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.
"Hey Harry," Dennis greeted as he joined him on his way to the office, moving quickly to keep up with Harry's brisk pace. "You just getting in?"
"Yeah," Harry responded as he dodged a secretary. "Do you have something you need me to have a look at or is this more of your pre-work communications that you've become so fond of lately?"
"The second thing," Dennis answered with a shrug. "I mean, we're walking together so we might as well make the most of it. How was your evening?"
"Wouldn't it be better if we talked about something important?" Harry asked, completely ignoring the question.
"It would be," Dennis agreed. "But I've not got anything important to talk to you about, unless of course you are interested in my personal life."
"I am not, nor will I ever be, interested in your personal life," Harry told him flatly. "Anyway, I've got something important to talk to you about. Did you know that the Minister gives an annual address to the nation on Christmas Day?"
"Yes, I did know that actually," Dennis told him. "Last year I was spending Christmas with my girlfriend's family. They were a bit weird to be honest. They were all sitting around the radio for about twenty minutes beforehand and when the Minister came on they all started hushing each other."
"Yes, well," Harry said, regaining the flow of his thoughts as he pushed past Dennis's personal comments. "We need to write what the Minister will be saying this year. It's almost a month until Christmas and if last year taught me anything it's that you don't want to leave this until the last minute."
"Why not?" Dennis asked curiously. "What's so special about this speech compared to any other? It's like ten minutes long, right?"
"Yeah, it's pretty simple really," Harry replied. "It's just that Christmas is a ridiculously busy time of year in the Ministry. This place will be so completely overrun with people trying to organise the festivities that no one is going to have the opportunity to remind you to do your bit."
"You mean, last year you forgot," Dennis said simply, seeing through the explosion of words Harry had just sent at him.
"Basically, yes," Harry admitted. "I did remember six hours before the address was meant to be delivered, though."
"The address was delivered at nine o'clock in the morning," Dennis reminded him. "You remembered six hours before then?"
"Well, technically seven," Harry corrected himself. "It took a while to get dressed and find a spare piece of parchment in my flat. I was still half asleep when I wrote it." Harry glanced at Dennis' surprised face. "That is why we start early this year."
"Of course," Dennis agreed as they reached his office. "But just to be clear, when you say we you really mean me?"
"Nothing gets past you, Dennis," Harry commented as he continued walking towards his own office, leaving Dennis behind. "Cho," he called as he walked inside, dumping his bag by his desk and sorting through some papers that had already managed to gather themselves upon the work surface.
"Good morning, Harry," Cho said as she followed in behind him, a piece of parchment attached to a clipboard held at the ready.
"Morning," Harry replied, drinking the mug of coffee that Cho had placed on his desk for when he arrived. "I've just set Dennis on starting a draft for the Minister's Christmas Day address, could you have last year's transcript sent to him to give him a rough idea of where we want to go with this?"
Cho nodded, scribbling on her clipboard. "Anything else?"
"Yes, tell Hermione I want her to hold back on that thing from her morning press conference, I'm still not sure what exactly to release," Harry continued.
"What's the thing?" Cho asked, her quill poised to scribble down his answer.
"The report we got yesterday," Harry said vaguely, his mind struggling to grasp the words necessary. "Hermione will understand, it's just the thing we talked about yesterday before we went home."
"Alright," Cho said, again scribbling on her clipboard. "Is that all?"
"For now," Harry told her, throwing his cloak over onto the sofa. "I'm heading off to meet with the goblins right now so make sure to hold all my calls until I'm back."
"What about the Hogwarts students?" Cho asked as Harry made to walk past her.
"What Hogwarts students?" Harry replied quizzically, already half way out his office door but pausing to hear Cho's response.
"I told you about this last week," Cho said, her tone slightly berating. "The NEWT Hogwarts Politics class. They are here in the Ministry today to talk to you about what it is like working in politics. I reminded you of this yesterday."
Harry looked surprised at that, this being news to him. "You did? I guess I wasn't listening," he said warily, not willing to aggravate his assistant. "When am I due to see them?"
"In half an hour," Cho told him crossly. "I just received a call from the reception desk that they've just arrived by secure port key in the atrium."
Harry rubbed at his eyes, his brain working fast. "I can't see them, Cho," he told her. "The goblins are far too important to blow off for this. You're going to have to find someone else to do it instead."
"Who else?" Cho asked desperately. "This meeting has been earmarked for the Communications Director, they expect to see you."
"Well, they can't," Harry responded with a shrug. "Someone else has got to do it. I don't care who you get, you can do it if you want. Anyone here is qualified, so just get someone to cover for me." Harry glanced at the clock on his wall. "I've got to go," he said with a sigh. "You'll sort this out?"
Her shoulders slumped, Cho nodded disappointedly. Harry took this as his cue to leave, moving swiftly through the corridors until he reached the now very familiar doorway to Meeting Room 1. Opening it, Harry quickly greeted each of the people inside.
"Griphook, Master Copperbub, Master Boltspark," Harry nodded respectfully to the three goblins in the room. "Good morning, Neville," he added to the only human at the table.
"Morning Harry," Neville replied as the three goblins responded respectfully to his greeting. "Great, now that we're all here, let's get started," he said, turning to face the goblins as Harry took his seat.
"What about Amos?" Harry asked. "I was under the impression he would be joining us today."
"Amos is in the hospital wing," Neville informed him. "A bad case of the flu," Neville added at the slightly alarmed look on Harry's face. "He just needs to rest a bit until his fever drops. In the meantime I'm covering for him, so today I'm technically representing both Amos and myself."
Harry nodded, satisfied by Neville's answer. "Great," he said, turning to the room as a whole. "So, let us begin."
"Indeed," Griphook agreed, business like as he folded his hands in front of him on the surface of the table. "My colleagues and I were discussing this meeting on our way into the Ministry and we came up with two major issues we feel need to be addressed before we can go any further." Harry nodded for him to continue. "The first issue is concerned with where the Council will meet."
"Due to the bipartisan nature of this venture we feel it would be unwise for the council to be based either here, in the Ministry, or back at Gringotts," Copperbub said, his voice surprisingly soft for a goblin. "Considering those are the two most reasonable suggestions for a location, given their links with the magical world, this leaves us with a rather interesting dilemma."
"I understand," Harry said, leaning back in his seat thoughtfully. "The Council must remain independent from both wizard and goblin government, that much is obvious."
"How about a trade off," Neville suggested. "We have both the Ministry and Gringotts as meeting places for the Council and every so often they will move from one building to the other."
"It wouldn't work," Boltspark said simply, his voice leaving no room for argument. "You'd have to find the line between not having the Council under too much of the influence from the organisation it resides within with how regularly you can uproot the Council without it becoming simply impractical."
"That would also give in to more human or goblin sentiment depending on which building they happen to be in," Griphook added. "In both political views and public opinion. This proposal would make it very difficult for the Council to be impartial at any time in its existence."
"Alright, I get your point," Neville conceded. "How about we instead split the Council in half, one half would be in the Ministry building and one half would be in Gringotts."
"I hope you're not suggesting we keep the goblins in Gringotts and the humans in the Ministry," Boltspark said thunderously.
"Of course not, that would be completely counter productive," Neville said appeasingly, calming the irate goblin. "I was thinking more that we'd have a mix of goblins and humans in each building."
"That wouldn't work either, I'm afraid," Harry said sadly. "No matter whether they were human or goblin they'd feel pressure from the building they are working in, and therefore won't be able to remain completely impartial."
"That's why we have them in both buildings," Neville pressed on. "Between them the Council should still be able to reach an impartial decision by consulting with the other group."
