Common Sense: The Odd Ideas File
Old Politicians Don't Get Voted Back Into Office
A/N: Oops, I goofed in the last chapter. Harry wouldn't know to compare the General Assembly Hall to the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts. (He hadn't been in it yet.) Oh well...
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Weaver had on quite a sophisticated muggle disguise when he entered the British Ministry of Magic. He looked like a cross between a brown haired chimp from the wig he wore and a drama student from the various bits of prosthesis on his face. (No one living had a nose as large as the one he now featured.) He was a seriously ugly person: one rather unlikely to be stopped by anyone else.
His nine colleagues were already inside; two were here nominally to pay fines to the DMLE; three were on an official tour; the others were lining up to witness the trial of one Mundungus Fletcher, thief.
Weaver was present to kick off the whole operation. The trick was making sure that everything in the Department of Mysteries was thoroughly destroyed. It wouldn't do just to damage things so that they could eventually be repaired. The items had to be dust; research notes had to be cinders; the people who worked on them…unfortunately…also had to die. He wouldn't want anyone reverse engineering some of these items.
Weaver got off the elevator at the Department of Mysteries level and started to walk toward the stairway down to the courtrooms, but he hid himself in a nook and surveyed the area. Aside from those moving to the courtrooms, nothing happened here.
Weaver waited an hour. Then his team members inside the Ministry began to trickle back to him. Three of them nodded at Weaver then proceeded directly to the entrance to the Department of Mysteries.
It took them five seconds to remove the stone work keeping the door in place. Another minute and six complex wards later, and the ten were inside. They didn't plan to steal any of its secrets. It was enough to level the playing field. What America had for defenses, Americans had designed and created. They didn't use any unknown or truly ancient artifacts like the British did.
Weaver waved at his team and pointed to the doors. They needed to penetrate each of the doors and use the special potions prepared for this mission. The team of ten began casting spell after spell inside the whirling room. The doors began to shatter, then eventually the spinning room stopped moving. A few more spells shattered the remaining doors. The team went in pairs through the doors. The entire Department was a huge Labyrinth, but Weaver and his people knew where the major collections were kept. Every twenty feet Weaver dropped a canister of the special explosive potion. Five minutes passed before he and his partner made it to the secure vault. He dropped three canisters there on the floor and painted a smelly goop onto the steel vault door.
Almost immediately the steel began to melt inward.
"Let's go," Weaver said.
Weaver and his partner were the third and fourth people to return. He gave everyone another two minutes. Two of his team were still missing. He checked his special mission watch. They were both down…all the way down. Someone or something had killed them.
"What was down that corridor?" Weaver pointed to his right.
"That's where the Omega Stone was kept."
"Damn." There wasn't time to mourn the loss of teammates, but he couldn't leave until the job was done, either.
"What do we have for munitions?"
Two teams had laid out everything they carried in. All that remained otherwise were fifteen canisters and one 'special item.' Weaver pointed to several large fragments of shattered door. "Transfigure those into large birds. Animate them to fly. We'll strap on the canisters and get them to where they need to be. God damned Omega Stone."
The team worked silently, with two stationed to keep an eye on anyone attempting to sneak up on them. For such a valuable repository, it was poorly protected. Buried underneath the Ministry, they thought it safe wrapped in some wards that were easy to break. Its workers, the Unspeakables, had fled into safe rooms scattered throughout the floor rather than fight.
No Aurors called to fight, but maybe they waited in the hallway to attack. Too bad Weaver and his remaining team weren't going out that way.
The transfigured birds flew off with their deadly cargo. Even if there was something fighting in that corridor, it would be able to get all of those semi-sentient birds. They were moving too quickly. Any direct hits would also trigger the canisters.
Weaver nodded at each of the surviving teams. The birds would trigger the detonations in that deadly corridor. Each of the other teams would have to start the detonations…in five, four, three, two, one.
The building shook and the sounds of distant explosions began to come nearer. "Soon," Weaver said. "It'll happen soon."
Just then, all eight felt the anti-apparition wards drain away into the earth. It made sense for the Ministry to hide the rune stones for their wards down here…and now they were gone.
"Portkeys now."
The eight portkeyed away a few seconds before the entire floor went up in a massive sustained fireball. It didn't last for a second and dissipate. The canisters contained potions that would allow the fires to burn very hot for thirty minutes.
Within the inferno of the Department of Mysteries, other horrifying sounds began to play out. Thousands upon thousands of prophecy orbs cracked and exploded from the heat. A dozen cursed objects believed to be horcruxes began to wail. The weapons of power slowly, resistently began to crack and explode. Hundreds of years worth of notebooks and research guides stored in special archival niches began to burn and the wards protecting them groaned and broke.
