The gavel of Albus Dumbledore echoed around the chamber with a trio of loud bangs, silencing the cacophony of voices that had been filling the chambers.

It seemed that The Wizengamot would be total chaos for the entire session – with one wizard or witch clamouring to be heard over another even more than usual. Already, he could feel the beginning of a headache forming just behind his eyes – damn Arcturus for saddling him with today's session.

It was July the second, and Harry had been home from Hogwarts for two days, and already things were in turmoil. He, Arcturus, and Remus had noticed the new scar on Harry's face immediately and it hadn't taken the pup long to reveal the scar on his side either.

While Sirius felt rather proud that he'd managed to keep his questions about his facial scar until they made it back to Blackwall, he was rather less proud of his reaction to Harry's scar on his side. Gone was the smooth skin of the innocent child he had raised for a decade – in its place sat a scar that travelled diagonally from Harry's back, all the way up to his ribs on his left side.

The questions had begun in earnest after that – it was far too clean of a cut for it to have been anything but a spell. What Harry had told them of the end of his year had left them all stunned, and not a little furious.

Remus had quietly stewed in his rage, his eyes taking on flecks of gold, even though the full moon had passed some time ago, as the wolf inside his best friend railed against its cage, demanding to be set loose.

Sirius had immediately set off towards the Floo, a handful of powder already in his fist when Harry had stepped between himself and his destination with a hand to his chest. He had been furious, baying for blood and wanting to know why Dumbledore saw fit not to alert him to his son's injuries – Merlin, the boy had a ceiling dropped on him!

Eventually, he had calmed and had been left to stew in his anger in the meantime – as it was, he had sat silently the entire Wizengamot session and glared at the Chief Warlock, who appeared to be far too busy for him to have noticed.

Although, if Sirius claimed he had been furious, Arcturus had been apocalyptic in his rage. The patriarch of the Black Family had exploded in a way he had only witnessed once – at his trial all those years ago. The Wards of Blackwall had sprung up around the man as his magic flared wildly and lashed out.

It had been quite the sight, to see the man suddenly surrounded by a shimmering white barrier as lances of red magic – pure, physical manifestations of his power, arced through the air as he stood there, trembling silently. It had taken some time for Arcturus to calm, and when he did, he had Apparated from the room with such a resounding boom that the windows shattered instantly.

While Sirius had no true idea of just where Arcturus had gone, he could take an educated guess. It hadn't taken a man of great intellect to deduce that Hogwarts was about to be besieged by one of the most powerful, and angriest wizards in Britain.

He couldn't help the small smile that onto his face as he imagined the way Arcturus would have torn into the old man – how he would have brutally criticised the Headmaster, powerful as he was in his own right, for placing items of such power and importance, in a school full of children. The very thought of it made his blood boil all over again.

He took a moment to sweep his gaze up to the viewing gallery opposite him, where he knew Harry was sat with the other heirs – no doubt he was attempting to remember as much as he could, Arcturus would no doubt quiz the boy after they returned to Blackwall.

Harry was everything Sirius had ever hoped he would be. He was such a good boy – more Lily than James, though his resemblance to his father almost hurt sometimes. He was kind, and intelligent and so, so brave. To have heard of the trials he had faced only a week ago – knowing full well that there were many adult wizards and witches that would have crumbled. He was so proud.

As it was, the morning had been tense, the family – minus Harry, were still on edge from the stories he had come home with. That didn't mean that Harry didn't also have questions of his own – particularly about the summons from Trevelyan at the beginning of the year.

He had a certain amount of respect for Harry, knowing he wouldn't have been able to ask what he wanted via Hedwig or any other owl – even using Clara would have been out of the question. The day the proud Phoenix agreed to carry a letter, would be the day Sirius ate his boots.

In the silences between their raging, Harry had rapid-fired his questions at the two Blacks, asking what it was Trevelyan had wanted. He knew Arcturus had given him some information when they had returned, but nothing would have been enough for his boy.

The latest explosion of tempers had been caused when Harry mentioned his cloak – the cloak. He had even shown it to he and Remus when they had scoffed at such a relic of their history having survived the catastrophe of Godric's Hollow all those years ago. For surely, James would have had it with him – he never went anywhere without it.

Arcturus had been confused by the whole thing, not quite understanding the significance of the cloak from Sirius and Remus's childhoods, but there it had been, laid out before their eyes – the silky material shimmering before their eyes in the early morning light.

Sirius had felt the cold fury grip his heart, and his hands had trembled with their want to smash something – anything. As it was, he had remained calm, or as close to such a state as he could manage and had simply asked where he had found it. After all, perhaps James had stashed it away at Hogwarts – as unlikely as that was.

That name had re-appeared, and Sirius found himself loathing its very existence with increasing severity every time he heard it.

Dumbledore.

The old goat had held on to the Cloak for over a decade?

