Chapter Two of 'Made of Common Clay'- Climbed the Higher Heights
Chapter One.
Title: Made of Common Clay (2/?)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Minor mentions of Ron/Hermione, Molly/Arthur, Neville/Hannah, Luna/Rolf, and past Harry/Ginny; otherwise, this fic is gen and will remain so.
Content Notes: Angst, violence, torture, politics, present tense, cynical Harry
Rating: R (for violence)
Summary: Harry has reached a very bitter and jaded thirty. His efforts to reform the Ministry haven’t lessened the corruption or pure-blood bigotry one bit. That’s when he finds out that he’s apparently a part of a pure-blood nobility he’s never heard of before; he’s Lord Potter and Lord Black. Unfortunately, that revelation’s come too late for him to be a reformer. All Harry wants to do is tear the system down and salt the earth. And with a double Lordship, he just might have the power to do that.
Author’s Notes: This fic is largely a partially a parody of some of the tropes common in Lord Potter/Lord Black fics. The title and chapter titles come from one of Oscar Wilde’s poems: “Sweet I blame you not for mine the fault was, had I not been made of common clay/I had climbed the higher heights unclimbed yet, seen the fuller air, the larger day.” I don’t yet know how long this fic will be, but it will get pretty dark.
Thank you for all the reviews!
Chapter Two-Climbed the Higher Heights
“This explains a whole lot.” Hermione’s arms are folded and her nostrils are bulging and her face is red in the way that Harry hasn’t seen her look since she first learned about house-elves.
“Yeah.” Harry sits back and sips from the glass of water Hermione always hands him when he comes through her door, glancing around the office. Some new articles and photographs have replaced the ones that were there last week, but they concern the same issues. House-elves being mistreated and sold, centaurs being hunted, smuggling in illegal bits of magical creatures, someone insulted or dismissed for their blood.
“I can’t believe that they’ve kept it a secret for so long,” Hermione says softly, tracing her finger around the circumference of the Black ring he’s taken off to show her.
Harry turns back and shrugs. “They probably Obliviate someone who insists on talking about it too much. Either that, or use some kind of spells. But they probably don’t have to do that too often. Remember, most of them get raised to think they’re better than anyone else. No one in Sirius’s family could rebel without getting blasted off the tapestry, and there weren’t that many compared to the total number of Blacks. People like things that make them better. Or that they think make them better.”
Hermione nods slowly at him. “Muggles are the same way.”
Harry smiles politely and changes the subject. The Dursleys, and whether he should talk to someone about them, are one of their perpetual subjects of disagreement. “Anyway. You want to sit in on my talk with Rita?”
Hermione’s eyes spark as she sits back, touching her wand. “Oh, yes. It’s time to remind her that she does things on sufferance around here.”
Harry snickers and picks up the Black ring to put it back on just a moment before there’s a knock on Hermione’s office door. Harry turns around and smiles. “Come in, Rita.”
Rita enters slowly, as she should. He’s never called her by her first name for a friendly reason, after all. But after a moment of scanning him from head to toe as if that would reveal hidden weapons on him-silly, when his hidden weapons are better hidden-she clears her throat and takes the chair across from him. “You wanted to speak with me, Auror Potter?”
“Oh, yes.” Harry pauses. “Except that I don’t think you have the right title. It’s Lord Potter now, you see.” He flicks his wand and removes the charms that prevent most people from paying attention to the rings. He was up half the night figuring out how to unravel them and then put them back.
Rita gapes at the rings for a moment. Harry waits until it looks as if she’s about to speak, and then nods at the second ring and says with an earnest expression on his face, “And I’m Lord Black, too. My godfather willed his title to me along with his house and possession.”
Rita swallows and glances up. “There are rumors sometimes. But I didn’t know there were any Lords left in England.”
“I belong to an organization called the Sun Chamber,” Harry says, and grins at the way her hand immediately cramps as if looking for her quill, although she’s not holding one right now. “They’re Lords, and Ladies too, of old pure-blood families who sometimes interfere with trials and ‘advise’ the Wizengamot when a pure-blood is involved.”
