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 shuffled through the papers on his desk distractedly. "Cho!"
"Morning Harry," Cho spoke as she appeared in the doorway, clipboard in hand. "What do you need?"
"I had a report on my desk last night," Harry told her, still shuffling the papers. "I can't find it."
"Amos came by and took it before you got in," Cho informed him. Harry looked up.
"He did?" He asked. "Did he say anything?"
"He said he'll handle it," Cho told him. "Apparently he has new information that might be important."
"Alright," Harry accepted, dropping his papers. Now he had to think of what to do, given that his original plan was no longer relevant. "I'm meeting with Ash Tyler today, aren't I?"
"Yes," Cho agreed, checking her notes. "At half twelve. Warlock Tyler's office suggested you could speak over lunch."
"Alright, we'll do that," Harry agreed. "That'll be all." Cho hesitated in the doorway. "What?"
"I just wanted to say… well, to thank, um…" Cho stumbled. "I would just like to say how honoured…"
"Cho…" Harry said with a sigh.
"Thank you for inviting me round for dinner," Cho told him before he could say more. "It really means a lot, you know, even though you're my boss and I work for you that you'll still invite me…"
"Don't mention it," Harry mumbled, his cheeks burning slightly in embarrassment. "You're my friend, we want to have you round."
"Still, I'm grateful," Cho said earnestly. "And I'll have to check with my family but I should be able to RSVP."
"Great, I'll talk to you then." Cho recognised this as a dismissal. She smiled at him before ducking out of the office, only just dodging Ron as he sauntered his way inside.
"What's all this about?" He asked. In his hand was a decorative blue envelope, noticeably opened. "You're hosting a dinner?"
"Sit down," Harry offered, gesturing to a seat. Ron closed the door behind him and took the offered chair.
"Seriously, you're hosting dinner?" Ron repeated. "On Christmas Eve? Really?" Harry shrugged.
"Yeah," he said. He wasn't being secretive about it. "Ginny and I thought it'd be a good idea to have a few friends round - you, Hermione, Neville, Cho, etcetera. We thought it'd be nice."
"Mate, this is the sort of thing my parents do," Ron told him, favouring him with a weird look. "Like the thing old married couples do." He looked at him incredulously. Harry smiled.
"I'm not sure if you've noticed but Ginny and I are a married couple," Harry pointed out. "We're maybe not old but… we're not that far away from your parents."
"But you're young," Ron countered. "You didn't suddenly age twenty years when you got married. Honestly, I didn't think you marrying Ginny was really going to change much. Seriously, mate, what brought all this on." Harry shrugged.
"We just wanted to do something," Harry told him. "You know how your parents have all their traditions and the like, well, now that we are married we thought it might be a good idea to start some of our own. It's not like we've never had people over before."
"For drinks and to watch a quidditch match," Ron argued but he wasn't really into it. "This is just weird." He frowned. "How many people have you invited?"
"A few," Harry answered. "You, Hermione, Cho, Neville, Colin. I mean, I haven't really invited Colin but anyone can bring a date so I assume he's probably going to come with Cho anyway. I've invited Dean and Seamus, and Remus, and he'll bring Tonks and Teddy, too. Ginny's inviting Luna, and a couple of friends from work, though they might not make it. Gwen is quite heavily pregnant so she can only travel by muggle means at the moment."
"Right," Ron said, adding the numbers in his head. "So that's, what, ten to fifteen people you're inviting, roughly. Plus you and Ginny. You realise you live in a flat, right. Do you even have space for that many people?"
"With magic I do," Harry pointed out. Ron rolled his eyes.
"Oh yeah," he said. "And when was the last time you cast a space expansion charm?" Harry flushed.
"I've been going through my old textbooks," he admitted with a discrete cough. "I was pretty good with charms so hopefully… Anyway, if I can't manage I'm sure Hermione can. I'm not worried."
"Of course," Ron muttered, leaning back in his chair. His eyes narrowed.
"You're not hiding anything from me, are you?" He asked suspiciously. "You don't have any new Potters coming up that I don't know about." Harry went scarlet.
"No," he said quickly. "No, definitely… no. Not that I'm aware of, at any rate."