And that was what had inevitably saddled him with the sole responsibility of the Wizengamot this month. Usually, Arcturus would sit in the Black chair, while Sirius, as Regent, would assume the Potter chair on behalf of Harry. Today, however, he was sitting for both houses, and the old goat was sitting in the same chamber and he could do nothing.

He had learned his lesson all those years ago when he had gone chasing after Peter. He tried not to be as rash, and to rein his temper under control when it threatened to get out of control. He was not that same, hot headed young man he had been at the close of the war. No, now he was as much a student of Arcturus Black as he was a student of Hogwarts.

The things he had learned under his grandfather's guiding hand were incalculable. He had studied the Black Grimoire for years, as it was his duty to look after the Family Magic once Arcturus passed on, and it would be his duty to pass it down to his own children. Harry, while Sirius would always consider him his first son, would never be able to take on the Black name, or learn the spells they safeguarded. Harry's magic, and their own, would never allow it – Harry was a Potter, the last Potter, and he was now their Liege Lord.

That had been quite the head-scratcher for the three adults in their little family in the months since the summons. They had made no secret of having sworn fealty, and frankly, Sirius was still surprised that Arcturus had gone along with it when he had suggested it as a wonderful prank.

He'd had no idea of the potential consequences of the whole thing – though more importantly, why had it only caused an issue now and not then? Something wasn't adding up, but for the life of him, he just couldn't place his finger on it.

They had been kept under guard, as had all of the other Lords and Ladies, when they were at the Citadel – oh, they were free to enter the city and go where they pleased, but they were always accompanied by Trevelyan's men. There had been one man that Sirius had noticed above all others in their time, and he had shadowed Trevelyan like a loyal hound.

He was a behemoth, but he moved with such fluidity and grace that Sirius had been half convinced his size had been a simple trick of the light. His armour had been dark, but the Griffon of House Trevelyan had been emblazoned on the front of it proudly, and the usual pieces of armour – the shoulder guards, the arm, hand, leg and foot armour all had vicious looking spikes that, unlike the standard armour he had seen across their own guards, Harry's and the Capitol's, looked used.

He'd never gotten the chance to speak to the man, whose eyes had been trained on himself and Arcturus more than any other, and for the first time in his life, Sirius was glad.

Their time had been taken by assessing the opinions of the other lords and ladies called to the council. Unfortunately. They had managed to sway a number of families to their defence over the course of the month, and if it hadn't been for the Lord Minks and the Lady Serrett, no doubt they would both be a head shorter. He shuddered a little – the less Harry knew about just how close it had been, the better.

He had been angry upon their return, of course, and had spent all of his free time with his betrothed and far away from politics. His relationship with Amelia had been rekindled from their time at Hogwarts. Of all the women that had appeared in his life over the years, it had been Amelia that had stolen his heart.

For a time, shortly following the war, he had refused any knowledge of her – after all, she was a part of the team of Aurors that had apprehended him – who wouldn't have felt betrayed? Being older, and somewhat wiser, he understood the position she had been in, and Amelia was nothing if not dedicated to her job.

It had been what had first attracted him to the girl in fifth year at Hogwarts. At first, she had been a conquest – corrupt the Hufflepuff with such dedication and sense of fairness, the rest of her House paled in comparison. He just couldn't stay away.

What had begun as simple, harmless flirting, had turned into him thinking about the blonde girl at all hours. They were in potions? How could Amelia use a potion to apprehend someone? Care of Magical Creatures? Amelia would love a Hippogriff – their judge of character was phenomenal. Transfiguration? Would Amelia appreciate flowers?

The Marauders had teased him mercilessly, of course – and he expected nothing less – but he didn't care. He'd trip over himself to say hello as she passed him in the halls, or stumble over his words when he'd ask her to Hogsmeade. He'd given James shit for years about how he fawned over Lily, but in those moments, he understood completely.

All these years later, and even a betrothal contract between the two of them, he hadn't been able to avoid making a fool of himself when they had met once again. He'd caught the briefest of glimpses of her in his years of attending the Wizengamot, but never long enough to appreciate what a beautiful woman she had grown into.

It had been awkward in the beginning once Harry had left for Hogwarts. Where did one begin to pick-up the pieces of a broken relationship after over a decade of silence? He had tried the charm, though that had failed him as spectacularly as it had in Hogwarts – Amelia had been the one woman he had ever met that was immune. So, he had done the only sensible thing he could think of.

He had waited outside her office with a bouquet of flowers – just like he had when they were in Hogwarts. She had stepped from her office, dressed in her grey pencil-skirt suit, with her blonde hair tied back into a neat bun at the back of her head, taken one glance at Sirius and burst into gales of laughter.

It had been the best thing he had heard in years – besides Harry, of course. Amelia laughing was such a rare experience, he savoured every opportunity to hear it. The dimples in her cheeks, and the way she would bite her tongue a little – even the way her eyes would crinkle in the corners a little as her shoulders shook. He'd been just as lost as he had been all those years ago.