Finally, even the Omega Stone, the famed boulder from the "Sword in the Stone" episode of British history, cracked and its sentience died away. It at one time helped anoint King Arthur; at various times it had been used to repel vast armies of magic users from conquering Britain; at an even earlier time, it had been used to destroy a group of Romans who'd dared to try conquering Britain. Within the past century it had kept the Muggle Germans from directly invading Britain in the Second World War (even if it had been ineffective against air raids and falling bombs). Now…it was gone.
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Harry heard the word Dumbledore said. "Stupefy." The enraged man had just lost his calm, grandfatherly exterior. He had just ruined Britain in front of the entire ICW. It was like a gift from Merlin.
Harry leapt to the side to avoid the Stunning Spell. But nothing came out of Dumbledore's wand. Instead, Dumbledore shrieked when his wand crumbled in his hand.
The magic of the room had attacked Harry's attacker. Presumably it would attack anyone drawing a wand and firing off a spell. It was a room of peace, after all.
"My wand…."
Of all the things that could have happened because of an enraged Dumbledore, Harry hadn't expected this. Dumbledore disarmed.
Suddenly he was bound in ropes and flopped over. The oldest of the Supreme Mugwumps stood up from his table and scowled at the bound warlock. "This is a place of peace and decision. Harry Potter was a guest and an invited speaker. Even had he been a serial killer, you would not be permitted to attack him here. As it is, he is a victim: of the British generally and of you specifically. What ever did you intend to accomplish? Or did you mean to take Harry and perform a mass obliviation on us? You are the only one in this room powerful enough to accomplish such magic…but you are obviously addled. Everyone knows not to cast magic in here, but it has been forty years or so since someone was stupid enough to try."
By the color of Dumbledore's face, the accusation of kidnapping and mass obliviation rang true.
A moment later, several guards ran into the room through the east door and saw a Supreme Mugwump bundled up on the ground.
"Sir?" One of the guards looked to the eldest of the Mugwumps for advice.
"Take Mr. Dumbledore to a holding cell. We will talk with him later."
The oldest Mugwump then turned back to Harry. "My apologies. The man is obviously insane." Then he turned to the Grand Wizard of Angola. "You have the floor again, sir."
The aged African wizard surveyed the audience. "Mr. Potter has provided an impassioned speech. I make the motion he requested. I move that the ICW not recognize the new Minister of Magic for Britain. Is there a second? I remind you that, in this matter, only the heads of government may vote."
Scrimgeour, still in his purple chicken costume, went pale at that information. He quickly surveyed the room and counted up who was here. Fudge had alienated more than half of them; the others had longer standing grudges against Britain. This had been planned and executed beautifully…his country would no longer be sovereign in the eyes of the world within minutes.
"I protest," the British Minister said.
"You are not recognized, sir. Please sit down," the Grand Wizard of Angola said.
"I must be heard."
The French Directeur rose at that point. "I second the proposal."
Scrimgeour flopped back into his seat. If there was any head of government he was likely to consider an ally, it would have been the French Directeur. But Dumbledore's stunt had just ruined everything.
"Heads of government, please stand to vote for the proposal."
Forty five people stood up.
"Heads of government, please stand to vote against the proposal."
Scrimgeour, who got glared at for daring to stand when he wasn't recognized yet as a head of government, and three others stood.
"Britain's representative is not accredited. Britain is eligible to apply for accreditation at a later date, but its sovereign protections under ICW compacts are removed until then. I would caution the British to send only an elected representative back to this body in the future."
The Grand Wizard of Angola stared at Scrimgeour with unimpassioned eyes. The man rose, his clothing returned to a business suit and robes, and he and his team walked from the room. He had no business there.
"I propose we take a ten minute break at this time. I suspect some of us will need to make reports back home about this occurrence."
The Grand Wizard walked back to his table.
Harry stood near to where he was 'attacked' by Dumbledore. Overconfidence and pure arrogance killed the man's political career. He had really thought to kidnap Harry and memory charm everyone here? Stupid…unless he had pulled such a stunt before. Harry would have to see what the Americans knew about that.
Dumbledore's fall didn't really please Harry. It angered him that the old man had been allowed to do whatever he wanted for so long. Harry did take a small amount of pleasure in Britain being kicked out of the ICW. It followed that Dumbledore was automatically no longer a Supreme Mugwump. He would no longer be called upon to sit in justice on nation versus nation lawsuits; a new nation's chief judicial officer would be sworn into the seventh Supreme Mugwump's seat.
