The Permanent Secretary and the Death Eaters
[May 15, 1998, Sir Aurelius Appleby, Permanent Secretary of the Magic, met Sir Arnold, Secretary to the Cabinet, at the Reform Club in Pall Mall. Sir Aurelius made a note about the meeting in his private diary. – Ed.]
Arnold and I compared notes about the latest change of the Ministry of Magic. There had been too much turbulence in the Wizarding community in the last two years. So were the unprecedentedly frequent changes of the Ministers, not seen in the last four centuries. Fortunately, we were pleased to see that the civil service had made it through unscathed. As the fight between the death eaters and the order of the phoenix arrived at a conclusion, with the overwhelming victory of He-who-must-not-be-named, we hoped there would come some quiet days
As a muggle, Arnold, of course, had no first-hand knowledge about the Wizarding community, let alone He-who-must-not-be-named, but he did have read my memos. He gracefully expressed his compassion for my future pressure of work for serving "his lordship". I thanked him and told him to relax. Although many death eaters did work in the ministry, most of them, such as Macnair and Yaxley, were merely some experts. None of them has ever acted as a civil servant. Among them, the Honourable Lucius Malfoy was the closest to the civil servants. But he was a political official after all, satisfied with the fame and the exposure associate with the position, also the opportunities to enjoy the red wine, the goose liver and the French beauty in the continent. The conclusion was obvious. The mutual understanding would soon reach.
We had been carefully prepared. For example, we had painted the red boxes green, for containing the documents. Arnold reminded me that snakes had no colour sense, and as a matter of fact they hardly even had any vision to speak of. Arnold suggested that, in order to get the attention of He-who-must-not-be-named, we had better find someone to constantly wave the papers around in front of him. I replied that, as a result, he would become a pleasure to work with. By the way, we had already turned down the temperature of the minister's office.
Arnold asked me whether I had decided who was to be the Private Secretary of He-who-must-not-be-named or I was ready to accept his own man. I reassured him that I had already chosen a promising young man, who used to work in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. As for He-who-must-not-be-named, I wouldn't think he'd bring any one in. For all I know, the members of his inner circle, either died that night at the Hogwarts or was still in deep comma in St. Mungo's. The only one left and available, i.e., the Honourable Mr. Malfoy would definitely not condescend to such a humble position. It was said that He-who-must-not-be-named once had a life assistant named Peter, or Pete, something like that. But I heard that he was already dead.
After the discussion on He-who-must-not-be-named, once again, we fell back on the old topic, i.e. the worrisome wizarding population. It had been a concern for a while. A dwindling population and a galloping Civil Service, together would mean a rapid increase of the Civil Service' share of the population. Though it would mean that our influence would increase along, it would ultimately lead to a more menacing problem. Who would the tax, if one day the share reached 100%? Neither the goblins in the Gringotts, nor the centaurs in the forbidden forest, would be some sorts of good choice. Although the house elves are very house-trained, no salary meant no tax. Of course, there was indeed an obvious solution once for all. But its political cost was too high. Even Fudge "the Brave", who earned the nickname for his attempt to expel Dumbledore, dared not behave lightly on this issue. To be precise, the exact number of his moves on this issue was none. But He-who-must-not-be-named's coming into power did inspire me. I hoped that I could seize this opportunity to make a fruitful steer towards our common ground.
[May 16, 1998, Sir Aurelius Appleby met Mr. Lucius Malfoy at a restaurant in Pall Mall. Sir Aurelius made a note about the meeting in his private diary. – Ed.]
To dine with his honourable Mr. Malfoy Sr., dressed in muggle clothes, in a muggle restaurant located in muggle London, is not, in fact, something worth fussing about. After all, only the muggles would spend time improving the gustatory enjoyment. Wizards and witches, especially those pure ones, used to leave such trifles to the house elves. The latter, in turn, had no idea about the Kung Pow Chicken or Chicken tikka masala, just as they knew nothing about the equal rights.
Of course, this was far from the first time. For example, the tickets of the top box seats of the last Quidditch world cup were settled in this very restaurant. But today, his honourable Mr. Malfoy Sr. seemed a bit abstracted. That usually perfect hair style appeared somewhat disturbed. I dared say that I saw stubble there. That was very interesting, which also meant that some potential favorable opportunity was looming on the horizon.