While it hadn't repaired their relationship to what it had been, it was enough to know he had made progress. They had dined together in restaurants in both England and France's countless magical districts, walked along the Riviera and the Thames, and fallen asleep on one another before roaring fires. Slowly but surely, Amelia Bones began to feel like home – he'd prayed to all the Gods in The Pantheon that Harry and Amelia would like one another. There was nothing more important to him.

He'd had it all planned out – Christmas and the New Year, with both families at Blackwall. Amelia would bring Susan, who, in turn, would meet Neville and Daphne when they visited, and they could get to know one another as family.

Then, the Viscount had summoned them to the Capital.

Upon their return, he had gone straight to and fallen into bed with Amelia, relishing in her gentle kisses, and the feel of the smooth skin of her thighs as his calloused fingers drifted over them lightly. He spent more time at the Bones Estate in the month following their return, than he did at Blackwall. There had been something about being so close to catastrophe that had snapped his world into focus.

He knew what he wanted, for himself and for Harry, and he would let nothing stand in its way. He cared for Amelia deeply – loved her, even – and had done for years. She was his balance, kept him grounded. He wanted to wake up each morning to the sight of Amelia's bare shoulders, and the leg that draped itself over the quilt. He wanted to make her laugh and be the cause of that laughter for years to come. Merlin, he wanted to build a family with her.

He'd kept it to himself, because he'd be damned if he ever let Remus get that on him – Steward and best friend he may be, but they were still Marauders at heart – but he liked to think Amelia knew him well enough that she knew.

It wouldn't be long – only a little over a month until she would become a permanent fixture in his life. Just over a month until he could wake up next to her each morning, and sit with Harry, Remus, and Arcturus at the table before they started their days.

He had thought he would be nervous or apprehensive about the wedding, but he found himself excited at the thought of it. While he had been prepared to leave the planning to Amelia, for they could have as small or as large a ceremony as she wished as far he were concerned, he had found himself in equal discussion with her. They would lay in bed together at night, thinking who they wished to invite, or discussing the colour themes.

There were those they had no choice but to invite – they didn't have the benefit of social anonymity, she was the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, while he was the Heir Black. No doubt many Lords and Ladies of Noble Houses would be in attendance, some friends and political allies, while others would be their political rivals and adversaries. He hated the idea of having to play nice with the likes of Lucius Malfoy and his cousin Narcissa.

It had been no bother to him in the slightest when he'd received the letter from Harry, asking if his friends and their families could attend. He had met John and Jean Granger at the Platform when their children had returned from school, and they seemed like delightful people – he had expected nothing less, of course. Hermione had thoroughly impressed him when they had first met on Halloween – she had been just as adamant about remaining with Harry as Sirius had been.

That kind of loyalty and friendship was hard to find – indeed, Sirius could only count two people, besides Harry, that he would have been as stubborn about; Remus and James – though, chances were, he'd have been in the next bed along from them.

John and Jean Granger had been a lovely couple, and he couldn't resist the opportunity to make both Harry and Hermione visibly nervous. He had seen how close the two of them had grown over the year, and only hoped that friendship continued to grow – it was a rare thing to find a friend for life. Oh, Harry had Neville and Daphne, but through Hermione, Harry had a connection to the world of his mother – something that Sirius just couldn't give him.

Remus had some experience navigating it, but he didn't understand it in the same way a Muggle or Muggle-born would. Harry had been raised among Purebloods and the old families – he had grown up with magic. How could he relate to his fellow witch or wizard at Hogwarts who was still new to the idea? Lily had shown them all that there was more to life than magic and Hogwarts – there was an entire world out there, waiting for them to explore it.

Sirius rubbed his eyes with his thumb and finger as he fought off the throbbing in his skull, the pressure behind his eyes pulsing with each beat of his heart. If he could make it through this session, then he could return to Blackwall with Harry and relax for a week before they left for Rosestone, and then Arpton Keep.

"Order, I will have order!" Dumbledore called, looking around the room of witches and wizards. After a moment he turned his head to the far side of the chamber and gestured to an elderly man who was hunched over at the waist. "Lord Dondarrion, please continue."

The man nodded shakily, though it appeared more from age than nerves. Sirius knew Lord Dondarrion – he was an extraordinarily conservative man in his thirteenth decade. While he had no Lord to answer to, none of the Peverell Vassals did for that matter, his political agenda was his own.

That had always confused Sirius. The Peverell family was one that was as powerful as his own, slightly older too, but the line was extinct with the death of Lord Stefanos Peverell three hundred years ago. Oddly, the Ministry had never attempted to divide up the lands and Vassals among the other families, as was the custom.

Instead, they had remained under their own power and had become a small political alliance and powerhouse in their own right – for it was their votes that many bills came down to.

