Chapter 10
"Lord Peverell!" An unfamiliar voice hollered rather harshly toward Harrison.
The newly appointed Lord of Peverell House blinked blearily at the man right in front of his face, "yes?" he asked, previous tiredness leaking into his voice.
Harrison was currently in a Wizengamot meeting, a boring get-together of all the prestigious people arguing politics and introducing bills. Per Riddle's orders, Harrison had had to introduce himself to every member in attendance. Next, he had to sit through a tediously long speech presented by the junior undersecretary, whose nasal voice seemed to have droned on for hours despite only having spoken for 10 minutes. So really, who could blame Harrison for getting some much-needed shut-eye?
He learned later that Riddle could. Oh well. That was a problem his future self would learn to endure.
The man presented himself as an apprentice of Abraxas Malfoy. Learning politics and how to own a successful business were some of the things the apprenticeship allegedly provided. To Harrison, the entire cover seemed useless. The purebloods who weren't already under his thumb would never pay heed to a half-blood foreigner like him.
Alas, he had no right to comment on the situation. Riddle certainly knows what he's doing. At least, he made it seem as though that was the case.
Harrison spent the better part of the day ignoring Riddle, as any other respectable pureblood lord would, but he hadn't missed out on the sharp looks whenever he misstepped.
While the Junior Undersecretary listed all the members in attendance and detailed the bills to be presented that day, Harrison took a brief nap thinking it was harmless. Now, it seemed to have bitten him in the arse.
"Lord Peverell, you were asked a question," The chief warlock commented, disapproval evident in his drab tone. Titters sounded around the Wizengamot, and if Harrison were an actual lord who gave a fuck, he would have the decency to be ashamed.
Alas, he was not.
He yawned again before speaking, "Er...what was the question? I'm afraid I wasn't paying attention." He smiled politely, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck while simultaneously ignoring the looks of utter hatred in Riddle's expression.
The chief warlock pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in exasperation, "I was asking you to come to the floor for your proper initiation into the wizengamot."
"Ah! Alright!" He replied cheerfully, making a complete fool of himself to serve as entertainment. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
As he made his way to the centre, he noticed a goblin awaited him. His expression was one of utter contempt, clearly irritated in having to meddle with wizard politics, of which Harrison had learned they had no interest in knowing. The goblin race still held wizards and witches in utter contempt after the last goblin revolution, not that he could blame them per se.
"Three drops of blood on the parchment are required." The goblin drawled.
Harrison conjured a most extravagant dagger, a trick he'd learned from a column in The Witcher Magazine. He pricked his skin with the ornate dagger, letting the blood flow onto the parchment before uttering a healing spell and pulling his hand away.
As the goblin (and really, Harrison must learn his name, referring to the goblin as, well, the goblin was so tedious) peered down at the parchment, his grin turned malicious, "he's definitely of Peverell Blood, Chief Warlock."
Harrison raised his eyebrow, curious to see what had elicited such a reaction from him. His eyes widened before he regained composure. The parchment showed his entire lineage as well as birth information.
If the Wizengamot takes note of it, the entire plan falls through. This test certainly affects Malfoy's position in politics since he's the one who introduced me to them. Bugger.
As if the goblin sensed his worry and panic, he set the parchment on fire.
Apparently, it was tradition? Harrison had no desire to know or care.
"Right then, now, you will swear a vow to uphold your duty as a member and lord of the Sacred 28, then we shall disperse for the day, understood?" The Chief Warlock asked, his tone towards Harrison slightly less icy than before.
"Understood." He repeated, stepping closer to where he was seated.
The Chief Warlock then proceeded to list all sorts of things monotonously, and to be honest, Harrison tuned him out completely.
Finally, the man finished his drawn-out speech, "do you, Henri Joseph Peverell, swear to uphold your duty as a member of the Wizengamot and follow all the rules listed by myself previously?"
Oops, maybe he should've listened, "I solemnly swear," he replied and felt magic surrounding him for a brief moment before the sensation disappeared.
"Well, that should be all. With this, I adjourn this session."
⁂
"Good job, Harrison." Was what greeted him when he stepped into Riddle's study.
"You're being uncharacteristically nice. What's going on?" Harrison asked, suspicious.
Riddle delivers an irritate look before sharing, "Now that you have successfully proved yourself useful to me," Harrison makes an affronted sound, "I believe it's time to include you in the plan I have concocted."
"About fucking time," Harrison mutters, hating to be left out of the know. Seriously, he went to Azkaban for him. How much more loyalty does he need?!
"I'm choosing to ignore that," Riddle states as he hands him a nondescript file filled to the brim with parchment, "This is the plan I have thoughtfully drawn out for the past decade. You must know I plan to take over Wizarding Britain, and my preferred method would've been with war, but alas, that creates more problems than I care to manage.
Instead, I've thought out a meticulous political takeover that should place me at the top of the ministry hierarchy, giving me the power to dethrone Dumbledore and win the public's hearts for good." Riddle summarizes with a self-satisfied smirk.
"Remind me again why I'm necessary for the grand scheme? Everyone hates me for my supposed French heritage, so I don't have much sway that way."
"You, my dearest Harrison, will be my eyes and ears. I plan to shed the apprenticeship with Malfoy facade soon. Therefore, I won't have direct access to Wizengamot, and I really can't trust the pompous purebloods to give me accurate information. Lord knows they'll do anything to save themselves. As you're bound by oath to help me in whichever way I see fit, it's the best solution to my problem."
"That can't be all," Harrison states, "You have plenty of blackmail on the purebloods, enough that they'll submit to you no matter what."
Riddle smiles, "So you truly have a brain? Interesting. Those of my followers that are in the Wizengamot have too much history with the other members. I need someone new to forge new alliances and gain their trust without the centuries worth of bad blood."
"You've clearly thought a lot about this," He says, baffled.
"I've had a decade of plotting, darling. What did you expect?" Riddle retorts, sounding far too smug.
Harrison rolls his eyes but concedes.
"If that's all," The man begins, stepping behind his desk and pouring himself a drink, "feel free to leave and don't forget to read through the file. Everything I need you to know is in there. Think of it as homework, if you will."
He was about ready to leave when Harrison had an epiphany, "wait!"
Riddle raised an eyebrow.
"You said you were planning on ending this faux apprenticeship you have going on. What are your plans after?"
He stared at Harrison, "I can't have you knowing everything about my plan now, can I? I'll tell you what you need to know when the time comes, Harrison. For now, do what I've asked of you and don't make me regret trusting you with this information."
"Yes, m'lord," Harrison finished mockingly.
"Don't," Riddle warned as he turned back to his desk, a glass of goblin-made scotch in hand.
⁂
She placed the teacup with a clink on the dainty coffee table in front of her, clearing her throat to speak, "As much fun this has been, Lady Lestrange, I know you didn't invite me to your manor for a friendly tête-à-tête. Pardon my bluntness, but what do you want?"
Lady Lestrange grinned, "As you know, Ms. Peverell, I am a seer, ministry certified and all that."
Adelaide stared at her, gesturing for the ominous women across from her to move along in her story.
"I've recently seen a series of visions, all open to interpretation, as most of mine are, but what I found most interesting was that your puzzlingly elusive brother seemed to be in all of them. A constant presence in these anomalistic events. Would you know how that happened to be?"
Goddamn you, Harrison.