"I also think we'd struggle to get the two groups to cooperate with each other," Harry continued. "I can see a future coming from this idea where the Council splits into two factions, one at the Ministry and one at Gringotts. If we were to split the Council we would breed two rival groups and that is just the last thing we need from this Council."
"Then what do you suggest?" Neville asked, slightly irritable with the way his idea was so completely shot down.
"We can't use the Ministry or Gringotts," Harry said. "We need somewhere neutral, where neither race has political leverage."
"Diagon Alley?" Copperbub suggested.
"Not the best idea, I don't think," Griphook intervened. "Geographically anything in Diagon Alley is too close to Gringotts. While we have no political hold over the area there will be plenty who will not be comfortable with the Council being in such close proximity to the goblin stronghold."
"That leaves us out of options," Neville said. "The only other significant magical area is Hogwarts, and I'm not too keen with having the Council sitting inside the walls of a school."
"Agreed," Boltspark added.
"Then, that just leaves us with a completely new build," Harry summed up. "It will delay the start of the Council's work but that's the only solution I can think of."
"I have to agree with you on that, Harry," Griphook nodded. "A new build. How about the Ministry looks for a suitable plot of land. Once we can agree on a location we'll start looking at building plans and we'll send out our best architects to manage the construction."
Harry glanced at Neville. "We'll do that," he said, prompting Neville to scribble something down on his pad. "Hopefully we can come to a quick decision on this and keep the delays to a minimum."
"I'll pass this on to Hannah when we break up," Neville said as he finished scribbling. "We'll look over possible locations and with any luck we'll have a shortlist drawn up for you to view tomorrow."
The three goblins nodded their agreement to the plan. Leaning forward, Griphook pressed on with discussions. "So, that's one of our issues taken care of," he said.
Harry nodded. "And the other one?" he asked.
"This Council will be made up of seven wizards and seven goblins," Copperbub said carefully at Griphook's encouragement. "This is a must in order for us to remain equals in the Council. On the other hand, it does cause a rather difficult problem."
"What's that?" Neville asked, the two men filling with dread at the slow build up to the goblins point.
"There are seven wizards and seven goblins," Boltspark said roughly. "How do we settle a tie?"
"Hey, Lizzie, what's going on?" Ron asked as he approached her desk, frowning confusedly. "I thought I had a meeting right now but Colin said it was postponed because of something you arranged with him."
"Yes, that would be the Hogwarts NEWT Politics class," Lizzie explained for him.
"Yes, them," Ron agreed. "Why am I seeing them? I didn't have anything written down about it."
"Well, they actually were originally here for Harry," Lizzie told him.
"Harry's meeting with the goblins right now," Ron replied.
"I know," Lizzie responded. "That's why Cho asked me to tell Dennis that he was doing this, but Dennis is working on the Minister's Christmas Address and so he asked me to ask you to do it instead."
"But I've got work to do too," Ron complained.
"I know," Lizzie continued. "That's why I had Colin clear your schedule so you can take the time to talk to the students. You can thank me later." Ron scowled at her.
"Fine," he sighed, frustrated. "I'll do it. Just, fill me in a bit before I go in there. Who exactly is going to be there?"
"Well, Politics can only be taken at NEWT level," Lizzie told him. "So that means only sixth and seventh years."
"How many of them are there?" Ron asked.
"Fifteen," Lizzie replied. "Nine sixth years, six seventh years. They'll be accompanied by their teacher, Professor Loraine Turner as well as the Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, although I've been informed that she is coming for other business and that she will not be overseeing the visit personally."
"Thank god," Ron muttered. "I don't think I'd have coped with McGonagall staring at me from the back of the room, Transfiguration was hard enough. What's Professor Turner like? She wasn't at the school when I left."
"She's very young," Lizzie told him. "I believe she was only a few years ahead of you at Hogwarts. She was brought into the job six years ago, when the subject was first created, and she has been very popular with the student population since. She's a very smart woman."
"She taught you then?" Ron caught on. "Tell me this, how involved in the discussion will she be? Will she lead a debate or will she just let the students do the talking?"
"She's very proactive," Lizzie told him. "She will likely start things off, but then sit back and watch once the students have become more involved."
"Alright," Ron said, gaining confidence in the venture. "And what exactly am I supposed to be talking about?"
Lizzie shrugged. "Anything," she said. "When I was here two years ago the Communications Director, Nolan Wickham, talked to us about economic growth. One of the seventh years started an argument with him, it was great to watch."
"Great," Ron mumbled. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear."
"Oh relax," Lizzie scolded him. "They're school children, they don't know the law like you do. Believe me, you can run circles around any of them."
"Alright," Ron sighed. "They're in the Murphy Room, right?" Lizzie nodded, causing Ron to walk away and travel through the corridors, silently dreading the meeting but knowing there was no way out of it. Reaching the Murphy Room, a beautifully decorated and spacious room they used for when they were entertaining non-political visitors, Ron took a deep breath before walking inside.
"Hello, you're Professor Turner?" Ron asked quietly as he approached the brunette woman sitting nearest the door, her Ministry visitors pass identifying her for him.
"Yes, that's me," she replied, standing up to shake his hand as a few of her students glanced over in the hopes of something happening. "We've been waiting here for a while, is there a problem?"
"No, just a little mix up with the schedules," Ron assured her, to which she gave him a knowing look. "The guy you were supposed to meet with has an unavoidable meeting right now so I'm looking after you for the day instead." Professor Turner nodded her head in acceptance.
Ron walked to the front of the room, drawing the attention of the rest of the students. "Good morning everyone, thank you for joining us here today," he said clearly, speaking to the whole room. "I apologise for the wait but our Communications Director had an unavoidable meeting scheduled for today and is therefore unable to see you. Instead, I'm going to be talking to you. My name is Ron Weasley, I'm the Political Strategy Director here at the Ministry, and my job is basically to advise the Minister on what will or will not go down well with the public."
"So basically you're saying your job is to decide what you're going to hide from us," Professor Turner commented, raising a questioning eyebrow.
"My job is to tell the Minister what the people want," Ron clarified.
"And how do you find out what the people want?" Professor Turner asked, clearly trying to get Ron to completely explain his job for the students she had brought with her.
"I ask them," Ron replied simply. "I send out surveys, questionnaires, etcetera to see what the people think on certain issues. For example, if the Minister wanted to look at ways of reforming how we did our taxes I would have a bunch of staffers calling up on people's floo-lines asking them questions about what they think of taxes. I then take their responses and judge how many people are in favour with different ideas, and then I brief the Minister on what the public think we should do and what the public think we should avoid doing."
"What sort of topics do you ask about?" a young girl in the front row asked.
"Mostly the basic questions on their beliefs," Ron told her. "Do they favour werewolf rights, muggleborn rights, tax cuts, environmental schemes. There are lots of things the Ministry wants to hear from you in order for us to do a better job. So, now that we're all here, what do you want to talk about?"
From the back of the room a dark headed boy raised his hand slowly into the air.
"Yes," Ron said, pointing at him. "What do you have to discuss with us?"
The boy coughed slightly before sitting up straighter in his seat. "I was hoping we could perhaps discuss pureblood rights," he said as everyone's attention focused on him.
"In what sense?" Ron queried. "Do you want to ask why people think we should give purebloods more rights than other people or do you want to ask why the Ministry insists on upgrading the rights of muggleborns and half-bloods to match those of purebloods?"
"The second one," the boy answered.
"So I suppose you are a pureblood then," Ron speculated, knowing he was right from the reaction he got from the boy. "What's your name?"
"Darren Greengrass," he replied. "Sir," he added respectfully on the end.
"Greengrass," Ron repeated, his eyebrows rising. "You're not related to Daphne Greengrass, are you? She's the Senior Assistant to the Minister here."
