"Kingsley, surely this isn't necessary!"

"I'm sorry, Arthur, but it is," said the Minister, shaking his head. "I know it's a drastic measure, but given the situation we're facing, I'm afraid it's called for."

"Situation?" Arthur asked. "What situation? I've never known such a peaceful Wizarding Britain before in my life. We got rid of Voldemort and no one else tried to take his place, the economy's booming, and your approval rating is higher than ever. Why do you need to force this now? People are happy, Kingsley. What possibly needs to be fixed?"

"It seems to me that people are a bit too happy," Kingsley said. "And really, Arthur, it's not me who's forcing this. It's you."

Arthur blinked. "Me? What on earth do you mean?"

Kingsley sat back in his chair and stroked his neatly-trimmed (but entirely white) beard. "How many children do you have, Arthur?"

The Weasley patriarch dropped into the chair on the other side of Kingsley's desk, completely nonplussed. "Seven."

"And how many grandchildren do you have?"

"Twelve," Arthur responded after a moment.

"And how many great-grandchildren?"

Arthur stared at the corner of Kingsley's desk for a full ten seconds before finally saying, "Seventy-eight."

"Mm-hm," Kingsley said, raising his eyebrows. "Are you aware that fully one-quarter of the children attending Hogwarts right now are your descendants?"

Arthur shifted in his seat, beginning to realize what Kingsley was getting at. "Er, no, I hadn't realized . . ."

Kingsley withdrew a scroll from a drawer in his desk and peered at it through small, circular spectacles. "Potter, Lupin, Tonks, Granger, Longbottom, Delacour, Lovegood, Jones, Podmore," he read, then looked at Arthur and finished with a very pointed, "Shacklebolt. Do you know what this is, Arthur?"

The formerly ginger man was beginning to get uncomfortable. "It sounds like a roster of the Order."

Kingsley set the scroll down. "Including those too young to have been official at the time. But more to the point, it's every Order family that produced children after the defeat of Voldemort. And every one of them has become, by name or otherwise, a Weasley."

He looked at the scroll again. "Potter and Granger were sucked in right away, of course, as well as Delacour. The Lupin and Tonks lines, as well as the Longbottoms, managed to hold out for one more generation. Some of the others a bit longer." He tossed that scroll aside and pulled out another.

"For Merlin's sake, Arthur, even the Death Eaters who survived and procreated are Weasleys now. Hermione and Ron's daughter married the Malfoy heir, and the trend just continued from there. Nott, Goyle, Lestrange . . . It's an improvement, granted, but it does thin the bloodlines."

"So that's what this is all about?" Arthur asked. "You think my family is too large? I'm not entirely sure how to take that, Kingsley."

Kingsley sighed. "I mean no disrespect, Arthur. Really, if all the old families, and the newer families for that matter, were doing as well, I would think it nothing but a blessing. The problem is that while your family is flourishing, many of the others are dying out. Too many of them only had one child, or none at all, and . . . well, let's face it, we live in a time when blood traitor is practically the highest praise a family could earn. But we're beginning to run into problems. The Wizarding community is so small, many people don't know—or in some instances, care—that the person they've fallen in love with is a relative. Just last week, a request for a marriage license was filed . . . well, here, have a look." He pulled out another parchment and handed it to Arthur.

Arthur's brow furrowed as he found the names. "Cassandra Thomas and Leonard Scamander?" He looked at Kingsley with a start.

Kingsley frowned. "I suppose no one bothered to tell them that they're first cousins—on their Weasley side."

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck. "Er, it is sometimes . . . hard to keep track . . ."

"So you must see the need for this law. If this trend continues, soon there won't be a witch or wizard in Britain who's more than three generations removed from every other, even accounting for the natural inclusion of new blood."

"But really, Kingsley," Arthur protested, "forcing every single pureblood and half-blood to marry a Muggle or Muggle-born? The people won't stand for it!"

"I'm also allowing for the option of marrying a foreigner, provided they can show proof that none of their family came from England for at least five generations."

Arthur sighed. "They're still not going to like it."

"I'm afraid it can't be helped," Kingsley said and withdrew yet another scroll from his desk. "I may finally get sacked for this if you're right, but I can't sit by and do nothing."

With a few flicks of his wrist, Kingsley's quill ran across the bottom of the scroll.

"At least the Prophet will have a decent story for the front page this week," muttered Arthur.