Harry eventually looked around and noticed the room was mostly empty. People really did have to notify their home governments about these happenings.
The Grand Wizard of Angola, however, was still at his table. Harry walked to him and gave a small bow. "Thank you, sir, for the opportunity."
"Thank you, Mr. Potter, for making this odd occurrence possible. I've never liked Albus nor his rigid public moral code that he all too frequently broke in private. Makes me think of those muggle ministers who demand monogamy from their flocks only to go out whoring every night themselves."
The Grand Wizard surveyed the room for a moment. "It will be a busy few weeks in Britain, I'd speculate. Not a good week to be in a Death Eater home, I'd think."
Harry nodded. "I hope the trials that will occur will be swift and just."
The Grand Wizard just nodded. Harry began to walk away. He didn't like the idea of leaving this wondrous room, but he did have other things to do today.
He walked out the door he'd come in from. Then he looked around the drab government-style antechamber he was in. Too bad they hadn't used magic to dress it up.
Harry walked up to a guard. "Excuse me, but where is the visitor center?"
The guard spoke in a harsh Russian-inflected English. "Just down the hall and to your right, sir."
Harry found it a minute later. It was a fairly small nook, but he could see a couple of books that might be what he was looking for.
There was a pensieve memory for sale; several picture books; and one rather neglected paperback book entitled, "The Pinnacle of Magical Architecture Series: ICW General Assembly Hall."
Harry flipped through it and his first instinct was for his eyes to glaze over. His second instinct – to master this material – hit him harder. He flipped back and scanned the chapters of the book: Near-Infinite Space Enlargement Charm, Anti-Magic Warding, Appearance Setting Spells, Growing Real Plants inside a Magical Construct, Magical Effects (Smells, Heat, Wind, and Water), Creating the Semi-Sentience Cornerstone, Wish Fulfillment Enchantments, Flexible Security Wards, Unbreakable Permanence Charm, For Further Reading.
Harry flipped to the last section of the book – its suggested reading list – and scanned through the titles. He wanted to know how such a room was possible. It seemed like he'd need to find a good bookstore or two on Lower Boylston in Boston.
He walked over and paid for his new acquisition. He intended to head back to the gardens with the ICW portkey, but he bumped into someone – the French Directeur – at the door from the visitor center.
"My apologies," Harry said.
"It was my fault," the French Head of Government stated in flawless English. "In fact, I planned for it."
"Really? I understand from a mutual friend that you've long wished for the British situation to be remedied."
The old man nodded. "I shouldn't say, but I believe that even now the situation with Voldemort is on the mend. We have already 'secured' Azkaban Prison. By the end of tomorrow, I think we'll have this Dark Lord bound and his magic drained. Perhaps we'll transfigure him into a purple chicken and bury him under tons of concrete somewhere…." The Directeur seemed to enjoy the idea.
"That soon?"
"Competent armies can execute precision strikes if they are properly equipped and trained and have had a chance to plan. We've had plenty of notice…and much incentive."
Harry heard the belittling of the British and the man's anger about having to act as a 'competent army' for a nation that couldn't or wouldn't.
"Thank you for what you're doing."
"I'm keeping my people safe, of course, Mr. Potter. If Britain ever fell, France would be next. Voldemort with the power of a Ministry behind him…we would have been fighting a losing battle. But, with surprise on our side and no British Ministry to interfere with its arcane weapons, we can do the job."
Harry nodded again at the French Head of Government. Then he walked out into the hallway and shortly thereafter left the ICW and Geneva altogether. His political salvo in this war might be the last shot he needed to fire.
He hadn't expected that the Americans had arranged their friends and allies so effectively.
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The Great Voldemort Threat was gone within days as the French Directeur promised. He had only been as effective as he was in the first war because of virtual sabotage by his supporters in the Ministry and gross incompetence by all those who fought him.
Foreigners had even offered to come and help with the Voldemort problem, but the Ministry had turned them all down – and then revoked their passport entry rights into Britain.
The British hubris was dealt a massive blow. Eighty-nine marked Death Eaters and unmarked supporters were in French prisons awaiting an international tribunal. The British were de-recognized as a legitimate government. Their massive stockpile of offensive and defensive artifacts was destroyed. No longer could the pureblood contingent bully the Ministry (as the worst bigots were all in prison); no longer could the Ministry bully its sovereign neighbors. Britain had to establish alliances, true partnerships, if it wanted to exercise any power at all in the world.
