The meeting dissolved gradually rather than ending all at once. The heavy tension that had hung in the courtroom loosened into clusters of quiet conversations, robes rustling, voices lowering as political masks slid back into place.
I hadn't even taken three steps from my seat before the first approach.
"Lord Lockhart."
Amelia Bones stood before me, posture straight as a drawn blade, monocle glinting faintly beneath the lights. Up close, she radiated the kind of authority that didn't need to raise its voice.
"Madam Bones," I said with a polite incline of my head.
"I won't waste your time," she said briskly. "Your intervention was… refreshing. Direct, legally sound, and mercifully free of euphemisms."
I smiled faintly. "I find plain speech saves everyone effort."
She allowed herself a thin smile. "If more members remembered that, my department would be considerably less busy." Then, more quietly, "You have my support, should you ever require it."
That was no small thing.
Before I could reply, another voice cut in.
"Well said, young man."
Augusta Longbottom regarded me with sharp, assessing eyes from beneath her formidable hat. There was nothing fragile about her; she looked like someone who had buried too many loved ones to tolerate nonsense.
"Thank you, Madam Longbottom," I said sincerely.
"My grandson will be pleased," she continued. "He speaks highly of you. And for what it's worth, standing up to that woman on your first day?" She sniffed. "Excellent instincts."
I chuckled. "I do try to make a good first impression."
She gave a satisfied nod and moved on, already scanning the room like a general surveying a battlefield.
Then, inevitably, Albus Dumbledore approached.
"Gilderoy," he said warmly, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "May I say, I found your contribution today both eloquent and… timely."
"High praise, coming from you," I replied.
"You will find," he continued mildly, "that many here have grown accustomed to silence where dissent should be. You disrupted that. Politely, but firmly."
I leaned in slightly. "I do so enjoy polite disruption."
Dumbledore smiled. "I suspected you might." Then, more seriously, "Wizarding Britain could use more voices willing to speak plainly. I'm glad yours is now one of them."
Before I could respond, the crowd parted again.
Cornelius Fudge approached with the brisk enthusiasm of a man determined to look pleased.
"Lockhart! My boy!" he said, pumping my hand enthusiastically. "Splendid showing today. Absolutely splendid."
"Minister," I greeted smoothly.
"You've made quite an entrance," Fudge continued. "A new House, a stirring speech, and already contributing meaningfully to policy. Exactly the sort of engagement we like to see."
At his side stood his Undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge.
And she definitely didn't share his smile.
Her eyes met mine, and the hatred there was thinly veiled, like a badly concealed stain on pink silk. Her lips twitched, clearly forcing something approximating civility.
"Professor Lockhart," she said, voice tight. "How… energetic your comments were."
"Why thank you," I replied pleasantly. "I do try to bring clarity wherever possible."
Her eye twitched.
Fudge, oblivious or pretending to be, continued. "Dolores here will be very interested in working with you on future reforms."
I inclined my head politely. "I'm always happy to review proposals. Thoroughly."
Umbridge's smile strained further, her knuckles whitening around her clipboard.
"I'm sure," she said thinly.
They moved on, though Umbridge glanced back once more, as if committing my face to memory for future vendettas.
Then came the most unexpected visitor of all.
"Lord Lockhart."
Lucius Malfoy approached with his usual languid grace, pale hair immaculate, expression carefully neutral. The room seemed to quiet around him instinctively.
"Lord Malfoy," I replied, matching his tone.
"Allow me to offer my congratulations," he said smoothly. "Founding a House is no small achievement. Particularly in such… efficient time."
I smiled. "I find momentum is everything."
A flicker of something unreadable passed behind his eyes.
"Indeed," Lucius said. "You spoke well today. Passionately. Not always a trait appreciated in this chamber."
"Yet here we are," I said lightly.
"Quite," he agreed. "Wizarding Britain is changing. It is… prudent to know who intends to shape that change."
Our eyes held for a moment, two men measuring each other across the unspoken history between us.
"I look forward to future discussions," Lucius said at last. "Perhaps in a less… public setting."
"I'm sure our paths will cross again," I replied.
He inclined his head and withdrew, robes whispering softly as he disappeared into the dispersing crowd.
I exhaled slowly once he was gone.
Congratulations. Support. Thinly veiled threats. Unexpected alliances.
Not bad for a first day.
As the courtroom steadily emptied, one thought settled comfortably into place.
House Lockhart had been noticed.
And in this room, that was the most dangerous, and valuable, thing of all.
…
Cygnus and I left the courtroom together once the last echoes of argument and gavel had faded, the heavy doors closing behind us with a finality that felt… satisfying.
