WWN Listens
IV: "Interview"
1335 words

At 3:00 on Tuesday, there was a mercurial hush over Diagon Alley. In Wiltshire, Lucius paused in penning invitations to adjust the dial on his wireless, turning it from that odd, rebellious programme - which had been silent all week except for an event announcement - to the less salacious WWN.

"Sit down, Minister," a familiar voice invited, followed by the sound of a door closing. There was some feedback from the microphone as the two men sat, and then the line quietened.

"Good to see you again," Ludovic Bagman said, sounding distinctly uncertain about this. "I've had my escort wait outside, you understand, considering the nature of our meeting." Far away, with a coy smile, Lucius scratched out the name of Astoria Greengrass on an envelope.

"The nature of it?" the host politely asked.

"Why, privacy, of course!" Bagman laughed, as if it were obvious. "That's what this is all about, isn't it - this strange meeting place and such. Don't trouble yourself next time. You'll find that I would never betray your confidence."

At this Lucius paused, letting his quill sink into its inkwell. Then he looked at the wireless straight on, wondering where exactly Bagman was spending his Tuesday afternoon. It was a live recording, of that he was certain. Clearly, Bagman had not guessed this part.

"So," Bagman cleared his throat. "When is our mutual friend arriving?"

"Oh, didn't he tell you? I'm afraid he won't make it today," the host replied. "Caught in someone else's three-ring circus. Not unlike Amelia Bones, your missing Wizengamot member."

Minister Bagman chuckled. "I'm not surprised, considering who his father is. Tea?" he asked hopefully. It sounded like a cup was being handed to him, and then Bagman breathed a sigh. "Brass monkeys outside. Nothing like a good cuppa tea on a day like this, wouldn't you say?"

"I can think of a few better things."

In reply, Bagman guffawed. "Of course you can! Strapping young lad like you, the world is yours. I've seen it all, boy, the good and bad. Pass the cream, kindly." An audible slurp. "Yes, better. Can't take away the indulgences of an old man, can we?"

"'Indulgences.' That's a strange word for it."

"Pardon?"

The host did not clarify.

"I wouldn't call cream with tea an indulgence," Bagman gibbed. "More like a necessity, at least in my family. Not sure where you sprung up from, all those years ago!"

"Oh, let me be clear. I grew up in Surrey, with my Muggle relatives, and they take their tea like anyone else on the island. But I didn't invite you here for a chaff," the host explained, speaking slowly. "We're here to talk about your gambling problems, Minister, and their consequences."

"Honestly… You've got me all turned around now," Bagman insisted. "But if you did grow up with Muggles, I see now why you kept it a secret from the Ministry. I wouldn't have believed it if I'd heard from Dumbledore himself!"

With deft fingers, Lucius straightened his stack of sealed invitations, crisp ink staining their high quality envelopes. This host was, assuredly, the same host of that delightfully dreadful programme which Lucius had been listening to for months now. Apparently, the man was secretly Muggleborn and acquainted with Bagman, a nefarious gambler… Lucius leant back and frowned. The media truly was a hippodrome of indecency.

And a reputable network - WWN, no less - had finally picked this one up and dropped him in front of the Minister to smear dirty politics on public radio. It was vulgar and tactless and, for once, Lucius was not amused by it. He turned his back to the wireless.

"I was also at the Quidditch World Cup in 1994. My mates placed a bet with you, but when it came time to pay up you took French leave."

Bagman coughed. "You'll have to forgive me if my memory of last decade is a bit hazy. I hardly remembered where I put my shoes last night!"

"So you have no idea what I'm talking about," Lucius heard the host say. "I find that hard to believe. You see, Minister, I've done my research on you. After taking office, you advanced years' worth of your salary to the Gamp* family… who incidentally, funded your campaign. Three years into office and you've spent six years' of Minister salary and emptied your family accounts. That's well over a hundred grand in Galleons that you owe to the Ministry and haven't worked for."

"I -" Bagman cleared his throat. "You must understand, this is all rumour. As the most influential man in Britain, you mustn't let rumour stop a perfectly good transaction between friends."

"What?" the host asked with a bark. "You thought we were here to make a deal?"

"Aren't we?" the Minister's voice purred. "You hardly have room to talk, not since you ran your name into the ground. With me by your side, we can fix this new, how should I say... notoriety of yours. Brush it off, make a clean breast of it. Clearly we both suffer from problems easily solved by the other, wouldn't you agree? I personally -"

"I'm not crooked, Bagman," came the short reply. Then a pause, as if the host were debating with himself. "Well, what have you got in mind? Spit it out."

In the West Country the afternoon was fair, with a crisp wind blowing against the window panes and the sky, a dense white. Lucius absently walked to the window, reviewing the grounds. Behind him, the radio warbled.

This was nothing like the naive, albeit coarse, programme which had secretly charmed him. Vulgarity in the name of comedy was acceptable, if listened to in the privacy of your home. This public spectacle, far from benign humour, set Lucius' teeth on edge.

His eyes wandered over the topiaries, left unsheared for the winter. The host's old programme, while ribbing, had foamed at the mouth with confidential information. It was hardly the fare of an outsider or Muggleborn. Was the latest WWN host a former Ministry goon? Lucius reconsidered this clandestine host as he reluctantly returned to his desk and the radio. They were still going at it.

"For young men like yourself, investing is the canniest move. Plenty of wheels turning around me, you'll notice. I'll have you hosting balls and campaigning for the Wizengamot in no time at all. You will be quite a busy man again."

"In return, I fund your campaigns?" the host guessed, his voice coloured with mild disgust. "What a generous offer. So tell me, how much money will it take to find Amelia Bones?"

Lucius capped his bottle of ink by hand, careful not to stain his fingers.

"Yes, well, Bones," Bagman slurped at his tea. "Let's let sleeping dogs lie."

"A Wizengamot member with the people's vote suddenly disappears, and you don't find this concerning," the host said coolly in return. "Are there future missing persons on the Wizengamot?"

"This conversation remains between us," Bagman stressed. "Frankly, there is no future for her type in my Ministry. Having taken care of a few bad apples yourself, you understand." His voice dropped a volume. "Loose ends get knotted, so you must tidy them up. And I have things I need to be doing."

"Like paying off your debt to… society."

An ugly laugh came from the Minister. "Yes, quite," he agreed.

There was feedback from the microphone. Then the host said, "Why don't you say that for me again, Minister Bagman? The part about Amelia Bones. Just a bit louder this time."

"What? What is this?" Bagman asked, his voice rising. Next, Lucius could hear the sound of porcelain breaking. "HAVE YOU BEEN RECORDING US?"

"Broadcasting," was the brazen reply.

An audible scuffle ensued. "Come grass, have you!" Bagman shouted, just before he cast a curse.

"Protego!"

Then, the programme cut out. Lucius looked at the wireless and raised an eyebrow. There was one question in his mind: Who gave the fink his own WWN programme?

*The Gamps are an older pureblood wizarding family, not to be confused with the Gaunt Family.

AN: Thanks for reminding me, manoningbrittboue, that I haven't updated here! If you like you can hop on over to my AO3, as that's where I post chapters first. Otherwise, sorry about the wait!