, and we decided to contact some other friends of ours around Europe, and out of that came The Quibbler."

"Go on," Luna said.

"Well, you know not everything in the paper is true, don't you?"

Luna looked really worried. "Well, I know some of the letters from the readers . . . contradict each other," Luna said cautiously.

"There is no real opposition allowed in the 'quality' press in Europe," Lionel said. "We're dismissed as mostly cranky letters and odd sightings. If we criticize, though, they dismiss it. About a third of the letters and articles are actually in code, from people all across Europe, sharing information. Many readers are in a position to influence policy, and their knowing the truths people in other Ministries aren't allowed to share openly helps guide them."

"But . . . but what you write. . . ."

"Is often based on some of their reports," Lionel said. "So for example, Cornelius Fudge did not literally make goblin pies, but his policies were eating away at goblin confidence in the British Ministry.

"But what about nargles, and humdingers, and . . . and snorkacks?" Luna pleaded.

"Nargles are a magical mite which infect fairies and some of the plants associated with them," Lionel said. "Humdingers . . . well, that's a code I can't tell you about. Snorkacks were real, but likely hunted to extinction centuries ago in part by dragons but more likely by wyverns, which might be one reason they went extinct as well."

Her lower lip quivering and tears gathering, Luna said, "Good night, Daddy. I'm going to go to bed early, before you tell me there's no Father Christmas, either."

"That's right," Lionel muttered, "and I'll pretend you're still my innocent little daughter."


After greeting Sirius, Remus, and Tonks, Padma wasted no time but dragged Harry up to bed. After kissing him thoroughly, she built up the fire in their fireplace, stripped Harry nude and left him sitting in a chair in a heavy dressing gown and slippers. She extinguished the other lights as she slipped out to change.

Padma came in wearing a floor-length dressing gown. As soon as she shut the door, the dressing gown slipped off and Harry's heart-rate went up.

Padma was wearing nothing but the gold jewelry, which shone in the firelight and against her dusky skin. She stood there, striking a pose, her dark thick nipples hard from the chill and from her excitement. Padma had long gold earrings set with small emeralds, and a net of gold wire threading through her long, thick, wavy black hair. She wore three gold necklaces of heavy links, and on her right hand were three rings (thumb, middle finger, pinkie) linked to a bracelet, all of the same sort of links as her smallest necklace. On her left hand was a single gold band, set with a larger emerald. On both feet were anklets of the same links, chained to toe rings on the second and fourth toes of her slim elegant feet. Two small emeralds dangled as charms from each ankle bracelet. Padma wore more than half the gold around her waist in heavy links, although a fine mesh was also attached -- had she worn it centered, it might have just covered her pubic area, but she wore it slightly off to the side, showing off her totally hairless mound.

"It's not quite traditional jewelry, but how do you like it?" Padma asked.

"It's not?" Harry asked. "It looks like some of the carvings I've seen in photos of temples."

"Oh, the concepts are close, but the execution is very modern. So you like it?"

"I like the jewelry, but not as much as the setting," Harry said. "I think we'll have more fun without it."

Padma walked over to Harry, and the firelight glinted off the gold. "What is your desire, my maharajah? How may I please you?"

Harry stood and dropped the dressing gown back on the chair. A flick of his hand created a wandless silencing ward. The pair embraced and kissed deeply. As they broke the kiss, Padma said softly as she nibbled Harry's neck and ear, "I don't care if it bends the gold." Harry moaned as Padma took his cock in her left hand and started stroking him hard. "I want you to take me in front of the fire. I want you deep inside me, and I want you to love me and fuck me until you can't take me any more."

Harry closed his eyes and his hand moved again. Padma turned and was surprised to see a huge bearskin rug covered with silk and satin cushions in front of the fire, and assorted silk pillows strewn around it. Harry lifted her in his arms and set her down on the bearskin and the two quickly moved into the missionary position as they kissed.

Padma moaned aloud as Harry penetrated her. She moved her knees up under Harry's arms and crossed her ankles behind his back. She would keep the position until she had had three orgasms and Harry two. Harry only stopped because she had passed out during her third.


Christmas

Padma woke up to the sounds of soft movement. She wasn't surprised to see Harry doing his Tai Chi.

She moved, and wasn't terribly surprised to find her self with a bit of a stiff back and a very tender pussy. She noted as she made her way to the private toilet that Harry removed all her jewelry except for the rings. When she came out, she took off the bracelet/rings combination as well as the anklets/rings. As she matched Harry's movements, she asked, "Do you think it would bother the other two if I wear the ring?"

"I don't think it would at all."


"Luna? Luna? would you like some breakfast?" Hearing no answer, Lionel shrugged and fried some eggs.



*This was how nobles were originally called to the House of Lords.