The Ministry

by WolfsbaneKnight

The Ministry of Magic is a place where nothing ever stops. Take a dip into the day to day lives of the senior staff as they fight to keep the country running, with obstacles and hurdles appearing from the most unlikely of places. Experience sadness, joy, laughter and tears as you enter the rollercoaster world of The Ministry. [Inspired by The West Wing]

2. Mudblood

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations.

I thank Rowling for the universe she has created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

---

Harry panted hard as he ran on the treadmill, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other and working up a fair sweat as he listened intently to the person speaking from the phone plugged into his ear.

"Yes sir, it should be on your desk," he panted, his words coming out in gasps and splutters as he juggled speaking and breathing. "Yes… No, we don't need to get involved in that." Harry quickly paused the treadmill as he felt a strong hand tap on his shoulder.

"Excuse me, but could you keep your voice down," the large well-built man standing beside his machine spoke irritably, looking as though he'd just come from his own intense physical workout. "People are trying to work out around here."

"Sorry," Harry huffed exhaustedly, glancing around the gym to find several other people glancing with disgruntled looks in his direction. "I'll try to-"

He was cut off as the phone in his ear suddenly came to life again, the voice on the other end streaming through. Pulling the earpiece out he handed it towards the man before him. "He wants to speak to you."

The man took the phone, still looking at Harry suspiciously, before plugging it into his own ear. Starting up the treadmill again, Harry kept an ear out for the conversation taking place next to him; a rather one sided conversation at that. After just a minute Harry found his phone being held out before him. The bodybuilder of a man did not say a word as Harry accepted the device and placed it back in his ear.

"I've got the bill under control," Harry stated as though nothing had happened, his speech clearing up after the short break. "You don't need to be worrying about that."

"I believe you, Harry," the Minister replied from the other end of the line. "But it's going to be a close call…"

"I've got the votes, sir," Harry assured him. "We'll be fine."

"Good," said the Minister. "I'm having a meeting with the Senior Staff at noon. Hermione wants to discuss something to do with the Scottish National Quidditch Team, if you know anything about that…?"

"I'm afraid not, sir," Harry replied, glancing at the clock on the wall and mentally doing the maths. "And I'll be there."

"Okay, I'll talk to you later," the Minister concluded genially before the line went dead. Harry slipped his earpiece smoothly into his pocket, glancing up at the clock face again and redoing the calculations in his head. Sighing, he stopped the treadmill, disappointed by the low mileage he'd been able to achieve for the day. It seemed like every time he went to the gym his targets would get lower and lower and he'd still struggle to reach them before being called back to the office. Quickly wiping down the machine with his towel Harry strode back to the changing rooms, quickly finding his locker and pulling out his change of clothes.

"So you work for the Ministry," a voice said from across the room. Turning, Harry found the man he'd spoken to earlier sitting on a low bench with his back to the lockers, watching him with a look of wary interest.

"I'm the Communications Director," Harry answered. "I am entrusted with getting our message out to the public so they know what our values are and what they can expect from us."

"So you write speeches," the guy replied cautiously.

"Yes," Harry answered. "And I manage the organising of events to cultivate close ties with various factions of the public, I advise the Minister on which of our policies can and can not be accepted by the general populace and I work closely with the Press Secretary discussing what she can share during her numerous press conferences."

"Sounds like you're quite important," the guy said nervously, rubbing his hands together in obvious discomfort. "You must have some pretty serious security around you most of the time."

"All of the time," Harry corrected, an amused glint in his eye as he watched the man get ever more paranoid. "At this very moment there are aurors monitoring every single person entering and leaving this building."

The man paled. "Really?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course not," Harry laughed as he shrugged on his shirt, his hands working the buttons. "No, they keep a close eye on every person inside this building at all times, and they scouted the building before I got here too. Oh, that's me," he said as his phone started to buzz. "Hello."

"Harry, are you near a TV?" Neville's strained voice answered.

"Yes," Harry responded tensely, slightly worried by Neville's tone of voice.

"Turn it on," was all Neville said before he hung up. Harry dropped the phone back into his pocket as he made his way swiftly across the room, moving to turn on the small black TV perched in the top corner. As the screen flickered to life Harry was not pleased to see the blond hair and aristocratic features of one Lucius Malfoy.

"Our nation is in a decrepit state," he proclaimed smoothly, standing regally as a reporter held a microphone towards him. "And we will not begin to heal until our Ministry realises this undeniable truth and confronts the root of the horrendous issues that face our society today. I am of course talking about those not born to our society and not educated in our ways. I speak of those who only begin to learn the most basic values of our lives by the time they reach their teenage years when we, the rightful citizens of our world, are already informed. These people do not know our ways and should not be held up for such glorified positions in our society; a society whose nuances are both staggeringly complicated yet whose truths are held as self evident to those who inhabit it."

"Shit," Harry muttered as he turned off the TV, letting out a long uneven breath in an attempt keep calm.

"Is he having a go at foreigners?" The man asked obtusely, watching Harry as he hurriedly finished buttoning his shirt and stuffed it into his trousers.

"No," Harry replied, throwing his tie around his neck. "Muggleborns."

---

Harry strode quickly into his office, gym bag slung over his shoulder, not even pausing for a second as he grabbed some files off his desk. He was gone before Cho could even stop to speak to him, shoving his bag into her arms as he passed.

"Harry, you've seen the news?" Ron asked earnestly as he jogged to catch up with him.

"Yeah, Neville called me at the gym," Harry replied as they took a sharp turn to the left, causing a few secretaries to scatter before them. "How the hell does Lucius Malfoy get away with speaking absolute rubbish after all these years?"

"He holds a position of power, people listen to him," Ron replied. "As bad as we may want to lynch him he's untouchable. That's the thing about Merlin's Order, job security for life."

"It's idiotic," Harry huffed. "It's arcane laws like that which make our job so damn difficult. Anyway, let's save it for the Minister's office. Do you know what's up with the Scots?"

"Their Quidditch Team?" Ron asked. "They won the World Cup."

"Seriously?" Harry responded loudly, causing several people to jump in surprise. "When did this happen?"

"Yesterday," Ron replied. "Scotland beat Romania by 500 points in the final."

"500 points?" Harry asked incredulously. "Romania? How were Romania in the final? What happened to France, Brazil, Ireland, you know, the favourites?"

"Scotland beat France in the Quarter Finals," Ron replied. "Brazil were beaten by Portugal in the same round. Romania beat Germany in the Semi's and Ireland and Norway didn't even get past the group stages."

"Ridiculous," Harry said, shaking his head. "So, what's the issue?"

"The Scottish National Quidditch Team will be coming to the Ministry to meet the Minister, who will congratulate them on their rousing success," Ron replied. "We just didn't know about any of this until about ten minutes ago."

"You mean no one had noticed Scotland won the World Cup?" Harry questioned as they approached Daphne's desk.

"Some people did," Ron replied. "Just not the same people who have the authority to arrange something like this."

"So basically no one in the Senior Staff knew," Harry concluded.

"Well I'm sorry Harry, but we were a bit busy running the country at the time," Ron sniped back. "Hey Daphne, can we go in?"

"Go right ahead," Daphne waved them through, watching them amusedly as they continued their argument.

"Where was the World Cup held?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"Argentina," Ron replied as they stepped into the office, Harry's eyes widening in shock as they did so.

"You've got him up to speed then, Ron," the Minister commented in amusement as he caught sight of them approaching, noting Harry's stunned expression.

"We have no ambassador in Argentina," Neville supplied to Hermione's confused look.

"Did the Argentinian's not have an issue with the lack of a British ambassador?" Harry asked as he approached the Minister's desk, acknowledging the rest of the Senior Staff.

"They did," Ron replied. "But we just didn't have an ambassador to inform us of that fact."

"I can't believe it," Harry muttered. "How long since we had an ambassador there?"

"We've never had an ambassador to Argentina," Amos told him simply. "We never thought to replace the guy the last regime used."

"Alright, this will be easy to sort out," the Minister said in a business like fashion. "Hermione, you go arrange this meeting with the Quidditch Team, Daphne has my schedule. Neville, you make some calls and find us an ambassador to Argentina. Now, the Malfoy situation."

"We shouldn't do anything," Harry spoke up immediately, Ron nodding fervently beside him. "Everyone knows Malfoy is a bigot who is only still around because no one can fire him. No one is going to take him seriously and responding to his claims will just give his views a greater sense of legitimacy."

"I agree," Amos spoke. "We should do nothing, let this die down on it's own."

