Chapter Thirteen - The New Minister

Thursday 1st November, 1990

1990 MINISTERIAL ELECTION CONCLUDES!
FOSTER FLOURISHES AS FUDGE FALLS FROM GRACE!
BRITAIN'S SECOND MUGGLE-BORN MINISTER ELECTED!

For only the second time ever, a muggle-born candidate has been elected as the country's new Minister for Magic, after what will surely go down in history as one of Britain's most chaotic - nay, pandemonic - Ministerial elections.

On January 1st, five people confirmed their bid for the top job, chief among them being: Bartemius Crouch Sr, Cornelius Fudge, and Robert Foster. After months of campaigning, this newspaper's September polls were absolutely decisive in that Mr Crouch would reign victorious. This year, almost 90 percent of the more than one thousand British people who were polled said they were voting for Crouch Sr.

As regular readers will of course know, the Daily Prophet September polls have, for more than a century, accurately predicted the outcome of the election. Well, 1990 has bucked the trend! After one of the most unbelievable Octobers on record, not one but two - yes, two! - of the Ministerial candidates were involved in a scandal that cost them their chance!

In our 13th of October edition, a little over two weeks ago, people up and down the nation were shocked to find out that Bartemius Crouch Senior had been arrested by the DMLE for a veritable plethora of charges. The alleged crimes include, but aren't limited to: Use of an Unforgivable, Aiding the Escape of Custody, Falsifying Official Records, Resisting Arrest, and Perjury. Crouch Sr.'s detention resulted in his being dropped from the election altogether, as a person with unanswered charges hasn't been able to stand as a Ministerial candidate since 1904.

Then, not three days later, this publication was provided with leaked financial documents which detailed uncountable cases of bribery and corruption involving Cornelius Fudge. Within hours of the Daily Prophet's morning release, Director Bones of the DMLE had issued a statement regarding the arrest of Cornelius Fudge too! The long-time Head of the Wizengamot Administration Service sang like a siren to the Aurors, admitting to all charges against him and implicating not less than SEVENTEEN members of the Wizengamot, and several of the Hogwarts governors too.

After all of this, it's no wonder that the wizards and witches of Britain longed for a breath of fresh air in the Ministry, and muggle-born Robert Foster promises just that. In his acceptance speech, the incoming Minister pledged to bring about fairer treatment for all magical Britons, stating that he plans to focus on overhauling all of the 'antiquated and unjust' laws in the country that the 'financially and morally corrupt leaders of old have forced onto the people of Britain.'

Minister Foster promised that more announcements would follow over the coming days and weeks as he began his work on 'bringing Britain into the 20th century, even if it comes ninety years too late.'

-o-

At the Potters' house in Cambridge, the little party cheered as James read aloud the day's paper for the third time that morning. The election was a massive success for all that James had been working towards for most of the last decade, and was a sign that more changes were on their way for Britain.

The election officially ended at a minute to midnight on the 31st of October, and James and Lily had accepted Alice and Frank's offer to take Harry and Thea off their hands so they could celebrate properly as the last of the votes were cast and the results were announced. Minerva had visited in the evening between classes and the Halloween feast to give early congratulations as the WWN suggested that the election looked to be going in Foster's favour.

Remus had arrived shortly before eight o'clock - the full moon in just two days wasn't even enough to put a damper on his spirits. One of the newest bills that James was looking to try and put before the Wizengamot was regarding the fair treatment of witches and wizards infected with lycanthropy: free or Ministry-subsidised Wolfsbane Potion was one of the items of the bill, alongside legislation making it illegal to discriminate against registered lycans in much the same fashion as it now was for muggle-borns.

Sirius had joined them not long after Remus arrived, accompanied by his girlfriend Aspen Lyre, much to the amusement of the others who all remembered how ardently he'd pursued her in school. They'd run into each other at St Mungo's not long after Aspen had been healed by Harry; Sirius had been consulting in the Kye Mirror Ward, which cared for patients who had managed to end up with parts of their body transfigured. Aspen had been released from the care of the hospital as Sirius was on his break and they'd bumped into each other, which had led to them happily dating now for just over a year.

'Did you notice who was missing from their coverage on who was implicated?' Remus asked with a chuckle as the cheering settled.