After the Rump steak arrived, he finally spoke up. He asked me a hypothetical question. Suppose there had been a purely hypothetical gentleman, always of good manners, respected by his peers, trusted by his master. But one day, supposed someone, let's say, a boy, claimed that this respectful gentleman had secretly admired another woman who was the mother of that young fellow. Suppose if that hypothetical woman and her child had been politically against that hypothetical gentleman and his friends. To put it another way, they were at wands drawn. Let us further suppose that the leader of those gentlemen took it very personally. To sum up, this was a hypothetical scandal. But that hypothetical gentleman, for some reason, did not provide his own view, whether to refute or to admit. Then what action should his friend take? Of course, this was only a hypothetical question.
I was deeply impressed by his honourable Mr. Malfoy Sr. First of all, it never occurred to me that he could master the Civil Service phrase to such extent after only several months' disappearance, though I always thought highly of him. For a few seconds, I almost believed that this were some visiting colleague of the Secretariat of the ICW from Brussels who was sitting in front of me , instead of his honourable Mr. Malfoy Sr, who had never drafted any memo in his life. Second, the Mr. Malfoy who I had known would have no hesitation on this, let alone condescending to ask a humble civil servant for advice. It was quite obvious that his honourable Mr. Malfoy Sr. was too concerned to think properly, which meant here came a potential opportunity of considerable reward, if the Imperius Curse and the Polyjuice Potion could be ruled out.
I flatly expressed my surprise, the second one of course. He reassured me easily with several little secrets only between us. Then I asked again, "The identity of the gentleman that you mentioned, as certain previous descriptions that you has just so finely presented have led me can't help wondering, not to put too fine a point on it, would it be the one to whom your present interlocutor is in the habit of identifying by means of the three-letter-pronoun that is not used to refer to the third person?"
It took his honourable Mr. Malfoy Sr. quite a while to get my meaning. Once again he gave a negative response. I went on to say that given that was true, I saw no difficulty for the hypothetical friend of that hypothetical gentleman. According to the universal principle of the politics, he should make a clean break with that hypothetical gentleman.
But his honourable Mr. Malfoy Sr. only responded with such mumbles as friendships, camaraderie. It was very obvious that we were getting nowhere. Of course, I could have asked politely to be excused. But his honourable Mr. Malfoy Sr. would be very valuable to the steering of our common ground, due to his enormous influence in the circles of the death eaters and the purebloods. Therefore I patiently pursued the conversation. I contemplated his words then raised a question of mine for something fishy in it. He had just said that the hypothetical gentleman, for some reason, did not provide his own view, to refute or to admit. For this, I demanded a clarification. Was the hypothetical gentleman unable or unwilling to provide his own view? And what was the real reason for that? Since the hypothetical friend valued friendships so much, he should persuade the hypothetical gentleman to provide his version of the story.
His honourable Mr. Malfoy Sr. replied with some impatience. Of course he had been unable to do that. And the reason was that the hypothetical gentleman had still been lying unconscious in St. Mungo's! Just as the words were out, he immediately realized that he might have said too much and involuntarily reached for his walking stick. I hastily reminded him that this belonged to muggle premises. Therefore, the waving of certain stick-shape instrument might just get out of hand. At least it would add enormous extra workload to the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, eating up their already strained manpower and budget. I pressed home all the back-scratchings that I had offered all the time, including but not limited to the tickets of the top box seats of the last Quidditch world cup, and how a secret-keeper that I was (in a non-magical way). The waving of certain stick shape instrument was totally unnecessary. Please did look before you leap … While these eloquent arguments spouted out, I was thinking hastily. Yes, I was a civil servant after all and therefore capable of thinking complex countermoves of life and death and providing unstoppable torrent of words at the same time.
… a boy … politically against … St. Mungo's …
I stopped dead, and stared at him, wide-eyed. "May I make an assumption that the hypothetical gentleman might have acted as a hypothetical headmaster of a hypothetical school?"
His honourable Mr. Malfoy Sr. nodded his resignation and relief at the same time. That was a great progress. The rest were much easier. I had not been totally ignorant of the experience of the boy-who-lived-but-died-eventually. I even had made a careful study of the report filed by the department of MLE. Unfortunately the world was not simply made up of various neatly typewritten reports. Even now the details of the last war had remained unknown. I would seize every opportunity to grub the most valuable currency for the civil service, i.e. information, from any possible source.
