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Harry and Daphne Potter were the perfect, prototypical purebloods. They lived shamelessly in lavish luxury bestowed upon them by the efforts of their ancestors, and neither lifted a finger for anything outside of their own indulgent interests.
Being traditional purebloods as they were, one of those interests was thoughtlessly effectuating meaningless cruelties upon those of 'lesser' blood quality.
"Fuhahaha!" Daphne laughed haughtily. "Did you do more evil things at the ministry today, my dear?"
"Of course!" Harry replied, walking into the living room and closing the door behind him. "Only the most evil of things, my sweet."
He threw his briefcase on the floor and kicked off his shoes, settling in to lounge languidly on an expensive armchair he cared nothing about. While he had enough money for the next twenty generations of his family to throw galleons around like jelly beans, Harry still got a kick out of going to the Wizengamot and forcing through bills that would compromise society's undesirables.
"Oh, Harry, do tell me more," Daphne moaned ravishingly. "You know how much I love it when you torment the lesser folk…"
Tales of his deviltry also had the effect of putting his wife in the mood for depravity of the bedroom variety, which was always a welcome bonus.
"Buhahaha!" Harry laughed lordly. "I sure do. Now, come here darling, and let me tell you all about it."
Daphne stood from her own armchair and slinked sinuously over to Harry's. Her hips swayed with exaggerated movements, and his eyes followed them greedily like a pendulum.
Despite generations of inbreeding, the Greengrass's were still famous for their beauty, and Daphne was no exception. She had pale skin and dark hair, with cherry lips and a symmetry that couldn't be reproduced by even the greatest of artists. She may have had cerebral popcorn where her brain was supposed to be, but as her father once told her, 'you can't have everything'.
Incidentally, her father was killed in a tragic accident after having an extramarital affair with seven women and three men at the same time.
Daphne climbed atop the chair and straddled Harry's lap, pressing her body gently into his. Her softness reminded him that while they had been married since they were two years old, and neither had any say in their betrothal contract, his great-great-great-grandfather couldn't have possibly accidentally chosen a better bride.
"Don't make me wait any longer, my love," she murmured. "Tell me exactly what you did. I want every organizing detail."
"I believe you meant 'agonizing', darling."
Daphne kissed him on the mouth. "I love how smart you are."
Earlier that morning, Harry sat on his seat in the Wizengamot courtroom, falling in and out of consciousness as he dozed off. To be honest, the majority of these meetings were entirely boring, and he couldn't care less about them.
"And so," the Chief Warlock continued, "many people have been complaining about the rising prices of school tuition in Wizarding Britain. I put forth this topic as one worthy of discussion today, should the esteemed delegates second this motion."
There was a chorus of agreement around the room, and Harry shook himself awake. He had no clue what the Chief Warlock was talking about, and also hadn't bothered learning the man's name, but if an opportunity to wreak havoc was imminent, he needed to be ready.
An older woman rose to speak.
"We simply cannot afford to keep subsidizing tuition!" she declared. "Our budget is spread thin as is, and we haven't even begun to pay off our foreign debts!"
There were some affirmative grumbles from several of the older witches and wizards in the room, but some outraged gasps as well.
"I beg to differ," a middle-aged man said. "It is precisely by offering affordable education that we will strengthen our economy and work towards a better future. Not to mention the protest from Hogwarts if we continue to ignore their requests for supplementary funding."
Harry fidgeted uncomfortably, hating these moments where the Wizengamot discussed matters he didn't understand. He didn't know what 'school' was, and only knew 'Hogwarts' was a powerful institution of some sort in Scotland. His home tutors were the only exposure he ever had to formal education, and he had a penchant for avoiding extracurricular learning.
He developed a plan and stood.
"I think," he started, "it would be beneficial for us first to define school. What is school? What is Hogwarts? And what do those words mean to us?"
There were nods around the room, and Harry cackled internally at his most ingenious scheme. By covering his ignorance with pompous pseudo-philosophy, he wouldn't have to shame himself in public by asking a real question!
"To me, a school is a place of learning," the Chief Warlock said eventually. "A place where children and adults alike gather with the common goal of improving their skills and knowledge."
Another woman nodded. "Precisely. And more literally, school is where students spend the majority of their young life, growing within a measured environment like vines on a trellis. They will eat there, sleep there, and build long-lasting relationships with their peers over the course of several years."