James shook his head flicked through the paper, turning to the article in question and running his finger down the list of names. All seventeen of the Wizengamot members were listed, as were the three Hogwarts governors who didn't have a seat in that chamber. Two employees in the Department of Mysteries and a handful from St Mungo's, including one of the board members, were also included. He furrowed his brow and looked up at Remus questioningly.

Remus took the paper from James and flicked through before placing it back on the table for the others to read, pointing to a tiny article about halfway through.

New Management for Daily Prophet

BWM, or the British Wizarding Media Co., the majority shareholders in a large number of media sources in Britain, including the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly and its new monthly sister publication Which Witch?, Wizengamot This Month, and the Wizarding Wireless Network, welcomes its first change in management in more than seventy years.

After two weeks of discussions and negotiations, BWM has changed hands for an undisclosed sum. Mr Rupert Wyrme, who took over the company after his father's death in 1917, said that his decision to move on from BWM was not one he took lightly, but that it was ultimately the right time for him to step away.

Here at the Daily Prophet, we'd like to give a warm welcome to the incoming owner of BWM, Mr Cyril Bagley, and give our gratitude to Mr Wyrme, who has personally overseen our publication every day for his entire tenure as owner. We wish him all the best for the future.

Sirius grinned as he looked up from the article. 'The Worm was implicated by Fudge too?'

James laughed in delight. 'I heard that he paid Fudge tens of thousands in return for his cooperation when he was elected. Obviously he's concerned about the charges enough that he sold the Prophet off before it got liquidated by the goblins for reparations.'

'Dad was pleased as punch when he heard,' Remus said. 'Apparently the Worm had been a right bastard to him ever since he refused to write anymore articles against werewolves. BWM hasn't even acknowledged a single one of his papers in almost 30 years.'

'Is this Bagley any better, though, or is he just going to be another Wyrme?' asked Aspen, to which James nodded in response.

'He's not an angel, but I remember him visiting as a boy when he and Dad had business to attend to. He owns most of the commercial apothecaries in Britain, so he'd be around often when Sleekeazy's was getting off the ground.'

James found himself hard-pressed to decide which was the better news between the election and BWM's change of hands. While Foster's win held promise for bigger and better changes for British society, Bagley taking the reins of the Prophet and BWM meant that people were more likely to read about those changes. Not just that, but for the first time, they might actually be shown in a positive light. Maybe it would be worth arranging a meeting with Bagley to get a feel for his thoughts and feelings about modernising Britain.

His thoughts were interrupted by a tapping on the window of the kitchen, where they were all sitting, huddled around a dining table which was only barely big enough for the five of them. Lily got up from the table and opened the window to allow the large, brown tawny owl to deliver its letter. It landed in front of James, who ripped off a piece of bacon from his plate and gave it to the bird before untying the letter from its foot. The owl gobbled down the offering and then remained, staring at him expectantly.

Opening it, he found a missive, handwritten on heavy, quality parchment, from the Office of the Minister of Magic. As he read, he couldn't help the large smile that grew on his face. He read it through, and then once again, before refolding it and placing it back into its envelope. Looking up, he found four extremely curious faces gazing at him, clearly wondering what was written that had made him so happy.

James cleared his throat. 'Our new Minister for Magic has requested a meeting with me, at my earliest convenience, for a discussion about how his Ministry can work with me in my efforts to "modernise wizarding Britain,"' he declared officiously.

Another round of celebratory woops and cheers were given at his proclamation. Sirius clapped him on the back and gave him a brotherly hug in celebration, as did Remus and Aspen. James turned around and took Lily in his arms, picking her up and spinning her around in a circle, stubbornly ignoring her laughing pleas to 'Put me down, you great rascal.'

'This is it,' he whispered to her, both of them swaying as he let her stand on her own feet after one or two too many spins. 'This is what we've been working towards.'

'I didn't do very much,' she replied in the same low tone, before sweetly pecking him on the lips. 'This is all you.'

'Au contraire,' he rebuked, punctuating his sentence with another gentle kiss, 'I couldn't have done it without you.'

'What have I told you about speaking French to me when we've got company?'