"Thank you, Chief Warlock." Dondarrion replied with a wheeze before turning to the rest of the assembled Wizengamot. "My Lords, Ladies – it has come to my humble attention that there is a matter in the ratifications we discussed last month on the qualification of Wand Cores that I feel, and my honourable colleagues do as well, merits more discussion."

"And what would that be, Lord Dondarrion?" Lord Elks called from his chair by the bottom level of the chamber.

"What exactly constitutes a magical core element, my Lord." Lord Dondarrion replied without hesitation. "Should we expect our future cores to be made from anything that can conduct magic, or, as is my opinion, should we regulate the materials. Why, I shudder to think of an upstanding member of this body being forced to use a Werewolf hair for their core!"

The chamber erupted again, and Sirius found himself pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighed. His eyes flickered up to the balcony that Harry sat at, and saw the pup standing and leaning against the railing with a thunderous look on his face.

He understood that feeling quite well – however, he was loathed to admit, he had become desensitised to the racial bigotry of the Wizengamot. He knew the Purebloods considered those not wholly human as second, or even third-class citizens – Moony's challenges over the years had been a constant reminder.

"Are you suggesting, Lord Dondarrion, that we limit the range of Wand Cores available to our society?" asked Dumbledore as he leaned forward in his chair.

"I am, Chief Warlock – why, in my years at Hogwarts, it was only proper for boys and girls to have a wand made of Dragon Heartstring or Unicorn Hair."

"I don't know if you've noticed, Lord Dondarrion, but your years at Hogwarts have well and truly passed." Lady Wolpers scoffed, a Vassal for House Prince.

The room broke out into a smattering of laughter and calls for the woman to keep her mouth shut. Sirius was of a similar opinion to Lady Wolpers – in their history, it was true that there were fewer foci materials used in wand creation, but that had been a result of redundant attitudes and business strategies.

In the century since Lord Dondarrion was born, there had been huge advances in the harvesting processes of wand materials – and even what could be used as a material. It had been commonly believed that only a handful of materials would be capable – now, the possibilities were limited only in the number of magical species left in the world.

Too many species had been harvested for their usefulness – entire species wiped from the Earth, never to return. Some had been saved through sheer luck in the timing of the advancements in knowledge – such as the Dragon. How many had been slaughtered over the years for their heartstrings? How many Unicorn had been robbed of their horns? How many Thestral were plucked bare of their hair?

"Order!" Dumbledore called as he banged his gavel again.

"I won't have my children, or my children's children forced to have a Lycan hair for their wands!" Someone called from the many rows.

"And you shouldn't have to!" Dondarrion called back, looking around at the assembled Lords and Ladies and the several Ministry Officials that made up the room. "We are powerful if we remain true to the ideals our society was founded upon!"

"I'm not sure if you know this or not, Lord Dondarrion," Thomas Weasley called as he stood. "But Muggles are no longer the simpletons they used to be! They have explored the world, invented machines and are far more numerous than ever before! The ideals our society was founded upon are antique and not applicable for the world we live in!"

There was a smattering of applause and agreement from those around the Weasley Patriarch – most vocally from his Vassal Lords, Grouse, Squabs and Mistle.

Lord Tarner stood, a Vassal of House Graves – his dark robes contrasting with his pale skin to make him appear almost ghoul-like. "Would the honourable Lord Weasley please explain as to how the advancement of Muggles is related to the regulation of Wand Cores? I move to have his comments stricken from the record, Chief Warlock."

A chorus of ayes accompanied Tarner's words as he resumed his seat, but not before Sirius saw him lean over to a fellow Vassal of House Graves and whisper something into their ear – Lady Daxer if his memory served.

"Chief Warlock," Weasley replied as he stood once again. "I would remind Lord Tarner that my words were in response to Lord Dondarrion's claim that the principles our society was founded on would still be relevant in this day and age – my comments about Muggle advancement were merely an example as to how they are no longer applicable."

"Blood Traitor!" Someone called into the following silence, causing another minute or two of incessant shouting among the Lords and Ladies of the room. He sighed and rubbed at his temples.

"Order! Order!" Dumbledore called over the din. Once the room was silent once more, the old man looked over at Weasley. "I'm afraid that, due to the contentious nature of your statements and the resulting pandemonium, I am forced to strike your comments from the record, as well as the insult that followed. I do this in accordance with article seven-hundred-and-sixty-three."

"As the Chief Warlock has declared, so it shall be – Scribe, strike the appropriate recording from the page!" Minister Fudge called, the pomposity in his tone matched only by the hideous green bowler hat he insisted on wearing.

Cornelius Fudge was no Millicent Bagnold – something which Sirius was eternally grateful for – the man was as corrupt as one could find. Oh, he may have once been an impressive Prosecutor for the Courts in the late Seventies and early Eighties, but that man had been swallowed whole by the man who now sat at the head of the British Ministry. It was a poorly kept secret among the Lords and Ladies that Minister Fudge's loyalty was available to the highest bidder.