"I was just saying because it does sound as though you're planning ahead for something. I know you've always liked the idea of having kids…"
"No," Harry said. "No, we're not expecting children. Not now. I mean, I'm not saying we're never going to have children or anything, it's just… well, we've talked about it, in theory, but we haven't really…"
"I get it," Ron told him, smirking slightly. "Don't worry about it. I was only asking, just in case. Good thing too, really. I think Ginny announcing she's pregnant might just off mum in a final blaze of joy. She still hasn't settled down from the wedding."
"It's been months," Harry pointed out.
"And she will still be buzzed for several more to come," countered Ron. They fell into a comfortable silence.
Ron shifted slightly. He glanced over to Harry, the dark haired man gazing distractedly at his bookcase, and idly played with his cuffs.
"Have you heard the news?" He asked quietly. Harry's eyes flickered over.
"What news?" He responded. Ron shifted again.
"The Ecclestone news," he said and he straightened up. "Duncan Ecclestone. I'm sure you've heard of him."
"He was a Warlock of the Wizengamot for years," Harry said, recognising the name easily. "He represented one of the constituencies neighbouring David Woods'… although now I suppose I should say neighbouring Mike Hardy's."
"That's him," Ron agreed.
"What about him?" Harry asked. "I haven't heard anything of him in years. He left the Wizengamot before we even started working here."
"Well, now he's making a bit of a comeback," Ron told him. "It isn't official but I have my sources and they say he's preparing for a ministerial run."
"What?" Harry gasped. "This early? There's still eighteen months till the election."
"Well, that's what I was saying, it isn't official," Ron told him. "He hasn't announced his candidacy yet but I've heard word… He's talking to people, big people in local politics, and from what I've heard all the signs point to him making a run."
There was a brief silence.
"Well," Harry said with a sigh. "At least we're starting to get an idea of what we're up against. Duncan Ecclestone. How dangerous do you think he is?"
"Very," was Ron's response. "He's a veteran. Represented Canterbury for twenty-four years. Even if he's been out of the game he won't have lost much of his edge. He's always been one of the smartest blokes in any room, it'll be hard for anyone to match him on policy."
"And how bad do you think this'll be for the Minister?" Harry asked. "He may not have twenty-four years in the Wizengamot but surely he's got the experience to match up, and then some. And he's not stupid."
"I think the Minister's got a good chance," Ron said. "He won last time, didn't he. Maybe not against Ecclestone but he won. And I wouldn't be talking about this if I didn't think the Minister was the right man for the job. It's just…" Ron hesitated.
"What?" Harry asked.
"I'm not completely sure if the Minister is going to run again," Ron admitted. Harry blinked.
"Has he said…?"
"He hasn't said anything," Ron said quickly. "I haven't heard anything to suggest he's even started thinking about this yet. It's just… he hasn't said anything. And he's not acting like a man that is preparing for an election."
"It's still early," Harry pointed out. "With this Ecclestone thing… if he hasn't heard then why would he be thinking about it?"
"You're right," Ron agreed with a sigh. "I'm just thinking too much into it. It's the fallout from the Wizengamot elections. I've got all these tactical thoughts in my head, thinking of poll numbers and demographics and such, I guess I haven't quite been able to settle down and, you know, govern again." Harry nodded in understanding.
"We can worry about this later," he said. "But for what it's worth whether the Minister runs again or not we'll work it out either way. Just don't sweat it until there's a reason to."
"You're right," said Ron, taking a breath. "You're right."
The door to the situation room opened and the Minister strode out briskly, Amos by his side. As he passed through the hallways staffers stood aside to let them past, watching them go, though he paid them no mind as he spoke to Amos.
"So what they're saying is that there's been no change," he reported as a statement of fact. "We've solidified our position and they seem to be holding theirs."
"That is the gist of it," Amos confirmed.
"Can't say I'm too happy about that," the Minister told him. "When at war in a far off land doing nothing is akin to giving up ground. For every day we spend there we risk more British lives and with every day with Casales in charge it becomes more the norm what has happened. The locals will come to just accept Casales as their leader, barring any option to the contrary, and it just becomes more difficult for us to overthrow him and allow Peru the freedom of their own elections."
"Yes," Amos said. "I agree with you." The Minister came to a stop.
"You don't seem to have much to say on the matter." Amos gave him a weird look.
"I was in the meeting," he pointed out, his tone slightly exasperated. "I've already heard all of this, it's not like it's new information. And even if I hadn't worked it out myself - which, by the way, would be incredibly insulting if you thought I wouldn't - I heard Kingsley tell you all of this literally word for word. I agree with you, no progress is a step backwards, but that's why we have to listen to the advice of Kingsley in the situation room and Moody out in the field."