Harry tried his best to hide his surprise. "And this is compulsory? Or rather, you think it should be?"
"I do," she said. "I believe it is of the utmost importance that children without access to private tutors have the opportunity to learn the same things as everyone else."
Harry was positively floored. He had thought that woman was against the pureblood agenda!
"Very well then," he said, hardly believing his luck. "If that's what you believe, then that's what we must do."
His basic impression of 'school' so far was that it was something akin to Azkaban but for children. If the woman wanted to imprison every magical child who couldn't afford tutors - which essentially boiled down to muggleborns and half-bloods - he would not argue.
"But Mr. Potter," someone argued, "we don't have the budget to subsidize every student that goes to a school of magic in Britain!"
"Subsidize? No." Harry shook his head. "We will make it free! Not only that, but it will be compulsory for all muggleborns and half-bloods – it is them who deserve it, after all. If the Wizengamot does not have the resources, I will fund this program from my own vaults!"
Everyone gasped.
"B-B-But Mr. Potter," the Chief Warlock spluttered. "Are you certain about this?"
Harry smirked. He loved shocking the masses.
"I do not jest, Chieftain," he said. "Prepare the contracts and I will sign them. Make sure that every child with mixed heritage is sent to 'school'."
With that, Harry was starting to get bored again and he walked out of the room. Everyone stared in shock as he left, and not a single protest was raised as he closed the door behind him.
"Oh, Harry!" Daphne shouted in ecstasy. "You really outdid yourself this time – that's so evil!"
"I know!" he replied gleefully. "Just thinking about the miserable expressions on all of those little muggleborn faces sends a chill down my spine!"
"And the half-bloods too!"
"Them too!"
Completely taken by the intellectual savagery of her husband, Daphne melted into his embrace. If she had two or more brain cells to rub together to generate friction, she might have wondered if their bank account could handle such an enormous undertaking, but alas she only had one.
Somewhere in a town on the wrong side of Britain, two penurious half-bloods read a spare newspaper they had found tossed in the street.
"Have you seen this yet, honey?" the husband said shakily, gesturing towards the front page.
"Not yet," she replied. "What's happened?"
"Harry Potter has signed a bill to personally fund the education of every magical child in the country – we'll be able to send Timothy and Tiffany to school without worrying about our finances!"
Immediately, tears of joy sprung to the wife's eyes. "Is that really true? Why, Harry Potter's generosity knows no bounds!"
Summoned by the commotion in the other room of their two-room apartment, Timothy and Tiffany ran over to see what their parents were doing.
"Mom, Dad, what's going on?" they asked.
Their parents looked at them with delighted expressions on their faces.
"Back your bags, kids – the two of you will be going to Hogwarts after all!"
Somewhere in Gringotts, the goblins ran around busily. They had nearly had a collective panic attack when they heard the news that Harry Potter had signed away half of his entire family's wealth to the new education program, and were only starting to understand the true depth of the young man's genius now.
A little goblin grunt ran into senior back accounts manager Tentoes' office.
"Sir! Potter Patrol share prices have gone up by over 700%, and all of his holdings are experiencing similar growth – he's richer now than he was before the education program!"
Senior bank accounts manager Tentoes shook his head ruefully. As good as the goblins were with money, the schemes of the young and rich wizards would always surprise them.
"Transfer the funds," he said eventually, "and prepare some superlative gifts to send to the Potters. We can't afford to lose their business, now more than ever."
"Fuhahaha!" Daphne laughed at the breakfast table one morning. "They're calling you a savior, Harry!"
She lifted the latest edition of the Daily Prophet towards Harry, gesturing to the picture of him on the front page. She didn't know how to read, but their house-elf Doberto read the major headlines for her while she looked at the pictures.
"Buhahaha!" Harry laughed. "Why, of course! I sent society's young offscourings to a penitentiary, after all!"
Daphne moved to pour a glass of orange juice for Harry, but spilled half of it all over the table. Doberto snapped his little house-elf fingers and vanished the mess away in an instant.
"I love how merciless you are," she said affectionately, gazing into Harry's deep green eyes. "The muggleborns and half-bloods don't stand a chance against you."
"They never did," Harry replied sagely. "Such is the way of the world – winners win, and losers lose."
"You're so smart," she purred.
"I know," he said. "That's why I married you."
They started to kiss over the kitchen table, and Doberto left the room to give them some privacy.