"Minister, I'm sorry, but I disagree," Hermione spoke up, her tone combatant. "Just because Malfoy's views are so obviously bigoted and ridiculously old fashioned doesn't mean we shouldn't speak out against him."

"I agree," Neville piped in. "I think we need to make a statement. Show the public we stand for equal rights."

"What do you suggest?" the Minister asked, directing his question at Hermione.

"We draft another Muggleborns Rights Bill," Hermione said. "The Wizengamot will easily pass it, especially in light of Malfoy's comments."

"The Merlin's Order won't though," Amos said. "Malfoy has enough support in there to block anything like that."

"All the better," Hermione responded. "Muggleborns have plenty of rights as it is, we don't actually need to increase them anymore. They're already on par with that of any other human magical citizen. But by forcing Malfoy to block it we'll be able to boost public support for the Ministry and throw a dark mark to Malfoy's name."

"Minister, this won't work," Ron spoke up, noticing how the Minister was slowly nodding along to Hermione's words.

"Why not?" Hermione asked, rounding on him. "Go through everything I just said and tell me where I'm mistaken. I would have thought you'd be the first to approve this plan given our popularity among muggleborn voters."

"The trade bill," Harry spoke up in Ron's stead, having taken a seat as the argument progressed. "If we announce that we're planning on introducing a Muggleborns Rights Bill we'll have members of the Wizengamot questioning our judgement. We could afford to lose at most 1 vote as things stand. It would only take one more of our supporters with a different view on Muggleborn rights to vote against us to defeat the bill."

"Harry's right," the Minister said heavily, bringing the discussion to a close. "I understand your argument, Hermione, and I agree it does sound feasible, but I'm not willing to risk this bill now. We'll ignore Malfoy and he'll go away."

"Okay, sir," Hermione accepted reluctantly. "What should I tell the press?"

"Tell them what you've heard in here," the Minister responded. "Lucius Malfoy's claim is designed purely to cause chaos among our ranks and we know better than to give him free publicity with which to express his views. Say that and nothing else, and we'll be fine."

"Yes, sir," Hermione said, nodding to him respectfully.

"Alright, everyone, back to work," the Minister called, sitting behind his desk as his staff exited the room. They'd already vacated the office by the time Hermione spoke up again.

"I can't believe you guys didn't give my idea consideration," Hermione argued, rounding on Harry and Ron as they passed through the Minister's outer office.

"We did," Ron replied, annoyed. "And we decided that it wouldn't work."

"You decided that the trade bill was more important than a Muggleborn Rights bill," Hermione scoffed at him, moving so she could march alongside them. "It baffles me that for such supposedly liberal people you guys won't even take a second to-"

"Hermione, stop," Harry said sharply, coming to a halt and causing both Ron and Hermione to turn back to him. "You may think Muggleborn rights deserve more attention but I don't care. I've been working on this trade bill around the clock for nearly a month now and the vote will take place tomorrow. Don't mess this up."

He stalked away purposefully, leaving an annoyed Hermione huffing in his wake.

"He's right, Hermione," Ron informed her, causing her to whip round to face him. "We're barely going to pass this bill by the skin of our teeth. If we make this an issue, that just means we'll have to go through this all over again."

Hermione sighed frustratedly, angry that she couldn't argue her point but at the same time knowing what everyone was saying was making sense. "I'm going back to my office," she announced, starting to walk again. "I've still got to arrange for the Quidditch visit."

"I've got some notes on the Scottish National Team in my office, I'll send them through," Ron offered, calling after her.

"I don't follow Quidditch," Hermione replied over her shoulder.

"You do today," Ron countered as she turned down another corridor and disappeared out of sight.

---

"Good day, everyone, and welcome to the 3pm briefing," Hermione spoke as she strode to the podium at the front of the room. "I've got one brief announcement to make and then I'll open up the floor for questions."

"Tomorrow morning at 10 o'clock the Minister will be meeting with members of the Scottish National Quidditch Team and Support Staff," Hermione began. "This will include Manager, Douglas McDougall, Assistant Manager, Glen Cameron, the Head and Assistant Physios, Head Keeper, Chaser, Beater and Seeker Coaches as well as the full 18 man squad, with the exception of reserve Seeker Scott Gibb, who suffered a bludger collision in the Semi-final against Portugal and is currently being kept at St Mungo's for his own health."

"Hermione!" the mass of reporters started clamouring for her attention as she came to a stop.

"Donald," Hermione called.

"Hermione, does the Minister have a plan on how to properly congratulate Mr Gibb?" Donald asked. "Considering he won't be able to join in on this visit."

"The Minister has already begun drafting a letter of personal thanks which will be delivered to St Mungo's along with a commemorative pen by an appropriate Ministry official," Hermione answered smoothly, searching through a see of hands for the next question. "Annabelle."

"Hermione, there are rumours that certain members of the Ministry were unaware of the nation team's triumph, may I ask if these rumours have any truth to them?" Annabelle asked sweetly.

"Well I can confirm that I certainly didn't know due to my complete inability to understand the appeal of our world's most popular sport," Hermione answered to chuckles from the audience. "But I know many of my colleagues are great fans of the game and after raising seven children I can assure you this is the sort of thing the Minister keeps an eye on." Hermione looked through the crowd again. "Michael."

"Hermione, does the Minister have anything to say about the comments made by Lucius Malfoy about Muggleborn Rights earlier today?" Michael asked, cutting through to the serious business. A quick silence descended on the room as every reporter waited eagerly for Hermione's answer.

"Lucius Malfoy's views on Muggleborn Rights are his own and we have to respect that," Hermione stated. "However, this Ministry makes it a point to say we do not agree with his opinion and would like to take this opportunity to affirm our support of Muggleborn Rights."

"Surely you've got more to say?" Michael followed on, raising an eyebrow.

"Malfoy's remarks were designed to cause discord and the best thing for us to do is not give his beliefs a bigger platform from which to be expressed," Hermione responded shortly, quickly choosing another reporter. "Sophie."

"Hermione, what's the Minister got to say about the remarks made by Alea Reed, Warlock of the Wizengamot?" Sophie asked, catching Hermione slightly off guard.

"Well, I have to admit I haven't heard about what Warlock Reed has to say," Hermione admitted. "But I can assure you that my colleagues will be aware of her position and I'll be able to supply you with an answer to your question during the next press conference," Hermione finished, picking up her papers and moving to leave.

"Hermione, do you take it personally the words Lucius Malfoy used today?" Donald spoke up from the crowd, stopping her mid step.

"Excuse me," Hermione responded, raising her eyebrows.

"'Glorified positions in our society', clearly Councillor Malfoy was referring to you when he made those comments," Donald pointed out.

"Undoubtedly Mr Malfoy was making a direct jab at me as I am one of the more visible muggleborns in government," Hermione replied waspishly. "But yes, I do take this personally, and I'm sure muggleborns up and down the nation think the same way." Hermione stalked out of the room, reporters shouting her name after her as she left the room.

"You shouldn't have answered the question." Hermione sighed in annoyance as Ron pulled up beside her.

"Really? Well thanks for teaching me that," Hermione responded sarcastically.

"Hermione," said Ron warningly.

"What did you expect me to say?" Hermione rounded on him. "I know I should have just left after the Reed question but after that what choice did I have?"

"Well, to start with you could have said something that wouldn't have enticed the nations' muggleborns into getting into a fit over the comments of one man," Ron argued back, his ears going red as he defended himself.

"Maybe they have a right to be angry," Hermione shot back. "Maybe it's natural to be angry when someone who is supposed to be representing your best interests claims you're a second class citizen."

"This isn't about representing the people, Hermione," Ron argued back. "Everyone knows Malfoy is full of shit. The only reason you don't seem to be noticing that is because you're taking this personally. The reporter was right, you've got nothing but rage in your head. Maybe I should be taking the press conferences until this has blown over."

Hermione stopped dead. "Are you questioning my ability to do my job?" She asked, her voice dangerously low.

"Yes, because you haven't shown me anything to prove you can," Ron hit back. There was silence as the two of them stood there, silently seething at each other as everyone else gave them a wide berth.

"I'm a professional," Hermione said quietly but firmly. "I will do the press conferences." Her voice left no room for argument. "What's the Reed story?"

Ron took a second to weigh up her response before he answered. "Warlock Alea Reed has publicly denounced Lucius Malfoy's comments and has called upon the Minister to introduce further reform to protect muggleborn rights."

"That's hardly surprising," Hermione commented. "Alea Reed is a well known muggleborn rights activist, she got elected to the Wizengamot on that issue."