"And in the meantime?" The Minister asked.
"Well, don't let on but I think you have a country to run," Amos said in mock secrecy. "Might want to, you know, pretend you're doing something every once in a while." The Minister smiled.
"Alright," he said, beginning his journey back to his office once more. "I suppose I can find something to do." He briefly fell silent.
"I've been hearing some interesting things about Duncan Ecclestone," the Minister said, out of the blue. "Just rumours, nothing concrete."
"I've heard them too," Amos told him. "And come to think of it it's not a huge surprise. Duncan always did have his eye set on the Minister's office. It's some surprise he never ran before now."
"So you think this is serious?" The Minister asked. "This is a real challenge?"
"Most definitely," Amos told him. "Ecclestone's a force, or at least he was before he stepped down from his Wizengamot seat. I had thought we'd seen the last of him but apparently not."
"Apparently," the Minister agreed. "But why now? What is it that is driving Ecclestone to make a run after being out of the game for so long?"
"Well," said Amos, choosing his words carefully. "I can't say anything for certain but when he stepped down he cited family reasons. His wife passed away last year. It could be a coincidence but perhaps she was what was stopping him from making a run all these years."
"Perhaps," the Minister muttered thoughtfully. "It makes sense, I suppose. Had Molly dug her heels in I would never have run either." He walked into his office.
"Remus," he greeted cheerfully, seeing the man standing beside his desk. "How are you?"
"I'm good, thank you, sir. Amos." He nodded politely.
"We were just discussing the current situation in Peru," the Minister said as he rounded his desk, Amos approaching to stand next to Remus.
"Problems?" Remus asked.
"Only a frustrating lack of progress," the Minister assured him. "But enough about that, now you're here I actually had something to ask you about. I hear Harry and Ginny are organising a little gathering on Christmas Eve."
"Yes, sir," Remus responded with a smile. "I found my invitation on my desk this morning, and I can assure you I will be attending."
"Well, lucky for you," the Minister said with an air of false indignation. "I wasn't even invited." He shook his head ruefully. "You know I thought being Minister meant people had to invite me to things. I guess they didn't want an old duffer like me around, although how you managed to snag an invite is hard to determine."
"Well, in all honesty, sir, I think the invitation was more for Teddy than for me," Remus said conspiratorially. The Minister chuckled.
"Well, what are you are here for?" He asked, getting down to business. "I trust this isn't a personal visit."
"I'm afraid not sir," Remus said with a small smile. "I unfortunately bring news of a man in the States by the name of James Francis."
"Doesn't ring any bells," said the Minister.
"No, it wouldn't," Remus told him. "But you'll likely hear a lot more about him over the coming days. He's thirty-seven, living in Phoenix, Arizona, and is currently awaiting the death sentence."
"The death sentence," the Minister repeated, his expression concerned.
"What did he do?" Asked Amos.
"To be honest, I don't want to get into it," Remus said, a slightly sickly look on his face. "Needless to say it involved some of the worst crimes a human can commit, and had we the death penalty here we would almost certainly be sentencing him to it in our own courts if given the chance."
"But thankfully we do not," the Minister said, his voice firm. "The death penalty is a punishment unbefitting the reasonable judge. We are not just in commanding the death of another. It is a punishment of tyrants and dictatorships."
"Well, regardless of how we may feel about it, it is legal in the US," Remus told him. "Francis is to be executed tomorrow." The room fell silent.
Amos frowned. "Why are you telling us this?" He asked. "How does this matter affect us? Surely this is a US problem."
"Well, that's the thing," Remus said. "James Francis wasn't born in the US. He was born in Kent." The Minister groaned.
"He's a British citizen?" Remus nodded.
"He has established residency in the US, he's been there a number of years now," said Remus. "But he grew up here and has a number of family members who do not want him dead."
"And they want us to step in and get him off the hook," Amos concluded.
"Essentially," Remus stated. "They've begun campaigning for him to be transferred back here and tried by our courts, which would certainly sentence him to life in Azkaban, and I think the campaign has the potential to really pick up steam and become a national issue. Those against the death penalty will want him back, if for no other reason than to stand up for their belief that execution is wrong. Meanwhile the Americans will not want to hand him over, and with good reason. He committed his crimes in the States, he lives there, and they don't want to see him let off the hook, not even slightly. And at the end of the day they have no reason to send him back to us."
