Draco Malfoy took a sip of his Guinness and looked around him. The interior of the pub -Buskers, it was called- he was in was smoky and dark. It quietly hummed with the buzz of slurred conversation of its patrons. He sighed and returned to his stout. Draco had been vacationing alone in Dublin, Ireland for the past six days and was going home the following day, a prospect the young Slythering was not looking forward to. He had grown bored with his studies at Hogwarts. For class after class he had found himself daydreaming through his lessons, and he had been looking forward to this break.
He'd been greatly dissapointed at what he'd found in the capital city of Britain's neighbour. The Irish, Draco found, were a cold people who loved joking around and having a grand old time with their circle of friends but chilly and reserved with strangers. Draco also found that Dubliners were especially impatient with the hordes of visitors that came to their city. Every one from taxi drivers to waitresses to hotel clerks gave him snarling answers to his queries about the city.
Draco had come to Dublin hoping to enjoy the party scene but found himself isolated and ignored everywhere he went. He'd been met with icy stares and one-word answers everytime he had tried to strike up a conversation with the natives. And there he was, drinking by himself in a dark, dingy bar favoured by the city's old-timers. Draco was likely the only one there under the age of sixty.
Bunch of Muggle wankers, the Irish. Last time I ever visit their silly country, Draco thought as he again raised the mug to his lips. Lucius' son turned his gaze toward the newspaper he had bought that morning. He smirked as he read the headline. Apparently there had been a major scandal involving, rotten boroughs, electoral fraud, gangsterism, extortion, inappropriate use of public funds and several other shady dealings that had been connected to the government. Draco opened the paper and skimmed through the first few pages. The Taoiseach -whatever that was- was under fire from virtually everyone in the legislature, even members of his own party, of weakness, corruption and incompetence. Draco was curious.
"Oi, barkeep!"
"Sir, help you I can?" Answered the bartender in a disinterested tone. The unique grammar structure of Irish-English was famous worldwide.
"What's a Taoiseach?" Draco asked, pronouncing it Tao-iss-eech.
"A what?"
Draco repeated the word.
"Sir, understanding you I am not." Draco pointed to the word in the paper.
"Ah. The Taoiseach our Head of Government is," the barkeeper answered, pronouncing the word as Tea-shock. He shuffled off to heed another patron's call, leaving the Slytherin alone again. Draco's eyes opened wide. Good heavens! This buffoon was supposed to be the best Ireland had to offer in the realm of politics? Draco's shock and awe grew as he read as columnists and political cartoonists seemingly tried to outdo themselves in obscenely defiling the name of their national leader.
Pathetic, Draco thought to himself. Is this what rule by the people truly is? The unwashed masses clambering over themselves to slander the man who embodies the values of the nation? Draco snorted. His initial feelings of surprise gave way to contempt. Democracy is an inherently weak and foolish system. Whoever came up with the idea ought to be jailed. The notion of people governing is beyond laughable. Does a sea captain poll his passengers on how the ship is going to be run? No, of course not! Draco took another sip of his Guinness. Democracy is obsolete. A product of the age of enlightenment that's should have been discarded long ago, like a bowl of forgotten leftovers befouling the refrigerator. What countries today need are strong leaders who can command and inspire the will of the people. All countries. Countries like this one.
Draco paused. Yes, Ireland could well benefit from a change of government. It needed a strong capable leader with a vision for the nation. Someone wasn't afraid to break some eggs to make an omlette.
Someone like him.
Draco felt briefly dizzy as the full implications of such a thought washed over him. Him? Leader of Ireland? What an interesting thought...
The blonde, Platinum-eyed wizard payed his tab and stepped out onto the filthy streets of Dublin. He began walking its cobblestone roads deep in thought, with no consideration of where he was going. To rule a country of Muggles, would be very nice, but why would he want to? What would Draco have to gain from such a position, aside from the power and the prestige? Draco snorted as he recalled how he had been treated during his time in the city. Would he even enjoy ruling these Muggles? Come to think of it, he probably wouldn't.
Bah. Bugger the Irish. I'm going home. Draco turned around and began heading towards his hotel.
As he was walking, something caught Draco's eye. He stopped. By a courthouse was a small bronze monument dedicated to the last High King of Ireland, Edubard a Briuis, who was thought to have been killed in battle in 1318. However, his body had never been found. "Legend has it," said Draco, reading aloud the monument's text, "that the High King will someday return to retake his throne during a time of crisis for Eire."