Dumbledore, for his actions at the ICW meeting, was sent to a cell in the ICW prison Nurmengard. His five year sentence – solely for drawing a weapon during an ICW-sanctioned meeting – would be spent in close proximity to Gellert Grindelwald, his one-time stepping stone to fame. A lovely irony that the six remaining Supreme Mugwumps couldn't help but chuckle over in private.
No one believed his protestations of innocence; that he had been asleep in his office at Hogwarts.
(No one even considered that a few well-trained American house elves had infiltrated Hogwarts, plucked a hair from the Headmaster's head, administered him a triple dose of Dreamless Sleep, and then carried him and his wand off once he fell asleep in his office, only for his person to be later swapped out for the American agent under Polyjuice Potion who'd 'attacked' Harry Potter. Would the Great and Almighty Albus Dumbledore have been so brazen – or said so little to justify his actions after the fact? A very few people knew of the operation to permanently discredit Dumbledore, including Weaver and the American Secretary of Magic. Harry never did learn this particular truth.)
Weaver, however, liked the fact that Dumbledore, an innocent man, was sent away to prison. It served him right for the crimes he'd committed against others, including Sirius Black, another innocent man. Perhaps Albus would learn some humility….
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The reporter from the Daily Prophet, Nathaniel Hacks, was shocked at what he saw when Potter walked into the room at the back of a bar. Harry arrived looking hale and fit; he looked happy; he looked transformed from his previous photographs in Tempus and The International. He'd obviously made some use of the beaches in Barbados as he was quite tan. Not being a hunted fugitive any longer obviously did the boy a considerable amount of good.
"Mr. Potter, it's good to meet you."
"Mr. Hacks. I'm glad the Daily Prophet wasn't dumb enough to send Rita Skeeter."
Hacks turned a bit pale.
"I see," Harry said. She had been leading the foul vitriol against Harry ever since his first media interview.
He turned around a few times, then turned back to Hacks. It seemed like he hadn't found anything at all. But, with lightning speed, Harry threw an ashtray on the table toward a spot on the wall. The dark spot fell toward the ground…but a huge thump is what hit the floor.
Rita Skeeter slid out of her animagus form as a result of her injuries. "She never does learn, does she?"
Harry pulled out his wand and stunned the vile reporter. Hacks was, frankly, glad. He hadn't wanted to bring the insect Skeeter with him, but the newspaper's editor had insisted.
"I'll be taking her back with me. I have some Auror friends I'd like to introduce her to."
That sounded like trouble to Nathaniel. "I can't let you do that, Mr. Potter. She'll have to go back to Britain…."
"You knowingly smuggled this…person…into a sovereign nation? I wonder how the Auror force here would look at that. I believe they have a most enchanting underwater prison. Would you like to find out?"
"No…" How did this interview go so wrong so quickly?
"It's no problem for the Barbados army to go and invade Britain. They'd arrest everyone at the Daily Prophet and bring them back here for questioning. Take ten minutes. Do you want that?"
"No, Mr. Potter."
"Good. Then print a fair accounting of this interview."
"Yes, sir."
Harry had to smile. Sirius' advice about terrifying his interviewers seemed to work wonders. Sirius had been doubtful that Skeeter would show, but Harry knew it was too rich an opportunity. Sirius 1, Harry 1. No one had to buy anyone else dinner tonight.
As the interview got underway, the questions were less rabid than Harry had expected. The man, Hacks, was probably toning down the interview lest he also get beaned with an ashtray.
Harry answered all the questions as fully as he could – especially on why he felt it necessary to strip Britain of its sovereignty before the world. "Fudge did nothing against Voldemort. His only action was trying to assassinate me. Scrimgeour did nothing in the short time he held the reins. Dumbledore had been in power, of one sort or another, for more than twenty years and did nothing. It was time for a different approach; one that did not ask for a child to go up against Voldemort, as Dumbledore was surely planning."
"You know that?"
"I do. He overheard a prophecy a year that wound up being about me before I was born. He didn't share the contents with anyone, of course, but he did set everything into motion for me to destroy Voldemort. I've already spoken in the media about most of what he did to me…all for no purpose. Voldemort wasn't defeated by me. The French found him, bound him, and stripped his magic less than three days after being called in. Dumbledore, with a large enough force, could have done that decades earlier. He chose not to."
Harry gave the reporter another five minutes before he excused himself. "I have another meeting to attend."
He walked out with a floating Rita Skeeter behind him. He dropped a portkey to America on her and she disappeared. Harry then used a portkey to get to the other side of the island. (He still hadn't got the hang of apparition, even though his American tutors were very patient about it.)