"Yes, she's my cousin," Darren answered quietly. "I don't know her very well, my father and her father became quite estranged since they each got married."
Ron nodded his head. "Greengrass," he said to himself thoughtfully. "That's one prominent pureblood family you come from, it's not really surprising you hold that view." Ron regarded him for a moment, wondering if it was worth it. "Alright, we'll talk about pureblood rights," he said, clapping his hands together. "Tell me, why do you think purebloods should have more rights than any other citizen?"
"Well, purebloods are born into wizarding society," he said. "From the very first day of their life they are immersed in wizarding culture. How can we expect people who haven't been brought up like that to understand how to run our country, how to even properly live in it when there is so much they are not aware of?"
Ron nodded slowly, understanding the point that was being made. "Let me just ask you, with a show of hands," Ron said as he stood before the group. "Who here is pureblood?"
Darren raised his hand, along with a girl sitting a couple of spaces to his left. "Who is muggleborn?" Ron asked, getting two more hands raised, one from the girl from the front who had spoken earlier and another from a tall girl standing in the back.
"Now raise your hand if you are a halfblood." The rest of the people in the room raised their hands, including Professor Turner. "Do you see my point?" Ron asked as the hands started to drop.
"If I took this room as an accurate representation of wizarding society that would mean that 2 out of 16 are purebloods, 2 out of 16 are muggleborn, and the remaining 75% are halfblood," Ron told them.
"Now, I'm pureblood myself," Ron informed them. "As are my five brothers and my little sister, Ginny." Ron paused. "Now, lets take Ginny and use her to represent your average pureblood. In order to have children who are also pureblood Ginny would have to marry a pureblood. That means that, given my sister does not have any preconceived notions about the purity of blood in her prospective partner, there is an 87.5% chance that her children will not be pureblood."
Ron let that little statistic hang in the air for a while as he watched understanding dawn on a few faces. "Basically, according to our numbers, that means that each successive generation will only have 12.5% of the pureblood population of the generation before them," Ron finished. "Pureblood's are dying out."
There was silence in the room.
"That can't be right," Professor Turner argued, having thought carefully on the numbers. "You got the numbers from a sample of sixteen, that's not going to be representative of our population."
Ron nodded. "You're right, it's not," he told her. "That's what makes this even more incredible. Census reports show us that the percentage of our population that are pureblood is actually under 5%. Take that number to the example with my sister, take into account the facts that she may never marry and that she's already related to a large proportion of the male pureblood population and you really have to wonder just how minute the chances are that her children will end up being pureblood."
"What about if she were to actively choose purebloods as potential life partners?" a boy on the right asked. "Surely if all purebloods were to marry other purebloods and have a lot of children with them then the pureblood population will grow."
"There is a very good reason why that wouldn't work," Ron told him. "But first, tell me what your name is."
"Adam Wood," the boy replied.
"Any relation of Oliver?" Ron asked.
"Cousin," Adam replied, gesturing towards Darren as if to say 'like him'.
"Yes, I remember Oliver from school," Ron said. "I took his place as goalkeeper for Gryffindor after he left. Professor, did you know Oliver by any chance? A colleague of mine mentioned you were a few years above me at Hogwarts."
Professor Turner nodded. "He was in the year above me," she said. "We didn't talk much since he was more interested in quidditch while I focused more on my studies."
Ron nodded. "Yes, well, Adam, the explanation is quite simple," Ron continued. "If my sister were to marry a pureblood, lets hypothetically call him Neil," there were a few chuckles from the students. "And imagine if I were to say marry, I don't know, Daphne Greengrass." There were more chuckles at this and several not so discrete glances were thrown at Darren.
"Both me and my sister would bare pureblood children," Ron continued. "Naturally they couldn't then marry each other, they're cousins. So they marry other purebloods instead. Then what about the pureblood children they may have, could any of them marry each other? Where do you draw the line?"
"You're saying that trying to maintain pure blood creates incest?" Adam asked in surprise.
"The signs are all there already," Ron shrugged. "Almost all purebloods are related these days, we have to marry half-bloods and muggleborns just so we don't die out or marry our own cousins."
Ron thought for a second. "Let me tell you a story about the man who has in his lifetime been both the best proponent for pureblood rights and has also harmed the cause more than anyone else." The students went silent, waiting for his story.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Ron said dramatically. "Son of a wealthy muggle man, Tom Riddle Sr., and Merope Gaunt who, along with her brother Morfin and their father, Marvolo, were the last living descendants of Salazar Slytherin." There were hushed whisperings from the crowd as he said this, but he continued nevertheless.
"Riddle was an incredibly intelligent and likeable young man, impressing both teachers and peers alike with his smooth charm and unflappable intellect," Ron told them. "Upon finding out about his Slytherin heritage, for he had spent his childhood living in a muggle orphanage after his mum died in childbirth, his father having abandoned his mother and with Morfin and Marvolo serving sentences in Azkaban, Riddle took up the mantle of the pureblood cause."
"This is why he was such a positive for the movement, with his youthful, attractive appearance and his obvious intelligence and charm," Ron informed them. "It's what happened next that irreparably harmed the pureblood cause." Ron paused with a sigh, gearing himself up for the dramatic end of his story.
"At a conference in Diagon Alley Riddle was debating the issue with Albus Dumbledore, a huge proponent of muggleborn rights and of course the Headmaster of Hogwarts school at that time," Ron told them, setting the stage. "No one knows exactly why this happened, but Riddle snapped. Maybe it was always coming, maybe it was the pressure of debating against his old teacher, but on that day, he snapped."
"He started to fire curses into the crowd," Ron told a stunned audience. "He killed sixteen men, thirteen women and five children, as well as injuring countless others, before Dumbledore was able to take him out. As Dumbledore knocked him out he fell off the stage and snapped his neck, so ending the line of Slytherin."
There was silence as Ron finished his story. "Perhaps I didn't tell you enough about the Gaunt's," Ron suggested. "They were the last living descendants of Slytherin, and naturally proud to be so. But they were also insane. Marvolo raised both his children on his own, encouraging his son's tendencies to attack muggles from the local village while simultaneously punishing his daughter for a perceived weakness in her magic. Both men spent time in Azkaban, where Marvolo eventually died."
"It is even believed that the only reason young Tom Riddle Sr. ever married Merope Gaunt was because he had been slipped love potions by the young witch," Ron continued. "Whether her magic was weak or not is irrelevant, a muggle would have no chance fighting against a potion like that. It is believed that at some point she stopped administering the potion, for reasons unknown, which would explain the sudden disappearance of Riddle Sr. from her life."
"This may have been an extreme case," Ron spoke. "But that's the risk you run by trying too hard to keep your blood pure. If you value your family name too much in that regard you are cursed with the possibility of inbreeding and insanity."
Ron paused as he thought something over in his head. "Let's go back to my example," he said, leaning against the table behind him. "Me and Daphne Greengrass, on the surface a good pureblood match, right?" There were some nervous chuckles from the room.
"Let's see," Ron continued thoughtfully. "The Weasley family are related to the Black family. Narcissa Black married Lucius Malfoy, whose grandmother was Merla Greengrass." There was silence in the room. "There you go," Ron said, with the air of one pulling off a magic trick. "I am related to Daphne Greengrass, and thereby I'm also related to you, Darren."
The silence was once again broken by Professor Turner. "That's all… very impressive," she said, to which Ron gave her a grin. "But you haven't given any argument to say that purebloods shouldn't run the country."
"Purebloods shouldn't run the country," Harry spoke from the back of the room, causing everyone to turn to look at him. "There's your argument. Four of the seven most important people in this Ministry are purebloods, and I think that's simply ridiculous."