Sirius disliked the man, though he couldn't say how much of that dislike stemmed from his Animagus form – canines were, after all, excellent judges of character. Fudge was an overweight, little man with a weak chin and a weaker disposition.

How he had been elected to Minister was beyond his comprehension.

If his position was not entirely solidified, the man floundered and blustered until he got his way. It was a poorly kept secret among the Ministry, that those who were unfortunate enough to deliver unwelcome news, often found themselves in need of a new job – it had become the most common way to fire an employee.

He was a weak man, led around by his subordinates and his sycophants. Sirius narrowed his eyes as the Undersecretary, Delores Umbridge – a disgusting toad of a woman – sat in the chair just below the Minister. He knew of Umbridge, of course – she was a Pureblood bigot, whose opinions on those of 'lesser purity' were disgustingly medieval.

On no less than a dozen counts, had the woman in the pink cardigan attempted to introduce control measures for those not human. She would incite another Goblin Rebellion, pen the Centaurs into paddocks and euthanise Werewolves and Veela – it was no coincidence that many Lycanthropes and Veela moved to the continent, where the views and opinions on both were far more tolerable.

Sirius let out a sigh as he watched the Scribe swipe their quill through part of the heavy tome.

"Now, I believe it time to return to the point the honourable Lord Dondarrion made. If any Lords or Ladies have anything to add to the conversation, I request that you do so politely and remain on topic." Dumbledore called into the room – above them, Sirius caught the flash of a journalist's camera going off in the Public Gallery above that of the heirs.

Lady Oakwood was the first to stand, her grey hair tied into a tight bun at the back of her head – if she weren't a Vassal to House McGonagall, he would think she and Minerva sisters. "I find myself, once again, in a state of utter shock as I sit in this esteemed chamber, my Lords and Ladies. I may be almost as old as the Lord Dondarrion, but I can easily see that many of our children and children's children are more powerful than ever, thanks in no small part to the sheer amount of Wand Cores available to us."

There was a smattering of agreement throughout the chamber.

"And is it not, as the honourable Lord Ollivander's brother always claims, 'The wand chooses the wizard'?"

Sirius watched as Lord Bertrand Ollivander stood, his burgundy robes hanging from his thin frame. "I must find myself in agreement with the honourable Lady Oakwood. Many of you came to my father, and now come to my brother for your wands, or those for your children." Ollivander said – his appearance may have been thin and willowy, but his voice was powerful. "I know for a fact that many in this room have cores in their wands that would be outlawed by Lord Dondarrion's proposal. What you propose, my Lord, would threaten to undo hundreds of years of research and advancement in spells and wand crafting – nay, it would see the extinction of entire species!"

Many in the room clapped and cheered as the eldest of the Ollivander brothers sat down. There were many in the room, however, that muttered their disagreement. Lord Dondarrion was the foremost among them.

"Lord Ollivander, I defend my advocacy for the regulation of these cores! It seems once a decade we are hearing of another possible core! How long would it be until good, British witches and wizards are forced to use Veela hair? It's just not right!"

"If a Veela offers a hair willingly, it is just as potent a core as any other. There are many documented wizards and witches throughout the world that use such cores – to think otherwise is to be willfully ignorant." Malcolm Hawke shot back as he stood from his chair – he was a tall, broad shouldered man with a thick head of hair and an impressive beard. He was also the head of a Vassal family to House Potter.

"And so now the Potters speak up! We were wondering when you would provide your infallible wisdom with the rest of us." Lord Marchbanks chortled from his chair.

"I am merely stating truth and facts, my Lord – I understand if the words confused you, as you use them so rarely, it is no surprise you forgot their meaning." Lord Hawke scoffed as he crossed his legs and reclined in his chair. Chuckles rumbled through the chamber.

Sirius watched as Marchbanks leapt to his feet and gripped the railing before him – even from the far side of the room, the reds and purples of his face were easy to spot. "You dare question my honour?"

"Your honour isn't what the topic of conversation is about, my Lord. I would remind the chamber once again, to keep the discussion on topic." Dumbledore called out once again.

"If I may, Chief Warlock?" Umbridge called in her simpering voice – Sirius had to cover his mouth with his hand to hide the sneer that tugged on his lips. Dumbledore nodded. "I commend the honourable Lord Dondarrion for his excellent point. If I may, I propose including a bridge in this legislation to the upcoming legislation for the Control and Distribution of Magical Creatures scheduled to be brought before this body in three months."

There was a small commotion as several voices rose at the same time and were silenced as he heard Amelia's voice rang out across the chamber. "Undersecretary Umbridge, I assume you are not suggesting a bridge to the amendment which was brought before my office and denied because of the extremes it would allow Aurors to go to apprehend Werewolves and Veela – not to mention Goblins, who, may I remind you, Delores, are a separate nation."