"Yes, well, if that was all we'd be fine as long as we took a couple of days to make our decision," Ron said tiredly. "As it happens Reed has called for the muggleborn rights clauses to be attached to the trade bill."

"Oh," Hermione sighed in realisation.

"That's right," Ron sighed. "Harry's been getting calls for the past ten minutes, Warlocks either complaining about the muggleborn rights clause or saying they won't sign unless there is one."

"That's bad," Hermione said, biting her lip. "Reed is coming up to the Ministry?"

"Harry's meeting her as soon as she gets here," Ron answered. "Hopefully we'll be able to convince her to calm her supporters down, and hopefully that'll just leave us with convincing the others there won't be any clauses attached." Ron sighed. "Either way Harry's going to be working late tonight, I was wondering if the three of us could have some dinner together in my office, just, you know, to give Harry a break."

"Oh, uh, I would but, I, uh," Hermione stuttered, surprising Ron. "I've got a date tonight."

"A date?" Ron repeated, blinking stupidly back at her.

"Yeah, it's just this guy down my street who wanted to see if I was up for anything," Hermione rambled. "I figured, you know, I'm not going to get many opportunities while working this job…"

"Yeah, right, good call," Ron stuttered back. "I just offered for Harry, you know, so it's cool. And if you do have time you can always join us, not that there'd be any reason you'd need to, I mean, I'm sure, I wasn't…" Ron trailed off as his ears started burning red and a layer of sweat built up on his forehead.

There was a long moment of silence between them as they each avoided looking directly at each other, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot thinking of what they should do next.

"I've got to get back, you know, for work," Ron said after a while, gesturing vaguely as he avoided looking at Hermione's face.

"Yeah, me too," Hermione stammered, her face flushed.

"Right, well, see you around," Ron mumbled as he stumbled away.

"See you later," Hermione replied in a slightly high pitched voice before blushing and turning back to her office. They split their separate ways, leaving Assistant to the Press Secretary, Demelza Robins, sitting at her desk shaking her head at the pair of them.

---

"Harry."

Harry looked up from his desk, a vein pulsing dangerously in his forehead. "Another call?" Harry asked dispiritedly.

"Alea Reed is in Meeting Room 2," Cho informed him, standing at the entrance to his office.

"Finally," Harry muttered, jumping to his feet and rounding his desk, adrenaline flowing through his veins. "Took her long enough."

"Harry, wait," Cho spoke, causing Harry to stop. She reached up and fixed his tie, which he had knotted up badly over the last half hour. "There you go."

"Thanks Cho," Harry said, sweeping out of the room, slightly calmer after the brief stop he'd taken. He ignored various greetings and questions he received as he swept through the corridors and eventually reached Meeting Room 2. Taking a second to steady himself, Harry opened the door and stepped into the room.

Alea Reed was young, blond and attractive, but Harry knew better than to underestimate her. She may have been even younger than he was but she'd made good use of her years already, campaigning ceaselessly for muggleborn rights.

"Warlock Reed, thanks for meeting with me," Harry spoke. "I'm Harry Potter, the Communications Director."

"Please, call me Alea," Reed said kindly, giving Harry a glowing smile. Harry didn't reciprocate.

"Do you know why I wanted to speak with you?" he asked, taking a seat across from her.

"I assume it is about the trade bill you're trying to pass through the Wizengamot," Reed replied, slightly put off by Harry's demeanour. "I assume you've had time to speak to the Minister to decide what sanctions should be added to the bill."

"No," Harry said quietly, shaking his head in despair.

"No, that's not what you wanted to talk about or no, you haven't had time to speak to the Minister?" Reed asked.

"No, we will not be adding sanctions to the trade bill," Harry replied, his annoyance filtering through to his voice.

"Why not?" Reed asked, flabbergasted. "I was under the impression this Ministry stood to represent all members of our society equally, so why would you not support muggleborn rights?"

"We're not saying we're not supporting muggleborn rights," Harry responded tiredly. "I'm saying we're not attaching it to the trade bill."

"Why not?" Reed asked. "If you do plan on increasing muggleborn rights this is the way to do it. If you take the time to draft a different bill for this it could take months to even reach the Wizengamot."

"Warlock, that's the point," Harry retorted, banging his hand down on the table angrily. "I've been working on getting this trade bill passed for nearly a month now. I had the votes, but now I've been getting calls from people all morning saying they can't vote for my bill if there either is or isn't a muggleborn clause attached."

"So you're saying muggleborn rights take a back seat because otherwise you'd have to work harder?" Reed countered bitingly. "Muggleborn rights aren't even worth one day of hard work?"

"Listen, lady!" Harry shouted, banging his whole fist against the table this time. "You may call me lazy but for the last week I've barely been home. I've been working night and day on getting this bill passed and now we are just over 24 hours away and I've got to make 60 or 70 calls to assure everyone that nothing has changed."

There was silence in the room.

"You know, when I came in ten minutes ago I did so with the hope that we'd achieve something today," Reed said stiffly. "Instead I've found out that the Ministry I've supported so strongly is nothing but a sham."

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Harry, the Minister wants to see a summary of the Gringotts speech," Cho said as she walked into the doorway.

Harry sighed for a moment, placing a finger to his head to try and think clearly. "I've got a draft of the speech on my desk, marked 'Gringotts'," he said, eyes closed as he tried to visualise his desk. "It should be close to the lamp. Pass it over to Ron and send him to see the Minister, I've gone through it with him already."

"You've got a couple more calls waiting," Cho added. "Brandon and Masterson."

"They'll be pro muggleborn rights," Harry sighed. "Tell them I'll call them back as soon as I can."

"Yes, sir," Cho nodded before striding out of the room, closing the door behind her.

"Let's start over," Harry sighed after a brief silence as he turned back to Alea Reed. "I shouldn't have used my tiredness as an excuse, and for that I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," Reed replied warily, knowing this was only the start of another round of arguments.

"The reason we don't want this muggleborn clause is not just to do with the fact we don't think it'll pass," Harry started, leaning forward in his seat. "The truth is it's not really necessary."

"Not necessary?" Reed countered, quickly working herself into a rage. "19% of wizarding Britain is made up of muggleborn witches and wizards yet 32% of the people in the lowest wage bracket are muggleborn. Purebloods still maintain a disproportionate share of the highest paying jobs and even in jobs where purebloods do not dominate the space is taken by halfblooded employees."

"While I admit you are undoubtedly an expert in this particular field," Harry conceded, quickly interjecting to cut her off mid flow. "I think you're twisting the numbers here, or at least blind to what they truly tell us."

"Oh really," Reed countered angrily. "You've got some numbers to say we treat muggleborns equally do you?"

"Yes, I do," Harry replied. "Just look at yourself. You are a part of the muggleborn community in the Wizengamot that makes up 49 of the 199 seats. In this very ministry 20% of our senior staff are muggleborn."

"If we're doing this by examples I've got a couple for you," Reed replied hotly. "Muggleborns make up 12% of newspaper editors, 9% of reporters and only 3% of photographers."

"I was giving you the examples of the most important industries in our world," Harry pointed out. "The two governmental bodies designed to run the country both include more than a fair share of muggleborns, and indeed voters vote for muggleborns more than population statistics would suggest. But you're right, these aren't the numbers we want to look at." Harry pulled a file out of the folder before him and started reading from it.

"19% of our population are muggleborns," he repeated. "While muggleborns do make up a remarkably high number of our lowest paid workers they also make up only 4% of our unemployed, with a large portion of our unemployed being classified as pureblood or newly halfblood. As you rightly pointed out muggleborns are severely underrepresented in the media but they do make up 59% of teachers, 32% of potion makers and, rather surprisingly, 26% of Quidditch players."

Harry looked up from his paper at Reed, noticing the slight hesitation in her eyes that told him he'd won. "You can sit there and tell me that this is a battle worth fighting," Harry said, leaning forward in his seat. "But I've got the numbers here to say you've already won."

There was a long silence as Reed sat back in her chair, eyes wandering the room so she wouldn't have to face Harry. "You've certainly come more prepared than I had anticipated," she said eventually, still not meeting his gaze. "Your debate style is admirable."

"It's easy to debate when you're right," Harry responded. "I know we have problems in our world, and with people like Lucius Malfoy in positions of power we always will have. You've been a fantastic servant to the people in your time as a Warlock of the Wizengamot, perhaps now you just need to find a new cause."

Reed looked at him as he said this, eyes clouded with indecision. "I never expected this meeting to go like this," she said quietly.

