The room buzzed with an undercurrent of nervous energy. Optimistic yes, despite some dodgy  moments the Wizengamot Weekend had been a success beyond any reasonable expectation. And now –  Hermione looked around the room, at Daphne and Luna, Alex and Ginny – Harry had summoned them  here. Not in Harry's (admittedly very nice) trunk, but here, his study at Slytherin Hall. Where the fates  of nations would one day be hammered out. The first council in this place.  

And she – and the other girls – were it.  

Daphne stood. What conversation had been ebbing and flowing came to a halt. She raised a wand of  Yew and Thestral, precisely as Harry walked into the room and handed it to him with the graceful  precision as if she'd practiced the movement a thousand times. 

“Thanks, Daph,” Harry replied. The other girl curtseyed, her cheeks going very pink, and then returned  to her seat. 

“Good morning, girls,” Harry said, a grin making its home on his face as he did so. “I've got some very  exciting news today. Lockhart confirmed that he'll have a draft ready in two weeks, and we'll be going  to the presses in six. So...” He paused, and tapped his wand towards the wall. The blackboard that had  been standing against it rolled forward with the enthusiasm usually reserved for pet dogs, stopping  beside Harry and then spinning itself over. 

On the board were five words. What Do I Believe In. 

Hermione leaned forward. The other girls followed. 

“The Gray has been a power broker between the two major factions up till now, but after last weekend  we are the power. And with that new position, we need a platform that is aspirational and proactive.”  Harry frowned a little. “Extremely proactive, as a matter of fact.” He nodded at Daphne. “Assuming  Voldemort is able to move his schedule up as we ourselves our doing, we need to tear at least a third of  the dark and a third of the light into our camp by the end of my third year. In the long term, we need at  least a third more of both camps to be satisfied enough with our vision that they won't too openly and  passionately contest it.” 

Harry paused again. “I owe all of you so much, and your council has meant more to me than I can  easily say.” Hermione felt her cheeks heat up, too. “I'm going to propose a plan within a plan.  Something that all of Magical Britain can follow and aspire too, but that will help us, well... best.” 

“Are we going to Antarctica?” Ginny asked, raising her hand. 

Harry shook his head. “No. We're going to thread the needle between Luna and Hermione's pros and  cons, and focus on making Gairsay, our home, a fortress for whatever the future holds. But the crux of  the plan... belongs to Alex.” 

Alex jumped at that, looking suitably shocked. Her face betrayed her lack of any idea as to what Harry  meant by that. 

He smiled. “The Gray in general and myself in particular, are going to use the book release to put  forward a new vision for Britain. Centered on family magic and house rights.” He gestured between 

Alex and herself. “Basically, we're going to very publicly advocate for a system that advocates  wizarding tradition as the anchor of our society, but a liberalization of meritocracy for wizards and  witches who accept those conditions. We will help muggleborns and newer non-noble families  establish their houses and begin working towards family magics, but on the expectation that they  become fully part of our culture.” 

“This won't be universally supported,” Hermione said slowly when Harry gestured towards her. He  nodded in agreement. 

“It won't, but the elevation of family magics will help a lot of the pureblood and noble houses – at least  in the short term – and that should stay many hands that might otherwise wish to pull the whole thing  down. And the light anti-traditionalists will accept this as the price for real advancements for  muggleborns and non-nobles, especially now that we've stripped my father of much of his support. The  'light' side of the Light has taken a lot of hits lately – some of the more traditionalists have more sway,  even if they haven't outright defected to us yet.” 

“They'll lose that though if you plan on outright annexing a third of them,” Daphne added. Harry  nodded again, though now his grin was feral. “By then, it will be too late to do much about it.” 

“Now, the play within the play – how this concerns us.” He waved his wand and the blackboard flipped over, now showing a familiar map of Gairsay Island and its environs. 