Rita looks as if she dearly wants to lick her lips. “And some of them are members of the Wizengamot?”
“They are.” Harry places his hand over his heart and bows his head a little. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t bring these conflicts of interest and interferences in justice to the public’s notice.”
Rita stares at him for a moment as if wondering if he’s real, then grins and nods slowly. “Very well, Lord Potter. How would you like to make the public aware of this?”
“Through your good offices, of course. I want you to write an article that will let people know of the existence of Lords and Ladies, and how some of them are-less than eager to reveal their existence to the populace. No doubt they are simply afraid of being overwhelmed by the attention.”
Behind him, Hermione abruptly giggles before she stifles it. Harry feels his mouth twitch, but doesn’t look at her. He knows that he’ll burst out laughing if he does, and for various reasons, he has to conduct this interview with discretion.
Rita studies him with an expression that’s not sure if it wants to be delight or not. “A difficult balance to strike in an article,” she says quietly. “We have to convince the public while also convincing the Lords and Ladies that you might have done this out of naiveté, and you really are just overly eager and earnest.”
“And young, don’t forget that.” Harry widens his eyes. “I just turned thirty. It’s nothing compared to people like Lady Honeywell who have been in the Sun Chamber since their thirtieth birthdays. Of course I’m going to make mistakes.”
Rita leans slowly back in her chair. “Aur-Lord Potter, I think I’ve been underestimating how dangerous you are, all these years.”
Harry shrugs. “I didn’t have much scope for action when the pure-bloods kept limiting me. Now I’ve got a power they can’t do anything about, and they gave it to me. Tell me, are you going to go sneaking back to them and eat their feces again so that you can get ahead?”
“No matter what you think of me, my lord, I’ve never done that. I’ve always been ready to turn on anyone at a moment’s notice.”
And she’s proud of it. Well, at least Harry knows how to handle her. He’s spent time fantasizing about this, if he ever got his hands on enough power to make a difference.
“And are you going to report on this the way I’m asking you?”
Rita pauses. Then she nods. “It’ll be more fun that way.”
Harry smiles a little. He still needs to keep an eye on her, because she’ll twist around like a serpent, but that’s all right. He’ll need to keep an eye on everybody and try to seize every advantage, the way he has for the past nine years. The point is that now he has the hope that makes the difference. “Then this is what I want you to write…”
*
“Lord Potter! Lord Black!”
The voice wakes him unexpectedly. Harry opens an eye and smiles thinly at the ceiling, alert right away. That’s the way he always sleeps.
How nice to know that something enables the Lords and Ladies of the Sun Chamber to break through the spells that should have kept my Floo closed, he thinks as he stands up and brushes his fingers through his hair so it’s spiked even more forwards. Then he tugs at his sleeping robe to make it haphazard and stumbles out of his bedroom.
“What is it, Lady Honeywell?” he asks, because it’s her head in the fire.
Honeywell is breathing hard, scandalized perhaps, as she waves around a paper. “Did you do this?”
“Can you hold it still enough so I can see it?” Harry scratches at the back of his neck and gives her a bashful smile. “I’m afraid I can’t focus on it. That’s what happens when I get up so early in the morning.”
Honeywell pauses, then says, “Certainly, Lord Potter.” She straightens it out and lets him see the title.
There’s a picture of him there, wide-eyed and ducking his head and showing off his Lordship rings at the same time, exactly the way Rita took it. And there’s the headline, which is perfect, although Harry only told Rita the tone he wanted and not the wording.
THE SUN CHAMBER: A SECRET GOVERNMENT?
Now, though, he has to act as though that’s not what he meant to do at all. He widens his eyes and whispers, “Oh, no. She said-she said the interview would be confidential-”
“You ought to know there are never any guarantees with that woman, Lord Potter.”
Harry knows better than that. Rita will do whatever can get her a good story. That means she does have a certain loyalty, although it’s not to people or principles in the way that most would think of it. He bows his head. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. “Does it-I mean, you can control the way people think about the Sun Chamber, right?”
