Chapter 4
The first chill of September had begun to creep into the air, painting the leaves in the grounds of Ashworth Manor in hues of amber and gold. Autumn had arrived, and for Jason, it felt like a season of profound and welcome change. Things were going quite well. In truth, that was an understatement. Things were going perfectly.
How could they not be? His courtship with Sara was going, for lack of a more eloquent term, swimmingly. Their second meeting had been a quiet affair, a long walk through the manicured gardens of Abbott Manor, chaperoned by her amused father.
They had talked for hours, their conversation flowing as easily as it had during their first lunch. Their third meeting had been a trip to Diagon Alley, a simple outing that had somehow felt more significant than any grand gesture.
It was in the comfortable silences, the shared glances over a dusty book in Flourish and Blotts, and the easy laughter over ice cream from Florean Fortescue's that he felt the foundations of something real and lasting being built.
"I still can't believe Professor Merrythought had to spend an entire hour trying to remove Goyle from the roof after Stevenson shot him with a sticking charm!" Sara giggles.
"Honestly! Goyle, the poor sod. That family really has no prowess when it comes to duelling. I feel worse for Merrythought. I can only imagine the headache she had trying to get him down. I don't know what Stevenson did, but I must reach out to him and find out. That was brilliant!" Jason exclaims, loving the sound of her laugh.
Naturally, their frequent appearances together had not gone unnoticed. A photograph had appeared on page three of the Daily Prophet a week ago—a candid shot of them leaving a cafe in Starfall, both of them smiling.
The accompanying article was a flurry of breathless speculation, rehashing the Ashworth and Abbott family histories and pondering the implications of a potential alliance. The official debut, however, came a few days ago at the Ministry's Autumn Gala.
Jason had entered the grand ballroom with Sara on his arm, and for a moment, the ceaseless chatter of high society had seemed to dim. Sara was a marvel, a vision in deep emerald robes that brought out the warmth in her eyes.
He hadn't been able to take his eyes off her all night. Dancing with her, he had felt a sense of rightness, a feeling of coming home that was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.
But, as he was so often reminded, all good things must come to an end. Or, at the very least, be rudely interrupted by one's civic duties.
Which was why, instead of planning his next outing with Sara, he was currently sitting in the Wizengamot chambers, his chin propped on his hand, trying to absorb the sheer, mind-numbing tedium of the proceedings through sheer force of will.
He was listening to Lady Smith, a woman whose entire political platform seemed to be built on the structural integrity of potion-making equipment, prattle on about cauldron thickness. Again.
Merlin's saggy left—why is it that this particular topic is brought up almost every three months? Jason mused, his gaze drifting towards the high, enchanted ceiling that mirrored the cloudy sky outside.
Does she think the Goblins are secretly thinning the pewter to destabilise the national economy? Does she own shares in a cauldron-bottom reinforcement company? He thought, completely over this.
He couldn't take it. It was the same circular, pointless argument every time. At this point, they might as well start brewing their potions in fricken craters in the ground, since obviously nothing the manufacturers produced was ever bloody thick enough for her.
He could feel his consciousness beginning to drift, his eyelids growing heavy. He was just about to tip over into a full-blown nap when Lady Smith finally, blessedly, shut up.
Thank Merlin.
Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore, who looked as though he'd rather be wrangling Blast-Ended Skrewts, rapped his gavel lightly on the stone dais. "Thank you, Lady Smith, for your… thorough insights. The proposal will be sent to the committee for review. Again. Now, the floor recognises Lord Selwyn."
Jason sat up straighter, a flicker of interest cutting through his stupor. Selwyn had been uncharacteristically quiet since their land dispute. This ought to be interesting. Selwyn rose, his face a mask of smug self-importance. He unrolled a scroll of parchment with a dramatic flourish.
"Chief Warlock, esteemed members of this august body," he began, his voice oily. "I bring before you today a matter of grave importance. A matter of stability, of heritage, of the very stewardship of our magical lands. I present for your consideration: The Heritage and Stewardship Bill."
He cleared his throat and began to read the bill's full text, his voice ringing with manufactured sincerity.
"The Heritage and Stewardship Bill: In recognition of the enduring responsibility of noble families to safeguard the cultural, historical, and economic foundations of our nation, this Bill affirms their right of first purchase on properties of significance. By ensuring that estates and lands remain under the care of those with generations of proven stewardship, we preserve stability, promote responsible management, and protect the heritage that binds our people together. Opportunities for broader ownership shall remain open thereafter, ensuring balance between tradition and progress."
Jason stared, his mouth slightly agape. He couldn't believe it. He truly could not believe the sheer, unmitigated gall. Really? You brought this here? To the Wizengamot? This wasn't a bill; it was a temper tantrum written on parchment. It was a thinly veiled, legally dubious attempt to legislate his personal grudge into national policy. It was, in short, utterly stupid.
When Lord Selwyn finished his pompous recitation and retook his seat, a murmur went through the chamber. Dumbledore peered over his half-moon spectacles, his expression one of profound disappointment and shock at the sheer audacity of the proposal. He slowly opened the floor for debate.
Before the Chief Warlock had even finished the sentence, Jason was on his feet. The last vestiges of his boredom had been burned away by a sudden, hot flash of anger.
"Lord Selwyn cannot seriously be bringing a Bill such as this to this august body, Chief Warlock!" Jason's voice was sharp and clear, cutting through the murmuring. He didn't look at Selwyn; he addressed the chamber, his gaze sweeping over the faces of his peers. "This Bill, in its raw and prejudiced form, specifically and intentionally puts Muggle-borns, half-bloods, and even pure-bloods who are not of Noble stock on the back burner! It is a transparent attempt to ensure that the wealthy stay wealthy and those who struggle continue to struggle under the boot of a self-appointed aristocracy!"