Now that the ice had been broken. I would have no hesitation to make a complete pig's breakfast out of it. I had a detailed discussion with his honourable Mr. Malfoy Sr. about a hypothetical battle between two hypothetical groups of people at a hypothetical location at a hypothetical time, especially about the involvement of that hypothetical headmaster and his hypothetical friend. For example, the Killing Curse that ended the boy who lived, had been casted wandlessly by He-who-must-not-be-named.
I was curious about one detail. Who was there to save the hypothetical headmaster in time, since his hypothetical friend was somewhere else busy sorting out family matters?
His honourable Mr. Malfoy Sr. replied that it could be safely assumed that certain hypothetical Gryffindor schoolgirl had taken matters into her own hands. He quickly added that we could always assume that the hypothetical schoolgirl was known as an old friend of the previously mentioned hypothetical boy. In order to differentiate from the other hypothetical Gryffindor schoolgirl that was assumed to have a special friendship with the hypothetical boy, we could as well make an safe assumption that the first hypothetical Gryffindor schoolgirl was of the same blood status as that of the hypothetical mother of the hypothetical boy while the latter girl was of the exactly opposite blood status. By the way, the very reason that the hypothetical Gryffindor schoolgirl had neither come to an untimely end with the boy who lived nor made a timely escape with the other friend of theirs was precisely because she had been busy saving the dying hypothetical headmaster and therefore fallen into the "custody" of the hypothetical friend of the hypothetical headmaster. This had also added to the latter's headache.
That was a piece of interesting news. It was well known that the hypothetical headmaster always held a less lenient attitude towards the Gryffindor students. Severe would be a better description instead. But in the end he was saved by one of them. I made a note of this information and reminded myself that later I needed to have talk with the young fellow who was chosen to be the Private Secretary of He-who-must-not-be-named. He was also a Gryffindor after all, and also one of the hypothetical elder brothers of the hypothetical common friend of the hypothetical boy and the hypothetical Gryffindor schoolgirl.
Having obtained enough detailed "hypothetical" information, I felt with some satisfaction that all the pieces of the jigsaw were in their right places now. In fact, the solution was right there, as obvious as the noble nose of that hypothetical headmaster. His honourable Mr. Malfoy Sr. had been indeed too involved to see it.
Although an Obliviate was a rather clean alternative, considering his honourable Mr. Malfoy Sr. had been rubbing his stick all along, I'd better not head for that dangerous direction. In fact, the other solution, complicated as it was, could lay a firm foundation for the common ground that I was going to steer towards. One stone, two birds!
Therefore, before presenting the golden key on the silver plate, I also expressed my headache for the wizarding population. Perhaps because of having poured out the lingering difficulties, his honourable Mr. Malfoy Sr. seemed to have partially recovered his shrewd sense. He patiently endured my complains without interruptions and chipped in skillfully that if the hypothetical friend of that hypothetical headmaster could solve his headache quickly and stabilize his position within the inner circle, it was believed that he would be able to do something to support the steering of major policies.
Having obtained the affirmation of his honourable Mr. Malfoy Sr., I pointed out to him that the best way to cover up the smell of a corpse was the abalone, just as a famous ancient wizard of Sakya once said. Likewise, an effective way to cover up a scandal was to make people believe another contradictory one.
Upon my words, the eyes of his honourable Mr. Malfoy Sr. started to cross. To lead the discussion to my desired direction more quickly, I prompted him by an illuminating hypothetical question. If it turned out that in a purely hypothetical school with a great fame and a long history, a hypothetical incumbent headmaster had a romantic relationship with a hypothetical student of the opposite gender, would that be an unbecoming event in the eye of a hypothetical governor of that hypothetical school? Of course, on the other hand, all the rumours about the hypothetical headmaster's infatuation for an elder lady who had passed away a long time ago, would fall off, if it turned out that the hypothetical headmaster had long been romantically involved with a girl of the age that could be his daughter.
His honourable Mr. Malfoy Sr. chuckled knowingly and agreed that it would be a reasonable hypothesis. But then he became worried again since the previously hypothetical boy had made the statement in front of many people, aiming at his sworn enemy, i.e., the leader followed by that hypothetical headmaster. I pointed out that we could safely make a hypothesis that the hypothetical statement of the hypothetical boy might have simply been a fictional smoke bomb to rack the nerves of the hypothetical leader so that he might make mistakes in the coming duel, considering the antagonistic relationship between the hypothetical boy and the hypothetical headmaster.