The couple's flirting was interrupted, quite rudely James thought, by the Minister's owl hooting at them a bit demandingly. He kissed Lily once more before stepping out of their embrace and leaving the room to find a piece of parchment and a quill. At the stationary drawer in the living room, he stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. It was quite overwhelming, if he was being honest with himself, and he found himself suddenly blindsided by a feeling he'd not dared to let himself actually feel in all eight years he'd been pushing for reform and equality.

Hope.

For the first time since he left Hogwarts, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, James Potter truly felt hopeful for the future of magical Britain.

-oOoOo-

Time passed excruciatingly slowly for James as he sat outside of the Minister's office waiting for the meeting Foster was currently in to wrap up. It was his own fault, really. In his anxious excitement, he'd arrived at the Ministry at half past two - half an hour before his appointment.

To help pass the time, he'd visited Barclay Piper in the Underage Office to see how things were going in there. It was a habit he liked to keep up even now, five years after the M.U.S had been set up. More often than not, he dropped by when he was getting screwed over by one person or another for whatever change he was lobbying for. The visits helped to remind him that there was a light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak, and that his efforts weren't all for naught.

Having had a good catch up with Barclay, he started to head towards the Minister's office on the first floor, only to check his watch along the way and realise that he'd only actually managed to waste ten minutes. Instead, he took a detour via the Ministry canteen. Each and every time he'd been to the canteen in the past, he'd ended up queuing for at least ten minutes just to get a cup of coffee, so that would be a sure-fire way to piss away some time.

Unfortunately the canteen had been completely empty on account of it being the day of the Ministerial changeover, and the whole detour had only actually taken him four minutes, which led to where he was now: sat on a fairly uncomfortable chair facing the Minister's personal assistant who it turned out, by some cruel twist of fate, had a propensity for chewing Charlie Cheldry's Snapping Gum.

Every minute or so, she would blow her gum out in a bubble which took the shape of a Doxy. It also took the single-most annoying habit of a Doxy - snapping its jaws. Then the bubble would pop, and it'd start all over again. The effect was maddening.

Chew. Chew. Chew. Snap. Pop.

He took a deep breath and gathered his resolve. The Minister would be finished with his meeting soon, and he'd be able escape this insufferable young lady and her gum.

Chew. Chew. Snap. Snap. Pop.

Cringe. Really, the girl looked like she was barely out of Hogwarts. Surely she wasn't old enough to be the assistant to the Minister for Magic already? It's a good thing he was who he was. He couldn't imagine what a foreign dignitary would think of the Minister's assistant being so young. Then again, maybe he was overreacting a little.

Chew. Chew. Chew. Snap. Pop.

No. No, he most certainly wasn't overreacting. Not even a touch. He couldn't believe that this sort of behaviour was acceptable for anybody in the Ministry, let alone the Minister's assistant. It was wholly unprofessional, not to mention irritating to the point of inducing a minor rage.

James breathed a sigh of relief when she finally reached forward and took a tissue from the box on the desk, spitting the Merlin-be-damned gum out and throwing it in the bin. A reprieve, finally. A moment of blissful peace. He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the wall to just enjoy the sounds of parchment folding and memos flying and distant conversations from just down the corridor.

Bliss.

Until.

His head snapped up to the sound of rattling coming from the direction of the assistant's desk. There she was, absently taking another one of Charlie Cheldry's sodding torture devices. The seconds felt like minutes as he watched in horror as she raised the piece of gum to her mouth. For the briefest of moments, he seriously considered marching over to the girl and slapping the offending confectionary out of her hand. Using his wand just wouldn't be satisfying enough. Unfortunately, he missed his chance. She began to chew anew, and he found himself cringing preemptively, waiting for the bubble to come.

The door to the office opened and James could almost feel his relief tangibly leaking from his ears. Minister Foster ushered a rather pudgy-looking blond man from the room; Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department for Magical Games and Sports, if his memory served. The man had obviously let himself go since he'd retired - Godric, the man looked like he'd split a broom in twain should he decide to mount one these days.

Bagman practically waddled out of the room towards the door and James sent a very mild tripping jinx at him as he stood to greet the Minister. The jinx barely made Bagman stumble, but it was the little victories in life. The Minister obviously saw what James had done judging by the questioning, though certainly amused, look on his face. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the best first impression to make, really, but for all of his seriousness in his work as a reformist, James was still well known to be a prankster and mischief maker. Out of the gate, he figured that there was no harm in the Minister seeing that first hand.

