Less than a year after Voldemort's defeat.
Minister Shacklebolt had changed, he knew it, those around him knew it too. He could not explain it to himself, let alone others. He sat at his desk, the same one used by ministers for the last 400 years, a parting gift from the ministry from a former Minister, whos name he could not recall. He knew that he should do what is best for the magical nation, however, all he could think of was how to stay in office, and keep the gold(bribes) flowing in.
Elsewhere
Faces deep in a dark hood, the glint of a Bone white mask barely reflecting any light at all, two Deatheaters were speaking in hushed tones to each other.
'I know the Dark Lord had me cast those curses and they are working very well, we have not had a sound Minister or Chief of the Wizanguant since the early 80s. Are you suggesting we remove those curses, and try for those offices ourselves?' The taller one said.
The shorter man, whom if you could his hair, would have been a platium blonde, swept back into a pony tail replied, 'No leave them there for now, they will keep England ripe for the next Dark Lord to take over, and when we join them and reveile our part in the take over, we will be well rewarded.'
Back at the Ministry
About the same time in the Chief Witch's chamber, Chief Witch Madam Longbottom was reflecting on some of her own recent actions. Plotting and scheming was nothing new to the former Sytherain witch, but she always felt her actions were for the good of the nation. Now they seem to be only geared toward making sure she had power, and not allowing anyone else to get it. She had hurt the reputations of many a good folk, and now she was considering having one who is being a real pain killed. Could she do that? Could she live with herself if she did...