His honourable Mr. Malfoy Sr. was exceedingly satisfied with the explanation. He believed that all would be solved satisfactorily. Therefore, he could concentrate on supporting the ministry's policies on certain key issues greatly concerning the future of the Wizarding community.
Just before parting, His honourable Mr. Malfoy Sr. was in so good a mood that he even proposed that he could sidelong apparate me, in the future, if we happened to go to Brussels for meetings of ICW at the same date. I declined and reminded him that the ministry had set up a special expense account for all these official junkets. Therefore, I would rather remain with the service of Heathrow. His honourable Mr. Malfoy Sr. betrayed his total lack of understanding. Yes, though he might have learnt to appreciate the delicacy of the muggle restaurants, there were still an awful lot to learn. Surely he still had no idea what the first-class of a muggle plane would provide, to name a few.
[In the same evening, Sir Aurelius Appleby met Percy Weasley, who was to be the Private Secretary of the Minister for Magic, at The Reform Club in Pall Mall. Sir Aurelius made a note about the meeting in his private diary. – Ed.]
Percy Weasley was a frightfully good chap, hardworking, happy to mull over any report no matter how boring and trivial, although he was a Hogwarts man, with only O.W.L.s. and N.E.W.T. under his belt, unlike most civil service, including me, being Oxford men. One of the signs of his diligence was that he was sitting up the whole night double-checking the leakage rates of the cauldron of all the years back to the first record, when the last war at Hogwarts was in full swing, at the beginning of this month. I intend to keep a close watch on him because of his showing promise.
Having offered him a sherry and spent ten minutes on the today's weather displayed by the Magical Maintenance Department, I asked him how much he known about Hermione Granger. It was as I expected. Once a Gryffindor, an elder brother of one third of the golden trio and a former occupant of the Burrow, Percy offered me very detailed descriptions about Miss Granger.
After the third glass, Percy was utterly unstoppable and began talking about certain widespread anecdotes of Miss Granger during her school days. All I need was to offer the fitting expressions, gestures, nods, and timely refilling his glass.
Percy mentioned that she would devour voraciously every written paper and could even recite the Hogwarts, A History blindfold, which rather impressed me. I couldn't help chipping in. "It sounds that this Miss Granger is very talented. Perhaps she could try her hand at a position in the Ministry some day?"
Already worse for wear, with a condescending expression, Percy spoke patiently, "Well, you know, she is a Gryffindor lioness to her fingertips." He spoke the word "Gryffindor" slowly with deliberate emphasis. I gazed at him and tried to see any sign of the realization of the irony that would appear in any minutes. After two minutes, silently I admitted defeat. If he could speak with the same amount of detachment when he was wide awake, Percy would be far more promising than I had thought.
Percy went on about Miss Granger's various disruptive rule-breaking behaviours at school, such as burning professor's robe, brewing dangerous potions without permission or supervisory, haunting the Restricted Section of the library, and so on.
In the end, to achieve a climax for effect, Percy asked whether I had heard of SPEW. Several thoughts flashed through my mind. Had I offered him too much sherry? It never occurred to me that Percy had such a limited capacity for liquor. What route should I take to avoid the coming odorous spills and splashes? How much time, effort and favor would it take for me to be allowed the access to the club again and to rebuild my reputation among my colleagues in the civil service?
Fortunately Percy's following explanation made me profoundly relieved. Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare? Apparently, Miss Granger was a Leftist to her fingertips, in the Muggle political terminologies that I had learnt from Arnold. As for the question whether she was a Kautskyite or a Trotskyite, I would leave it for my next gathering with Arnold.
[The following narration was taken from the diary of He-who-must-not-be-named, including records of afterthought. According to the recollections of several other people, the habit of writing diaries was gradually formed within a few months since He-who-must-not-be-named held the post of the Minister of Magic. Therefore, there were only some sorts of sketches or scribbles here and there, as records of afterthought for the earlier events. There was a speculation that He-who-must-not-be-named appeared to be thinking of writing down his earlier "political life", in order to adhere to the politicians' well-established criteria. But the sudden Arrivée-de-mort forced the indefinite delay of this great ambition. The following words gave an account of the experience of He-who-must-not-be-named on the first day that he took up the post. – Ed.]
That was my first day as the Minister of Magic. Since Hogwarts was under re-construction and Severus was in deep coma in St. Mungo's, the Dark Arts job would still be beyond reach for a while. I had no choice but to spend my time on the humble position of the minister.
