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20th December 1998- Sunday
"Gold or Silver, Your Highness?"
Harry met the eyes of Amari through the mirror, barely visible behind the ornate hairpins she was holding up. He reached up to take the gold one in his hands, tracing his fingertips gently over the flowery details, especially on the snake motifs with emerald-encrusted eyes and twisting vines of pure gold. It was a gift from the Emperor, the other as well, for his promotion to the rank of Concubine. There had not yet been a reason for Harry to wear one, as ostentatious as they were, but the man had ordered that they dress well.
"The gold, it'll go well with my robes."
His hair was longer than when he had first arrived, just enough so that a hairpin could be weaved into it, with other pins and silken ribbons that blended in to strengthen that hold. It wasn't overly long, however, just enough to cover his ears and brush annoyingly at his neck. Perhaps, when he was older, he'd be more inclined to grow it out, as was the fashion in the Court. As of the moment, he was still too attached to keeping it short like his dads'.
Harry shrugged on his robes, wincing as the nail guards Anya had convinced him to wear scraped along the silk noisily. He was getting all dressed up for the ball the Australian Ministry had put together in the few days since their arrival, and felt incredibly anxious about every detail of his outfit. The accessories; bracelets, earrings, hairpins. The shoes, his hairstyle, the robes.
The robes he wore were incredibly intricate, lovingly crafted items. Anya, who had ordered for them to be created, had obviously used up quite a chunk of his stipend to have them made so finely, and with such soft materials. They were Concubine green with golden embroidery, pictures of deers and fauna twirling about the hems of the robes. The sleeves were equally as decorated, sweeping things that would cover his hands in an abundance of material, emphasising and exaggerating every sweep he made.
He smoothed down the robes, eyeing himself critically in the mirror. Whether a trick of the light, or perhaps wishful thinking, Harry thought he could perhaps see the beginnings of a bump growing. Or, perhaps that was just lunch, as he was only just over nine weeks along as of a few days ago. He sighed, tying the sash so it fell over his stomach, hiding whatever it could be.
"Master, we must be leaving. The floo connection to the Ministry will be closed soon, and His Majesty's other concubines have already left." Anya sounded worried, but they were still on time. He told her as such, but Amari was looking equally stressed, so he relented and peeled himself reluctantly away from the mirror and his self-deprecating stare.
"I'm ready, we can go."
Harry arrived in the almost-empty Ministry atrium, sighing as he clung a little tighter to his Head Maid, his stomach unsettled but not as bad as it had been. Anya checked him over thoroughly but inconspicuously, settling once there were no crinkles in his robes, and his hair was as tame as it could be.
"The ball is being held in the Hall. We are slightly behind, but not late just yet, Your Highness." Anya hurried him through the corridors, seeming to know where she was headed. After a few minutes of twists and turns, a pair of large, oaken doors came into view, and she released his arm. "This is the Hall, Your Highness. I will be waiting with the other maids to receive you once the ball is over."
He smiled at her gratefully, knowing full well he'd never have made it here, even with directions. "Thank you." Standing straighter, he stepped forward and closer to the doors. Guarding them were wizards dressed in black gear, wands in their hands but lowered to the floor. They bowed as he stopped before them. Before he could introduce himself, they snapped to attention and pulled the doors open, light spilling out into the darkened hallway.
The hall was opulent, to say the least, with its stylised pillars and golden accents being the most prevalent feature. The hall was bright, the glass-domed ceiling letting in the last natural light of the day, aided by the many chandeliers that hung from it. It was clear to see that the Australian Ministry had gone all out to impress the Emperor, whether that was due to the embarrassment they faced a week ago, or whether this had been planned extravagantly from the start.
"His Highness, Concubine Slytherin-Potter-Black," Harry winced at the long name. "Sixth Royal Concubine of His Majesty, The Emperor." The herald to the side announced him, and Harry startled at the sudden shout. Squaring his shoulders, he headed for the dias as confidently as he could muster. He had to walk through the hall of staring politicians and Lords to reach it, shivering slightly under the intense stares sent his way. It made Harry fidget slightly and walk even faster.
He bowed as he reached the dias steps, making his way up them as Thomas smiled at him.
"A little late, I see, my Concubine." His voice was a teasing lilt, matched by the smirk on his lips. Harry sheepishly bowed his head again in apology.
"Apologies-"
"It is unacceptable." Bellatrix interrupted with a snap, sneering down at him from her spot to the right of the Emperor. "How dare you be late and keep the Emperor and the gathered Lords and Ladies waiting."
"It is quite rude of you, Brother Harry. We have been here for a little while now." Penny chimed in, her voice sweet and full of disappointment. It made him feel like a young boy again, being told off by the grownups arriving late to lessons or dawdling on the way down to dinner. "The servers have had to be delayed twice."
Under their disapproving gazes, Harry's shoulders slumped. "My apologies, Sisters, Your Majesty."