Sirius wanted to stand and applaud the woman, if only for having visibly angered the pink toad. "Ah, thank you, Amelia, for bringing that to my attention – I hadn't received the memo."

"We're getting off track again!" Lady Juniper called, slamming her cane into the floor – the prominent Vassal of House Dumbledore. How long would it be until the likes of Lady Juniper were divided up between the Wizengamot? It was well known that both of the Dumbledore brothers were the last of their house, and Aberforth had no intention of ever taking a wife and fathering a child. It would be a shame to witness the end of such an old house, despite his personal feelings about the current Head of House.

Sirius stood slowly and clasped the rail before him as he looked around the chamber.

"You should be ashamed." He began, looking directly at Lord Dondarrion. "I stand here in the place of Arcturus Black, and as the regent to House Potter – and I look around this room in disgust."

He paused and allowed the men and women under his gaze to shift in their seats a little. "To suggest we regulate the cores of our wands is ignorant and bigoted – would you go on to suggest only Half-Bloods or Purebloods would be afforded a wand in the years to come? Where do the disgusting ideals of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named stop? Or the views of Grindelwald? What you espouse, my Lord, is no different than those men who came before you. Should we begin viewing you as the next Dark Lord?" Sirius growled, staring at Lord Dondarrion.

"You dare-" Dondarrion began, stumbling to his feet.

"I am not finished!" Sirius bellowed, feeling his magic begin to prickle the skin along his arms. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath for a moment. "Veela have the right to use a wand, as do Werewolves. I will not sit here, and watch bigoted old men and women condemn their fellow wizards and witches for simply being what they are or are afflicted by."

Sirius looked around the room once more. "I am sure that a great many men and women sat in this chamber once – the conversations they had, all those hundreds of years ago, still having an effect on our lives today. They would be ashamed of those who would support something like this."

"I believe, Heir Black, that you have made your point." Lord Malfoy replied from his chair across the chamber. Lucius Malfoy was a tall, blonde haired man with his nose constantly pointed in the air.

"Indeed – House Longbottom stands behind House Potter and House Black." Augusta called into the chamber as she rose from her chair a little further down the row. Sirius nodded to her.

"As does House Greengrass." Castor announced, clasping his hands before him.

"House Bones supports House Black and Potter." Amelia announced, and Sirius couldn't help but turn to look at his betrothed and wink playfully at her. He saw her roll her eyes playfully as she fought back a smile – she had a reputation and an image to uphold to the Ministry.

"House McGonagall is of a like mind." Minerva announced, her Scottish brogue thick from her annoyance. It was nice to see Minerva in the chamber, instead of her Regent during the school year – he could never bring himself to like the boisterous man, but he did seem like he had Minerva's best interests at heart.

There were a number of Lords and Ladies that followed the declarations, from all sides of the Wizengamot. It seemed that Lord Dondarrion's proposition wouldn't make it past the governing body of Britain this time – though, there was no doubt in Sirius's mind that the old man would find some way to wrangle it before them once again in the future.

Sometimes, he felt like weeping at the state of British politics – when had the society of wizards and witches devolved into such a state of petty differences and bigotry? Had it always been this way, and he'd just been oblivious to it? Perhaps. He tried not to think what James would have thought about it all.

Sirius glanced up at Harry, who he noted was still leaning against the railing of the balcony and was pleased to see the triumphant grin on the boy's face. The grin bolstered his resolve – he would continue to work tirelessly to make the world a better place for Harry, and when it came time for Harry to take his seat in the Wizengamot, Sirius would be proud to help his boy change the world.

The bangs of Dumbledore's gavel echoed once more throughout the cavernous room, and Sirius sat with the other Lords and Ladies – as comfortable as the chair was, it was made less-so by his gambeson and gorget.

"The motion to review the regulation of Wand Cores is denied." Minister Fudge called, peering through the spectacles on the tip of his nose at the parchment in his hand. "Next call to order, Department of Accidental Magic budget review."

Sirius grinned as Harry came into view. The Wizengamot had lasted most of the day, and he had honestly expected Harry to have been bored to tears – he knew he would have been at Harry's age. He swept the boy up in his arms and span him around as they both laughed – Sirius's previous sour mood was completely forgotten.

He placed Harry back onto the floor and gently tugged on one of the loose strands of Harry's hair. His boy was dressed in his armour, just as he was, though with a cloak that had a smoky wolf pelt stitched across his shoulders and the sigil of his house embossed on the straps that crossed over his chest.

Harry's face scrunched up adorably as he swatted his hand away – two muffled snickers behind him drew his attention to Daphne and Neville. Neville, like Harry, was wearing his usual armour – though he noticed a few changes. There was a lot more fur, for one, and the gambeson was shorter, ending at the mid-thigh and was cinched at his waist by a large belt with the Longbottom Bear on it.

Daphne, on the other hand, had opted for a long black dress with a black-lace bodice. Her hair was held in an intricate up-do, and tight ringlets framed her porcelain face. While Neville was grinning toothily, she simply quirked a brow and smirked.

