Chapter Twenty-Six – We Settle into a Post-Election Rhythm

As we went down to breakfast the morning after the election, I was not at all sure what mood the Slytherins would be in. Pansy was remarkably bright. "I'm just proud that Mom stepped forward to represent our side. She didn't win, but the Bruce fiasco was such a huge liability that nobody could have won under those circumstances. I think she just might beat you next time."

Draco's attitude was that nothing unexpected, except for the bomb, had happened yesterday. The sum and substance of his insights was, "it certainly was great to get away from Hogwarts for a few hours. We should plan another excursion."

The owls arrived with our morning papers and the Gryffindors experienced the fall from the elation of victory to the agony of reading about it in the Daily Prophet. I shouldn't have been at all surprised, and yet somehow, I was. The banner headline blared at me:

Weasley Steals Election

Bomb Depresses Turnout of Traditional Wizards

New Minister's Daughter Voted Illegally as Did the Daft Daughter of Mr. Quibbler

Election Icons May Have Confused Older Voters

I was initially rendered speechless, finally blurting "I was nowhere near the voting queue, ever! Neither was Luna."

"Of course not, dear," Mom said matter-of-factly. "Don't expect Barnabas to accept defeat happily."

Reading on, I found that the bomb, which half a dozen Wizards apart from our group had observed Rowle throwing, had been a plot by Harry to frighten away "right-thinking elderly Wizard couples." The only evidence presented in support of this blatant lie was that we were "suspiciously on the scene as the bomb exploded." Barely a second ahead of their camera man.

An elderly couple was quoted as saying they "intended to vote for Doctor Sprout and Mrs. Parkinson, but then were shocked to find that they were represented by the bronze statue in the middle, not the one on the right side. The bronzes were so tiny that all we could make out was that one of the figures was a Witch, so of course we touched that bronze. We were deliberately tricked into throwing away our votes."

Barnabas wrote his own editorial, complaining that "even with Weasley's fiscal incompetence, you would think for something as important as the first election of a Minister in over a decade he could at least afford bronzes which are large enough for all Wizards to distinguish." He went on to "hope that our new Minister represents all in the Wizarding community more scrupulously than his handling of his campaign and the mechanics of this election might indicate. Why, I even saw his son handing out campaign buttons which more appropriately belonged at a Gryffindor Quidditch pep rally. Perhaps that is the level of seriousness that we must expect going forward. Still, is it unrealistic to expect our new government to serve more than a single House?"

Xenophilius merely reported:

Weasley and Potter Earn Well-Deserved Six Years

Xenophilius said he would be saying quite a bit more in the coming weeks "about what Minister Weasley needs to accomplish during his first months in office." Beyond reporting on the election process and results, the rest of this Quibbler was taken up in an account of the Diagon Alley bombing, a final interview with Professor Slughorn and Gwenogg, and some finger wagging at the Prophet.

Over the following week, I was able to get a much more accurate reading on Harry's feelings from the times that we exchanged whisper thoughts. I felt I could justify mental eavesdropping on the theory that I couldn't be the highly supportive girlfriend that Harry needed and I wanted to be, if I didn't understand what he was feeling. Harry was alternately elated that all his hard work had contributed to a run-away electoral victory, awed concerning the responsibilities that had fallen upon him, worried that he was inadequate to the task, worried about Dad's mood, a bit timid around Dad and especially Shacklebolt (who had become Dad's primary advisor), and a bit indignant that Dad consulted more with Shacklebolt than with him.

He was also afraid that his relationship with Professor McGonagall would be poisoned. He now saw that his unwilling rebellion against her strong advice that he avoid politics for now had borne fruit, and that he was faced with the unavoidable reality that he was simultaneously a very young Deputy Minister and a student at a school with a headmaster who was obsessively on guard for any Ministry intrusion into her prerogatives. It would be fair to say that Harry did a lot of worrying in the weeks following his election.

McGonagall and I agreed on at least one thing – Harry's Hogwarts office was very useful for snogging. McGonagall had installed a really comfy red leather sofa, which we and the rest of our circle put to good use. Its only drawback was that in the sort of overly warm weather which we were now experiencing, bare flesh tended to stick to the leather. Not that I personally ever exhibited much bare flesh, This was more a complaint voiced by Luna.

The aurors saw some changes. Bron Turner was captured by the French Ministry officers days before the election. He admitted to his role in the attack on Shacklebolt and the death of the French Minister. He also revealed under questioning that Bill had tried to protect Minister Shacklebolt. This was consistent with Minister Shacklebolt's recollection. Bill was reinstated in the Auror Corps and never said a word about where he had hidden out. The aurors, whom he had listed as suspect, were all replaced.

Harry picked Bill to head his protective squad, so Bill moved into Gryffindor and promised to finish our advanced apparating classes. He indicated that he had been informed, presumably by Dad, of the nearly fatal error I made during the Battle of the Zuercher Bank. "When I'm finished with you, you will have better situational awareness, and apparating to a safe position from which to counterattack will be second nature to you," Bill promised.

The incursions of the Slytherin poltergeist had greatly increased during the final days surrounding the election. It was looking more and more like a giant snake. Draco and Pansy, who had very definitely become a couple, were facing the intrusion more bravely than I would have expected.

Hermione had taken an afternoon to have another meeting with the Goblin foreman in the castle utility room to exchange further ideas for the settlement of Harry's, and also Ron's and her own, debt to Goblin society. She reported back that it was a more amicable meeting than the initial one, perhaps because it was not burdened with Professor Flitwick's legalisms and was centered more on heartfelt apology and a pleading that the action in question was taken of necessity on behalf of all magical creatures. Hermione suggested that she would bring Narcissa to the next meeting, since she was now the sole owner of the vault in question. The Goblin suggested that it would 'help the resolution of our current problem, if Narcissa signed a statement saying she had no objection to you in particular taking something from her family's vault, and in no way held the bank responsible or liable for the unfortunate event.'

Both of the parent Malfoys had indicated a desire to take up residence at Hogwarts, to escape their nearly solitary confinement and be closer to their son. The other Great Families held both of them and, inexplicably, Doctor Sprout, responsible for the wave of embarrassment that was sure to come. Worse than the embarrassment, for many of the Families, was the prospect of having to pony up more money as restitution to their exiled offspring, never a welcome thought in those circles.

The three Malfoys spent most of a day together, in the Slytherin common room. We tracked them on the Marauder's Map, to make certain they weren't getting up to severe mischief. I don't think any of us ever trusted any of them as much as McGonagall seemed to.

I was now within a day of my seventeenth birthday, the Wizard age of full majority. If I wanted to feel like a kid again, I would have to hang out with the Goblins. Hermione assured me that she felt Harry had picked up on her hints. I certainly hoped so. I was a little ashamed that this meant as much to me as it did. It most definitely did. I was also more than a little surprised that Mom had made no mention of a family dinner. The family was no longer at The Burrow, but must that mean the end of all traditions?