"Let me introduce Harry Potter, the Communications Director," Ron said as Harry walked up to the front of the room. "Harry, incidentally, is the person who should have been speaking to you for the last half hour."
"I've been busy," Harry shrugged, taking a bite from the apple he was carrying. "Anyway, who said purebloods should run the Ministry?"
Ron pointed. "That's Darren Greengrass over there," he introduced. "A cousin of Daphne's."
"Hey, nice to meet you," Harry said, smiling brightly. "I don't like you."
The rest of the students laughed at Harry's comment. "Seriously," Harry continued, taking another bite of his apple before gesturing to Ron. "You must be a little bit crazy to think he is better suited to running the country than I am." Harry turned to face him. "How are things going?"
Ron shrugged. "We're only just getting started," he told him. "I was just telling them how purebloods are going to die out." Harry nodded approvingly at that. "What are you doing here? I thought you were meeting with the goblins."
"I am," Harry replied with a grimace. "We've got really stuck on something so we're taking a break. I was just wandering around, stretching my legs, getting something to eat."
"Excuse me," Adam said, trying to get Harry's attention. "I thought the Potter family was pureblood."
Harry nodded, turning away from Ron to address the room as a whole. "It was," Harry replied. "At least until my dad married a muggleborn and had me. I'm what you would call a newly half-blood, someone who has one parent who is pureblood."
Harry turned back to Darren. "You believe purebloods should run the country?" he asked. "Because they grew up in our world?" Darren nodded. "I thought that would be your argument," Harry said, tossing his apple up with one hand and catching it with the other.
"My dad was pureblood," Harry said, pacing around the room, continuing to throw and catch his apple. "When he died I was raised by my godfather, Sirius Black, also a pureblood. Tell me, how have I been less immersed in the magical world than Ron has?"
All attention was focused on Darren, waiting for his answer, but none came.
"That's perhaps the biggest thing about this particular pureblood rights argument," Harry said, continuing his meander around the room. "It's all about comparisons between purebloods and muggleborns, which misses out the vast majority of the wizarding population. Most people are half-bloods and most half-bloods are raised in the wizarding world. Even accepting your argument to be valid, that doesn't explain why you want more rights for purebloods than you do for half-bloods."
"Why do purebloods not want half-bloods to share their rights?" a girl sitting in the middle asked. "Nichola Harlan," she added as Harry and Ron fixed her with questioning looks.
"Well, Nichola," Harry replied, resuming his stroll. "It all comes down to what type of half-blood you are talking about. Some half-bloods are raised in the muggle world, but most aren't. For proponents of this pureblood rights arguments there is the issue of how do you decide which of these half-bloods should get extra rights and which shouldn't. How far do you have to go before a pureblood childhood is one more immersed in wizarding culture than a half-blooded childhood?"
There was a knock on the door. Everyone looked up at the noise to see Neville standing there, waiting patiently. Harry sighed. "I've got to go," he said sadly. "I've got to get back to my meeting. I hope you've all learned something." Harry waved briefly to everyone before he stepped out of the room, Neville following behind him.
"Well, that was Harry Potter," Ron said as they watched him go. "Unfortunately he's got a lot of work on his plate at the moment and is unlikely to join us again today." Darren put up his hand. "Yes," Ron said, pointing to him.
"What Mr Potter just said about half-bloods," Darren started. "It makes sense. But why should muggleborns have the same rights as purebloods when they definitely don't grow up in our world?"
Ron was about to answer when an idea struck him. "Hold on a sec," he said as he started to make his way to the door.
"Where are you going?" Professor Turner hissed at him as she followed him out of the door. "You are not abandoning my students."
"No, I'm not," Ron agreed, turning to the young professor and noticing for the first time how attractive she was underneath her bulky professors robes.
"What?" Turner asked, confused by the way Ron had just stopped mid sentence.
"Sorry," Ron said, snapping back to the present by the sound of her voice. "I'm just so used to professors being old and grey that it is a bit of a shock to talk to one who is somewhat attractive."
Turner raised an eyebrow. "Wow, Mr Weasley you make me blush," she said stone-faced. "You must have a really good time with the ladies."
"Oh yeah, I'm a real casanova, Loraine," Ron joked.
"That's Professor Turner to you, Mr Weasley," Turner admonished.
"Inside that room, yes," Ron replied, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "But outside that room it is my choice what I call you, and to me you are Loraine."
"And to me you are Mr Weasley," Turner countered, her eyes challenging him. "And while my students are here I will remain one hundred percent professional."
"Well maybe after the students are gone you and I can get to first name terms," Ron suggested playfully. "I'm just going to get a colleague of mine," Ron told her, his voice becoming serious again. "Go back inside and I'll be back before you know it."
Turner looked at him suspiciously for a moment, before eventually seeming to take his word, turning back to the room and closing the door behind her. Turning himself, Ron walked casually down the corridor, revelling in the fact that he had no need to rush as he made his way to his destination. Eventually he entered her office.
"Hey."
Hermione looked up from her parchment, surprised to see him standing before her. "Hey Ron," she said, turning back to her parchment. "What are you doing here? I thought you were educating the next generation of politicians?"
"Ha ha, very funny," Ron said, folding his arms defensively. "You knew about this? What, did everyone conspire to fill their diaries so I'd get stuck with the students?"
"Yes, Ron, we hate both you and the students that much," Hermione said dryly. "Did you have anything to say or did you just want to complain? Demelza handles complaints."
Ron took a second to reply, calming himself as he mulled over his words. "Well," he said, lightly resting a hand on her desk, causing Hermione to stare at it in annoyance. "I was just talking to the students, debating with them, and they came up with a very intriguing topic you might be interested in."
Hermione looked up at him. "What topic?" Hermione asked shortly, well aware that Ron was trying to play her.
"Pureblood rights," Ron said. "Darren Greengrass had some pretty interesting views on how much we should really trust muggleborns in high positions."
"Darren Greengrass?" Hermione repeated, a slight twitch in her eye. "Daphne's cousin?"
"You know?" Ron asked, only moderately surprised.
"I've looked over the security report on the group," Hermione explained for him. "It's my job."
Ron nodded. "Anyway, Harry was able to convince them that there was no reason for purebloods to have more rights than half-bloods," Ron said, leading on suggestively. "How about we have a muggleborn tell them why muggleborns should have equal rights."
Hermione stared at him hard, the cogs in her head turning as she weighed up her decision. "Alright, I'll do it," she said, standing up behind her desk. "But don't think I don't realise you are trying to play me Ron, I've known you far too long."
"Yes, you have," Ron said quietly as he followed her out of the office, a satisfied smile resting upon his face. They made it back to the Murphy Room in half the time it took Ron to travel from there, Hermione striding purposefully ahead. She walked straight in, not bothering to knock as she swept into the room, doing a very good impersonation of Professor McGonagall.
"You," she said, pointing firmly at Darren who looked quite terrified as he was placed under her gaze. "You are the one who believes that purebloods should have more rights than muggleborns." Darren nodded, leaning back as far as he could as if to escape Hermione's gaze. "Explain your position."
Darren gulped in the face of the angered woman but, after encouraging looks from Ron and Professor Turner, he plucked up the courage to state his beliefs. "I believe purebloods have a better understanding of the wizarding world," he said timidly. "They've grown up in it. Can you say the same about muggleborns?"
Hermione looked at him, her expression firm as she sized him up, before she suddenly seemed to settle down. "Well, you obviously are certain of your beliefs," Hermione acknowledged. "I respect that, which is why I'll go easy on you when I tell you why you're wrong." Darren nodded, although he seemed unaware why he did so.