There was a long silence in the office. The Minister sighed.
"I guess this was what you were talking about when you suggested I start running the country," he said to Amos, who looked back stoically. He leaned over the desk, resting his hands on the reassuring solid wood. "Alright, keep me posted on this Remus. Hopefully this will blow over and stay out of our hands but if things start to get serious we need to be ready."
"With all due respect, sir," said Remus. "For James Francis and his family things are already serious."
It did not blow over. Over the course of the next week the protests began to grow, catching the national attention, and as Hermione began to find herself asked questions on the subject in her briefings it became clear that the Ministry needed to step in.
The senior staff were standing together in the Minister's office, gathered in the aftermath of Hermione's latest press conference, and it quickly became clear the complexity of the issue.
"James Francis's crimes are numerous," Remus was explaining for the group. "There is no doubt that the sentence was fair based on the laws of the US State of Arizona, where he was tried."
"The problem is that we have little authority to have Francis brought over here but the campaign is gathering momentum," the Minister added grimly, looking out over them. "Any thoughts on how we should proceed would be most welcome."
There was silence from the group.
"Anything?" The Minister asked, looking from face to face for an answer. "Anything you have to say."
"Perhaps it's a bit early to be making a decision on this," Remus suggested. "We haven't even spoken to anyone. Who knows how amenable the Americans might be. We really should talk to them before we tie ourselves to any particular course of action."
"I can find someone in the American Ministry to speak with," Harry told them. "It shouldn't be too difficult to arrange a meeting, although naturally transport could delay it."
"Understandable, and potentially very useful," the Minister said in relief. "Take that meeting Harry. If the Americans are willing to hand him over then that makes things a lot easier."
"What are the chances that's actually going to happen though?" Ron wondered. "I mean, I haven't read his file but I've seen the news coverage. If he's getting the death penalty then he's clearly done something pretty awful. What sort of crimes are we talking about?"
"Murder," Amos noted simply. "On several counts. The details are rather… disturbing. And that's not getting into the rest of his crimes."
"Do we really think the US are willing to let him go?" Ron asked. "Those crimes were committed against their people, at least that's what I'm assuming. I don't think they'll choose to hand him over."
"And without any legal recourse they have even less reason to," added Hermione. "If James Francis is a US citizen he is theirs to do with as they please."
"Either way, it may be a long shot, but you miss a hundred percent of the shots you don't take," the Minister said firmly. "Harry, take the meeting, see what you can work, and report back."
"Yes sir," said Harry. The Minister turned to the others.
"Has anyone got any connections to the protestors?" He wondered. "Someone we can talk to on the other side." Neville hesitated.
"Alea has got herself involved in this," he said with an uncomfortable wince. "Naturally she's firmly against the death penalty, she'd never let this pass without having her say on the matter."
"You'll talk to her?" Amos asked. Neville gave a pained nod.
"Alright, then," said the Minister. "Until we've done that there's no use standing around talking it over. Take the meetings and report back."
They were dismissed.
"Tough luck, mate," Ron told Neville, grimacing along with him as they strode from the Minister's office. "I don't envy you."
"This isn't the first time," Neville said with a sigh. "Alea has strong beliefs, and we aren't always able to keep our personal and professional lives separate. Truthfully I've been expecting this from the moment she got involved."
"Good luck," Ron told him, clapping him on the shoulder. Neville ducked into his office.
Ron sped up, hurrying forward to Harry. "So, you're going to talk to the Americans?"
"I have some contacts I can get in touch with," Harry told him as they strode back towards the communications centre. "But it won't be easy. Even if the American Ministry are willing to play ball getting MACUSA to agree as well will be a complete and utter nightmare. Seeing the divisions in their congress makes me glad I only have to deal with the Wizengamot."
Upon reaching the communications centre Colin approached them, handing over a message to Ron who read it quickly.
"He's here?" Ron asked, looking up.
"In your office," said Colin. Ron looked confused.
"Alright," he said, handing the slip back to Colin. Harry looked at him curiously.
"What's that about?" He asked. "You've got a meeting?"
"Yes," Ron said, giving him a look. "With the one and only owner of the Chudley Cannons, Barnabus Lee."
"Barnabus Lee," Harry repeated. "What's he doing here? How'd he even get a meeting with you?"