"I did," Harry responded, causing her head to snap back up to him. "This is exactly how I thought this meeting would go. And I'm going to tell you how it'll end." Reed didn't put up any resistance as he spoke, instead listening intently to every word. "You'll leave this room and bump into the press upon leaving the Ministry building. You'll admit your call to the Minister was rash and that you support the position the Ministry have taken on the issue. Then you'll turn up tomorrow and vote 'yes' for the trade bill."

Reed nodded absentmindedly, clearly still not really in the conversation. Leaning over, Harry placed a comforting hand on her arm, causing her to look up into his gaze. She nodded more firmly, pulling herself together as she stood up from her seat. She started to make her way to the door but stopped halfway there.

"Muggleborns make up 40% of all firings," she told him. "Some employers hire muggleborns to look good and then fire them after only a few weeks. Things aren't right yet."

"For that issue we would be better to introduce workplace reform rather than muggleborn reform," Harry countered. "Don't worry about not having a cause to fight for. You're very respected inside this Ministry and I'm sure I'm not the only one happy that you help decide our laws."

"Thank you," Reed said, still slightly unsure of herself. She turned to leave but paused again. "I'll talk to Brandon and Masterson and get them to calm down," she said, slipping back into the same confident persona she'd started with. "And I think it's safe to say that Tracey Milford will need a talking to."

Harry smiled slightly. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "Once you've spoken to them could you drop a note to my office, it'll really help me out."

Reed nodded as she left the meeting room and stepped out into the corridor beyond. She'd only managed to take a few steps before she collided with someone coming round the corner. "Sorry," a voice said apologetically as she turned towards her mysterious assailant. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"That's alright," Reed replied, dusting herself down slightly as she took in the guy before her. "You're Neville Longbottom right, the Deputy Chief of Staff."

"Yes," Neville said in surprise. "I'm sorry, I don't remember you, have we met?"

"No, I just recognised you from the news," Reed replied. "I'm Alea Reed."

"From the Wizengamot," Neville finished for her, realising who she was. "I'm sorry I didn't recognise you, I just can't remember actually seeing a picture of you before," he apologised embarrassedly. "I mean, I've read all your papers on muggleborn rights and I knew you were young, but I never thought someone so smart could be so… beautiful."

Neville blushed fiercely as he realised what he'd said. "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate, I shouldn't have said-"

"It's alright," Reed cut across him, her own face slightly pink. "It's never bad to hear someone call you beautiful."

Neville blushed even deeper. "Well, Miss Reed-"

"Alea," she cut in, to which Neville smiled.

"Alea, I know we've only just bumped into each other…" he winced at his unintended pun, "But would you perhaps like to have dinner with me tonight?"

"That would be nice," Alea smiled back. "I've got some work to do this evening but if we meet at about 9…"

"That would be great," Neville smiled in relief. "So should we meet at 9, say, at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"I'll be there," Alea smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she moved to let someone past.

"See you later," Neville replied as Alea walked past him, smiling back over her shoulder as she went. Sighing in relief, Neville looked around and found Harry standing in the doorway to the meeting room, a large grin across his face.

"So, the meeting went well?" Neville said, coughing slightly to try and cover his embarrassment.

"Not as well as yours did," Harry replied, grinning as Neville come to a stop before him. "Neville…" he said, shaking his head in amusement as he walked away, leaving a blushing and slightly confused Neville behind him.

---

"Yes, I wish to speak to Ben Walker," Harry spoke clearly through the phone, trying to hide his irritation. "Ben Walker, no, not Ken, Ben Wa- with a B." There was a knock on his door as Ron appeared, holding two packages of food in his hands. Harry nodded him inside, still listening to the phone.

"No, you don't understand," he said loudly, trying to convey himself clearly. "I want to speak with Ben Walker, Warlock Walker. Right, no not-," Harry sighed as he was cut off again. "Yes I'll hold."

"Tough going?" Ron said, placing Harry's food on the table and taking a seat across from him.

"My patience is wearing very thin, Ron," Harry said tiredly, idly fingering his bag with his free hand. "I might have a psychotic break."

The phone in his hand started making noises again and Harry turned his attention back to it. "Yes, Ben Walker," Harry said. "So when will he next be in the office?" Harry waited for a second. "Tell him I'll call him then," he said, pausing as the other person spoke again. "Harry Potter."

The phone went dead and he set it down tiredly on the desk. Harry rubbed his eyes for a second and then made a small note on the parchment in front of him, before lifting the phone up again.

"Harry, wait," Ron said as Harry started to dial another number. "Give it a break, nobody will be in anymore."

Harry paused for a moment, unable to decide what to do, before he sighed and dropped the phone back onto his desk, a glance towards the clock on the wall finally convincing him. "I guess it can wait till morning," he said tiredly, taking his list of names from his desk and sticking it up on his bulletin board.

"How many more have you got?" Ron asked.

"15-16," Harry replied, playing with his food. "It really depends on whether Reed's come through on her end of the deal."

"Did that go well?" Ron asked.

"About as well as could be expected," Harry replied vaguely. "She's not going to push anything at any rate."

They looked up together at the sound of high heels coming through towards the office.

"Whoa, Hermione, looking good," Harry said appreciatively, grinning and causing Hermione to blush and self consciously smooth down her form fitting black dress. "You going somewhere nice?"

"No," Hermione sighed, taking the other seat at Harry's desk and slumping into it. "I've just come back."

"What happened?" Ron asked curiously, trying to avoid the appearance he was staring.

"Well, everything was going well," Hermione said sadly. "He picked me up at my place, told me I looked beautiful and gave me flowers. We had a laugh or two over some wine and then I made the mistake of telling him I work for the Ministry."

"Ooh," Harry winced in sympathy. "I take it that didn't go down well."

"He was like a whole different person," Hermione complained. "He got all nervous and started stuttering and he kept trying to sound smarter than he was, talking about the economy and elections. Then he capped it all off by saying 'yeah, child labour's a bitch'."

Harry winced at that. "So what did you do?"

"I don't know," Hermione sighed, shaking her head. "I'd been listening to him ramble for about twenty minutes when my pager went off. I just told him I was needed back at work and left." Hermione sighed. "Why are guys like this?"

"It's not just guys," Harry replied solemnly. "Girls do this too."

"Wait, when has this happened to you?" Ron asked. "You're going out with my sister."

"This was before I met Ginny," Harry explained. "It was back at my old job, before I joined you guys. I helped run the campaign for Darrel Pierce for Liverpool City Council and after we got in I worked fairly high up the command chain."

"So what was the problem for you?" Hermione asked. "I thought it was that guys didn't like knowing their date was smarter than them."

"That is the case, for guys," Harry agreed. "But for girls the problem was I was always working. Nights, mornings, they couldn't deal with the fact that I had a job that was simply more important than they were."

"Do you think that's why you and Ginny have worked so well?" Hermione asked.

"I think it's one of the reasons," Harry agreed. "She's had so many family members in politics she understands how much work we have to put into it on a daily basis."

"So you're saying that only inter office relationships work?" Ron said disbelievingly. "Cause I've heard it's not a good idea to date the people you work with."

"I think that rule is just for when you're not serious about the relationship," Hermione interjected. "I believe the rule is you shouldn't sleep around with the people you work with."

Harry nodded. "During my time at Liverpool City Council I only had one serious relationship," he said. "There was this woman in legal named Natalie, really nice, funny, we dated for nearly a year without work really affecting us."

"What happened?" Ron asked.

"I moved to run the Weasley campaign," Harry replied simply, picking at his food. "Our relationship nosedived pretty quickly after that." Harry paused as he noticed someone passing his door. "Hey, Neville!" he called, causing Ron and Hermione to twist in their seats.

A second later Neville reappeared at the door, dressed up in a crisp white shirt and formal trousers with shiny black shoes to complete the ensemble. "Hey guys," he said sheepishly, well aware of their gaze on his clothing.

"Hey Neville," Hermione said, smiling at him. "You look nice all dressed up."

"Thanks, Hermione," Neville said, blushing slightly.

"So, who's the lucky girl?" Hermione asked, smiling kindly as Harry and Ron gave him slightly more worrying predatory grins.

"I'd rather not say," Neville hedged, glancing slightly to Ron as he edged forward in his seat.

"Alea Reed," Harry blurted out, completely ignoring Neville's desire to keep it quiet.

"Alea Reed? Warlock Alea Reed?" Ron said astonished. "Neville, you dog."