"Can I just ask you," she said. "What was the first spell you learned?"
"The levitation Charm," Darren answered. "Wingardium Leviosa."
"Ah, Wingardium Leviosa," Ron said whimsically, a smile on his face as he reminisced. "I got so pissed off at you for correcting me on that."
Hermione ignored him. "I'm sure it would be a safe bet to assume that was the first spell you all learned?" Hermione asked. There were nods from the students. "Well there you go."
"It's Leviooooosa, not Leviosaaaa," Ron said from behind her, still completely lost in the past as he swung his legs under the table he was sitting upon.
"Ron," Hermione said dangerously, giving him a very stern look.
"Right," Ron said hastily, coming back to the present. "You're right, not the time."
Hermione nodded in satisfaction before turning back to the students. "That's the first spell all of you learned," she told them. "That's the first spell Ron and I learned as well. That's the first spell every magical child learns. Magic may be all around you as a child or not, but always you first learn to practice magic in your first year of Hogwarts. Regardless of whether you are pureblood, half-blood or muggleborn you all start in the same place."
"But what about other things?" Darren asked. "Wizarding culture, children with magical parents are much more in tune with what is expected in wizarding society."
"Yes, when they first go off to Hogwarts," Hermione admitted. "Then we spend the next seven years teaching the children about all of this stuff, so when it matters muggleborns know just as much about wizarding society as purebloods do. We devote some of our greatest minds to educate you and prepare you for the wizarding world."
"But that can't compare to what you are taught growing up," Darren argued. "How can we trust muggleborns to run the country when they don't know everything there is to know about our society?"
"Like our children's stories?" Hermione questioned. "Our baby products? You don't learn what you need to help run a country when your age is in single digits. How many nine year olds do you know who have any real grasp of politics?"
Darren opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again, realising he didn't have anything to say. Hermione nodded, satisfied she'd won the debate.
"It's pretty stupid to think muggleborns would ever be far behind when it comes to understanding our culture," Ron said. "They may not have lived in our world but they have lived in a world."
"That's right," Hermione agreed, looking at Ron approvingly. "The lessons we learn as a child are things like good manners, and how we should always try to do the right thing. These are lessons learned in both the wizarding and muggle worlds. Muggleborns may seem like they are behind their pureblood and half-blood counterparts when they first arrive in the magical world, but in the things that truly matter they're really not."
There was silence in the room as Hermione finished speaking, each of the students thinking about what had just been said. Seeing the silent room before her, Hermione decided it was time to leave.
"Well, I've said my bit," she said jauntily. "I'm going back to my office. I'll see you later Ron," she said as she turned to Ron. Ron nodded to her, which Hermione followed by walking briskly out of the room, leaving the door to slowly swing shut behind her.
"Well," Ron said, glancing at his watch as he wondered how much longer he had to stay with them. "Is there anything else you people want to say about this issue, or shall we move on to something else?"
After a moment a hand was raised by one of the students, a young boy with closely cut blonde hair speaking. "I just had a few questions about the Wizengamot," he said, to which Ron started nodding.
Looking out at the students and biting his lip, Ron came to a decision. "You know what, lets go to the cafeteria and continue the conversation there," he suggested, jumping down from the table. "I'm starving."
There was silence in Meeting Room 1 as the group of goblins and humans stood and sat in different parts of the room, thinking hard.
"Seriously, anything," Harry said, pacing back and forth along the length of the table. "Any idea, lets just get something out there to work with."
Neville sighed as he leaned forward in his chair, brushing away balled up pieces of parchment to see the sheet lying beneath. "I don't know," he said tiredly. "What about a vote?"
"In the Council?" Harry asked, walking closer to the table in the hope that they were on to something.
"Yeah," Neville said, clearly not having thought the idea would have any merit and having not thought his argument all the way through. "We hold a vote. Each member of the Council says who they think should hold the deciding vote. Whoever gets the most votes will settle all ties in the Council."
"Goblins won't vote for a human," Boltspark said roughly. "And humans won't vote for a goblin."
"Yes, but that doesn't mean we'll get a tied vote," Neville pointed out, running with the idea. "Whoever gets the most votes will be the one who, human or goblin, holds the most support from their own individual race." Neville stopped himself, trying to figure out how to explain his point.
"Say this is how the votes go," Neville started. "Imagine six of the wizards vote for the same wizard, with that wizard voting for another of the wizards. Now say three goblins vote for one goblin, two vote for another and the last two vote for a third. We can see from this that the wizards have more confidence in their nomination, with six votes, than the goblins do with their three vote nomination."
"Wouldn't that just be punishing the goblins for having a better spread of expertise?" Harry asked. "If their votes are split doesn't that just show that they have more than one viable candidate. Besides, if the Council knew that's how it would work wouldn't they just arrange for them all to vote for the same man."
Neville bit his lip. "How about each Council member has to use one vote on a wizard and one on a goblin," he suggested.
"Doesn't help, I'm afraid," Griphook said. "Regardless of how fairly we try to decide who takes the deciding vote goblins won't be happy if a wizard holds it and I'm sure wizards would likewise be displeased if it were a goblin that would be chosen."
"What about a representative for both the humans and the goblins?" Harry asked, before bringing his hands up to rub his face as he realised what he'd just said. "Don't tell me, we would still end up with a tie." Harry sighed as he leaned forward against the table. "This is ridiculous, there's got to be something."
"Goblins won't like a wizard with that power and wizards won't like the goblins to hold it," Neville said tiredly. "We can't give the right to decide ties to either a human or a goblin, or any body that does not consist of exactly half human and half goblin, which simply defeats the point."
There was silence in the room again as they moved back to square one, each of the representatives in the room wracking their brain for anything they hadn't already thought off.
"We can't give the right to decide ties…," Copperbub said quietly to himself. "… to either a human or a goblin." The rest of the room paid him no mind, leaving him to his thoughts as they worked on their own for an answer. "I think I've got an idea."
Everyone turned to stare at Copperbub, expressions mixed between hope and frustration. "Well," Harry said impatiently. "What is it? What's the idea?"
Copperbub took a drink of water, his movements slow and deliberate as he gave himself time to think things through. "We can't give this right to either humans or goblins," he repeated again. "The only logical conclusion would be to give the right to a third party, or rather, third race."
That got their attention. "Who were you thinking?" Neville asked. "Dwarves?"
Copperbub shook his head. "No, they know nothing of finance, they would be less than useless in this situation," he said. "I was thinking… centaurs."
"They don't have any knowledge of finance either," Boltspark pointed out, confused by his colleagues suggestion.
"No, they don't," Copperbub agreed. "But they are very intelligent creatures, who are very familiar with the concept of debate. My idea is that we have a small group of centaurs, perhaps three or five, and have them decide what we should do."
"Based on what they hear when the two sides of the argument debate in the Council," Harry caught on, his mind whirring. "That's brilliant, it'd solve the issue of trust, we'd get a result either way and each side would have the opportunity to make their case."
"Would the centaurs be willing to do this, though?" Neville wondered. "It would be a very big commitment for the centaurs involved to leave their families and travel to wherever we hold these meetings."
"They won't have to do it often," Harry intervened. "Only when there is a tie, otherwise they have no vote."
"We can transport them by magical means when needed," Boltspark agreed. "I know the Ministry have the ability to arrange governmental port keys."
"Yeah," Harry said. "As a commitment this isn't really that big. They'll rarely be called up and the decision they come to will not have any major effect on their lives or the lives of any other centaur."
"Which may lead them to put no thought into the matter," Neville warned. "When there are no consequences to what they choose then they won't have any need to expend much thought on the issue itself."
