Even if Harry had agreed with Lathrop's doctrine, he still would have taken issue with his methods, if for no other reason than the amount of paperwork generated by doubling the average number of arrests. Stacks of reports, complaints, caveats, addendums, approvals, and angry letters loomed menacingly over his desk. Had Harry been the sort to stay atop such things, the task might not have been so arduous. But adulthood had not tempered his distaste for filing and note-taking, and so avoidance had allowed the pile to reach nearly epic proportions.
In addition, someone in the Dark Enchantments Division had been careless, and a rogue spell had put the office's cooling charms on the fritz. Inwardly, Harry groused at the injustice that the former Hero of the Wizarding World was being forced to do paperwork in a stifling office, seriously considering the impropriety of doing his work in the nude.
Ron's abrupt entrance disrupted this train of thought. "I don't know how they do it," he declared, flinging the door closed.
"I assume you're referring to our children," Harry responded, not looking up from his notes.
"Detention!" Ron cried. "Not two months into term. What were they thinking?"
"That they wouldn't get caught, I imagine."
"They're supposed to be good kids." He dropped into the rickety chair across from Harry. "I honestly don't know where they get it."
Harry gave him a bemused look. "You do remember when we were at school, yeah?"
"Yeah, but we never got caught." Ron paused. "Okay, well, sometimes, but not for the big things."
"You would prefer they were fighting giant snakes and organizing an underground resistance movement?"
He seemed to consider this. "Lily could take a basilisk."
"Ron!" Harry looked up, horrified.
"I'm joking!" Ron held up his hands in surrender. Harry eyed his friend warningly, but before he could speak, the door opened again.
Cormack McClaggen strode in as if the small office was his own. Harry always had the distinct impression McClaggen thought it should have been.
"What do you want?" Ron snarled.
McClaggen ignored him and tossed a new sheaf of documents in the middle of Harry's desk, sending a few loose papers flying out of their places. "Got some stuff for you to sign," he said with malicious cheer.
"You may have noticed, I've got quite enough to do," Harry replied, trying very hard not clench his fist.
"Yeah, real busy gossiping with your sidekick," McClaggen sneered. "And anyway, these are priority."
Harry looked down the small pile before him. "Warrants? For wh-?" He examined the first paper more closely. "A coin collection? You want to arrest someone for having a coin collection?"
McClaggen shrugged. "Muggle currency. Bloke ought to have chucked it with the rest of the rubbish. Besides, the kid that owns it's only twelve. We got to settle for bringing his parents up on charges."
Ron's face contorted with disgust. "You sick bastard."
McClaggen regarded him with deepest contempt. "You got a problem, Weasley?"
Ron stood threateningly, fully half a head taller than McClaggen. "Several, but right now, I think a few of them might be solved by punching your teeth in."
Their noses were scarcely a breath apart, and Harry put a hand surreptitiously around his wand in case Ron decided to something stupid. "You wouldn't dare, you cunt-faced little snit," McClaggen growled. "I ought to have you sacked just for threatening me."
"Sacked?" Ron laughed. "I'd like to see you try."
"Don't think I can?" McClaggen challenged. "Just wait. Lathrop's been looking for an excuse to oust you two dissidents and you just gave me one."
Bright colour rose in Ron's cheeks. "You son of a –"
"Ron, sit down," Harry cut in, and, looking rebellious, his friend obeyed. To the jeering McClaggen, he said forcefully, "I'm not signing these."
McClaggen's grin widened. "Yes you are. And you know why? Because I said you are, sir."
Harry gritted his teeth. "Get out of my office."
Laughing, McClaggen replied, "Not yours much longer," and, with a casual wave, strutted back out.
Ron crossed his arms and grumbled, "Bastard. Hated him at school, hate him now."
Harry said nothing, only dropped his head into his hands and tried with all his might not to rage. After a moment, he heaved a sigh of resignation. "I need a drink."
"Second that," agreed Ron heartily. "You and Ginny still coming to dinner?"
"That depends. Are you cooking?"
"Merlin, no. I'm banned from the kitchen. Tried to make stew last week."
Harry grimaced. "Had to throw out another pot, hunh?"
"They're defective, I'm telling you," he insisted. "And anyway, 'Mione's got some new recipe she's trying out."
Harry thought that this might also be a legitimate reason to beg out, but he didn't say so. Ron had a strangely fervent devotion to Hermione's cooking and would not abide insults. Though, in Harry's experience, her new recipes tended to be hit-or-miss.
As it turned out, the thick, lumpy sauce Hermione had produced was edible, if not delectable, and the four of them sat together in the living room after dinner, contented.
"It's obscene!" Hermione was saying angrily. "They want to do things that are illegal, so they find ways to change the law. Eventually, they won't even have to. They'll just do whatever they like, and there won't be anything to stop them."
"There'll be us," Ron assured her. "They might change things around, but there's only so much they can get away with."
"And you're going to stop them, are you?" Ginny queried, a trace of amusement in her voice. "You're going to march right in there and tell Lathrop to knock it off?"
He glared at her. "I might."
"And get mauled by werewolves in the process," Harry put in. "Cale's got two of her guard dogs prowling the hall outside his office."
Ginny snickered and suggested, "Maybe you can just send him a very angry letter, then."
Ron made a face at his sister, then suddenly seemed to remember something. "Speaking of angry writing…"
"Angie's birthday is next week," Hermione finished his thought. "Yes, we know. I already got her present."
"Oh, good," he said, relieved. "Never know what to get her."
"She said the next person who gives her a scarf is gonna get strangled with it," Ginny told him.
Harry tried not to laugh, but Ron snorted. "She'd do it, too. So what do you get for the woman who can't say thank you?" Hermione slapped his arm.
"George got her a necklace," Ginny said with significant looks at both her brother and her husband. "It's nice, too."
Ron looked slightly uncomfortable but asked Hermione. "So what did we get her?"
She seemed to consider this question, then said, "I think I'll let it be a surprise."
As Ron protested, Harry turned thoughtfully to Ginny. "Yes, we got her something," she replied before he could speak. "Yes, she'll like it, and no, I'm not telling you what it is." Harry nodded, acquiescent, and sipped quietly at his wine.
Slowly, the conversation turned, as it often did, back to Ministry politics. Hermione railed about Lathrop's policies, and Harry and Ron discussed tensions in their department.
"The worst bit, though," Ron insisted, "is that these are really smart people. And they're lapping up Lathrop's piss."
"It's the same everywhere," said Hermione. "He's got most of the Ministry eating out of his hand."
"What about Art and Teddy?" Ginny asked. "Percy said he hasn't heard from Art in weeks."
"That's because he's got his head so far up his…"
"Ron," Hermione cut him off.
"He'll come round," Harry said with a confidence he scarcely felt. "He and Teddy, both. They're smart enough to see what's going on."
"I certainly hope so," Ginny murmured, taking his hand.
After a moment, Ron said, "You ask me, all this feels a little too familiar."
No one responded. A chill seemed to have descended upon their warm, comfortable evening.