Last week after the dark revel, MacNair asked whether I was set on being the Minister. I told him yes. He commented darkly that they were going to lose me once again. Without hesitation, I helped him to sober up with a crucio. Bella was dead. Severus was in coma. Lucius was in France. Were these the reason that I had to endure these dunderheads? – It seemed that I missed Severus so much that I even began borrowing his colorful languages. – At least, Lucius was obviously in total sympathy with my decision of becoming the Minister of Magic before he left for Europe.
I had my first encounter with the Civil Servants, and I must say I am very impressed. Sir Aurelius Appleby, the Permanent Secretary of the MoM, the Civil Service Head of the Department. He was intelligent and appeared ageless. I had never found out his real age. With a mischievous impulse, I cast a wandless imperius curse on him. To my great surprise, the curse had no effect on him. Later he told me that as so many fainéant ministry employees had tried similar prank, the senior the civil servant, the more resistant to the imperius curse.
I couldn't actually remember the precise details. Probably being unhappy with Percy, a Gryffindor, as my private secretary (although we did have a rather pleasant working relationship later, after all, such a loyal and diligent young man was rarely seen nowadays), then and there, I challenged Sir Aurelius whether there was any other candidate more suitable than a Ravenclaw.
He replied that diligent and intelligent as they were, Ravenclaws were often too easy to get bogged down in the details and couldn't see the wood for the trees, hence only good for experts of Under-Secretary ranks. Hufflepuffs, needless to say, were better off remaining in the back of the house. Gryffindors, impulsive, imprudent, demonstrative and obtrusive. As for Slytherin, with such perfect qualities, it would be too wasteful for them to condescend to such humble position as civil service instead of taking certain much more exalted positions.
Then I asked him where he had graduated from. He said he was a Baillie man, from Oxford. I thought he did not get it and emphasised that I was asking which house of Hogwarts that he had gone to. With an expression that seemed like a mixture of some humbleness, slight sadness and some nobleness, he answered that he was a squib. Moreover, almost all the civil servants in the Ministry of Magic were squibs. A secretary with magic abilities, like Percy, was indeed an extremely rare exception. Due to the inability to perform magic, most occupations were out of the question for the squibs. But out of their loyalty and nostalgia for the Wizarding community, (Sir Aurelius reminded me that most of the squibs were from the old pure blood families; after all), they had been reluctant to find jobs in the muggle world. Therefore, accepting administrative training and becoming civil servants would be their first choice. Only the idlest ones, such as Mr. Filch, would fall so low to become a caretaker.
That was how our conversation began. The subject changed naturally from squibs to the population problem of the Wizarding community. We both felt it worrisome. Sir Aurelius reminded me reverentially that my policy of restoring the glory of the ancient magic was very courageous and the most imaginative. Therefore it would not do if those ancient magical families were to wither away long before that. According to the civil servants' calculation, although their lifespans were far longer than the Japanese, unfortunately, the fertility rates of the purebloods were also rather lower than that of those aliens who had similar sizes to the goblins of the Gringotts. It would be very hard to choose, if one had to make a bet on who would become extinct first.
We couldn't help changing the subject into a not-so-political-correct discussion on the differences and similarities between the Japanese and the goblins of the Gringotts. But the details had slipped from my memories by now.
Later, Sir Aurelius reminded me that there had already been a proposal on the solution of the population problem, in the silver box, drafted by the civil servants after racking their brains for countless days. He wished I would have a quick view on this weekend. I decided to come to be blunt and told him that could wait for another day. The top priority was my policy, i.e. to establish the pureblood-dominated rule.
Sir Aurelius replied courteously that the minister was unquestionably the boss. The civil servants were just here to help me formulate and implement my policies. In fact, once they learnt that I would become the minister of magic, they immediately modify the proposal for the population problem to adopt my policies. To demonstrate his understanding, he even made an off-the-cuff recitation of some speech of my early years.
I was flabbergasted once again. The efficiency of the Civil Service is quite astounding and they were wholeheartedly in favour of my ideas. How many surprise Sir Aurelius was going to bring me in this single day! I immediately fetched the proposal from the said box and began reading: 'As Minister of Magic we need you to authorise that the revised Paragraph 5 of No. 2 Regulations 1471 shall come into operation on the day the revision announced, revoking Regulation 7 of the Civil Regulations 1754.'
I asked him what this meant, as I read the file.