"But this will only happen in the case where we reach a tie," Harry repeated. "If we have reached a tie that means that seven financial experts think one thing and the other seven think the opposite, how bad can it be if the centaurs end up making the wrong choice?"
"We'll talk to the centaurs," Griphook said as Harry turned to him. "We are already trying to gain better relations with their race, so that will undoubtedly aide our cause."
Harry nodded. "So that's it?" he asked. "Nothing else to talk about?"
Everyone shook their heads.
"Alright, we'll look into locations for the Council," Harry said, clapping his hands together. "You can talk to the centaurs and we'll meet up again tomorrow, at, say, midday."
"Sounds good," Griphook said as the three goblins rose from their chairs. "We'll see you tomorrow." As the goblins made their way to the door Griphook paused. "I know I probably shouldn't say this," he said, turning back to Harry. "But I believe we are very close here, Harry."
"Me too," Harry smiled. Griphook gave him his trademark grin before turning to leave, following his colleagues in the Goblin Council out the door.
"You enjoying that sandwich?" Ron asked, chomping down on his own snack as he addressed the woman sitting to his left at their round table in the cafeteria.
"Yes, it's very nice," Professor Turner answered, eating her sandwich much more delicately than Ron was.
"You know," Ron said, placing his sandwich down again. "That was the sort of question I might ask you on a date."
Professor Turner looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "You'd have me ordering a sandwich on our date?" She asked. "Why are you still going on with this, I thought I'd made it clear I am here in a purely professional capacity?"
Ron shrugged, finishing the last of his sandwich in one go. "Well, you're not going to go on a date with me if I don't ask you," he reasoned, miming weighing up his options. "I don't really see how I can lose in this situation."
"Perhaps you should be paying more attention to the students than you are to me," Professor Turner admonished him. Ron glanced around, noting the students sitting around them at other nearby tables, eating or drinking as they chatted amongst themselves.
"They don't seem to need any attention," Ron decided fairly, turning back to Professor Turner. "So, Loraine-"
"Mr Weasley," a voice said suddenly, causing Ron to sigh and turn to him.
"Yes?" he said, trying to hide his annoyance.
"You said you were going to talk to us about the Wizengamot," the boy reminded him. Ron glanced at the other students, noting their full attention had returned to him.
"Okay," Ron agreed, accepting his fate. "Lets talk. What is it you want to know about the Wizengamot?"
"Everything," the boy answered. "What they do, how they get elected, what power do they have over the Ministry or Merlin's Council?…"
"The Wizengamot has no power over the Ministry or Merlin's Council," Ron replied. "While the Ministry requires the Wizengamot and Council to pass our bills and while neither the Wizengamot nor the Council can introduce bills of their own each body is completely separate."
"The role of the Wizengamot is really very simple," he continued. "There are 199 members and in order for any bill to be made law we would require over half of the members of the Wizengamot to vote in favour of it. The bill would then go before the Council, but that's a different matter altogether."
"So how does the average witch or wizard become a Warlock of the Wizengamot?" Nichola Harlan asked.
"Well, first of all the people in the Wizengamot are not your average witch or wizard," Ron responded. "Any person, regardless of what they've done in the past, can run for a seat in the Wizengamot. The problem for most people is that this is politics, and those who don't understand politics tend to get easily blown aside."
"Britain is split into multiple regions," Ron explained animatedly. "And in each of these regions potential candidates for the Wizengamot run against each other in the hope of being elected by the public of their particular area."
"Has anyone seen a parent, or perhaps an older sibling, vote?" Ron asked, to which several of the students nodded or raised their hands. "It's a simple process. A few weeks before the election the Ministry sends them their ballot form by owl post and all they have to do is tick against their chosen candidate and send their ballot back before the deadline."
"How can you be sure the right person receives the ballot?" Adam Wood asked. "Isn't it possible that the owls can be intercepted?"
"It is," Ron agreed. "And at every election we know that people try to do these things. But each ballot has a spell placed upon them that picks up the magical aura of the user. When we receive the replies not only do we see who they voted for, we also first test the aura on the letter and try to match it with the aura we have in our records as belonging to the addressee. If none or a very small fraction of the aura collected is of the intended voter the ballot will be classed as null and void."
"So there is no way to prevent people from having their ballots intercepted?" Adam asked. "So if I knew someone was going to vote a certain way I could stop them by intercepting their vote."
"Not quite," Ron disagreed. "When we receive an intercepted vote we contact the intended voter by floo and simply ask them for their vote. Also the ballots are laced with tracker charms, so if you steal one we'll know where you've taken it and we'll be alerted even earlier that it never made it to its intended target."
"Moving on from that," Darren Greengrass said, waving it aside. "How is the winner of the election chosen, do they need a certain percentage of the vote or do they just need to beat the other people?"
"It's a simple most votes wins type of election," Ron agreed. He glanced at his watch. "Do you know what time we're meant to finish?" he asked Professor Turner.
"We will be here until Headmistress McGonagall comes to take us back to Hogwarts?" Professor Turner answered.
"Damn, I should have left a note back in the Murphy Room that we would be here," Ron swore.
"Indeed you should have, Mr Weasley." Ron would have recognised that voice anywhere. Turning in his chair, Ron stood up as he found Minerva McGonagall standing behind him.
"I apologise, Professor," Ron said humbly.
McGonagall nodded slightly in acceptance of his apology. "Fortunately your assistant, Mr Creevey, was able to keep tabs on you and pointed me in the direction of the cafeteria," McGonagall spoke, looking down through her spectacles at Ron. "I cannot say I was particularly surprised to find you here."
Ron laughed, surprising the students who were trying their best not to have any attention drawn to them as their Headmistress stared down their host. "I was at Hogwarts for seven years ma'am," Ron replied. "I would be shocked to find you'd forgotten."
A rare smile tugged at the corner of McGonagall's lips, breaking away from the thin line she usually held them in. "As would I, Mr Weasley," she replied.
"Are you going?" Ron asked. "I know Harry and Hermione would love to see you again, if you want to hang around for a bit longer I can go get them."
McGonagall shook her head. "Thank you for the offer, Mr Weasley," she said to him. "But as much as I do wish to see Mr Potter and Miss Granger again I must first return to my duties at Hogwarts. Students, follow me."
As the students milled around and started to follow their Headmistress, Ron called Professor Turner back, waiting patiently as the students left the cafeteria. "The students are gone," Ron said simply as the door fell shut behind them. "Now I can ask you. Would you like to go out with me sometime?"
Loraine smiled, shaking her head as though she could not believe him. "I've got to say, you are persistent," she replied. "But I came here with the students and I'm going to leave here with the students. I must remain professional."
"You're not with the students now," Ron pointed out.
Loraine laughed. "You've got guts, Weasley," she said, moving away to the door. "Thanks, but no thanks. That's just the way it is."
As Loraine left Ron couldn't help but smile, the ache at being rejected surprisingly light as he relived her words to him. Feeling oddly buoyed by the conversation, Ron left the cafeteria, an extra skip in his step as he prepared himself for the rest of the day.
Harry sat quietly behind his desk, occasionally making a quick note on the sheet of parchment lying before him. It was dark in the room, the window displaying a nighttime scene as Harry worked by the soft glow of his lamp. The Ministry was quiet now, many of its workers having already returned home. But for people like Harry their work was never finished early.
"Hey Harry," Ron said, knocking on his door.
Harry stopped writing and looked up. "What's up?" he asked, relaxing his muscles as he dropped his quill onto his desk.
"I heard about the goblins," Ron said, taking a couple of steps inside. "Things seem to be going well."
Harry nodded. "They are," he agreed. "Griphook said he thinks we're almost there, provided everything works out with the centaurs, that is."
