Black Fortunes

Chapter 24

Harrigan smiled in a reserved manner at something his husband had whispered in his ear, well aware of the way the pair had attracted the attention of the masses the moment they had simultaneously Apparated into the Ministry of Magic. It was the start of a new session of the Wizengamot and as such, Harrigan was excused from his classes (not that he had any on Thursday normally) and had been met by his husband at the front courtyard of Hogwarts. Both Regulus and Sirius had come up to bid their father hello, talking with the pair for a few moments before they had to depart. It was the first time they had seen him since the pair returned from their vacation three days previously.

Orion seemed determined to share the world with Harrigan and had surprised the younger male with a trip to the United States of all places, specifically the island of Oahu, part of the state of Hawaii. It was a beautiful place, surrounded by bright blue ocean and covered in the richest, broadest range of greenery Harrigan had ever seen. The pair had greatly enjoyed their short, whirlwind vacation, Harrigan somehow managing to come home with a tan (Orion seemed incapable of tanning, his skin simply skipped to burnt).

But now it was time for the first session of the Wizengamot since that winter and more specifically, the first since the threat that Tom Riddle had posed was taken care of. Harrigan was anticipating some uncomfortable tension with Dumbledore and his party, who no doubt had taken offense at the subtle insinuations in the Prophet that there had been unnecessary 'fear-mongering' going on behind the scenes that had 'undermined the individual witch or wizard's confidence' in their ability to stop the threat before it became real.

It was true, however. Harrigan had seen it first-hand at the school, Dumbledore sowing the seeds of fear and dread in impressionable minds as he treated Riddle like he was more than just a half-blood with daddy issues and an inferiority complex. Harrigan still shuddered sometimes as he imagined how it could have gone if no one had the common sense and strength to ignore Dumbledore's words and see through the image Riddle had projected.

Orion and Harrigan approached the entry for the Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot, stopping in front of the guards and waiting patiently as they scanned the pair with complex spells, checking for any illegal objects, poisons, or signs of mental or physical tampering. If either of the latter two were discovered, the affected Lord or Lady was escorted aside by one of the guards and an on-call expert from St. Mungo's was summoned to examine them and prescribe treatment.

Considering each and every one of the individuals that passed through this doorway were responsible for the rules and laws that governed the whole of the magical UK it was a precaution that no one argued with. The consequences could be disastrous if a single individual with considerable pull in the Wizengamot was allowed through with any such sign. For example, an influential member of the Wizengamot that was under the Imperius Curse or any number of mind-control potions could pass through detrimental bills simply because their voice was so trusted by the masses.

Once it was assured that the pair were hale, healthy, and possessed no illegal object or weapon they were ushered through the huge wooden doors, engraved with the seal of the Ministry which was then embossed with real white gold, hammered into place by expert members of the Goblin Nation.

The opulent chambers inside never failed to dazzle newcomers, with the elaborate black, white, and gold mosaic floor and the rich mahogany bleachers with the comfortably plush wood and purple silk chairs. Rows of chairs were separated by a staircase lined with a rich purple runner and gold handrails.

The bottom level of the chambers was the busiest, with pages running back and forth to hand out the day's schedule of events to the members of the Wizengamot, reporters for each major and minor paper in the UK, and some international papers scratching away with their quills and the Wizengamot scribe typing away on an old typewriter, filing which members were present for today's session as well as the name and titles of the presiding officials. The upper levels were peacefully quiet, raised far enough above the floor to allow the Lords and Ladies to peruse the schedule or speak quietly to each other without being forced to raise their voices.