“Obviously, we have already been making roots among many muggleborn families – we will steal the  cream of the crop into the direct protection – and the cream of that crop, vassalages – before anyone  else truly appreaciates we've jumped the wand. The Shoe, The Windmill and The Box are more in our  control now that anyone in the country truly understands, and I expect we'll manage two wands per  year for every year going forward and back maybe the last decade from each of them.” 

“Wands that have no familial ties or connections to any noble houses.” Luna added in a dreamy  whisper. 

“And that was always the rub,” Harry admitted. “We need wands without any dual loyalties to House  Slytherin, and vassalages on that scale is like using a magical anvil to catch a plimpie.' 

“So assuming on average that four of five muggleborn Hogwarts graduates are both a good fit and can  be snagged by us – maybe lowering to three of five when everyone else catches on, we should be able  to 'catch up' to the more networked noble families by the time we graduate Hogwarts in terms of sworn  wands and familial loyalties.” 

“They'll only be one generation of wands though, and young at that. My father – and others – have  connections that run four or even five extant generations, and dozens beyond that.” 

Harry nodded solemnly. “But it's a start. And we will aggressively recruit from other magical non nobles as well, as well as increasing our connections to the other house. We are seeking to rule from the top of the nation, not to secede from it.” 

Daphne returned his nod. The other girls followed, though in Ginny's case it was clearly more a case of  simply following along.

“Anyway – point two – the island itself.” Harry waved his wand and the upper northeast quadrant of  the main island, as well as the smaller island just off the coast lit up an emerald green. “The hill around  on which Slytherin Hall rests as well the parcel belonging to House Granger will be, in perpetuity, our  own personal space. The Grangers unique among the vassals are family.” Hermione's heart felt like it  might explode. “And so naturally, this part of the island is entirely our demesne.” He turned to Daphne. “My lady, this will be yours to rule.” 

Daphne let out a very un-Daphne squeak of equal parts surprise and pleasure. 

Harry prodded his wand again, and The Penninsula, a circle of land connected to the rest of the island  only by a narrow strait, and formed one side of the island's natural bay, became silver. 

“This will be Millburn's Square, taking its name from the bay, the most northern all-wizard town in  Britain. It will have enough room for five hundred souls at full capacity, as well as room for a magical  high street – although we'll go slowly there, so as to not to offend any of the families already doing  business at Hogsmeade or any of the enclaves... yes, Alex?” 

“Millburn's Square! Really!?” She looked around, the other girls looking at her rather nonplussed. “I  mean it's not bad, I suppose,” she said, sounding a little put out rather than completely gobsmacked.  “But it's such a waste! Harry's Cove. Port Slytherin. Castle Salazar! How often do you get to name a  whole city after yourself!?” 

Harry shook his head. “Well for one, city is a long way off from what it is. It's going to house our  vassals – all except the Grangers, obviously. But every resident of the city will be subject – in all senses of the word – to the Slytherin court. 

“But that's all the more reason to give it a really grand name!” 

It was Daphne, not Harry, who answered. “No, it's the opposite. It's precisely because it will be a  fortress of Lord Slytherin hiding in plain sight as a town totally loyal to him that it needs to sounds  harmless to the rest of Magical Britain.” Daphne paused. “It is a fortress, isn't it, my Lord?” 

Harry nodded. “The space for this town is not large – the Penninsula is only a few hundred meters  across in any direction. Liberal use of expansion charms will be needed to make the requisite number  of houses and make them comparable living standards to Hogsmeade. But here, we will have a fortress  – a sanctuary – that those loyal to me – to us – will be able to come when the war breaks out in full.” 

“Five hundred people in total though... say that's one hundred families. That's a lot of vassals.”  Hermione said aloud, voice going quiet as she did the arithmetic. 

Daphne let out an slight cough. Hermione turned to face her. Daphne looked a bit... embarrassed, that  was the word. That wasn't a look she often thought of with the witch she considered her other best  friend. 

“Our Lord will have many vassals of course, but it could also be that while we five our a closed circle,  even with social respectability concerns aside it may well be that there are other witches who may  reside here, less in sight of the public's eye and imagination, who our Lord might wish to keep within  proximity to the manor and whose children might be of interest to House Slytherin.”