"I see you survived the session without me – you're growing up too quickly, pup." Sirius grinned, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Neville, Daphne – it's good to see you both."

"Sirius." Daphne replied with a polite nod, while Neville's grin got a little cheekier.

"Old dog." The boy said.

"Little Bear." Sirius quipped back, quickly stepping around Harry and tucking Neville's head into the crook of his arm as he ruffled the boy's hair. "Not too old to still teach you a lesson, am I?"

The laughter of Neville and Harry was interrupted by the approaching click-clack of heels on the marble stone. Sirius looked up momentarily to take in Amelia and Susan Bones.

Amelia was dressed in black heeled shoes, and a grey suit-skirt with a matching jacket. Her blouse was white, and the cloak of House Bones was draped across her shoulders delicately. He took in the creamy expanse of her neck and noted the soft smile she saved only for him – it had been a smile he had first received when she pulled him into a broom cupboard on the seventh floor.

Susan, by contrast seemed rather nervous and on-edge as her eyes darted from himself to Harry and back again. Her red hair was tied back into a simple bun, and she chewed on the inside of her cheek nervously. Like Daphne, Susan was attired in a simple dress, though Susan's was a shimmering bronze that caught the light and complimented her hair nicely.

"Heir Longbottom, should you wish to make a statement about your treatment at the hands of Heir Black, my office would be happy to make an appointment." Amelia said formally, stopping just a few feet away from the small group.

Sirius heard Harry clear his throat, and he realised he'd been staring at his betrothed – which also meant that he still had the struggling and laughing Neville in a headlock. He released the boy, who stumbled back a little with a grin.

"No charges will be necessary, my Lady – give it another year, and I assure you it'll be the other way around." Neville replied, his cheeks rosy.

"You think?" Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows as he turned to look at the boy.

"I know so – we Longbottoms are made of powerful stuff. I'll be a bear before you know it!"

"Indeed – well, in that case, I think we can agree that any injuries Heir Black may sustain would have been entirely justified, no?" Amelia smirked, cocking a brow as she looked at Sirius.

"Injuries? From the cub?" Sirius gasped, reaching over, and grabbing the boy again. "From this little tyke? I'm terrified."

Susan giggled as he grabbed Neville in another headlock and ruffled his hair again. Harry, it seemed, had forgone attempting to stifle his laughter, and was now leaning against the wall and wiping the tears from his eyes as he watched his best friend. After a moment longer, if only to bask in his boy's laughter for a little longer, he released Neville with a chuckle of his own.

"You asked for that." Daphne chuckled as Neville ran his fingers through his hair, which had grown quite a bit in his time at Hogwarts, it seemed. Gone was the messy mop atop his head, replaced by a thick head of shoulder-length hair that was tucked behind his ears.

"I'll get him." Neville grumbled.

"You say that every time." Harry chuckled. "I've yet to see you get him once."

"A man can dream." The little bear muttered, shoving Harry playfully.

"Boys, boys, we have guests. There's a certain level of decorum to be observed." Sirius winked, placing his hands behind his back as he turned to look at the two Bones.

A very Daphne-snort stopped him mid-turn.

"Daphne? Something to share with the class?" He asked with a raised brow.

"No, Sirius – just the thought of you behaving, is all." She grinned cheekily. Sirius grasped at his breast as if he had been mortally wounded and stumbled his way to Amelia – it was a good job that they were the only ones left in the corridor. "I've been wounded by the evil witch, Milady – you must save me!"

"Indeed? Wounded by a girl not even in her teens – my, either you're not the wizard I thought you to be, or she's far more powerful than even Dumbledore himself." Amelia quipped, patting him on the cheek gently. Susan giggled again.

"I like to think it's a combination of both." Daphne smirked – Sirius stuck his tongue out at her, earning him a roll of her eyes.

"If your theatrics are quite over, I thought to formally introduce my niece – Susan, meet Heir Potter, Heir Longbottom, Heir Greengrass, and Heir Black." She paused before leaning over to her niece and whispered loud enough for them all to hear, "Even though he looks like an adult, don't let him fool you – he's still little more than a child."

Sirius frowned. "That would make you-"

"Quite unfortunate, I would say." Amelia said, cutting him off with a pointed look. Sirius felt his jaw snap shut.

"You have my condolences, Lady Bones." Daphne sighed dramatically, offering a small curtsey to the Director.

"I thank you, Heir Greengrass – your words are much appreciated." Amelia replied with a grin.

"It's good to see you again, Susan." Harry smiled, stepping up to the Bones Heir and brushing his lips against her knuckles, as was proper.

"The pleasure is mine, Harry." Susan replied in a low voice, dipping into a quick curtsey of her own. "And Neville – it's nice to see you too. Hello to you too, Daphne."

"Hello." Daphne replied with a tight smile, while Neville simply offered a small wave.