The corridor beyond was quieter, broader, lined with tall, enchanted windows that showed shifting views of London's skyline rather than the subterranean depths we were actually in. Wizengamot guards stood at regular intervals, statuesque and watchful, but no one bothered us as we walked.
Cygnus walked with the easy confidence of someone who had been navigating these halls for decades, hands clasped behind his back, his expression composed but not unfriendly.
"Well," he said at last, adjusting his robes with a measured tug at the cuffs, "that was an eventful introduction."
"Quite a first session," he remarked mildly.
"I was beginning to worry I'd been underdressed," I replied. "No duels, no shouted votes, no dramatic expulsions. Almost disappointing."
He huffed, the faintest hint of amusement slipping past his otherwise controlled demeanor.
We walked a few steps in companionable silence before he glanced sideways at me, his expression softening just a fraction.
"How are my daughters?" he asked quietly. Not formally. Not politically. Just a father asking a man who saw them every day.
I slowed my pace a little, turning my attention fully to him.
"Astoria is doing remarkably well," I said honestly. "I don't teach first-years, as you know, but I see her often, in the corridors, the Great Hall. She has more color now. More energy. She laughs more."
Cygnus's shoulders eased, just slightly, like a man setting down a weight he'd carried too long.
"That is… good to hear," he murmured.
"She's still careful," I added gently. "But she's no longer fragile in the way she was before. Whatever this treatment has done, it's given her room to breathe. Literally and figuratively."
Cygnus nodded once, firmly. "You have my thanks. Again."
"As for Daphne," I continued, smiling, "she's changed more than she probably realises."
"Oh?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.
"She's brighter," I said. "More engaged. She participates in class now, actually raises her hand instead of pretending she doesn't care. I've even seen her laughing with friends between lessons."
That caught his attention.
"She never used to do that," he admitted. "She was always… reserved."
"She still is," I said. "But she's lighter. Less guarded. I suspect having something she can actively do for her sister has given her a sense of purpose she didn't know she was missing."
Cygnus was quiet for a moment, gaze drifting to one of the enchanted windows.
"You have no idea how much that means to hear," he said at last. "It's difficult, being so far away from them while they're at Hogwarts. You rely on reports. Letters. Polite reassurances."
"I'm happy to provide more honest ones," I said. "If you ever wish."
He inclined his head. "I may take you up on that."
We resumed walking, our footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor.
After a moment, I spoke again.
"Is it always like that?" I asked.
Cygnus glanced at me. "Like what?"
"The Wizengamot session," I clarified. "The proposal being dismissed without a vote. I expected… more procedure. Less immediacy."
Ah.
Understanding dawned on him.
Cygnus smiled thinly. "Normally, there is a vote. Lengthy debate. Amendments. Delays. Political posturing."
"Of course," I said. "Wouldn't want efficiency to become a habit."
He snorted quietly.
"But what happened today," he continued, "is something else entirely. When members from multiple factions stand up to oppose a proposal, and no one speaks in its favor, a vote becomes unnecessary."
"Because the outcome is already decided," I said.
"Precisely," Cygnus replied. "Calling a vote at that point would only serve to embarrass the proposer further."
I thought of Umbridge's blotchy face, her forced smile cracking under pressure.
"How considerate," I remarked dryly.
Cygnus's lips twitched. "The Wizengamot is many things, Lord Lockhart. Cruel efficiency is one of them."
"So if even the dark faction speaks against something…"
"Then the proposal is dead," he finished. "Buried. And ideally forgotten."
I considered that. "So Umbridge didn't just lose."
"No," Cygnus said calmly. "She was exposed."
I hummed thoughtfully. "I imagine that won't endear me to her."
Cygnus allowed himself a thin smile. "It would have been more concerning if it had."
We reached a junction where several corridors branched off toward different Ministry departments. The hum of activity grew louder here: clerks rushing past, enchanted parchment fluttering, the distant echo of Floo flames igniting and dying.
Cygnus stopped and turned to face me fully.
"For what it's worth," he said, tone measured but sincere, "you handled yourself well today. You didn't merely speak. You shifted the room."
I smiled, unable to help myself.
"Well," I said, "if I'm going to have a voice now, I intend to use it."
He inclined his head once more. "I suspect the Wizengamot will never be quite the same."
As we parted ways, I watched him disappear down one of the branching corridors, then straightened my robes and exhaled slowly, the tension of the day finally beginning to bleed away, and turned…
Just in time to catch a familiar witch before she could meet the Ministry floor face-first.
My hand settled instinctively at her waist, steadying her as she froze, eyes wide. Up close, her blush was spectacular, blooming instantly as her hair flickered through several colours before settling, once again, into that unmistakable bubblegum pink.
I looked into her startled eyes and couldn't help but chuckle.
"Well," I said lightly, "it seems fate insists on bringing us together, Miss Just Tonks."
…