His friends, plus a few, were gathered in a little house Harry had rented for the week. He wanted the chance to really speak with them…but could not quite bring himself to set foot back in Britain.
Harry was cold to Hermione and Ron, but warm with Neville, Seamus, and Dean. He waved at the goofy faces of the Weasley twins, who'd apparently stowed away on this little trip.
"Thanks for coming. I wanted to see all of you since I won't be going back to Hogwarts."
"What?" That came from Hermione.
"I also needed to answer a few questions. For example, Ron….why did you tell anyone about the letter I sent you?"
"Well, George and Fred sort of tortured it out of me. Wanted to make sure you were safe, you see."
"And the others?"
"Fred couldn't keep his mouth shut. Mum asked about it. I wasn't going to lie to her."
Harry nodded. "Hermione…you showed the letter around to a lot of people. Anything to say?"
"I had to. I was so worried, Harry…."
Harry just nodded through the explanation. Ron was Ron; a bit weak minded and subject to bullying from his older brothers. Hermione was Hermione; a smart girl who assumed she was smarter than everyone else around her. Harry could not forgive that sort of arrogance again.
He ignored her for the rest of the meeting. "So, how did you guys sneak away for the afternoon?"
Dean smiled. "Come on, you promised me a beach and beautiful women. I've never been more than 100 kilometers outside my hometown, save for Hogwarts. Of course I was coming."
Seamus laughed. "The Caribbean has the best rum." That earned a laugh from everyone. "Sides, me mam is out of the house for the week. It wasn't hard to sneak away at all. She'd have shrieked like a banshee if I'd told her I was coming to see you. She believed – and still does – a lot of the rot in the Prophet."
Harry shrugged. He couldn't control people's opinions. Harry turned to Neville.
"No one's ever asked me anywhere, Harry. Course I'd come."
He peeked over at the Weasley twins…who were definitely watching the women strolling up and down the beach.
"Boys, if you're good, I'll point you in the direction of a nude beach, right?"
"Harry!" That was also from Hermione. The glare he sent her way was enough to tell her to stuff it.
"So, why don't we have a late lunch. The fridge is packed."
Ron scratched his head and asked, "What's a fridge?"
"For someone who likes to eat, Ron, I'm shocked you don't know," Harry said, laughing. It was good to be among friends, even if they were about to veer off into separate worlds.
Harry planned to master the disciplines needed to become a magical architect, perhaps the most demanding of all magical careers (including Healing). Charms Mastery required. Object Enchanting certificate required. Warding Mastery required. Muggle college degree in architecture and mechanical engineering required. Good taste considered essential.
Harry's collection of Magical Architecture volumes now spanned thirty books, including twelve volumes in the same series as his paperback on the ICW General Assembly Hall. Harry had the basic instructions for creating a magical pyramid, a castle like Beauxbatons, a building deep underground like the British Ministry of Magic, a time-suspended network of caverns, like those near the Camelot of legend, and many others.
Nothing, not even flying, had captivated his mind as much as being in great magical spaces. Harry would learn to make his own – and to make them for others. Along the way, if he picked up some skills to continue defending himself (as the tutors Mr. Weaver arranged seemed to want to do), so much the better.
They lingered over their late lunch for a few hours before reality intruded forcing them all to take their return portkeys.
Sirius came down from his second floor room about then. He'd stayed out of the way for this little reunion as no one wanted to explain Sirius Black's presence to Seamus, Dean, Neville, Fred, or George.
"What'd you think?"
"They're fun, but they're still kids. Where we're going, Sirius, they can't really follow along."
"What, to America?"
"No. To tutoring from American spies; to several academic masteries; to a safe house in Allston; to a muggle college degree; to a life that I can't put back to its simpler, ignorant roots."
Sirius understood that. Prison could change a person; being persecuted like Harry was changed him as well.
Harry had friends in Britain, but he'd have to build a new life in America. One could never go back home.
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A/N: And there our story ends. I really enjoyed writing this one, as I like Political!Harry stories and haven't found a lot of well done ones.
I'm surprised no one – out of all the reviewers – guessed that it wasn't Dumbledore attacking Harry (canon used Polyjuice Potion in a majority of the books – 2, 4, 6, and 7 – to fill in a variety of plot holes). In my stories, Dumbledore is usually overconfident, but rarely stupid. The Dumbledore of the third chapter was very stupid, just as the Americans wanted. Their spies aren't above rigging a vote in the ICW. How else would Dumbledore have entered at such a perfect time – after Harry's speech but precisely before the vote?
(Smiles at pulling a prank on his readers.)