"Now, now," Hermione said admonishingly, hushing Harry and Ron as they cracked up with laughter. "Seriously Neville, that's great. I've heard Alea Reed is a very nice person."

"And hot," Ron added, to which Hermione rewarded him with a whack on the arm.

"And young," Harry added, grateful for the desk guarding him from Hermione. "She's a bit younger than us, isn't she?"

"I've heard it's rude to ask a woman her age," Neville said respectfully, earning a smile of approval from Hermione.

"That's right Neville," Hermione responded. "It's also rude to talk about other people behind their backs," she added, dealing out an admonishing glare to Harry and Ron. Despite themselves, the two boys did calm down.

"Hey, Neville, if you have the time could you ask her about the trade bill, I haven't heard from her yet?" Harry asked suddenly, remembering his conversation with her earlier.

"Harry," Hermione admonished. "Leave him alone. Seriously Neville, have a great time on your date."

"Thanks Hermione," Neville said gratefully. "I'll see you all tomorrow."

"Bye Neville," they called as Neville walked off, leaving the three of them alone again. They weren't alone for long as Cho strolled in, passing a note over to Harry.

"A response from Aidan Vincent," Cho explained.

"'After long consideration I have decided that I shall proceed with voting in favour of this bill as I had previously planned'," Harry read out loud. "Another down," he commented, crossing a name off another list he already had pinned on his notice board. "Cho, why don't you take the rest of the night off."

"Thank you, Harry," Cho replied, leaving his office. There was the sound of Cho filing her papers away before she pulled on her cloak and headed towards the exit, waving to the three of them as she passed Harry's office door.

"I think I'll head off as well," Ron announced. "So suppose you'll be going home tonight?" Ron questioned as he turned back to Harry.

"Yeah, hopefully I'll get a few hours sleep before it's time for me to come back in," Harry said, finishing off his meal and tossing the rubbish into the bin.

"Will you meet up with Ginny tonight?" Hermione asked interestedly.

Harry shook his head glumly. "Ginny's up in Orkney at the moment," he told her. "She's trying to negotiate a deal with an ingredient producer up there."

"Hermione?"

"I was going to look over the preparations for the Scottish Quidditch Team before I left," Hermione said thoughtfully. "It'll wait till morning though."

"I just need to clear up my desk first," Harry informed them, gesturing to the pile of papers littering his workspace.

"I need to get my cloak as well," Hermione admitted. "Meet up in the Atrium?" They nodded and split up, each of them destined for their own office.

Alone in his office again, Harry looked down at his cluttered desk wearily. With an effort he started to shift some papers, moving them into piles so his desk at least seemed more organised. Seeing Ron leaving in the distance Harry threw on his cloak and quickly made his way to the door, but not before looking down the lists on his notice board, dreading the work of the next day.

---

"And if you'll just follow me you'll see the Minister's outer office," Hermione announced as she led the band of tough looking scotsmen through the ministry. "This is Daphne Greengrass, the Minister's Senior Assistant, and Blaise Zabini, his Personal Aide." Hermione came to a stop before the closed office door.

"What's going to happen is this," she began. "You'll line up on the left side of the room with photographers on the right side. The Minister will come along the line and shake everybody's hand, maybe say a word or two as he goes, and then we'll bring out the signed shirt for you to present to the Minster."

Finishing her speech, Hermione knocked and peered into the office before opening the door fully and leading the scots into the flash of cameras as they stretched out across the room in an orderly line, even the wilder members of the squad staying quiet and respectful in the presence of the Minister of Magic.

"Here is the Scottish National Quidditch Team and Staff, Minister," Hermione said as she came to a stop next to the Minister, who was standing by his desk. "May I introduce the manager of the team, Douglas McDougall."

"Very pleased to meet you, Minister," Douglas said, shaking the Minister's hand vigourously. "It's an honour to have been invited here today."

"On the contrary, it has been an honour for us to have you here today," the Minister replied genially. "Too often we fall behind our international rivals but you and your fellow Scotsmen have brought us pride this summer."

"Thank you, sir," Douglas replied respectfully. "May I introduce my Assistant Manager, Glen Cameron."

"Very good to meet you, sir," Glen spoke, his accent a lot stronger than Douglas's had been.

"Likewise," the Minister replied. "I remember watching you play for the Wimbourne Wasps back in the day. My sons, Fred and George, always wanted to be like you and, what was his name, Geert Aiken, that's right. They spent hours watching recordings of your games and then practicing them with fallen apples from the orchard."

As the Minister was speaking Daphne was whispering in Blaise's ear at the door to the office. Skirting round the back of the photographers and past Demelza, who was keeping the photographers under control, Blaise walked up to the Minister and whispered something urgently in his ear. Hearing what was being said, the Minister's expression became serious.

"I must apologise," the Minister said abruptly, taking a step back to address all his guests. "A situation has come up that I must attend to immediately. I wish you all a very pleasant day on the rest of your trip round the Ministry. Hermione, could you…?"

"Of course, Minister," Hermione took over. "If you'd all like to follow me the next stop on our tour will be the press room, the room that is commonly used in order to rely important news to the public as soon as it is made available to the Ministry."

The Minister walked off in the other direction, opening the door connecting his office to Amos's to find his Chief of Staff already waiting for him. "What's happening?"

"A protest march outside of Manchester, sir," Amos replied, falling into step beside him as they made their way through his outer office and into the corridor.

"What are they protesting?"

"Scotland," Amos replied.

"It's Scottish people that are protesting?" the Minister questioned.

"No sir, it's English people protesting Scotland," Amos replied to the Minister's confusion.

"They're protesting against Scotland," the Minister repeated in bewilderment. "What has Scotland ever done to annoy them?"

"They're not so much protesting Scotland as they are protesting you meeting with the Scottish team," Amos cleared up.

"Why, they won the World Cup," the Minister complained. "Why should I not congratulate them?"

"The word is they're complaining because England did not have an invite to visit the Ministry when they won the World Cup 24 years ago," Amos explained.

"We weren't in office 24 years ago," the Minister countered. "What do they expect us to do?"

"I honestly don't think they know," Amos replied as he opened the doors to the Situation Room, leading the Minister inside. As one everyone in the room rose to their feet, not sitting down until the Minister had taken his place at the head of the table.

"Kingsley, run through the situation and get me caught up," the Minister said as he settled into his chair

"We've got a mob of about 60-65 people about 5 miles outside of Manchester making their way towards the town," Kingsley recounted promptly. "The crowd are waving magical banners with various anti-Scottish phrases upon them. So far they have remained relatively peaceful, although we are unsure how long that can last."

"Have we got any plans set to subdue them should they turn to violence?" the Minister asked.

"We've had teams of Aurors scouting the path they are likely to take and they've ascertained several locations where we would hold a distinct tactical advantage if a conflict were to occur," Kingsley replied.

"But the situation hasn't yet turned violent?" Amos clarified. "Are we making plans for a peaceful resolution?"

"We have sent out a negotiator with a standard 4 man security team to talk with the leader of the mob," Kingsley recited. "Each of them have a port key designed to take them straight back to the Ministry offices should they need to evacuate the scene."

"You aren't expecting a peaceful resolution, are you, Kingsley?" the Minister said quietly, catching the attention of everyone in the room.

"No sir," Kingsley replied. "Upon scouting the crowd we've found it compromises almost entirely of young males wearing various Quidditch shirts, I wouldn't have thought they'd be easy to calm. I also have little confidence with the control the leader has over this mob."

"Okay," the Minister accepted, pulling himself to his feet and causing everyone else to rise for him. "Call me when you hear word of our peace negotiations and we'll move from there. Keep the aurors on standby."

"Yes, sir," Kingsley said as the Minister left the room.

---

"Harry," Hermione said, knocking on his office door.

"Hey Hermione, how are the Scottish Quidditch Team?" Harry asked, taking a large bite out of his apple as he leaned back in his chair.

"Fine, the Minister had to go to the Situation Room halfway through their meeting and now I've left them to go talk to you," Hermione replied.

"So they're getting the real life Ministry treatment I see," Harry mumbled back, his voice partly obscured by the apple piece he was chewing. "What was the situation the Minister had to deal with?"

"Well, that's actually why I came to talk to you," Hermione said. "Amos told me a few minutes ago that the Ministry has sent out a negotiator in order to prevent the continuation of anti-Scottish riots outside Manchester."

"When did this happen?" Harry asked in surprise, leaning forward in his seat as he nearly choked on his apple.

"Just in the last couple of hours," Hermione answered. "I don't really have many details on this but I'm sure I'm going to have to cover it in my next press conference."