He showed me the explanatory note, which adds that 'These regulations require that each muggle-born wizard or witch of age must be married with a non-muggle-born witch or wizard of the other biological gender. Inter-marrying of the Pureblood line would be forbidden.'
I almost flung the file in his face. Were it not for the good impression that he earned from today's talk, a crucio would had been inevitable, and an Avada might not be impossible, either. The Ministry of Magic might as well have a new Permanent Secretary just as it already had a new Minister.
I asked him with hisses that I couldn't see how this would lead to the pureblood-dominated rule. Instead, this was obviously a distinction of the pureblood through the pollution from those filthy. In the end I bordered upon shouting at him. Were my dear Nagini not killed by the dunderhead Longbottom at the final war, she would have already bared her teeth to Sir Aurelius.
Sir Aurelius answered unflappably that it was exactly the result of civil servants' mature reflection and deliberation.
One: it is impossible to get rid of the muggle-born wizards and witches once for all. Even if, Merlin helped, all of the muggle-born wizards and witches had disappeared from the whole Britain when we waked up the next morning, they would eventually be given birth by one muggle woman or another after several months. It wouldn't take many years for them to go back to the original numbers as the gnome-like rabbits did in Australia.
Two: since it was pointless to resort to force, we could just as well try to house-train them. It might be workable for most of them. For example, Percy was a Gryffindor and the son of those that I called blood-traitors, but had become an excellent civil servant and your loyal private secretary by now, which was saying something.
Third: once a muggle-born formed magical marital tie with a pure-blood, they would be loyal and subservient to each other, in accordance with the ancient magical marital vow.
Fourth: many half-bloods behaved decently and lived according to the old magical tradition, who were in fact the models to the rest of us. (When saying this, he seemed to give me a deep look.)
Having had enough of his pompous justification, I said no more and used on him my masterpiece of discerning the truth, i.e., Legilimency. I was obliged to say that Sir Aurelius' brain was the most intricate that I had ever seen. It was the most well-organized and yet the most difficult for me to extract the information that I wanted. I had seen astronomical statistic figures and ministry reports that could pile up one-by-one until as high as a mountain. And there were something else, not that bloody boring，such as the Japanese that we just talked about, and the sushi, the delicious alien food…But one thing for sure was that he seemed to truly believe all of this.
I withdrew and asked him how much he had known of the half-blood wizards. He said sadly that not much unfortunately. An attack to the Department of Mysteries had destroyed many record files of the half-blood wizards when he was about to do some research several years ago. (When saying this, he seemed to give me another deep look.)
I decided to put another test on his faithfulness. I told him about Granger the mud-blood, the only sidekick of Harry Porter that got caught and asked him what to do about her. A gleam came into his eyes.
He asked me whether I had heard of the recent juicy gossips about the young woman and Severus. I wondered audibly what he was trying to get at. He replied that it was obvious that Granger and Severus would be the models of the success of the new policy.
Was the punishment for being my longtime foe simply having a marriage and some children? I asked. Yes and no, he replied, according to the research, the labour pain was the greatest pain possible in human life. An ancient witch once said that she would rather stand three times behind a shield in battle than give birth once. If that was still not enough, we could always set up a preserved position in the Ministry for Miss Granger, exclusively for the set up and the promotion of the labour union among the house elves.
Having heard his reply, I can't help hiss my laughter with satisfaction.
[Sakyamuni did not say those words. Instead, they were the deeds of Gao Zhao, the great eunuch.
After the first encounter with He-who-must-not-be-named, Sir Aurelius sent a note to Sir Arnold sometime later that day.]
Dear Arnold,
Great progress. Successfully persuaded T.M.R. to approve M.L., three additional new agencies and an independent committee, with corresponding staffing and budget.
Yours sincerely,
A.A.
[After holding the post for three years, He-who-must-not-be-named was assassinated by the Mr. and Mrs. Snape who had remained loyal to the Order of the Phoenix, when the opportunity presented. Then, Sir Aurelius Appleby was honoured the Order of Merlin, first class, together with Mr. and Mrs. Snape, due to his outstanding service to the Wizarding community in the dark days when He-who-must-not-be-named held the post of the Minister. He was also the first civil servant who ever honoured this order due to specific work achievement instead of seniority. Before that, Sir Aurelius Appleby had already honoured Knight Grand Cross of the Bath for his long years of loyal public service, thus became one of the few distinguished civil servants in history who had honoured both wizarding and muggle high orders. – Ed.]