Ron shrugged. "Don't know," he said. "I'll tell you when I find out." And he walked over to his office.
"Wait," said Harry, stopping Ron at the door. "Hold up a sec." He moved closer, glancing around carefully. His voice dropped. "This whole thing with Francis, what's your take on it? You said you didn't think they'd send him over."
Ron ran a hand through his hair.
"Would you?" He asked seriously. "Look, I'm not a big fan of the death penalty, but you heard what he's done. And you know Amos only scratched the surface."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that we should probably just let the Americans do what they want," Ron told him. "In this case, at least. As I said, if he had committed his crimes here and was already tried here I wouldn't be saying we should kill him, but if he's half a world away I sure as hell don't want him coming back. I don't want a man like that anywhere near my family or my friends. After that…" Ron shrugged. "I honestly don't care."
Harry grimaced. "So that's it?" He asked. "That's your final word?"
Ron shrugged. "I guess," he said. Harry sighed.
"Right," he muttered.
"I'm not trying to stop you, or somehow argue we should be killing people," Ron told him hastily. "But perhaps we shouldn't be stepping in to save this guy. And I reckon that's what you're going to be hearing from your guys in the US. Just, don't get your hopes up, is what I'm saying."
Harry sighed. "Alright," he said. "I'll let you know when it's done. You have fun with…" Harry gestured towards the door.
"Hopefully," Ron agreed.
"Must be a dream come true," Harry murmured.
"Yeah." Ron hesitated. "I'll talk with you after," he told him and he stepped into his office and closed the door behind him.
"Ah, Mr Weasley," the portly man sitting by Ron's desk rose to his feet enthusiastically, holding out a hand to shake as he beamed up at him. "Thanks for meeting with me."
"The pleasure's mine, Mr Lee," Ron told him, shaking his hand and gesturing for him to sit, rounding the desk to take a seat across from him. "I'm a big Cannons fan so when I heard you were on my agenda I couldn't wait."
"Yes, I heard," Barnabus said with a smile. "We don't get much in the way of good publicity, given our general track record, but when the Minister's son, the Political Strategy Director of the Ministry, announces he's a diehard Cannons fan it is always something to be cheerful about."
"I am a bit confused though why you'd want to meet me," Ron told him. "Most of the thoughts that passed through my head were of business and those would be highly unethical for you to come straight to me with. I am hoping that's not the case."
"No, no, it's not. Don't you worry," Barnabus assured him. "The Cannons hierarchy keeps all its business with the Ministry at the appropriate level. We know our way around the Department for Magical Games and Sports."
"Good, because if word got out you were trying to do business with the top levels of the Ministry, bypassing due process, we would both be in some very serious trouble," Ron reminded him. He gestured for him to go on. "Why did you want to meet me?"
"Well," Barnabus began, a small sheen of sweat now visible on his brow. "Actually, I came here with a bit of a job offer for you." Ron blinked.
"A job offer," Ron repeated. "For me?" His brain was working at a sluggish pace.
"Yes," said Barnabus with a little chuckle. "We would love if you would be willing to come on board as a Cannons Ambassador," he announced. "Your level of dedication as a fan coupled with your visibility to the British public and indeed to overseas investors would be perfect to help bring the club forward and help us make the Chudley Cannons a true success in the league and indeed worldwide."
"Wow," said Ron, blown away. "Mr Lee…"
"Barnabus," Barnabus said promptly.
"Barnabus," Ron corrected. "Barnabus… I'm honoured you thought of me, but I already have a job." He gestured around his office. "And I can't become a club ambassador while still working here."
"Well, obviously, yes," Barnabus agreed. "But you won't be working here that much longer." Ron tilted his head.
"What do you mean?" He asked sharply.
"Well," said Barnabus, clearly realising he'd stepped on a nerve. "I mean, Minister Weasley's tenure is coming to a close. I mean, obviously you could work for the next administration but I always thought your work here was based upon who the Minister was. Would you have been here but for the fact your father was running for Minister and you were helping lead his campaign?"
"My work here is because I care about making the country a better place," Ron said swiftly. "And for that matter Minister Weasley has not indicated whether he'll run again or not."
"I wasn't suggesting anything," Barnabus backtracked quickly. "I don't mean… look," he said, letting out a frustrated breath. "I never meant to imply you worked this job out of anything other than duty for this country. Or indeed that you gained this job for any reason other than your ability to do it. What I am saying is that once Minister Weasley is out of office it is more likely than not that someone else will take up your position. Even if they keep you on I am just here to give you the option."