"Right," Harry agreed thoughtfully. "Did you want some help on that? I mean, that's why you came to see me?"

"No, actually," Hermione said delicately. "I'm going to be working on this so I need someone to watch the Scottish Quidditch Team."

"Oh, Hermione," Harry moaned. "I can't do that, I'm busy. Can't you just let whoever is watching them at the moment-" Harry paused. "Who is watching them at the moment?"

"The dinner ladies," Hermione replied shortly.

"Dear god," Harry muttered under his breath.

"Well, I'm sorry," Hermione continued. "I can't watch them and everyone else is busy."

"I'm busy," Harry complained.

"Amos is in the situation room with the Minister and Kingsley, Neville is busy doing Amos's job whilst he's in there, Ron's got his own things and covering the overflow from Neville and I can see from the parchment on your wall that you have only two warlocks left to contact," Hermione countered hotly. "Believe me, I wouldn't be asking if I had any other choice."

Harry sighed, shooting a glare at his notice board as if it was it's fault he was being sucked into this. "I suppose reminding you how much work I've done on this bill won't make you change your mind?" Harry said with little hope. "Very well, I suppose I can make the last couple of calls from the cafeteria."

"Thank you," Hermione said, leaving his office promptly having achieved her goal.

"Cho!" Harry shouted from his desk as he pulled various pieces of parchment into a bundle. "Gather your stuff and re-route everything to your mobile, we're going to work in the cafeteria."

"Why are we working in the cafeteria?" Cho responded, already with a pile of parchment in her arms, as Harry exited his office.

"We've been drafted in to babysit grown men," Harry replied as he strode down the corridor, Cho hurrying along in his wake. "It's not bad enough that they make me get this vote through on my own but they have to stick obstacles in my way as I go. Sometimes I feel like a rat who's been stuck in a maze just to see how smart it really is."

He strode through the cafeteria doors. "Hello, pleasure to meet you," he smiled politely to the mass of men before him. "I'm really sorry you're being run through the wringer today but we've got all sorts of things going on at the moment."

"That's not a problem, we understand there's a lot of work going on here," a man said as he approached. "Douglas McDougall."

"Nice to meet you. Thanks, Cho," Harry said as Cho took his papers from him so he could shake Douglas' hand. "I'm Harry Potter, the Communications Director, and I'm sorry to say that there's a lot of work I've got to do as well. I'm perfectly happy to answer any questions you have when I've got a break, but that may not be particularly often."

Harry shrugged apologetically as he took a seat at the table Cho had dumped his papers on. "Cho, do you happen to have a copy of the trade bill with you?" Harry asked as he sifted through his parchment.

"No, I left it behind," Cho answered from another table which she'd taken over as her desk.

"Damn, I'll have to go back and get mine," Harry swore, rubbing his forehead wearily. "Right, I want to have Ash Tyler and Paula Rake on the phone by the time I get back." Harry told Cho as he made his way back to the door.

"Who do you want first?" Cho asked, phone already held to her ear as she prepared to make the calls.

"Either, I don't care," Harry said as he made his way through the door, only stopping at the last second. "Try Paula first, she'll be easier to deal with."

---

"What's the news?" the Minister asked as he re-entered the Situation Room, ignoring how everyone stood when he walked in.

"As expected our attempts at a peaceful solution have been unsuccessful," Kingsley spoke softly. "Midway through negotiations our negotiator was struck by what we believe to be a bone breaking curse from a member of the crowd."

"You don't know for sure?" the Minister asked.

"No," Kingsley replied. "As per standard procedure in these situations three of the auror guard engaged the hostile force while the fourth port keyed back in order to alert us to our failed negotiation attempt."

"We haven't heard anything from the other auror's," Amos told the Minister.

"How long ago was this?" the Minister asked.

"As soon as we were alerted to the failure of our mission we immediately sent for you sir," one of the other members of the security council told him. "This can't have happened more than 10 minutes ago."

"But we'd have expected the auror's to have returned by now," the Minister said. "And they haven't."

"No sir," Kingsley agreed. "I believe at this point our only course of action is to engage the crowd when they reach the next strike point."

"How long will it take them to reach that point?" Amos asked.

"Twenty minutes at their original pace," Kingsley informed him. "But if they've taken our men captive they may take longer."

The Minister leaned back in his chair heavily. "And we have nothing on the condition of the captives?" he asked tiredly.

"No sir," Kingsley told him. "We believe our negotiator was hit by a bone breaking curse in the left shoulder or upper chest. We know nothing about what has happened since our auror left the scene."

"It's a sad thing to fight against your own citizens," the Minister said sorrowfully. "Why must it always come to this?"

"Minister, if we do nothing we allow these rioters to further risk breaching the statute of secrecy," another member of the council told him. "The obliviators are already working round the clock to keep the muggles away."

"Amos, what do you think?" the Minister asked his chief of staff, blocking out everyone else in the room.

"I think it's not just the Statute of Secrecy and Civil Order that we have to worry about now," he said softly. "It's the safety of our men." The Minister nodded slowly at these words, thinking hard.

"I can order a strike at our next strike point, Minister," Kingsley told him. "Just say the word and it will be done."

The Minister nodded. "Do it," he said with conviction. "Try and catch as many as you can but the first priority is the safety of our men."

"Yes sir," Kingsley said as he started to relay the message to his field operatives.

"Let me know when we start hearing things," the Minister said as he rose to his feet, walking out the door with Amos right behind him. "God, I hope I'm doing the right thing."

---

"Can I speak with Warlock Tyler?" Cho asked as she spoke on her mobile phone.

"Hi, Paula, I'm so glad you had the time to speak with me," Harry greeted his Warlock on his own mobile phone as he paced the length of the room. "I just wanted to have a brief word about the trade bill that's going to be voted on this evening."

"I'm calling on behalf of Harry Potter, the Communications Director at the Ministry," Cho spoke on her line, fingering the parchment before her distractedly.

"Yeah, I just wanted to check everything was alright with you for the vote," Harry said politely.

"Yes, Harry was just wondering if he could speak about the trade bill," Cho said patiently.

"I'm so glad we agree," Harry said, leaning back slightly on his heels as he noticed Cho waiting for him, keeping the phone on hold. "Thank you so much Paula, take care." Harry hung up the phone.

"Tyler wants to meet with you in person," Cho announced as soon as he was off the phone.

"Figures, he always likes to intimidate people in meetings," Harry sighed. "Tell him to come over here," he said as Cho prepared to go back to the phone. "No, tell him to come over here now, I don't want to give this guy any leeway."

Cho nodded as she went back to the phone, relaying Harry's message. After a minute of listening Cho gave a confirmative nod to Harry as she ended the call.

"Well," Harry said, turning his attention to the rest of the room. "Looks like I've got some free time, is there anything anyone wants to ask me?" Most of the guests hadn't even noticed he'd start talking, having grown bored of Harry's politics talk on the phone. From one of the back tables a hand was raised.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, gesturing for the young, spotty teenager to go ahead.

"You said you were the Communications Director," the teenager said tentatively. "What exactly do you do?"

"Well," Harry said, quickly thinking how best to describe his job. "Basically, I decide how best to get our message across to the public," he said simply. "Whenever the Minister is speaking at a conference or something like that it'll be my words he's using."

"But what about the Press Secretary," one of the older players spoke. "I was under the impression she wrote what she says."

"She does," Harry agreed. "Hermione's job is to just tell the press and, through them, the public what's going on. My job is more along the lines of how we present our ideals and get across our message. Hermione doesn't need me, and for that matter the Minister is a very articulate and well spoken man."

"So why do they have you writing speeches?" another person asked.

"Because there is a hell of a lot of them," Harry said with a chuckle. "If the Minister had to properly think about everything he was saying at all these various events he'd have a mental breakdown. I decide in my office well in advance what the Minister will and will not say, and that is something that is very difficult to decide on your own in the heat of the moment when you've already been talking for twenty minutes and still have another half hour to go."

"But that's not all I do," Harry explained. "As you no doubt have heard there is a bill we are trying to pass this evening and it is part of my responsibilities as Communications Director to get enough Warlocks of the Wizengamot to get on board to pass the bill."

"How difficult is it to get people to vote your way?" was a question from the crowd.

"It depends on the bill," Harry shrugged. "Things like improved working conditions and better human rights are going to be voted for by virtually everyone. These things have been more or less completely done already, so the bills we try to get past tend to be much more contentious."

"Can you give us an example?" Douglas asked.

