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The new Ministry law was revolting, disgusting, and simply petty.
“There’s really nothing that can be done?” Harry asked, rubbing her eyes with her hands.
She had thought Voldemort’s return would be what made it impossible for her to enjoy her fifth year at Hogwarts.
Instead, the law that Cornelius Fudge had the audacity to pass went beyond any previous boundary.
“No, my dear girl.” Dumbledore looked sad, disappointed, and the usual twinkle in his eyes had vanished. “By the age of seventeen, all witches must be married, and by the age of eighteen, they must have borne their first child.”
“Who gets to choose?” Harry asked again, picking up the parchment and searching for a loophole.
She had no luck, just like all the other times before—but it would’ve been nice if, just once , magic worked that way.
“The parent or guardian of the girl,” Dumbledore explained. “As you don’t have a guardian, my dear, I fear you may be in for a struggle not to fall victim to the Ministry’s manipulations. I will help you where I can, of course, but…”
“…even your help has its limits, Professor.” Harry nodded. She hadn’t expected Dumbledore to solve everything. Her faith in the Headmaster’s omnipotence had faded somewhat after Cedric had died—or perhaps when her name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, despite Dumbledore’s assurances that such a thing could never happen. Speaking of the Goblet of Fire… “I think I’d like to visit Gringotts, Professor.”
“For what purpose?” Dumbledore asked, frowning. “It won’t change anything. They do not have influence over magical law —otherwise I’d have asked for their help already.”
“No, but I entered a tournament—under the Ministry’s blessing and even insistence —meant only for of-age wizards and witches.” Harry explained. “I’d have the authority to refuse any suitor, and wouldn’t fall into the hands of any Pureblood family. Plus, I’d have a seat on the Wizengamot, wouldn’t I? I could speak out against Cornelius Fudge’s scheming directly.”
“The Ministry would not approve,” Dumbledore murmured.
But his eyes were twinkling again, which told Harry that the Headmaster wasn’t truly angry or worried—but rather that he found the idea both feasible and highly amusing given the consequences it would have for Cornelius himself.
“All the more reason to do it, then.” Harry grinned.
The renewed glint in those blue eyes was all the answer she needed.
***
Harry had picked the perfect moment to crash Fudge’s little meeting. Specifically, she had chosen a time when her professors, the Minister, Bones, and Shacklebolt would all be present.
From the look in the Headmaster’s eyes, now was the moment to make it clear to all of them what was going to happen from this point forward.
“How dare you? All of you. Standing around, deciding my future!” Harry exclaimed, pointing at the Minister, who was acting as her guardian in a completely illegal fashion, selling her off in exchange for votes and money. “I am not a prize to be won!”
“You’ve no one to look after you, you arrogant little girl!” Umbridge replied, completely smug and certain of the protection Cornelius Fudge was affording her.
From the way Amelia Bones and Kingsley Shacklebolt stiffened, she had probably misjudged.
“I don’t need anyone to look after me,” Harry replied, showing her hand, now suddenly adorned with rings. “As Lady Potter, Heir to the Houses of Black and Peverell by blood, and to the Houses of Gaunt and Slytherin by conquest, I am fully within my rights to drag both you, Miss Umbridge—” Harry took immense delight in the way Umbridge flushed “—and the Minister to court for misappropriation of my family’s property, as well as for sealing my parents’ wills in a ploy to use their seats.”
“You can’t change the law!” Fudge blustered, pointing at her. “It’s not within your rights!”
“Is voting not my right? Or making proper use of my inheritance, Minister?” Harry asked, tilting her head. “Though perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised, considering how quickly you folded to a bribe from the Malfoys in my second year, just to imprison Hagrid without trial and expel Dumbledore from the school.”
“What are you referring to, Lady Potter?” Madam Bones asked, proving herself alert as well as just and fair.
“To Cornelius Fudge’s habit of accepting money from Lucius Malfoy in order to cover up his more repugnant actions,” Harry replied. “I’ll gladly provide my memories of the events I’m referring to, Madam Bones. In the meantime, I think all of you—” she threw a sharp glance at the boys who had spent the past five years trying to control or belittle her in turn “—can leave.”
“You still have to marry before the age of seventeen, Lady Potter,” Severus Snape interjected, speaking lazily and calmly. “Your titles can’t change that.”
“You’re right, Professor Snape—” Harry revelled in the surprise on Umbridge’s and Fudge’s faces “—and that’s why I’ve investigated the votes and discovered that, in order to pass it, Lucius Malfoy took the liberty of using the Black seats, and Fudge freely used the Potter and Peverell seats. Naturally, I’ll be reviewing every vote since the start of the war, from the moment my father and my godfather stopped appearing in the Wizengamot, just to ensure everything aligns with the preferences of the Houses of Potter and Black, of course. Oh, and regarding this topic—” Harry looked to Madam Bones “—might I ask why my godfather never received a trial? And why Crouch, Fudge, and the entire Wizengamot sent the Heir to the House of Black to Azkaban without even hearing him out?”
“I had no idea that…” Madam Bones narrowed her eyes. “No one ever questioned Sirius Black’s guilt. I never knew there hadn’t been a trial.”
“I questioned it the moment I saw Peter Pettigrew alive.” Harry shrugged.
“Looks like we have much to discuss,” Amelia Bones said.
“Looks like we do,” Harry replied with a smile.