A Wizard's Conquest

Chapter 41

Light streamed through the windows of the Throne Room in Buckingham Palace, illuminating the opulent chamber and falling on the crown of King Henry IX as he sat on his throne, narrowed green eyes studying the people assembled before him.

'So,' Harry pronounced as he shifted in his throne. Well, technically his predecessor's throne, he had just changed the Royal Cipher and added a few cushioning charms. Why throw away something good, after all? And the throne, even without the charms, was quite comfortable.

'The Order of the Phoenix...' He snorted. 'Not a group that Dumbledore founded by himself after all.'

'Please, Your Majesty,' one of the figures pleaded. 'Our families did not have anything to do with the unfortunate abduction of your sons.'

'Indeed?' Harry's eyes narrowed. 'Then, Mister Smith, please explain why it was that I found magic-suppressing shackles on one of my sons' wrists with the Hufflepuff crest engraved on it.'

'Yes,' Harry continued in a dry tone, his eyes flashing at the paling visage of the person in front of him. He held out the offending object in front of him with two of his fingers as if it were diseased. 'We believe the word you were looking for, Smith, was, "Oops".'

'Did you really think that we had you lot brought here to get you to confess because we assumed that you may be involved?' he said lowly, his eyes sweeping over each of the men in front of him.

'We know that your fathers are involved in this ... matter,' Harry spat. 'Percy Weasley was quite cooperative once we had him hopped up on Veritaserum. Then again, there were no more magical oaths to bind him once his magic had all but left him after we formally had him declared as a traitor.'

'So, the question isn't of your guilt or innocence, but rather what should we do with you.'

Reclining, he regarded the wizards standing in front of him.

Fear gripped the minds of the assembled. They all knew what happened to traitors. Not only do they lose their magic, but all properties and titles are seized by the crown, making it impossible for the quisling's heirs to inherit anything.

In short, should the King do to them the same thing he had done to Percy Weasley and John Dawlish, their family legacies would be lost, and their heirs left penniless?

The only way they would be able to avoid this, or at least keep their magic, would be if they ran, just like Ron and Hermione Weasley. Something they knew would be impossible.

'Please, Your Majesty,' Lord Jonathon Smith was the first to break, knowing that he had the most to lose. 'My father ... he is old ... I – none of us had any inclination ...'

'What are you saying?' Harry said after a very pregnant pause.

'You have to understand, sir,' Jonathon was choosing his words carefully. 'He is old ... and, old age can do things to the mind...'

'Are you saying that your father has gone senile?' Harry finally replied, with a raised eyebrow.

Jonathon nodded. Slowly choosing his words, he explained what he and the others now standing next to him had suspected for a long time. Jonathon had no idea why his father had decided to do such things. The person he knew growing up would have never stooped so low as to kidnap children for no obvious reason. Unlike the King, Jonathon and the rest knew that the group of old men would never have had aspirations towards controlling the crown. What he did know was of the group's weird obsession with Flamel. His father and his father's friends had never thought to share the specifics, however.

The only conclusion they could come up with, as much as it pained them, was senility. And this madness was probably there for quite a while. It was only because of how close they were to the situation that they never caught on. Admitting this aloud made his mouth feel like it was full of ash, but it had to be done.