Bellatrix tutted again, fluffing herself up. "His Majesty has been waiting on you to begin the feast, you have made an embarrassment-"
The Emperor clicked his tongue, sending a narrow-eyed glance at the Consort. "Enough. He has been ill for several days, as you all know," His eyes narrowed further, red brightening with barely controlled anger, which Harry could hear in his voice. "It is a welcome surprise that he made it. Thank you for coming despite the trouble, my Concubine."
Harry gave him a weak smile, still reeling from the verbal lashing he'd just been subjected to by the Consorts. "You requested for me to come, Your Majesty, I wouldn't refuse such an invite."
Bellatrix scoffed. "It was not an invite, but yet you are late-"
"Bellatrix." Thomas grounded out, magic spiking in a violent way that silenced the hall. Those closest reeled back physically, Harry stepping back a little as the Emperor's magic became visible like heatwaves on the horizon. "I said enough."
"Yes, Your Majesty." The Consort bumbled uncharacteristically, the whites of her eyes glinting starkly. The Emperor continued to stare at her for several more moments before relenting and turning his gaze on Harry.
"Please take your seat, I will be commencing the feast momentarily."
Harry, still feeling jittery from the magical display, bowed his head again and shuffled quickly to his seat by Cordelia, at the end of the head table. The woman shifted as he sat next to her, leaning closer.
"You have caused a fuss." She hissed sharply into his ear, voice hushed. Harry cringed at her words, looking around the hall to see the eyes of many on him, some staring with little more than interest, some with icy coldness and disdain that made him gulp. "You should be more careful, especially in your condition." Harry went cold at the insinuation of her words and whipped his head to stare at her. Cordelia gave him a last sharp glance, before backing off.
He continued to glance worriedly at her, fretting his lip between his teeth. Did she know of his pregnancy, or was she referring to his recent poisoning? Harry didn't know the extent of the other concubines' knowledge of the situation, but the Emperor had said they understood he'd been 'ill'. Was that all Cordelia's words had been about? But the way she had looked at him-
The Emperor's chair scraped as he stood, drawing Harry's undivided attention towards the man. He hadn't been able to see his splendour in full when Thomas had been sat, but now, Harry could look upon the magnificent robes in full. They were predominantly black as usual but made of a fine material that gave off an iridescent glow with every shift. The robes, similarly to his own, were decorated with a golden thread, weaving a story of war and destruction across the hems and down the sleeves, surrounding the centre image of a snake winding in on itself. They were beautiful and eye-catching, and Harry heard the awed sighs of many as they too laid eyes on the Emperor's beauty.
"I thank you all for attending this evening, Lords and Ladies of the realm, Minister and members of the cabinet. It is quite a sight, despite the short notice." He smirked. "It has come to my attention that the Ministry has come into contact with something I have been searching for for decades now. I was most enthusiastic to learn of this and ask for the Minister's full cooperation in my endeavour. If not, well... It's best not to ruin the festivities with threats and such, as this is a joyous occasion. That is all, the ball may begin."
Hesitantly, still reeling from the Emperor's speech and previous show of magic, the Lords began eating, chatter stilted. The clinks of cutlery on china were the loudest noises, a slight murmur of conversation making its way up to the dias. He and the others also began eating in silence, watching the Emperor out of the corner of their eyes as the man hummed at the taste of the beef.
Also on the table were roasted duck and chicken, plates of lamb and pork, piles of perfectly golden roast potatoes and bowls filled with vegetables, and Yorkshire puddings stacked high on plates. The gravy smelt amazing, the wafting smell making his stomach growl with deep-seated hunger.
He piled his plate, avoiding the Yorkshire puddings and their slightly eggy scent, keeping the veg away from the meat and then pouring the gravy on top.
"What are you eating?" Came a perplexed voice from his left, and Harry paused his slathering of mint sauce on chicken and turned to face its owner.
Cordelia was watching him with a mixture of amazement and disgust, lip twitching slightly. Not wanting to let the forkful grow cold, Harry quickly ate it, humming in satisfaction, before clearing his throat.
"Chicken and mint sauce. It sounded nice."
"The mint sauce is for the lamb." She spoke as if Harry was an idiot, and it rankled him slightly.
He waved his hand dismissively. "Can't stand the taste of lamb, but I wanted some of the sauce."
Cordelia leaned a little closer to him, sighing. "Please try a be a little more conspicuous. Many at this table have been pregnant before, the signs aren't easy to hide, especially if you insist on eating such...combinations."
Harry nearly dropped his fork as fear and shock filled him at the clear pointedness of her words. Well, that answered that. And it also gave him a lot more to worry about. If Cordelia had noticed already, who else had? "Thank you for reminding me." He uttered quietly, face feeling numb.
She breathed out a sigh, nodding.
22nd December 1998- Tuesday
Piles of documents sat orderly on his desk, covering its surface. He'd been working non-stop since the end of the feast, the documents having seemingly doubled during his night of relaxation. 'There was no rest for the wicked', he thought to himself, lips twitching at the thought.