Daphne trailed off. Silence settled. 

“The Outer Harem.” Luna offered by way of explanation that nobody had particularly asked for. Luna  turned to Alex. “You've been doing a good job, there too. Not only giving our Lord a concrete  backbone for his political ideology, but Cresswell and the Carrow twins? Good work, Alex!” Luna  beamed. 

Harry tapped his wand with needlessly strong force against the blackboard. The remainder of the  island, shaped roughly like a hand and wrist holding the Slytherin grounds 'ball', turned red. 

“And this space, between ourselves and our vassals will serve both geographically and symbolically as  a middle ground. The groves and gardens will make up much of this space to maintain the wards, but  will be accessible to the public. We'll also have a common broomfield and lichfield as amenities for the  village, and Luna's menagerie will be open to the public on select days, and to make good with the  mainland wizards and witches.” 

“Any questions?” Harry asked. Nobody lifted a wand. 

“Right, so – that'll be that then. Fortress island, thread the needle of traditionalism and national unity  with a dash of carefully controlled meritocracy, and that's that.” 

“Is that all, my Lord?” Daphne asked, sounding like she didn't quite believe it. Nor did Hermione. Yes,  fleshing out their overall public strategy and learning how Harry fully intended to use their home – and  the special place House Granger had among it – was nice, but it wasn't totally the sort of thing that felt  worthy of being their first ever council at Slytherin Hall. 

“Not in the least,” Harry said cheerfully, and gestured to Ginny. “Our Future Lady Potter asked what  we might do with regards to one William Weasley, and I admit it is not an easy question to answer. At  the end of the day,” Harry ignored Ginny's growing pout, “Bill is your brother, and after seeing how the animosity has turned out between me and mine, I'm loathe to instigate something there. Furthermore, I  do not want to cause your mother or father any further grief. If anything, I am going out of my way to  bring Percy to the gray as painlessly as possible, but that's a story for another time.” 

“Buuuuuuut,” Ginny pleaded. 

“But.” Harry agreed. “Your hearing actually provided the missing pieces. There's a lot of memories in  here that I haven't really paid much attention to for a variety of reasons, not least of which is to keep  myself going stark raving mad reliving decades... but seeing our esteemed Monsieur Delacour triggered a memory.” 

They had not been particularly pleasant memories from Voldemort's point of view, but Harry had put  enough of them together to paint a fairly decent picture of events in hindsight. 

“For all his support of one Karl Marx and how this applies to the wizarding proletariat, Bill Weasley is  not too far off from falling head over heels for one of the Beauxbaton champions, the niece of  Monsieur Delacour who is – please pardon the phrase, her words, not mine – now entering a period of  teenage revolt and looking to 'slum it'. But not quite so much that she would settle for less than the heir  of a pureblood british house.'

“My brother is going to marry a Frenchwoman!” Ginny gasped, sounding equal parts horrified and  thrilled. “The nerve of him, after all that about how I should marry a muggle!” 

“Oh no,” Harry chuckled. “A French veela.” 

Silence fell around the room. 

“My Lord – is it... you know I have not questioned you before, and I am not in the habit of doing so  now. But this... veela, to be taken unknowingly from Bill and added to your... official, harem?” 

Daphne sounded like she were walking a tightrope. 

Harry laughed, pushing out his hands in a motion of denial. “Goodness no. I couldn't give a toss about  Fleur Delacour. Which is why, in fact, she matches up potentially to solve another one of our problems  quite nicely.” 

“Ladies, you mission for the next week until my portkey for Paris is this: How do you propose we sell  Monsieur Delacour the younger into signing away his temporary grunge bohemian, permanently  quarter veela teenage daughter into a marriage contract with Lord Slughorn?” 

Suddenly, Hermione considered having to spend the rest of her life entertaining monthly dinners with  the Carrow twins didn't seem so bad.