Sirius clapped his hands together and gave them a quick rub as he looked around the group. "Now, I believe the plan was for everyone to return to Blackwall for a day or two, correct?"

Indeed, that was the plan – Amelia and Susan were to join them for a long weekend at Blackwall Manor. The idea was to attempt to recreate the missed opportunity of the Christmas break – Amelia had even booked the time off from the Ministry! Apparently, it had been the talk of the office for days.

Sirius and Amelia had already made the arrangements for the House Elves to collect their things, and although Neville and Daphne couldn't stay for the entire weekend, he had no doubt they would appear sporadically.

They began to make their way through the Ministry towards the Floos – Amelia's hand wrapped around his left arm, and his own right hand was draped around Harry's shoulders. As they moved, with the children, minus Harry, walking directly in front of them, he could hear the occasional whisper from those they passed.

He cared little for the opinions of those who worked at the Ministry – well, all except one – and so paid little attention to them most of the time. This time, however, he had his future wife on his arm and was accompanied by his son and so paid a little closer attention, even as he laughed and joked with those in his company.

There were the usual whispers of The Stone Lady, referring to Amelia's usual expressionless face. She had built a façade around herself over the years, it seemed, of a woman who was utterly unfazed by anything – it had been a survival tactic, in a way.

The Ministry was still largely male-dominated – particularly in the Auror department. For Amelia to have climbed the ranks to the top spot over little more than a decade was impressive. Of course, there would always be rumours over such things, but Sirius knew that her position of power was well-earned. The low crime rate was an excellent example.

There were other whispers as well – those whispering of The-Boy-Who-Lived and other such drivel. It was an unfortunate aspect of Harry's life. It was terrible that he'd lost his parents – a witch and wizard that Sirius himself loved fiercely – but to be reminded of it every time someone muttered that stupid title made his wand-hand itch.

He felt Amelia's grip on his arm tighten and he released a shaky breath as they passed a particularly loud pair of wizards as they stared openly. He could only imagine how awful it must have been in those first weeks at Hogwarts for Prongslet.

He glanced at the woman on his arm and offered her a quick smile before they approached the Floo Elf. Quickly, Sirius paid the powder fees for them all, and they found themselves engulfed in flames one at a time.

Upon his arrival at Blackwall, Sirius was greeted by the familiar sight of Arcturus's study. Normally guests arrived in the main foyer, but each of them were considered family – including Susan, who even Sirius hadn't met until her quick introduction at the Ministry.

Ideally, Harry and Susan would have met by now – Sirius would admit that he had been rather looking forward to meeting the young girl, having briefly known her parents. By all accounts of Amelia, she was a smart girl with a love of magical creatures.

Sirius had seen the Bones castle in Dorset and had been impressed at the sheer number of creatures they had. The Ossuary was a castle atop a hill near the south-coast – it had an interesting design, as you had to enter the almost vertical hill at the base to gain entry. As a result, the single entrance was heavily defensible, though it was still scarred from the assault that had left Susan an orphan.

Within the grounds, however, was plenty of space for the herd of Thestrals he had seen – beautiful specimens they were too. He'd expect nothing less from the family who's sigil had the creatures on them. It was said that, in the past, the Lords of House Bones would ride their Thestrals into battle – what a sight that must have been.

There were other creatures, of course, housed in a number of habitats and attended to by the Bones Elves. He'd seen Unicorns, Diricrawls, a pair of Leucrottas and an Augurey – that one had apparently been added by Susan herself.

By the time Sirius had shrugged his cloak from his shoulders, it was just himself and Amelia left in the room – Harry had dragged the other children from the room as he babbled excitedly about his own creatures. He swept his gaze to Amelia, who had quickly rid herself of her own cloak and her jacket.

Closing the distance between them, he slid his hands around her waist and quickly captured her lips with his own, feeling her own hands thread themselves around his neck. He pulled away with a small groan and gently placed his forehead against her own.

"Heir Black, are you taking liberties?" Amelia murmured – even now, her pupils were dilated and her words were slightly breathless.

"Perhaps – would you complain if I did?" He muttered back, a small smirk on his lips.

"That would depend."

"Oh?" He asked, quirking a brow.

Amelia nodded sagely and patted his cheek. "On how quickly we can get upstairs and get you out of that armour."

"Say no more, my Lady!" Sirius chuckled, sweeping Amelia up and over his shoulder, causing a small shriek to escape her lips, only to dissolve into a fit of giggles – in all his years, he had never imagined Amelia Bones, Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, giggling like a school girl.

With a firm pat to her posterior, he was out of the room and almost taking the stairs two-at-a-time towards his room. The children were outside, no doubt under the watchful eyes of Lispy, Remus and Arcturus were not likely to return any time soon, and he had his betrothed over his shoulder.

Despite the poor start to the day, Sirius was in a marvellous mood – he had mischief to get up to, after all.