"Your Majesty," His Head Eunuch spoke, disturbing him suddenly from his writing. Humming, Thomas folded the parchment in his hands, taking his time to do so neatly, and put it away in the folder away from prying eyes. Then, he looked up to wave the Eunuch on, who had paused at seeing the state of his desk and self. He had ink stains on his hands and face, he was sure, but this Eunuch especially wouldn't breathe a word of such outside of this room. The man bowed at his attention. "I have collected what you asked."
Thomas' eyes lit up with glee. "Excellent!" He clapped his hands together, sweeping an area clean as he took the folder out of the man's hands. "You have it all?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. Photographs, documents, it was all there as you expected."
He stared at the folder with a dark sort of pleasure. "They were foolish not to destroy such things, but I am glad they did not."
"Is there anything else needed?"
Thomas waved his hand dismissively. "No, leave me be. I need to consolidate it all. The evidence needs to be clear, there can be no misunderstandings, otherwise, we'll lose the trail once more."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
He hummed as he leafed through the folder, pages upon pages of damning information that solidified his speculation filling it. Smirking, he picked up a photo containing the clear evidence he had sought.
Within the photo was the smiling facade of the buffoon Minister the Australian Lords had elected, dressed flamboyantly in pink and purple. And alongside her was the twinkling visage of his runaway enemy, in a garish gown of yellow.
After decades, Albus Dumbledore had finally come out of hiding.
23rd December 1998- Wednesday
"Are you certain of this?"
They had been back in England for less than an hour, and already, Thomas had been accosted by one of his concubines. Far from the usual, they were not here to seduce him, but rather to inform him of something he'd already begun to heavily suspect.
"Yes, Your Majesty, I believe it to be the truth. Far be it that I am the sort to tell on others when such joyous news as this is the sort to be told personally, but I have concerns. Brother Harry has been seen to be growing increasingly weaker as the weeks go by, he seems violently ill. I am worried, the poisoning must have affected him more than he let on."
Thomas swallowed harshly. It was his own belief that his concubines had a grace period of three months, or twelve weeks, to inform him, but it still stung that Harry, whom he'd been growing increasingly fond of, had left it so long.
By his estimation, the man could be as far along in his pregnancy as exactly twelve weeks or as little as nearly ten. He was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and believe the lower estimate, but it was still cutting it close.
He had been suspicious, he was far from unobservant and dull, even a blind man could have guessed something was wrong, but he hadn't wanted to presume. Then came the harrowing news of his Concubines' poisoning, and it had given the sickness he'd witnessed an excuse. Thomas had witnessed many of his concubines fall to poison, by each other and by others residing in the Court. Bellatrix herself had been a victim to the very same anti-fertility potion, suffering miscarriage after miscarriage in her self-imposed quest to give them a child, despite his pleas after the fifth to cease her madness, that he was content with her help as his most senior concubine. Delphina had been her thirteenth pregnancy, and the only one to bring them a living child. It had cost her much to bring their daughter into the world, and for that, he'd always carry some fondness for the woman, despite her madness.
But Harry was most likely pregnant, and Thomas was conflicted.
The thought of the baby, which could be a child more powerful than he'd ever sired due to his and his Concubine's combined magical power, was heady. They would be the combination of the Slytherin and Potter lines, as well as the Gaunt, Black and possibly Peverell; that is, if that family magic was sensed within their child. They would have the possibility of inheriting so many family titles and magics, at least until more were born, leaving them as the most politically powerful of his children. Yet, he worried.
Most of his Concubines had given birth after the age of twenty, with the exception being Evangeline with his eldest daughter Evana, at nineteen. Harry was younger than this, with Thomas' estimations placing the due date incredibly near the man's birthday, perhaps after it if luck was with them.
This then led Thomas to think of the horrible scenario that there was a large chance this pregnancy wouldn't last. Many others hadn't, fifty-five pregnancies and only twenty-one had resulted in living children, nineteen of which still lived. He was ashamed to admit it, but he had done little to rectify this in the past. In more recent years, he'd been able to quell it by a large margin, but still, many persisted in poisoning their fellow concubines, and as shown by recent events, they would even poison those whom they thought were not yet carrying, to prevent them from ever doing so.
What would they do if they had known? How safe was Harry, and the possible child that the man was carrying?
Thomas clenched his fists, seething.
He could not tolerate this, he had never tolerated this, but some of his concubines took his decree not to harm them too far. They had been harming his children, born or not, for many years. They had killed off their own, even, when it suited their needs. They had even killed off each other, playing on his fondness for his children to punish others, benefitting from his protectiveness.
He would protect the baby his Concubine was perhaps carrying, and care for the others that were yet to come. If his concubines didn't step into line sooner than later, there would be no more.
The Slytherin crown would go to his most worthy grandchild, that had always been his plan.