Before Draco had time to digest this information, he suddenly became aware of something about Dublin he had failed to notice until then: the destitution. Everywhere one looked in the city there was poverty. Shantytowns ringed the fringes of the capital. Etched in the faces of lower-class Dubliners was wretched hopelessness. These people needed change. These people needed hope.
It all came together for Draco.
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Dressed in his best suit and tie, Draco boarded a tour bus bound for Leinster House, the Irish parliament. Once there, he broke away from the guided tour group and approached a secretary.
"Excuse me, but I am here to meet with the Taoiseach," Draco announced. The secretary looked down her spectacles at him.
"Your name what is?"
"I am crown prince Aurelian Alexander IV and I am here as an envoy representing my father, Septimus Quintus, king of Letuvania.
"Envoy, you say? Usually larger they are."
"Madam," Draco said, drawing himself up to his full height. "Letuvania may be a small country of modest means, but we are proud and hardworking. I assure you that I am more than sufficient to represent my country." The secretary leafed through a schedule book.
"See your name here, I do not."
"Unfortunately due to our poverty, Letuvania possesses no telephones or post system and so you probably were unaware that the Taoiseach and I agreed to meet on this date when we met at Cairo. I assure you that he's expecting me."
"No telephones or computers? Find that hard to believe, I do."
"We expect to upgrade our communication infastructure when we receive equalization payments after our entry into the European Union in 2009." At last she relented and allowed the cunningly-disguised Draco through. He marched to the Irish leader's office and pushed open the double oak doors.
Seated in the little office was a man in his early twenties in a dull grey suit. He looked up as Draco enetered the room and smiled.
"Welcome, welcome!" The Taoiseach greeted. The politician stood up and strode across the room to greet his visitor. "I do owe the pleasure to whom?"
"Draco Malfoy," he said as they shook hands. The Taoiseach turned his back on Draco as he went to shut his office doors. "Pleased I am to make your acquaintance. The Purpose that brought you here, what is? The Irish head of Government turned to find Draco pointing his wand at him.
"The minor matter of the abolishment of the Irish Republic, that's what."
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He had done it. Draco had taken the reigns of power for himself.
News of the coup d'etat had spread somehow. A crowd was now gathered outside Leinster House, awaiting a statement on what had happened to their government. Draco decided it was time to address his new subjects. He opened the Taoiseach's office window. The crowd became silent, eager to hear what this strange blonde boy had to say.
"Citizens of Ireland!" Draco announced, his voice carrying down so that each and every member of the gathered crowd could hear him flawlessly. "I announce to you a great joy: The Irish Republic is no more!"
To Draco's consternation, this revelation was met with a chorus of screams and boos.
"I have today liberated you from the rule of criminals, liars and incompetents. You may all feel reassured that I slew the beast of Irish democracy with your best interests at heart, for I have walked among you and witnessed your sufferings and heard your lamentations caused by the tyranny of the supposedly benevolent system called democracy. Never again! It therefore pleases me to announce that after seven centuries of waiting, seven centuries of rule by foreign and domestic weak-willed ninnies and ne'er-do-wells, Ireland again has a High King and his name is DRACO MALFOY!" He dramatically pumped his fist in the air.
The crowd was not taking the news well at all. Draco could make out individual heckles and jeers from below.
"Draco death to!"
"The Taoiseach bring back!"
"This sort of thing down with!"
"Freeeeeedooooom!"
Draco wasn't worried. It was time to play the ace up his sleeve.
"I am also pleased to announce that Irish Monarchists have begun landing all over the country and enforcing the New Irish Order. Dissent will be punished with the harshest of punishments." This was met with a great gasp of shock. Draco knew he had them know and decided to wrap it up. "Citizens, I say unto you: Go to your homes and families. Obey the law. Pay your taxes, and someday you will tell your descendants about the Irish Revolution." It worked. The crowd began to disperse in silence, as though the mob was in a collective state of shock.
Draco stepped back from the window and sat in the Taoiseach. The Slytherin stroked his chin thoughtfully. Well, this was a surprising turn of events. If someone had told him this morning he would be overthrowing a government and re-establishing a monarchy dead for seven-hundred years, he would have laughed and hexed them for being annoying.
Draco now turned his thoughts towards the future. Every king needed a queen, and in his mind, there was only one woman who could be his.
Hermione Granger.