“Most of the time, we can.” Honeywell’s hands are tense with outrage on either side of the paper, which is still spread out so that it obscures her face. “But we can’t use Memory Charms on everyone who saw this.”
So it’s Memory Charms. That’s good to know. Not that Harry thinks most of the pampered pure-bloods brought up to think the Sun Chamber is a good thing would ever talk about it. He trembles a little and repeats, “I’m so sorry.”
Honeywell finally drops the paper and looks at him. Her face is drawn. Harry might feel sorry for her if not for what she’s participated in. “It does seem to have been the fault of ignorance and not malice, Lord Potter. That is what I will tell the others. And of course we, as noble families, have weathered cascades of blame before. It is simply not-comfortable, or a good thing for us.”
Harry nods. “I have so much to learn about being a Lord! I’ll just have to try harder.”
Honeywell finally smiles. “You will do that. And permit me to offer you one piece of advice. You should use my title more often, the way I’ve done with you. Calling you Lord Potter is a reminder of your noble heritage and your duties. You should address me as Lady Honeywell.”
“That’s a good piece of advice,” Harry says. He tips his head down so that he can mask his expression. Bows have a lot of uses. “Thank you, Lady Honeywell. Is this going to get you into trouble in the Sun Chamber because you’re my sponsor?” That information will be useful for more than one purpose.
“Not when I explain the truth behind what happened,” Honeywell says. “But do make sure that you’re on time to our meeting on Sunday. It’s harder to explain breaches of etiquette than mistakes.”
Harder to explain breaches of etiquette than something that might put the whole Chamber’s existence in danger? Yes, I believe that. What idiots you are. Harry lets his bland smile widen. “Of course. Thank you, Lady Honeywell. Can you tell me one more thing? Why is it called the Sun Chamber?” That’s one thing Rita asked that Harry had to shrug about.
“Oh. Because we’re the sun around which everything else in the wizarding world revolves, whether they know it or not. We’re the spiritual heart and moral center for everyone else. And because we possess the clearest enlightenment and the strongest and most powerful magic among wizards, of course.”
Harry nods. It’s so hard to keep his opinion to himself, but then, he has more practice doing that than these Lords and Ladies can know. All the times he’s stood in front of the Wizengamot and watched someone else walk away or pay a small fine because they know the names of their grandparents eight generations back and can probably even write them down if someone gives them a quill and a lot of time…
But he won’t get to be a force for destruction in the Sun Chamber if he shows his hand too son. So he says, “Thank you, Lady. I look forward to seeing you on Sunday.”
“And I you, Lord Potter. Do please do what you can to counteract this story when you hear people talking about it, and be discreet when they ask you questions.”
*
“Mate!” Ron throws an arm around Harry’s shoulders the minute he walks into his office in the morning. “Hermione told me all about it, and that article really strikes the perfect tone, doesn’t it?”
“Apparently,” Harry says gravely as he hangs up his cloak on his hook, “I shouldn’t have revealed the secrets of the Sun Chamber, and I should respect their ancient and noble bloodlines and their enlightenment and the way the wizarding world revolves around them. Because they’re the sun, you know.”
Ron begins to laugh so hard that he wheezes, and sounds like someone punched him in the stomach instead. Harry grins at him and settles down behind his desk, looking for a moment at the place where Ron’s used to stand. He quit three years ago to work with George. He told his mum it was just about giving his brother a reason to keep the shop open, but honestly, it was because of the same sick despair and disgust that has plagued Harry for years.
Now, maybe he can come back-
But Harry banishes that thought even as it comes to him. No, Ron is happy where he is, and the shop has grown more in the last three years than it did for the previous nine. Harry himself knows he can’t return to being the confident, enthusiastic young Auror he once was.
We move forwards and make the changes that way.
Ron finally recovers and drops into the chair across from him. It’s only because someone might come in with paperwork for the Head Auror any moment that he doesn’t prop his feet up on Harry’s desk. But he smiles at Harry in the way that Harry knows means he’s thinking about it. “What do you think-”
Someone knocks. Harry sits back and assumes a blank expression as he calls, “Come in.” There’s no way of telling yet if this is someone on ordinary Ministry business or someone come about the Sun Chamber, and so he doesn’t know if competence or cringing bashfulness is warranted.