He paused, letting the words hang in the air. "There is truly no reason why this Bill should have been brought to these chambers, Chief Warlock. It serves no one but the greed of a few. The speaker can deny it all he wants, wrapping his intentions in pretty words like 'heritage' and 'stewardship,' but we all know what this is. This is a direct shot at the thousands of magic-users in this country who work, and save, and fight for what they want, only to be told by those who are supposed to protect and serve them that, 'No, you can't have that home you've dreamed of, the one for which you have already signed the papers. Sorry, it's the law now. Lord or Lady so-and-so decided they wanted it more.'"
He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a more serious, urgent tone. "What is that, I ask you? What message does that send? Our world, the entire Wizarding World, is still healing from the deep and terrible wounds of the Global Wizarding War. Our people are tired of division. They are tired of being told they are lesser. This Bill, this monument to arrogance, will do nothing but incite unnecessary unrest and resentment among the very people we are sworn to govern. It is a step backward when we should be striding forward together. I urge this body to dismiss it for the nonsense that it is."
He sat down, his heart pounding with adrenaline. A wave of applause came from the Progressive Bloc, and even from some of the more pragmatic Neutrals.
Lord Selwyn got to his feet, his face mottling with anger, and began his rebuttal. He essentially repeated the key points of his bill, bleating on about the wisdom of the old families. "I assure you, this Bill is merely for the preservation and protection of our sacred lands. We have seen that certain people within our society are unable to be trusted-" He is interrupted by Jason.
"Can't be trusted, Lord Selwyn? With what? Their own lands? This is truly ridiculous, Chief Warlock. Lands of true historical importance, when discovered, are always inspected by the ministry first, and if truly significant, are handled by the Ministry. This Bill has nothing to do with heritage; it just promotes discrimination among our people. If this is truly about heritage and its preservation, then the speaker had best take it back to the drawing board because this Bill has nothing to do with that. All this bill does is say that those in this room are free to do what they want, and everyone else must sit back and take it! It sets a truly dangerous precedent. Is that where we are now? Have we regressed so far that the foundation of democracy and fairness that this government was built on can be so easily disregarded?" Jason states clearly and passionately.
The press is going wild with the shutters of cameras and the scratches of quills, watching the exchange like a riveting Quidditch match.
"Merlin, Ashworth is going in on Selwyn. Think maybe Selwyn tried something in Starfall?" An intern murmured.
"Maybe? I mean, it's not unreasonable. People still aren't happy that the Ashworths basically hold a monopoly on everything that happens in that town. I don't even know why they are mad. I have a cousin in Starfall who just got their first house, nothing bad happened" Another whispers.
Lord Malfoy and Lord Avery stood to offer their support, muttering about the importance of pure-blood tradition and the dangers of unchecked social mobility, but their arguments were tired and lacked conviction.
It was clear that the majority of the chamber was not with them. The bill was too blatant, too self-serving, even for some of the most ardent traditionalists.
Dumbledore, looking relieved, called for a vote. Wands were raised, and the magical tally appeared in the air the Chief Warlock's dais.
A resounding seventy-five per cent voted for the bill to be scrapped entirely. It was a crushing, humiliating defeat. Jason leaned back in his seat, a smug smile spreading across his face. He caught Selwyn's eye across the chamber. The man looked positively apoplectic, his face flushed a shade of crimson that was truly impressive. Jason gave him a slow, deliberate wink. He saw Selwyn's hands clench into fists, and his smile widened.
When the meeting was finally called to an end, Jason was packing his briefcase when a heavy hand clapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see Lord Charlus Potter, his face split in a wide grin.
"That was brilliant, Ashworth! Absolutely brilliant!" Charlus boomed, his voice full of laughter. "I haven't seen Selwyn that shade of puce since his prize rooster lost at the county fair. You shot him down beautifully."
"He made it easy," Jason replied with a chuckle. "The bill was an embarrassment."
"That it was," came a dry, aristocratic voice. Jason turned to see Lord Arcturus Black standing beside them, having appeared with the silent grace that was characteristic of his family. "A foolish and emotional display. It is tiresome when personal grievances are aired in a professional setting."
Jason nodded his respect. "Lord Black." It was rare for Arcturus to offer an opinion so openly, but Jason knew that, like Lord Potter, the Lord of the House of Black was a veteran of the war against Grindelwald. He was a pragmatist, a man who understood power, and he had no patience for the petty squabbles and blatant bigotry of lesser lords like Selwyn.
"Indeed," Charlus agreed, his good humour returning. "Some of our peers seem to have forgotten we have more important things to do than legislate their petty feuds. Dorea is going to love this. She never liked Selwyn; she'll definitely get a laugh out of this when I show her the memory."
Arcturus agrees, "Yes, my sister does have quite the... interesting sense of humour." Arcturus stated, knowing full well his baby sister Dorea would be laughing maniacally at seeing Selwyn get put in his place.
The three of them stood there for a moment, a rare alliance of three of the most powerful houses in the nation, united in their shared annoyance.
When Jason was safely back within the wards of Ashworth Manor, the formal composure he had maintained all day finally shattered. He stumbled into his private study, leaned against the closed door, and broke down in a fit of hysterical laughter. The image of Selwyn's face, contorted with impotent rage, was seared into his mind.
He looked so… red! he thought, gasping for air as fresh waves of laughter wracked his body. Like a Muggle stop sign! A furious, sputtering stop sign! He giggled all the way up the grand staircase and into his personal chambers, stripping off his formal Wizengamot robes as he went. He needed a shower, a long, hot one, to get the political stink and the stale air of the chambers off him. As the hot water washed away the last of the day's tension, he found his thoughts drifting away from petty lords and foolish bills, and back to warm, kind eyes and a smile that made him feel like he could win any battle.