Son of Magic

Chapter 19

December 10th, 1941

Ministry of Magic

London, England

The day Harry had been equal parts anticipating and dreading had finally arrived, so it wasn't very surprising that behind his cool and composed exterior Harry was having a small and private, anxious meltdown.

It would be most precise to state that this Wizengamot session would be his official debut into Britain's Wizarding Elite, meaning that his entire plan to reshape Britain's Wizarding Community hinged on him making a good first impression on these pompous, self-involved people.

So yes, Harry was feeling somewhat nervous, if not slightly nauseous.

It wasn't as if his task would be easily accomplished. Saving the world from humans was much more complicated than it sounded.

Dumbledore had not been wrong when he'd said that the Purebloods weren't going to just fall in line with his ideals. Despite what Harry had said, and how confident he'd acted that day with Dumbledore, the truth of the matter was that he simply didn't know how his bill was going to be met, regardless of the concrete proof he'd assembled for their viewing.

If there was to be any hope at all for the Pureblood elitists to consider his bill, he was going to have to make them want to listen to him, which will be a battle in and of itself, and in the end, charm and charisma would only get him so far.

He foresaw bloodshed. And debate. Unending hours of tedious debate where he has to soundly defend his ideals while maintaining his stance as politely as possible—in other words, pandering to their over-inflated egos.

Merlin, how he abhorred politics.

Harry and Arcturus had arrived early at Harry's insistence that he wanted to get 'a feel for the crowd's vibe before diving into the shit-storm'. Those exact words had earned him a wrinkled nose and quite the puzzled look from Arcturus, which he'd pointedly ignored in favour of mentally going over his speech for the umpteenth time.

In the past fifteen minutes or so, several severe-looking Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot Council started arriving and convened outside of the chamber, splitting into their respective groups to discuss- well, to discuss Harry, he supposed, given all the furtive glances he'd been receiving.

Thankfully, no one had been bold enough to approach him.

"You needn't be so nervous, Harry. We went over everything last night and again this morning. I dare say that you're more than ready for anything they decided to throw at you today," Arcturus reassured him with an amused smirk.

"I'm not nervous," Harry bit out, more aggressively than he'd intended.

"Of course," Arcturus hummed. "Sickly-green in your natural complexion. Pardon my mistake."

Harry groaned, not in the least bit amused. "This is really not the time for clever jests, Arcturus."

"Maybe not," he conceded, trying to suppress his growing smirk. "But you agree that it was rather clever, yes?"

Harry gave him an unimpressed look, eliciting a small chuckle from Lord Black.

Before Harry could comment on his friend's enormous ego, he noticed Arcturus's gaze locking onto something over his shoulder and saw him hastily slip on his society smile.

"Lord Potter is approaching us," he warned Harry through a painfully polite smile.

It was no secret that the two wizards didn't exactly see eye-to-eye.