Susan Bones walks into the room and stand staring at him. Harry raises his eyebrows politely. It occurs to him that she might be Lady Bones, since her parents and aunt are both dead, but he’s not about to reverse course even if she is. There are some Wizengamot members he likes who are probably “Lords and Ladies” too. It doesn’t mean he’ll spare them.
“Harry Potter.” Susan’s voice is low. “Or so should I say Lord Potter?”
“You should,” Ron pipes up, his voice totally earnest. “And Lord Black, too.”
Susan’s eyes flicker for a second, and then she stands up taller. Her hair is caught back in a long braid, and she has piercing blue eyes that narrow in on Harry. “It’s an honorable position,” she says. “And no one is supposed to know about the Sun Chamber. And it’s already precarious enough for half-blood Lords and Ladies in the Chamber.”
In a second, Harry knows he needs to tell Susan the truth. She won’t like it, but he can’t fool her, and he has serious, traditional reservations against looking like an idiot. “I told Rita because it’s a corrupt institution, Susan.”
Susan couldn’t look much more surprised if he urinated on her feet. No, it’s probably worse than that, Harry amends it to himself. She knows he has a cock. She must not have realized that he has a conscience.
“It’s-it’s tradition! I mean, I don’t really like the base of the tradition, either, but it’s almost the only connection I have left to my parents and my aunt, and it’s a chance to make a difference in a closed group of pure-bloods who won’t listen to us otherwise-”
“Don’t use the word ‘us’ like that, Susan.”
Susan swallows hard. “But how can you turn your back on your family like that? And I know your godfather was hardly a traditional Black, but this way, you have your chance to redeem his legacy!”
“In a room full of people who think they’re more special and enlightened than anyone else in the wizarding world because of their blood. Yes, Susan, I’m sure that’s exactly what Sirius would have supported. And my father, who married a Muggleborn.”
Susan just looks at him. Harry measures the distance he sees in her eyes, and knows it’s too great. She might have similar ideals to him, but they rest on a different base. In her heart of hearts, she accepts the Sun Chamber as legitimate. She wouldn’t think about reforming it-and thus continuing to let it exist-if she really believed that blood was unimportant.
For the first time ever, Harry feels a hot surge of gratitude that he didn’t grow up in the wizarding world. He would probably think family is more important than anything else in that case. Including law. Including justice. Including what’s right and wrong, and combating prejudice.
“You can’t get away with this for long. They’ll stop you once you realize what you are,” Susan says, but her voice is dull.
Harry widens his eyes. “But I’m such a naïve little boy, Susan. Don’t you get it? I don’t. I don’t really understand. They’re going to think that of me. They’ve never stopped seeing me as a child, given the ‘Boy’ part of the title they think of me by. And they think I’m inferior because of my mum’s blood.” He leans forwards. “You know the Muggle saying that something’s going to bite you in the arse? Well, this something is going to tear their arses right off.”
Susan opens her mouth, but maybe she realizes there’s nothing she can say. She turns and walks out.
When Harry turns back to Ron, he’s wearing a half-grin, but he also shakes his head. “Was that smart or not, mate? She might warn them.”
“She probably will,” Harry says, although he’s not exactly sure. But it’s always right to be prepared for idiocy when it comes to blood purists. “But they’re not going to believe her, for the reasons I told her.”
Ron laughs again. “If you ever decide that you want to take over the world, Harry, give me time to evacuate Rose and Hugo from Britain.”
“You’ll never convince Hermione to go with them-”
“Who said she would? We’d be right there with you, your Dark Lordship.”
Harry reaches over and touches Ron’s shoulder, once, for all the things he can’t say.
He’s not a traditional pure-blood. He’s so glad.
Chapter Three.
This entry was originally posted at http://lomonaaeren.dreamwidth.org/930945.html. Comment wherever you like.