"The Minister hasn't…" Ron began.
"I know what the Minister has or has not said," Barnabus said curtly. "I am quite aware of our current political climate. Duncan Ecclestone is planning on running and in nearly any race he would be the front runner. And what with the way the Minister got into the job in the first place, with Amos Diggory the driving force behind him, it does not take a genius to predict that he might not be willing to take on a second term."
Ron sat in silence, stunned by what he'd heard. Barnabus looked apologetic.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come in here and get all political about this," he said mournfully. "I merely came here to get my foot in the door before anyone else did. This job offer is real, we want you to be part of the organisation. And I may be wrong, Minister Weasley may run again and he may well win, but my loyalties are to my Cannons and I'd be betraying them by not trying to recruit the best people when I see the opportunity." He stood up.
"Thank you for meeting with me," he said, holding out a hand. Shaking himself Ron pulled himself to his feet and grasped it.
"Not at all," he said gruffly. "Thanks for the offer." Barnabus nodded.
"You don't need to get back to us immediately," he told him. "This is an open offer. Whenever you're ready, just give us a call. Your secretary has our number."
Ron nodded as Barnabus turned and left his office.
Harry sat behind his desk, waiting patiently for the representative from the US to appear, his mind running wild with everyone Ron had just told him from his meeting with Barnabus Lee. He took a deep breath, trying to silence his doubts, at least until after the meeting took place. He needed to be focused.
There was a knock on his door.
"Noah Miller is here to see you," Cho announced, stepping inside and opening the door for the sharply dressed American wizard to walk in behind her.
"Mr Miller, pleased to meet you," said Harry, standing up and shaking his hand.
"Pleasure's all mine," replied Miller, his accent obvious. "You're Mr Potter, right. I've heard great things about you."
"Thank you," said Harry. He glanced over at Cho. "Would you like anything to drink?"
"Oh, some water would be dandy," said Miller, turning to glance over at Cho as well. Cho nodded.
"Coffee for me, please, Cho," Harry told her. Cho nodded, exiting the room. Miller's eyes followed her.
"So, Mr Miller, I believe you are from foreign affairs?" Harry asked, lowering himself into his seat as Miller sat down across from him. "I spoke to Secretary Samuel Johnson's staff, did he send you?"
"Yes sir," said Miller. "I've got to say he spoke quite highly of you. And he's a tough SOB, real hard to impress."
"I'm flattered," said Harry and at that moment Cho reappeared. "Thank you," he said as Cho placed his mug and a glass of water on his desk.
"Yes, thank you, doll," said Miller, looking up at her as she straightened up and giving her a winning smile. She nodded swiftly and strode from the room.
"So, where are you from?" Harry asked, breaking Miller's attention away from Cho's retreating form. "I'm afraid I'm not great with accents, or indeed names. Am I right in guessing you're from the North-East?"
"Eh, not quite," Miller chuckled. "Actually I'm from Ohio. Go Buckeyes! We're sorta North-East in geography but when you say the North-East in America that has a very specific meaning."
"Right, I think I have an idea where that is," said Harry. "Personally I've never really been to the States. I was in Hawaii not that long ago for my honeymoon, actually, but I've never been to the mainland."
"Oh, Hawaii's great, no doubt," Miller agreed. "But we've got so much more to offer than just Hawaii, loads of different climates all across the States. Even a young man like myself, born and raised in Akron, Ohio, can't hope to see it all in my lifetime, there's so much. It's truly wonderful."
"I'll have to come visit sometime," Harry said. "I've heard the Florida Keys are great."
"And I really must take some time to explore London at some point," Miller agreed. "You can't go wrong with Big Ben, the London Eye, Diagon Alley."
"No, you can't," Harry agreed with a smile. "But why don't we talk about that later and get down to the reason we're here."
"We are not going to extradite James Francis," Miller said immediately. There was a pause.
"Well, at least there's no playing around," said Harry, letting out a sigh. "I suppose you've been made aware of the protests we're currently having. Francis's family back here are demanding he be returned and tried here, where he will not face the death penalty."
"I have," Miller told him. "But that doesn't change any of the facts of the situation. Francis committed his crimes in the US, and terrible crimes they were, and because he did so in a state that has the death penalty he has been sentenced to it. That's justice. There's no reason to let him off the hook."