'He cost me 15 galleons in his last game for the Wasps,' James said by way of explanation, with a mischievous smirk on his face. The Minister laughed and gestured him into the office.

Minister Foster was a taller man than he looked in the few photos James had seen in the Prophet. He stood at maybe six foot three, but for all his height, he looked to have very little weight. It was evident by the obviously tailored suit that he wore that he took care of himself and was conscious of looking professional and well put together, but that same suit still looked like it hung from his thin frame. His black hair was thin, but swept neatly to one side, though the stress of the day could easily be told by the strands of hair that had slipped from the style and were hanging in his face, or sticking up at slightly odd angles - an affliction James was more than familiar with himself.

'My Dad used to tell me that betting is a fool's errand,' he said as he closed the door behind them.

James chuckled in response. 'I confess to being a fool on occasion, and take it from me that your father was absolutely right.'

'He'll be pleased to know,' the Minister smiled as he took a seat at one of the two armchairs at the far end of the room, gesturing James to the other.. 'Mr Potter, I can't tell you how glad I am that you agreed to meet with me today. I've been following your work for years, and it's been a balm for my soul to see Britain actually shaping into a country to be proud of. Truly inspiring work.'

'Well, I've certainly not been doing it all alone, Minister. It's my pleasure to be here. I'm hopeful that over the next few years me and my colleagues can continue to make this country a better, fairer place to live.'

'Please, call me Robert. I've been here since six o'clock and I'm still not used to being called Minister. I suspect that I never will.'

James smiled genially. 'Only if you'll call me James.'

'James it is,' Robert said with a nod. 'Tomorrow evening, I'll be making a speech in the Atrium, as is the custom for a new Minister, outlining what I aim to achieve over the next seven years, at least. I'll be frank with you by saying that I've invited you here to see if you'd be willing to stand beside me for that speech.'

Though he knew he was here to talk about his work in reform, James certainly wasn't expecting that. More times than he cared to count, people with perceived high-standing in both the Ministry and society on whole had tried to get him to publicly endorse them for no other reason than the boost that would be received from having the 'famous Potter family' on their side. His brow furrowed at the thought, but Robert was quick to continue before James could rebuff the offer.

'I don't want an immediate answer. Please, let me explain myself first and then we'll come back to that. I don't want you to think that I'm asking this of you simply by merit of who you are.' The Minister's hands were raised in supplication and he'd leant forward in his chair as soon as James had looked towards the door. James regarded him for a moment before settling back into the chair with a nod, and Robert was visibly relieved. 'As I've said, your work with The Evans Foundation has helped to give this country a firm and well-needed kick up the arse. I'm incredibly interested in finding out how the Ministry can support you, and indeed work with you, over the course of my time in office - and hopefully further beyond.'

James snorted quietly in slight derision. 'The Ministry not throwing up walls and putting up hoops for us to jump through is a fantastic start.'

'Nothing good comes easily,' Robert mused, 'but there's no reason for your work to be made any harder than is necessary. You know, in the late seventies I met Dahlia Evans at some society fundraiser that my mother had dragged me along to. She spoke to me about the work she did with children and young people, helping them when they weren't in a position to help themselves.

'She was a wonderful woman, and her passion for the work that she did was a source of great inspiration for me, though she never knew it. I think she'd be incredibly proud of the work you've been spearheading in her name with The Evans Foundation, and I'd like to join you in that. I think that tomorrow presents us both with a fantastic opportunity to announce the changes that the British Ministry and The Evans Foundation are going to work together to implement over the coming years.'

James cocked his head in consideration as Robert pressed a rune on the side table between their chairs. The Minister seemed to be perfectly content to wait for him to digest the anecdote and the offer in silence. A house elf in the standard red and black Ministry uniform popped into the room with a tray of hot drinks and placed it between them before popping out again. Robert poured himself a tea as he patiently waited for the verdict, gesturing with the pot towards James who absently shook his head.