"But apart from that you're done?" Ron replied. "Have you decided on a location yet?"
"Neville's got a list of possible sites we can start building on," Harry told him. "I can't imagine the goblins will have a problem with any of them so yeah, we're almost done." Harry regarded Ron. "How have things been for you today?"
"Well, first I'd like to thank you for foisting that meeting onto me," Ron said sarcastically. "I was really wondering what I was going to do all day."
"Did Colin rearrange all your appointments?" Harry asked.
"For tomorrow," Ron replied. "You have no idea how busy I'm going to be because of this."
Harry smiled at Ron's comment. "But you enjoyed it," he said, knowing better than to believe Ron's display of annoyance. "It's a nice change from what we're usually saddled with."
Ron shrugged non-committal, idly playing with some quills on Harry's desk.
"What did you want to say to me?" Harry asked, catching Ron off guard. "Come on, Ron, I know the difference between when you come for work and when you come for a chat. What's going on?"
Ron sighed, shifting nervously on his feet. "Do you remember what it was like when we first graduated from Hogwarts?" he asked, prompting Harry to raise an eyebrow. "You know, how we'd go out to clubs and just drink and talk and try to pick up girls."
"Where are you going with this?" Harry asked warily.
Ron rubbed at his face nervously, not looking at Harry. "Could we, I don't know, do that again?" he asked.
"Ron," Harry spoke up. "I have a girlfriend."
Ron shook his head. "I know that," he said, frustrated. "But, you know, you could be my wingman, you know, like we used to do back in the day."
Harry regarded Ron for a long moment. "You're really up for this?" he asked, to which Ron nodded. "I mean, I thought you were waiting for Josephine."
Ron sighed. "I was," he admitted. "But Harry, that was over three weeks ago. I can't just spend my time waiting for someone who may never even show up again. I need to get out there, I need to get back in the game."
Harry leaned back in his chair, a smile starting to spread across his face. "Alright," he said, nodding his head. "Lets do it. Tonight."
"Tonight?" Ron repeated, his eyes widening like a deer caught in the headlights.
"Yes, tonight," Harry told him. "Ginny's out of town so I'm completely free. And, you know, the sooner the better."
"Alright," Ron nodded, before repeating more confidently. "Alright, lets do it," he said loudly. "I've got a few things to sort through before we go but I'll come see you when I'm ready."
Harry nodded. "See you soon," he told his grinning friend, who slipped out of his office and into his own next door. Going back to his work Harry was interrupted just a minute later by another knock on his door.
"Finished already?" he asked, looking up at the sound. "Oh, sorry Hermione, I thought you were Ron."
Hermione smiled at him. "Don't worry about it," she said as she walked further into his office. "I just wanted to go over something before you went home. Were you and Ron doing something?"
"Oh yeah, we're going out to a club tonight," Harry said, eliciting a raising of the eyebrows from Hermione. "Ron wants to get back into the game," Harry explained. "I'm just there to be his wingman."
"Oh," Hermione said, her voice betraying her surprise. "Right." She was quiet for a long time, seemingly lost in thought as she stood there.
"Hermione," Harry said gently, reminding her of his presence. "Is everything alright?"
"Oh, yes," she said quickly, her brain snapping back into focus. "I was just a bit surprised, that's all. I'm actually going out with Michael tonight anyway."
"Have fun," Harry said, watching her as he waited patiently. "Hermione, what was it you wanted to tell me?"
"Oh, right," Hermione responded, remembering why she'd come to him in the first place. "The werewolf report."
"I've read it," Harry told her. "It doesn't tell us anything we didn't already know, I don't think we need to even tell anyone about it."
"I agree, but I think someone has got wind of it in the media," Hermione told him. "I'm just a bit worried that, if we wait until they call us out on it, it might seem as though we're trying to hide something from them."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Okay," he said. "Stick it in the morning briefing, tell them we've received it but that it doesn't give us any new information about the condition."
"Hey Harry, you ready to go?" Ron said, appearing in the doorway.
"Yep," Harry said, standing up and throwing on his cloak. "I just need to change."
Ron nodded. "Me too," he said. "Meet you at the Leaky Cauldron?" Harry nodded. "Alright, see you soon. See you tomorrow, Hermione." Ron waved goodbye as he set off down the corridor and out of sight.
"See you tomorrow," Harry repeated as he walked past Hermione. "And stand by for news about the finance council, we're almost there."
"Alright, bye Harry," Hermione replied, watching as Harry left, saying his goodbyes to Cho as he passed. Standing alone in the doorway to Harry's office, Hermione had to wonder why she suddenly seemed to feel so miserable. Shaking off the feeling as best she could Hermione strolled away swiftly, determined not to let her bizarre change of mood dampen her evening.
"Morning Neville," Harry said, walking into Neville's office and dropping a stack of parchment on his desk. "Morning Alea."
"Morning Harry," Neville replied, Alea smiling from where she rested against Neville's desk. "What's all this for?"
"It's the information you asked Hannah for," Harry responded. "I offered to bring it to you since I was heading here anyway." Neville nodded as he started to look through the sheets of parchment. "Have you heard anything from the goblins?"
Neville shook his head. "Nope," he replied. "Nothing, which I'm not sure is a good or a bad thing." Harry nodded in agreement to that.
"Is Amos back to work yet?" Harry asked with a frown.
"No, he's still in the hospital wing," Neville responded. "I've spoken with the healer in charge of his care. Apparently Amos' immune system isn't as strong as it should be so he's taking a lot longer to fight the infection."
"Sounds rough," Harry said with a sigh. "You just know it's got to be bad to keep Amos away from work."
Neville chuckled. "Yep, that's Amos," he sighed happily. Looking at Harry a smile started to slowly spread across Neville's face. "So I heard you had a pretty eventful night?"
Harry looked up at him in surprise. "How did you know about that?" he asked incredulously.
"You haven't seen Ron this morning yet, have you?" Neville chuckled. "About ten minutes ago he came bounding into the room, hugged me, then Alea and then practically danced with Hannah before skipping off."
"Huh," Harry said, scratching his chin. "And here I thought he'd be more discrete."
Neville chuckled. "What happened?" he asked interestedly.
Harry took a deep breath before recounting the events of the night before. "We went to a club last night and he met a girl," Harry told them. "Who knows what exactly happened but I soon found myself on my own in the club with nothing but Ron's half finished beer for company."
"What was the girl like?" Alea asked interestedly.
"Well, she was blonde," Harry responded, thinking hard. "She was not too tall. And she had really large breasts." Harry paused as he saw the looks of consternation on Neville and Alea's face. "I only saw her for about a minute," Harry defended himself.
"Well," Neville said. "I think we can be pretty sure what did happen last night. Good for Ron."
"Good for Ron?" Alea repeated. "What's good about just sleeping with someone because they've got big breasts?"
"Well, when you put it that way," Harry joked. "Ron just needed to get back into the game, that's all. And it's not like you see a girl in a club and say 'oh, I'd like to get to know her, she seems to have common interests with me'."
"Especially with guys," Neville said. "I read a study that said that while girls don't really think about it too much, when a guy walks into a room he automatically judges everyone in the room as a potential sex partner. Subconsciously, of course," Neville added at the look Alea was giving him.
"Yes, well, while I don't think 'big breasted blonde girl A' is going to be the nice stable girlfriend that Ron is looking for," Harry said. "I do think, though, that perhaps a one-night stand is really what he needs at the moment."
Alea didn't look convinced while Neville just shrugged at the comment, clearly unwilling to lend his opinion with his girlfriend in the room.
"Was your girlfriend not annoyed that you went out to a club last night without her?" Alea asked. "I mean, I know nothing happened but I can imagine she'd be quite annoyed that you ditched her for her brother."
