“Not the way you are thinking,” the old witch said calmly. “Though it is natural for you to suspect me. The position of Chief Warlock is not one I will find pleasant, even compared to the horrors of Magical Law
Enforcement. Albus persuaded me on the matter, and I would say that I took some convincing, but the truth is that I did not waste his time in an argument I expected to lose. I knew I would hate the task, and I knew I would do it anyway. Minerva says you have some amount of common sense, especially when others remind you of it. Can you really see yourself standing upon the Wizengamot’s high dais? Are you sure it is not some remnant of You-Know-Who that imagines himself suited to the position, or even desires it at all?”
Harry took off his glasses and massaged his forehead. His scar still ached a bit, from the damage he’d done by picking at it yesterday until it bled in a suitably dramatic fashion. “I do have some common sense, and yes, being Chief Warlock sounds like a huge amount of aggravation and a job that, in reality, does not fit me the tiniest bit. The trouble is. Um. I’m not sure the Line of Merlin is just about being Chief Warlock. There’s, um. I suspect… that there’s weird other stuff that goes along with it. And that Dumbledore meant me to take responsibility for the… other stuff. And that the other stuff is… possibly quite amazingly important.”
“Crap,” Moody said. Then Alastor Moody repeated, “Crap. Kid, should you even be saying this to us?”
“I don’t know,” Harry said. “If there’s a user manual, I haven’t looked at it yet.”
“Crap.”
“And if these other matters require sternness and sacrifice?” Amelia Bones said, still camly. “If they test you as you were tested before the
Wizengamot? I am old, Harry Potter, and I am not without knowledge of mysteries. You have seen how I was able to perceive your own nature at nearly a glance.”
“Amelia,” Mad-Eye Moody said. “What would have happened if you’d had to fight You-Know-Who last night?”
The old witch shrugged. “I would have died, I expect.”
“You’d have lost,” said Alastor Moody. “And the Boy-Who-Lived didn’t just take out Voldie, he set it up so that his good friend Hermione Granger came back from the dead at the same time Voldie resurrected himself. There’s no way in hell or double hell that was an accident, and I don’t think it was David’s idea either. Amy, the truth is, none of us know what the keeper of Merlin’s legacy has to do. But we’re not the right kind of crazy for this crap.”
Amelia Bones frowned. “Alastor, you know I’ve dealt with strange things before. Dealt with them quite well, in my opinion.”
“Yeah. You dealt with the crap so you could go back to real life. You’re not the kind of crazy that builds a castle out of the crap and lives there.” Moody sighed. “Amy, on some level you know exactly why Albus had to leave who-knows-what-job to the poor kid.”
The old witch’s fists clenched on the table. “Do you have any idea of the disaster it would be for Britain? Call me sane, but I cannot accept that outcome! I have worked too long toward this day to see it fall apart now, now of all times!”
“Excuse me,” Headmistress McGonagall said, sounding quite precise and Scottish. “Is there any reason why Mr. Potter cannot simply instruct the Line that Madam Bones is his regent for the position of Chief Warlock, but not anything having to do with the Department of Mysteries, until he comes of age? If Albus could tell the Line to appoint a regent only until
Voldemort’s defeat, it is clearly capable of following complex orders.”
Slowly, this unexpected hammer-blow of common sense was absorbed by everyone present.
Harry opened his mouth to agree to appoint Amelia Bones his regent for Wizengamot-related matters, and then hesitated again.
“Um,” Harry said. “Um. Madam Bones, I would much prefer if you took charge of handling the Wizengamot instead of me.”
“In that we are agreed,” said the old witch. “Shall we let it be done?” “But—”
There was a sort of frustrated dropping-back of the others. “What is the problem, Mr. Potter?” said the Headmistress, in a voice that indicated she hoped it was nothing serious.
“Um. I think there’s a couple of things I might have to do very soon that could… prove politically controversial, and in exchange for handing over the Line’s political power to Madam Bones I’m going to want her… um, cooperation on some things.”
Amelia Bones exchanged another long stare with Minerva McGonagall. Then she looked back at Harry Potter.
“I am indignant at your request!” Amelia Bones said. “Your hesitancy has told me that you are weak and unused to bargaining, and will probably fold if I push back.”
Harry closed his eyes.
Slightly dark-tinged Harry opened them.
“All right,” Harry said, “let me rephrase. I don’t mean to interfere with your work on a day-to-day or even month-to-month basis, but I can’t just toss off the final responsibility that Dumbledore left me. I’m not going to owl you bizarre parchments out of nowhere, there can be discussions first, but at some point I may have to give you an order. If you refuse the order I might have to take back the Line’s Wizengamot functions and assume direct control. Can you handle that?” “And if I say no?” said the old witch.
Slight, slight the dark tinge… “I don’t have an alternative to you lined up. I could start by asking Augusta Longbottom who she thought might be suitable and work from there. But it may be important that we keep to Dumbledore’s plan as much as possible, since I don’t know exactly why he did the things he did, and he thought Amelia Bones should be Chief Warlock for a time. I’m not going to pull Merlin’s name on you, but… no, strike that, I am going to pull Merlin’s name on you, this might or might not be insanely important.”
The old witch thought for a time, her eyes going from person to person around the table. “I am not satisfied with this,” she said after a time.
“But the Wizengamot must be called to order soon. It will do for now.”
Slowly the old witch reached into her robes, and took out a short rod of stone, dark stone.
She placed the rod on the table before Harry. “Take what is yours,” she said. “And then do please give it back.”
Harry reached out his hand to take it.
In the moment that Harry’s fingers first touched the dark stone— —nothing happened.
Well, perhaps Merlin hadn’t been given to melodrama. That could explain why his final legacy looked like a small, unassuming dark rod. If that was all that was needed for its function, that would be all that was there.
Harry took up the Line, frowning at it. “I’d like to appoint Amelia Bones as my regent for Wizengamot-related functions.” Then, the thought occurring to him that he needed to specify a stopping point to define a regency, Harry added, “Until I say that I’ve taken it back.”
Then Harry made a face. He’d been hoping for more from the Line, but it was just a key to places in the Department of Mysteries where interesting things were kept, or to seals where Merlin and his successors had stashed things that shouldn’t be destroyed but ought to be kept from general circulation. Aside from that, the Line didn’t do much.
The Line didn’t let you bypass the Interdict of Merlin either. No, not even if the fate of the galaxy was at stake. Not even if the person seemed sane, had taken an Unbreakable Vow, and honestly believed the world was about to be destroyed otherwise.