"Well, this bill we're having today I've been working on for nearly a month now," Harry told them. "The idea is that we raise import taxes to allow our own industries to flourish without being forced out of work by cheaper foreign imports. The problem with this is that it's difficult to convince everyone of where we draw the line, for example, how high can we raise the tax before we drive foreign industries away completely."

"I thought that was the idea, to use British industry," one of the players said.

"Yes, but if we completely drive away foreign markets they won't buy from us either," Harry countered, really getting into the discussion. "The real debate is how far do we think we can get away with raising the tax and how far do we need to raise the tax. Very few people completely agree on this and as such, if I can convince Tyler to vote on this bill, it will only pass by two votes. I'm having to put an awful lot of faith in these people sticking to their word."

"Harry," Cho spoke up suddenly, phone to her ear. "Tyler has arrived, Colin is just bringing him through here."

"Great," Harry said, clearing space on his desk for the most relevant files. "Em, just an idea, but if you guys try and look intimidating that would really help me out here," Harry said to the team, who chuckled at the idea.

The doors opened soon after, the diminutive Colin Creevey leading confident tall Ash Tyler forward.

"Ah, Harry," Tyler said grandly, waltzing in as though he owned the place. "I see you've left that old office of yours for brighter horizons." His confidence wavered slightly as he spotted the mass of tough looking men in the room, some of them even taking Harry's words to heart and glaring at him with very realistic hate.

"Well, sometimes I just get so hungry in my office that I can't bare the long walk for food," Harry said dryly. "Just another problem I have yet to solve," he finished, eyes boring into Tyler's.

"I thought you'd be wanting to talk about that," Tyler said knowingly, regaining some of his confidence as he turned away from the scotsmen. "You are much too easy to read."

"It does help that my assistant informed you of what this meeting was about," Harry countered. "Take a seat," he said, kicking the seat across from him out from under the table.

"Thank you," Tyler said in an overly polite tone. "Now, down to business. I'm afraid it is simply impossible for me to vote on this bill anymore."

Harry sighed. "Oh well, thanks for coming," he said, standing briskly up from his table.

"Wait, what?" Tyler questioned as he looked up at Harry in surprise. "You aren't going to try and convince me otherwise?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't need to," he said simply. "I've got enough votes to pass the bill. This meeting was nothing more than a courtesy really."

"Wait, so you're telling me you never even planned to try and change my mind?" Tyler questioned, his voice irate. "You dragged me out of my office just to have some fun with me?"

"Well, yeah," Harry said thoughtfully. "I mean, things might have been different if I thought there was any hope of swaying your opinion, but you said yourself…"

"Unbelievable," Tyler said, standing up angrily. "Don't expect any vote from me."

"I don't think I ever did," Harry replied calmly as he stared at Tyler's reddening face. "You're a stubborn man Ash, and you rarely do what you really need to."

Tyler was almost apoplectic with rage at this point, a finger held between them in an accusatory manner. With a grunt of anger Tyler pulled himself away and started storming towards the door.

"I'm glad I can count on your vote," Harry said calmly to Tyler's retreating back, who stopped dead at his words.

"Did you not hear me?" Tyler said, voice dangerously low. "You can kiss your votes goodbye, on this or any other bill you may want to pass."

"I heard you," Harry responded. "I just don't believe you. You and I are not that dissimilar in terms of policy. That's why I know I can count on your vote, because you want this bill passed."

Tyler seemed to deflate as Harry spoke, his red cheeks paling as his whole body seemed to sag. "Then why did you do this?" he asked in disgust. "This whole charade of a meeting, what was this to achieve?"

"The very thing it has achieved," Harry responded. "The understanding that we knew all along you were going to vote yes on this bill. It just seemed you needed to be reminded that you need us much more than we need you."

"So that's what this was all about," Tyler said snidely. "You proving that you can control me, make me do whatever you want just because you know I stay true to my beliefs."

"What this was all about," Harry said softly. "Was that you never mess about with us. You don't go and threaten to vote no on a bill when we know you just want to make us sweat over it. If you mess us around, we've got the power to do it ten times as bad right back."

Harry sat down and started reading over his papers, not sparing a glance for Tyler. "Colin will show you the way out," he said dismissively.

For perhaps a minute Tyler stood there, caught between leaving and confronting him, before finally he turned sharply on his heels, striding out the doors without even waiting for Colin to show him the way.

Glancing at the still swinging door, Harry crossed off the last name on his list with a flourish, a grin settling across his features.

Suddenly the sharp sound of slow clapping cut through the silence as Glen Cameron started off a round of applause that spread to several other members of the tour. "That was quite impressive," Douglas said to him quietly, causing Harry to grin a little more in response.

Suddenly the doors opened again and Ron strode into the room. "Get the TV on," Ron barked at one of the dining staff cleaning up tables, who immediately jumped to do as he was told. Within seconds the whole room found themselves staring up at Hermione's serious face.

"I've got an announcement to make and then I'll have time for a few short questions," Hermione said, business like. "Earlier today we were made aware of an anti-Scottish protest forming outside of Manchester. The Ministry sent a negotiator with a standard four auror guard in order to prevent a conflict from occurring, with worries that the nature of their banners would cause a breach of the Statute of Secrecy. We received a report that the negotiator was attacked by a member of the crowd and was taken captive along with three of the auror's, the fourth returning to the Ministry and alerting us of the incident."

"Due to the unprovoked attack the Minister ordered an auror raid on the group two miles outside the Manchester city limits," Hermione continued. "The auror's were able to arrest 42 of the estimated 60 rioters and succeeded in retrieving the captives. The three captured auror's are currently being held in the auror hospital for overnight observation but are expected to make a quick recovery. The Ministry negotiator is currently being operated on under a magically induced coma in St Mungo's and it is as yet unknown how well he will recover."

There was a brief silence in the press room in respect, before reporters started raising hands. "Michael?" Hermione pointed.

"These anti-Scottish riots," Michael started. "Would they have anything to do with the fact the Scottish Quidditch Team visited the Minister earlier today?"

"That is the reason the rioters gave," Hermione confirmed. "They brought up that 24 years ago the English Quidditch Team weren't invited to see the Minister after they won the World Cup."

"Is there anything to their cause?" Michael asked.

"No," Hermione replied shortly. "This is not some pro-Scottish bias by the Ministry. We would have invited the English team had they won, similarly with Wales and Northern Ireland. What we really should be taking away from this is that one of our own scaled the heights of the most demanding sporting tournament in the world and won. We should all be celebrating that."

Hermione pointed to another reporter as Demelza appeared on screen, whispering something into her ear. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, Sophie, but I've just received some additional information to share with you," Hermione said, interrupting the reporters question, her voice catching slightly as she spoke.

"The Ministry negotiator, Bruce Donoghue, died on the operating table ten minutes ago," Hermione announced sadly. "He is survived by his wife Caitlin and his two sons, Derick and Luther. Our thoughts are with them." There was complete silence in the press room, and in the Ministry cafeteria.

---

"Ah, Blaise, are we ready to go?" the Minister asked as Blaise walked into his office.

"Yes, sir, your transport is waiting for you," Blaise nodded as he held out the Minister's robes to put on.

"Already leaving, Minister?" Amos asked as he walked into the room. "Not staying to see the outcome of the vote?"

"No, there is nothing more I can do here today," the Minister replied. "I've got an errand to run before I go back to Molly for the evening."

"Enjoy yourself, sir," Amos said calmly. "You've done good today."

"Have I?" the Minister asked sadly. "It doesn't feel like it." He sighed as he looked down at his desk. "Have you heard any news from Kingsley?"

"We've been going over the aurors' on duty records and have been looking to ascertain which of the rioters were involved in the assault," Amos told him. "The man to fire the bone breaking curse was a 24 year old white male who goes by the name of Bobby Miles. He has a record of common assault to his name already, as well as a few cases of vandalism."

"Bobby Miles," the Minister repeated. "Have they talked to him yet?"

"They have," Amos told him. "The auror's evidence was enough to warrant the administration of veritaserum."

"What did they find?" the Minister asked. "Was he sorry he killed a man?"

"No sir," Amos replied sorrowfully. "Some people do not live by the same moral code we accept as right for our nation." There was silence between them.

"I've got to go," the Minister said as he noticed Blaise waiting patiently by the door. "St Mungo's visiting hours close soon and I hate having to use the 'I'm the Minister' line more than I have to."

"Goodnight sir," Amos said as he made his way back to his office.