Finally, after a few minutes of silent deliberation, James made up his mind. He reached forward for the pot of coffee and poured himself a cup before slowly nodding at Robert. 'I think the Potter family would be proud to attend your speech as your guests, with one condition.'

'What would that be?' the Minister asked curiously.

James lifted his chin and met his gaze confidently. 'I'd like to speak too. After you, of course.'

Robert's eyebrows raised in surprise before a wide smile graced his face. 'I'd be thrilled. Now, we've got about an hour before my next appointment, so tell me: what are you working on now, and what plans do you have for the near future?'

A smile matching the Minister's own grew on James face, and he raised an eyebrow mischievously. 'Why, Minister, I'm so glad you asked.'

-oOoOo-

Tonight, Harry found himself extremely glad that he wasn't dragged to more of the speeches and functions that his parents often attended. The vast majority of the evening had been extremely boring, hearing Minister Foster and Dad make grand speeches to a crowd of journalists and people who thought of themselves as really quite important. These were the sorts of people that Mum and Dad had made a habit of shielding himself and Thea from, and now here they were, sat on the stage in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic with strict instructions to look interested and to be polite as dozens of photographers took uncountable photos of them all. He was beginning to see spots.

About halfway through the Minister's long speech, he'd taken to mentally reciting the lyrics to some of his favourite songs in order to avoid falling asleep. Just last week Padfoot had bought him the Pet Shop Boys' latest LP, and the gift was starting to feel like a real godsend. There was just no way for a ten year old to find impassioned speeches about taxes, foreign citizen programs, and the Wizengamot interesting in any way shape or form.

Dad's speech was a little more interesting as he talked about restricting spells and potions that affected people's minds. Those sounded like something from the comic books he'd been reading, which was cool in a sort of scary way because all of the stuff that the villains did in the books could actually happen with magic. He had listened keenly while Dad spoke about werewolves and what people could do to help them - he'd spoken to Uncle Remus a few months ago about the full moon and what he had to go through every month. Making that process easier for him seemed like a worthy cause.

Once the speeches were finished and the Minister had answered some questions from the crowd, they were all ushered off of the stage and through a floo to a large, fancy ballroom so that the important people could spend more time making themselves feel important by boasting to others about how important they were. It was all very tiresome, Harry thought.

He fidgeted with the collar of his shirt as they were led further into the ballroom, stopping every few feet as some Ministry person or another wanted to congratulate Dad on his speech or talk to Mum about the genealogy tests. That morning, Mum had taken him into town to buy a suit for the occasion. After an hour of being measured and paraded in and out of changing rooms trying on an uncountable number of jackets and matching trousers, they'd landed on a dark grey combo that was just a little too long for him in the leg. The shop assistant had told Mum that he looked handsome. He'd told Mum that the outfit was uncomfortable and itchy.

They stopped at the other side of the room not far from where the Minister's family were standing, waiting patiently as the man tried to wrap up a conversation with some old man or another. Once the old man finally got the message, the Minister ushered his family over to them and made introductions.

'James, I'm glad you decided to come. This is my wife, Esther, and my daughters Anna and Daisy.' He gestured to the girls in turn. Daisy looked to be a little younger than Thea, and was not-so-subtly trying to hide behind her Mum's legs. Anna, on the other hand, was standing straight and proud beside her father. 'Anna has just started her first year at Hogwarts - the Headmaster was kind enough to give her leave until Sunday on account of my win.'

'We wouldn't have missed it,' Dad said smoothly, and Harry consciously kept himself from voicing his disagreement. 'It's a pleasure to meet you, ladies. My wife, Lily Potter, and our kids, Harry and Thea.'

Harry gave a polite smile as Thea waved when Dad introduced her. He masterfully avoided rolling his eyes when Anna narrowed hers at him and seemed to search his forehead. When the adults quickly engaged themselves in a conversation about the evening and the general reaction to their speeches, Anna took up the opportunity to begin an inquisition.

'I thought you wore glasses,' she said without any sort of greeting or preamble, 'and people always say that you have a scar above your eye.'

Next to him, Thea snorted and Anna looked at her in confusion. 'He's never had a scar. People only say that because of those silly books.'

