1997

Voldemort's death was the end for Harry Potter. His destiny had dragged him through history to the dark wizard's final hours, and he had held on until the very last, but when Voldemort's mortal body hit the ground, the exhausted man gave up his tools of destruction, shrugged destiny off, and went home.

But, Kingsley reflected as he slowly charmed his broken arm back into place, there's no day off for the civil service.

After dragging the country into chaos and total pureblood rule for eight months, there were fascists to arrest, imprisoned lawmakers to call back to their seats, an endless pile of paperwork. With Voldemort and his puppet government deposed, the Ministry had to be rebuilt from the ground up, and there could be no celebration. Kingsley came back with what was left of the Aurors, grimly walking into a public toilet with blood still staining his coat, and almost walked straight back into the Floo portal when he emerged to find, central in the atrium, a statue of Muggles crushed beneath the might of Wizardkind. A wizard and a witch, sitting hand in hand, and the twisted bodies of ugly, inhuman people, forming a chair upon which to rest.

After the fight he had narrowly survived, the friends he had lost, the statue was a kick in the teeth. It told him, "you're not done yet, you won't be done for years, not while these monuments stand, not while these beliefs hold". The words at the bottom of the statue read 'MAGIC IS MIGHT'.

He barged to the front of the exhausted crowd, raised his wand, snarled a word.

The solemn witch and wizard exploded outwards, showering the atrium with carved obsidian. A Muggle's gargoyle visage slid to a stop beside him.

The crowd did not move or cheer. They merely stepped over the rubble on their way to clear up the mess that was left to them.

The immediate task was arresting those that hadn't been present at the Battle of Hogwarts. There were many: an army is nothing without its obsequious followers. Of all of them, Dolores Umbridge put up the most of a fight, having retreated to her heavily warded home in Gloucestershire, but her skills at magic wielding had never been as powerful as her politics, and the combined efforts of three Aurors had her in front of the decimated Wizengamot in under five hours. Her judge (Brunnhilde Stokke, Blood Traitor, sentenced seven months ago) had just been released from Azkaban, malnourished and needing hospitalisation but determined to carry out judgement. It was a kangaroo court, and Umbridge protested as such, but there were next to no Wizengamot members left to act as a jury, and nobody wanted to be the devil's advocate. She was taken to Azkaban less than an hour after her arrest. Somebody took her cats to a shelter.

And then the next task: making sense of the paper trail left behind. Upon Voldemort's death the new Ministry had fled, but not before destroying a significant proportion of the records in the offices. It would have repercussions for years, Kingsley heard from a panicked staffer; the new Muggle-Born records had been entirely decimated, with only a neat pile of Azkaban convictions left to show they were ever there. The system needed to be rebuilt from the ground up, and the overwhelming legal focus on blood purity needed to be untangled from the mild legal focus on blood purity that had been in place before.

In short, Kingsley sighed as he made his way through the building, it was a fucking mess, and short of his duty to clear up the immediate nightmare tonight, he was going home, getting drunk, and mourning the friends he'd lost.

That's when a staffer ran up to him and told him he had been appointed Acting Minister for Magic.

"Well," Kingsley said, holding himself upright, inhaling slow and steady. "What are we waiting for? Let's get to work."

2003

"And so, it gives me great pleasure to announce the final tally as: 76 content, 24 not content. Kingsley Shacklebolt is reelected Minister for Magic."

Cheers erupted in the atrium, and Kingsley smiled into the cameras as they began to flash. The Ministry for Magic was bathed in golden light from the fountains.

The final weeks of campaign had been difficult, after several of his policies received aggressive attention by his competitor, but after long and patient work to explain why he felt removing Dementors from Azkaban was a just choice, and significant behind-the-scenes concessions on the matter with certain key ministers, his early-announcement election had turned in his favour. His term was extended for another seven years at least, giving him the time he needed to make the changes he believed in. He shook hands with his opponent, stepped up to the podium.

"Thank you. It has been my joy to work for you, but there is much left to do. I-"

In the back, behind the photographers' flashes, Kingsley could make out Amabel Holst, one of his chief advisors, Secretary for the Department of Mysteries.

Who was making desperate movements with her hand cutting against her neck.

Kingsley cleared his throat.

"-have much left to do tonight, as a matter of fact, to thank my campaign staff. Please, enjoy the evening. Thank you all."

A slight murmur of confusion, but Kingsley didn't stay to listen: he swept from the podium, walked fast enough to force his security to catch up with him, swept down corridor after corridor until he found himself in the situation room. He had been Minister long enough to know what a room sounds like when it was afraid. The room went silent as he entered.

Amabel Holst walked in beside him, breathing a little too loud.

"What's happening?" Kingsley asked.

Amabel handed him a paper. "The next war."

These Fatalistic Gods is a long-drafted and redrafted pet project of mine, designed to give me closure on a Wizarding World that's felt less and less authentic as time has gone on. I'm publishing this draft I'm still unhappy with as motivation to keep writing it. It may be that nobody finds this interesting, but after 4 years of living with these characters I love so much and a canon I hate more and more, I want to finally get it done. Come along with me if you like!

This is also a long-winded way of saying that Cursed Child and Fantastic Beasts aren't canon in this.

Love ya,

-c