"Goodnight Amos," the Minister replied as he walked over to the other door, Blaise holding it open and following him out as he ventured into the halls of the Ministry. Hearing the sounds of cheers, the Minister strode silently through the corridors and found himself looking on at his staff as they gathered round to watch the vote, cheering every yes and booing every no.

"How's it going?" he asked as he sidled up beside Harry, keeping quiet so his presence would go unnoticed.

"It's early," Harry replied after a moments surprise. "We're losing 19 to 25 at this point but everyone has voted in line with what we thought so far."

"That's good," the Minister agreed as they watched Warlock Crystal Carran vote no to jeers from the room. "You've done a good job on this Harry," he told him. "Don't think we haven't noticed how hard you've been working this past month. You certainly deserve this victory."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said as the announcer prepared to call on Warlock Marty Colquhoun for his vote. The Minister left them to the party, confident that by tomorrow morning the bill will have passed the Wizengamot.

"Your port key, sir," a uniformed security officer told him, handing him a simple round disk with the words 'St Mungo' written upon it. Within seconds of him coming into contact with the disk the Minister felt the familiar hook below his navel as he was brought through a whirl of colour and sound to land with a slight thump at his destination, Blaise arriving beside him a moment later.

The Minister strode forward purposefully, taking no notice of the armed guard that flanked him as he walked. He wasn't entirely sure of his destination but he knew he was not leading, rather being escorted by the uniformed security men around him. Eventually they reached a private room, guarded by two security officers, which was opened as he approached, to the surprise of the occupant of the room.

"Scott Gibb," the Minister said as he walked into the room, drawing the wiry teenagers' attention away from the armed guard who had fanned out to each corner of the room. "I'm Arthur Weasley. It's a pleasure to meet you," the Minister said, shaking the shocked teens' hand.

"Eh, yeah, sir," Gibb replied stupidly, completely taken aback. "I mean, it's an honour to meet you Minister."

"The rest of your team came to visit the Ministry today," the Minister said conversationally. "I thought it would be remiss of me to ignore the 18th member of their squad."

"Oh, you didn't have to worry about that sir," Gibb said nervously. "I'm not important."

"Why do you say that?" the Minister asked interestedly.

"Well, because it's true," Gibb told him. "I'm just a reserve, the last player in the squad. I played for one game and got knocked out halfway through it."

"That's true," the Minister said thoughtfully. "On the other hand you played more than nearly half the squad did." the Minister paused to scrutinise Gibb carefully, taking in the pale complexion and bandaged head.

"You know, today the rest of your team presented me with a Scotland shirt of my own, with Weasley and number 8 on the back," the Minister told Gibb.

"I know," Gibb said. "I signed it."

"Indeed you did," the Minister acknowledged. "It was the number 8 that caught my eye," he continued thoughtfully. "Naturally there are seven players on the Quidditch field at a time for each team and it is often said that the home crowd are the 'eighth man' in the sense they give their team an extra advantage." Gibb nodded along to this, clearly having been familiar with the idea.

"In the World Cup you logged the eighth most amount of minutes for your team," the Minister told him. "You are the eighth man of your team and I think you don't realise how important you really are."

"How can I be important if I only played half a game?" Gibb asked.

"Let me tell you a story of another eighth man," the Minister said, pulling a seat round to sit on it. "His name was Bruce Donoghue and today he was sent out to negotiate a peaceful resolution with a group of protesters claiming the Ministry were showing a pro-Scottish bias by inviting them to the Ministry."

"Just a couple of hours ago Bruce died on the operating table after he was attacked by a member of the crowd." The Minister took a deep breath to steady himself before he turned to look back at Gibb. "Bruce wouldn't have considered himself an important part of this Ministry, not in the slightest. He was a humble man who came in everyday to do his job to the best of his ability."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Gibb said quietly, looking down at the sheets of his bed. "Did you know him well?"

"I'd never met him," the Minister said, causing Gibb to look up. "My Chief of Staff, deputy Chief of Staff, Press Secretary, Communications Director and Political Strategy Director hadn't met him either. But I saw the effect his death had on these people, and I'm sure they saw how it affected me."

"So what I'm really trying to say is," the Minister concluded. "You may not think of yourself as important, or even particularly good at what you do. But to your teammates, you are more important than you could possibly imagine."

"Thanks, Minister Weasley," Gibb said, glancing up from his bedsheets embarrassedly. "And I'm sorry about Mr Donoghue."

"As are we," the Minister said solemnly, his gaze drifting around the room at the faces of his armed guard, catching the sorrow even past their well trained neutral masks. "This world's lost a good man, may he rest in peace."

---

"Warlock Alea Reed," the announcer called out as he read names off the official list.

"Yes," Reed said firmly in response.

"Warlock Alea Reed votes yes," the announcer called out, the counter at the bottom of the screen adding another vote to the yes column, taking their total up to 89.

"Thank Alea for me," Harry told Neville as they watched the vote, smiling as the various other staff members cheered for Reed, Ron leading the charge.

"I will," Neville responded.

"How did your date go with her, by the way?" Harry asked, his gaze still firmly fixed on the TV screen. "I know you talked to her about the bill because she called me in the morning, but how did it go for you?"

"It was good," Neville replied. "Well, it was more than good actually. Alea is so kind and funny and she looks absolutely amazing, three things I never expected from a Warlock on the Wizengamot."

Harry chuckled. "Are you worried work might interfere with your relationship?" he asked, sipping on his bottle of butterbeer.

"I did think about that," Neville said earnestly. "But I never really work with the Wizengamot anyway, that's more your job. I figure if we keep work out of our private lives then we should be fine."

"Do you really think you'll manage that?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. "Reed is very opinionated and not afraid to speak her mind, I can't imagine she'll be much different in private."

Neville shrugged. "What couple doesn't have their problems?" He was cut off as Ron charged through the various seated staff, bottle of champaign ready in his hand.

"One more vote guys, one more vote," he shouted excitedly, getting to the front so he was closest to the screen.

"Warlock Mark Trent," the announcer called as everyone in the room fell quiet.

"No," Trent said, leading to shouts and groans from the room as the various staff members complained.

"Was Trent ever likely to vote yes?" Neville asked Harry quietly, to which Harry shook his head in amusement.

"Warlock Ash Tyler," the announcer called, Ron shushing the crowd as Tyler stood from his seat.

"Yes," he said, with no hint of hesitation.

"Warlock Ash Tyler votes yes," the announcer called as the room erupted in cheers as everyone jumped up in celebration. The screen was blocked from view as the counter of yes votes moved to 100 and a banner came up announcing the passing of the new bill.

"Quiet!" Ron called out over the crowd as he stood up on a table in front of the TV. "Alright everyone, shut up for a moment!" The room quietened down as everyone turned their attention to Ron.

"I know everyone here is excited to begin the party and celebrate what we've just achieved here," Ron said loudly. "I myself don't plan on remembering much of tonight at all." There were a few extra cheers at this.

"But before we start I need to draw your attention to the man who made all of this possible," Ron called out as the volume began to rise again. "Harry, get up here."

Harry felt a small push in the back to get him moving as he made his way towards Ron, people crowding in around him, slapping him on the back and shaking his hand as he made his way blindly through the sea of bodies. Reaching the end of the room he was pulled up onto the table by Ron who addressed the crowd again.

"For the last month Harry has been arguing back and forth with the idiots we just saw on TV tonight to get this bill passed," Ron said to the crowd. "Tonight isn't just our triumph, it's his. Ladies and gentlemen, Harry Potter!" Ron shouted, taking Harry's hand and lifting it triumphantly into the air as the crowd went will again.

"Speech! Speech!" calls came from the crowd, the massed workers quieting down and watching Harry eagerly.

"Alright, everyone, thanks for the support," Harry said, his cheeks flushed. "I've worked really hard on this bill for so long now that to finally get this done is just a tremendous joy. But I would be wrong to take all the credit here. If I am the man who made this all possible then I think we ought to recognise the woman who made it possible for me to be the man who made this all possible, Cho Chang!"

The crowd cheered again as a blushing Cho was pushed to the front, from where Harry and Ron helped her up to the table.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Ron called out, holding a hand of each of them. "I give you, victory!" he yelled out as he raised both their hands in the air to even more cheers from the crowd.

Harry grinned as he hugged Cho as Ron moved off to get the champaign. Jumping down from the table, and helping Cho after him, he was engulfed in a hug by Hermione, and then Neville as he became overwhelmed by the crowd again, so much so that he wasn't even aware Ron had popped open a bottle of champaign until he found it poured over his head to laughter all around.

Needless to say, there were more than a few hangovers the following morning.