That was true enough. Not long after the inquiry just before he turned seven, some opportunistic wizard had decided to write a series of books called 'The Adventures of Harry Potter', in which he was told to have done a whole host of ridiculous and impossible things like wrestling with a troll to rescue a girl, and riding out of Gringotts on the back of a dragon to rescue a girl. Come to think of it, they were all about him rescuing a girl. As soon as they found out, Mum and Dad had managed to stop the publication, and even had the author pay a wergild to Harry for using his name and likeness without permission.

In the stories, for some reason, the author had described Harry as having a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. Apparently he had gotten a cut on his head that Halloween night, but it was just from a piece of the roof that had stuck him when the house practically blew up. The character in the books also wore a pair of circular glasses like Dad used to wear before he had some healers correct his eyesight.

'I don't know why those books described me like that. I've never worn glasses either' he explained, in a much more polite tone than Thea had managed. He cocked his head for a moment. 'Well sometimes I wear sunglasses, but that's because Valerian gives me a headache and they help to block out light.'

'Oh,' said Anna, as she screwed up her nose. 'I think you'd look better with glasses. And the scar would have made you look.. I don't know... braver?'

Really, Harry had never thought that he needed to look braver, and he'd much rather be able to see clearly than have to wear glasses. The fact that this complete stranger seemed almost disappointed with him, despite not knowing a thing about him, was just completely bizarre.

'Never mind,' the girl continued, clearly either not knowing or not caring about how rude she was being. 'You're going to Hogwarts next year, aren't you? I'm in Ravenclaw, which is the best house, but I suppose you'll be in Gryffindor like your parents?'

He stared at her for a moment, more than a little bemused. It was quite impressive actually, in the worst sort of way, how she'd managed to insult him, both of his parents, and then him again in the space of a single breath. 'I don't know where I'll be sorted. That's the whole point of the sorting ceremony, isn't it really?'

'I suppose,' she replied indifferently, 'but I've always known I was going to be in Ravenclaw. Mummy was and she homeschooled me, so I know I've had the very best education, same as Daisy.'

'Our Mum is really clever too, and she was nearly sorted into Ravenclaw,' Thea interjected indignantly.

Anna looked down at Thea, shooting her a look that made it perfectly clear what she thought of that, though it didn't stop her from saying it aloud too. 'But she got sorted into Gryffindor in the end, didn't she? Maybe you'll be the odd one out and end up in Hufflepuff - you're definitely defensive enough.' She turned her focus back to Harry. 'You know, it really is a shame about the scar. It would have served you well - House of the Brave and all that,' she said with no small amount of sarcasm.

'I suppose we'll just have to wait and see, won't we? Anything could happen at the sorting,' Harry pointed out, to which she just screwed her nose up again.

'I wouldn't hold out much hope. Looks like the adults are done. See you next year, Godric.' She looked down at Thea, who was rapidly losing her temper. 'Bye Helga.' Anna turned on the spot and walked back to her mother's side, tapping her on the arm incessantly to try and get her attention.

'She's a bitch,' Thea said under her breath, once the girl was out earshot.

Harry looked at her gobsmacked. 'Thea! Where did you even hear that word?'

'Uncle Sirius was talking about somebody to Auntie Aspen. He said it's a bad word for bad people.'

'It is a bad word,' Harry insisted, 'and you shouldn't use it!' He wasn't surprised in the slightest that she'd learned it from Uncle Sirius - that was where he'd learned most of his bad vocabulary too. 'At least, you definitely shouldn't use it around Mum and Dad.'

Thea rolled her eyes at him. 'Obviously. She still is one though.'

Harry looked over the girl again and found her almost dragging her mother away from the conversation she was having towards one of the doors at the back of the ballroom. 'Yeah,' Harry agreed, 'she definitely is.'

A/N: Sorry for the wait since the last chapter! This one was a bit of a struggle to get right, but I'm pretty happy with it now, so I hope you enjoy it.

A million thanks again to Bob49 and Proton for looking over this chapter for me. There's an amazing community of Harmony shippers over on the HMS Harmony discord, and we'd love to have you join it!

Also, thank you so much to everybody who reads, reviews, comments, and messages. This story has been taken to in a way that I would never have expected it to, and it's really awesome to hear from people that they're enjoying following it.

Peace and love, amidland.