"Ginny would understand," Harry said confidently. "She knows how tough this has been for Ron just as well as I do. Besides, it's our anniversary tonight so I've got big plans to make it up to her."
"Anyway, I just stopped off to speak with you about the goblins," Harry said after a brief pause, making his way back to the door. "See you later."
"See you later, Harry, and good luck," Neville responded as Harry left the office, walking past Hannah's desk as he moved through the Ministry.
"Hey Harry," Ron said exuberantly, suddenly appearing at Harry's shoulder with a bounce of boundless energy. "How are you?"
"I'm good," Harry replied, getting over the surprise of Ron's arrival. "How are you? Or rather, how was she?"
Ron grinned. "Absolutely amazing, Harry," he said wondrously. "She took me back to her place and boy was she up for it. Seriously, I hardly had to do anything before she started pulling off my clothes and-"
"Ron, stop," Harry said as they came into range of their offices. "Seriously, I'm happy for you, but I don't need the details."
"Oh come on, Harry," Ron replied. "Did you not see her. Those breasts…"
"Ron, if you continue to talk about this I'm going to start telling you about what I do to your sister in my free time," Harry said firmly, immediately silencing Ron. "We'll talk later."
"But not about this," Ron said worriedly.
"Not about this," Harry repeated firmly, opening his office door and walking inside. A couple of steps in he stopped, rubbing his eyes as he sighed. "Bill, are you always going to be here when I say inappropriate stuff about your sister?"
"I hope so," Bill replied, giving Harry a piercing look. "I'd hate to think that you had said inappropriate things about my sister at times when I haven't been here to witness it too."
"Right," Harry said, moving passed Bill and round to the seat behind his desk. "What can I do for you today, Bill?"
"I've come with a message from the Goblin Council," Bill said formally. "They have spoken with the centaurs and they have agreed with your proposition."
"Fantastic," Harry grinned, giving a short sigh of relief that the plan had worked. "Are they still coming in to meet with us today?"
Bill nodded. "They just sent me ahead to give a heads up," he told Harry. "They also wanted me to say that if they are able to accept any of your propositions for Council locations the Goblin Council will be ready to sign off on it by this afternoon."
Harry froze, staying perfectly still and silent as he stared at Bill. "They really said that?" Harry eventually asked, his voice breathless.
Bill nodded.
Harry staggered to his feet, hardly able to believe they were almost finished. "I've got to talk to Neville," he said quickly. "And Hermione, they've got to know. Thanks Bill."
Harry strode quickly out the office without another word, walking swiftly through the corridors with such purpose that everyone simply got out of his way.
"Neville," Harry said sharply as he reached his office, causing Neville to look up in surprise. "It's done."
The surprise on Neville's face turned to outright shock. "Done?" he whispered breathlessly, half rising out of his chair. "As in, really done?"
Harry nodded. "Bill just came to tell me," he said. "All we need is for the goblins to approve one of the building sights and they're ready to sign off on it."
"Oh my god," Neville said, lowering himself back down in his seat. "We've done it? I can't believe it. We've done it." A full blown smile spread across his face as he looked back up at Harry. "We've done it."
Harry smiled back. "We've done it."
"Good afternoon everybody," Hermione said as she reached the podium at the front of the press room. "If you could all take your seats we can begin." Hermione shifted through her papers as the various reporters sat down, waiting for her to speak.
"I'd like to announce that later today the Minister and the Head of the Goblin Council will each sign off on the creation of a new finance council with both goblin and human representatives," Hermione spoke.
Instantly the crowd of reporters in front of her started talking loudly, asking her question after question which all jumbled together into a simple wall of noise. Ignoring the clamours from the reporters of questions, Hermione pressed on.
"The signing will take place later today with both the Minister's and the Head of the Goblin Council's signatures attached to the document to officially bring the finance council into existence," Hermione said loudly, cutting across the reporters and making her voice heard as the reporters started to calm down and listen to her. "There will be two copies of the document created, one of which will be held in the Ministry while the other will be held with the goblins at Gringotts. The Minister and the Head of the Goblin Council will each sign one copy in their own office. After that messengers will swap the two copies of the documents and again the Minister and the Head of the Goblin Council will add their signatures. At this point the finance council will be an official body recognised both by wizarding society and the goblin state."
"Hermione, what exactly will be contained in this document?" Sophie asked from the crowd of reporters.
"The document itself is still being drawn together as we speak," Hermione spoke. "It was only today that both sides came to a full agreement about all the proposals made. At this moment Ministry officials are working with Communications Director, Harry Potter, to fit together all the agreed upon proposals into one single document. I believe at last count said document numbered at one hundred and thirty four pages long."
"Hermione," several reporters cried out, each of them wishing to get their question answered next before any of their colleagues could get the scoop.
"Donald," Hermione said, pointing through the crowd to the familiar balding gentleman.
"Hermione, what can you tell us about this new finance council?" Donald asked as everyone else fell quiet.
"Well, I can tell you that it will be dealing exclusively with financial matters," Hermione responded, the joke only getting a few chuckles as the reporters waited on tenterhooks for any information Hermione was willing to give out. "Seriously though, I do know that the Council will consist of precisely seven goblins and seven wizards, with a committee of three centaurs being consulted in the case of a tie in the votes."
"Please settle down, I can't even hear myself think," Hermione shouted as the crowd started to get out of control, everyone clambering for attention. "If everyone can just remain quiet until I am finished speaking we will be able to get through this all a lot quicker." The reporters started to calm down at that. "Thank you."
"The Council will be located at a sight in the countryside of Northern Ireland," Hermione continued, reading off the notes Harry had provided her with before she'd entered the press room. "Given the fact that this will be a new build to house the Council we do not have a definite timeframe for when the Council will first be brought into session."
"I can tell you that over the next few weeks both the Ministry and the Goblin Council will be working to appoint members to the Council in order for the Council to be able to meet as soon as construction work in Northern Ireland is finished," Hermione continued, starting to wrap up her speech. "I have the Deputy Chief of Staff, Neville Longbottom, here with me today so if you have no more questions for me I will allow him to take the floor and hopefully he'll be able to answer your queries in more detail than I would ever be able to manage."
Hermione finished speaking and started gathering up her files as she prepared to yield the floor to Neville, none of the reporters seeming to have anything more to say to her.
"Hermione, just a quick question before you go," Michael said suddenly, stopping Hermione in her tracks as she waited for him to speak. "I was under the impression that it was the Chief of Staff, Amos Diggory, who was leading negotiations with the Goblin Council. No disrespect to Neville, but why isn't Amos here speaking with us instead?"
Slightly confused by where the question had come from, Hermione nevertheless gave him an answer. "Amos is currently suffering from a rather nasty case of the flu, and is therefore unavailable to speak to you at this point," Hermione informed him simply. "But I can assure you that Neville has played a major part in these negotiations and is fully informed on anything you may wish to know about the Council and its responsibilities."
"Alright," Michael conceded, making a note on his pad as Hermione finished speaking. "Well, tell Amos I hope he gets better soon."
"Will do," Hermione replied, still confused as she left the podium, allowing Neville to make his way forward.
Placing down a rather thick newly bound book onto the podium, Neville started to address the reporters. "As my colleague has already just mentioned the Council will be located in the countryside of Northern Ireland," he began, speaking clearly. "More precisely it will be located in the hills to the south-east of the city of Derry…"
What Neville didn't know was that what he was saying wasn't going to be on the front page of the next day's Daily Prophet, but that the story that was going to take its place was currently already scribbled down on a notepad of one of the reporters sitting in front of him. He would find out, though, soon enough.