Authors note: This is a marriage law fic. It will eventually be rated M, that is only there. I'm new to this, so please be nice :)
Disclaimer: I'm just playing make believe, if they were mine, Ron woulda married Luna and Hermione would have been with anyone but Ron :)
CHAPTER ONE
THE PRESS CONFERENCE
All across Wizarding Britain work was put on hold. School children sat silenced, even their familiars sat with bated breath. This was no ordinary silence. Nor was it magically induced for Silencios were not needed on this day. Several hours earlier hundreds of ministry birds flew across Britain. Each owl delivered a scroll, with message of a mandatory news conference that would be held at 2:45 pm over the Wizarding Wireless Network. All stations would be broadcasting, and the floo network was to be disabled until dismissed.
Voldermort had been dead for only slightly more than a year, the people were still understandably wary of anything that the ministry had to do with. Who could blame them? Thoughts of the Muggleborn Register, still fresh on everyone's minds, amongst other things.
It had taken months of paperwork to sort out the mess that was Azkaban, between the paperwork and bureaucratic tape that had to be cut just to release the innocent and reunite them with their wands. Property that had been seized had to be sorted out and returned to its rightful owner. All in all, it was a mess.
Reparations were still being paid to those who suffered under Voldermort's ministerial Reign. How much did you pay someone for their dignity? What is false imprisonment worth? Better yet how much do you get for the loss of family and friends. The ministry were using the vaults of known Death eaters to pay what they could. Destroying their family manners and splitting up the land between their victims families. The rest would mostly be covered by lifetime tax breaks, as if that made up for anything.
It was 2:44 pm when radios all across the country cracked to life.
"Witches and Wizards of Great Britain," the voice of the current minister of magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, rang solemnly in every wizarding home or building for hundreds of kilometres. Order-members-everywhere's eyes snapped wide. What was this? It had been monthx since Kingsley had been to a order meeting. They should have had advance knowledge, what good was having the minister of magic in your private organization, if your not kept already of things?
"As you may have realized, the last two Great Wizarding Wars have been very hard on us as a society. With the death tolls in the tens of thousands our population was almost decimated."
There was a brief silence at this, everyone remembering those lost.
"This last census has brought to our attention some dire circumstances. Our population is only at a tenth what it was only fifty years prior. There has been a steady decline of the magical populace since Grindlewald's reign. And the madman known as Voldemort has only made it worse." There were a few narrowing of eyes from the reporters gathered but Kingsley raised his hand and silenced the crowd. Signalling he would take questions after he finished and not a minute before.
"We have had arithmancers working around the clock for close to a decade now on this problem. There are many more variables at work then just that of a war torn land. Centuries of dedicated inbreeding," at the outrage that followed Kingsley took it a step further and magically silenced the crowd.
" I am not saying this to upset anyone's pureblood sensibilities, it is a simply a statement of fact, anyone who breeds animals can tell you if you don't add fresh blood you will eventually end up with sick stock. Muggles have known this for generations. They actually have laws against such things." He took a breath and carried on, the look of revulsion on faces of those who would rather door out than believe a muggle could possibly know something they didn't.
"During many meetings of the Wizengamot, we have finally come to a conclusion to what is to be done" again putting a stop to the interuptions, as the riotous members of the media threatened to break his silencing charm with the strength of their protests.
"For if nothing is done," he boomed. "there will NOT be enough children, to fill even one house in the halls of Hogwarts. As of noon today the ministry has enacted a MANDATORY POPULACE PROGRAM. that is to say a mandated marriage law. Information will be sent to you with the morning post regarding rules and stipulations. I will now open the floor for questions."
As he finished his statement the silencing charms were lifted and all hell broke loose. Shouts of 'minister' could be heard even amongst the muggles outside.
"Quiet, if you will raise your hand I will call upon you, yes, you in the purple robes, you have the floor." With that the room went silent.
"Veranda Cresleby, Witch weekly," she announced pulling out a quick quotes quill " who is bound by this law?" At least started with an easy one, the minister thought to himself. " Every witch and wizard of age, to 85 years. Pureblood, half blood and muggleborn. No one is exempt." The next question was a little harder.
"Rita Skeeter, Daily prophet," the woman in acid green robes, with horn rimmed glasses started. " are these matches to be self appointed or is the ministry playing matchmaker?" The woman snapped with a sarcastic tone to her nasally voice.
'The matches have to be ministry approved, there is certain criteria that must be met, but if you can meet that criteria on your own we will take your choice into consideration." The crowd grew listless, so He picked reporter at random.
The mousy woman in plain brown robes didn't bother to introduce herself, but went straight to the heart of the matter "What happens to those who fail to comply?" Everyone looked up expectantly at this.
Kingsley rubbed his bald head in exhaustion, this was the last question he would take, he had been up for close to 40 hours as it was.
"A fine at the six month mark of 2500 galleons, the one year mark is expulsion from the magical world and a binding of your powers." At The howls of outrage, the dark skinned man turned on the spot, and apparated out of there.
If only that was the end of it, he thought to himself, as he prepared to step through number twelves doors for the first time in months. This is not going be pretty.