"It's not like he'll just go free if he comes over here," Harry rebuked. "He'll be tried and most likely spend the rest of his life in Azkaban."
"The difference between life imprisonment and death isn't as much as you'd like to believe," Miller argued. "The difference in fact is minimal and quite frankly the fact that you are even considering this when the man is about as deserving as it gets of being given the death penalty is laughable."
"No," Harry said sharply. "What is laughable is a country as supposedly advanced as the US still having the death penalty. The state should not have the power to kill people. This should not even be an argument."
Miller leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh. He reached for his water, took a sip, and briefly closed his eyes to savour it.
"You know, to be perfectly honest I'm not a big fan of the death penalty myself," he said, leaning forward to place the glass back on Harry's desk, an uncomfortable expression on his face. "But in this case it is more than deserved. James Francis wasn't just a murderer. He was a kidnapper who locked two ten year olds in a cellar with a pack of starving dogs. He was a pedophile who molested young girls in front of their parents. He was an abuser who beat and starved his girlfriend until even she, with her unendingly loyalty and psychological scarring, found the courage to call the police on him. You know this. You've read his file. Secretary Johnson would not speak so highly of you if you hadn't."
"So, tell me, why does this man deserve to live?"
There was a long silence as Noah Miller finished speaking.
Harry couldn't answer his question.
"It's not about whether he deserves to live," he said softly, shaking his head. "It's about whether we have the right to take his life."
"The state of Arizona says we do," Miller told him. "And they are the ones to pass down his judgement."
"He could have been tried in New Mexico," Harry pointed out. "Nearly half of his crimes could be traced back to the state. They don't have the death penalty there."
"And it tells you something that they chose to prosecute in Arizona instead," Miller pointed out.
"Something about the attitude of the prosecutors," Harry countered. "They wanted him dead."
"Yes," said Miller. "They wanted him dead. And I know you do too. You don't have to betray your morals and kill him. Believe me, I respect those morals. I already told you I'm not wild about the death penalty. But if you're going to go out of your way to try and spare a life, why him? Because he's British? If that's truly the only reason you stand up for his rights as opposed to any number of inmates on death's row then maybe you need to reevaluate the reason you're doing this."
Harry sat back in his seat, watching the earnest man across from him. The arguments made were strong and they reflected some of his own internal doubts, and more so what Ron had said to him earlier.
But still, this just did not sit right with him.
"Let's keep talking," he said, leaning forward to take a sip from his mug. "See what we can come up with."
Miller gazed across at him.
"Okay," he said. And he took a sip of water.
"Hermione, are you aware of the words from James Francis's brother Jeremy that, I quote, 'James must be returned to the United Kingdom as a subject born and raised in this country, to face justice the way befitting our great nation'?" Donald asked, reading from his notebook as his fellow reporters watched on.
"I am aware of them now," Hermione responded from up on the podium.
"And what is your response?" Donald asked.
"That as a man born and raised in this country we are taking a significant interest in the matter," Hermione told him. "However James Francis is also an American citizen and so simply demanding that the Americans hand him over is not right, and most importantly would not work."
"Do you know what would work?" Donald asked.
"We're in contact with the American Ministry now to see where we stand," Hermione told him. "Yes, Sophie."
"Just to come back to what Donald was saying," Sophie began as she stood up. "I've got a quote here, this one's from Warlock Alea Reed, saying that 'if the Ministry allows this to go ahead' - that's James Francis's execution - 'then they will have surrendered all moral authority'. What do you have to say to that?"
"I have to say that we respect Warlock Reed's opinion on the matter," said Hermione. "Like her the Minister and indeed myself are against the death penalty but things are more complicated than that. It is not the place of the Ministry to dictate to other countries how to run a criminal justice system."
"But what about in Peru?" Sophie questioned.
"That is an entirely different situation and you know it," Hermione said sharply. "In Peru the current regime were responsible for the violent overthrow of a democratically elected leader. The United States, however, have committed no crime. It would be a different matter if the punishment did not fit the crimes James Francis has been accused of but by the American Judicial system everything has worked precisely as it should. Michael?"
"So are you saying that it is the position of the Ministry that James Francis should be left with the Americans?" Michael asked. "Has the Minister decided to forego any sort of agreement to bring him over to this country?"
"No decision has been made at this point," Hermione informed them firmly. "We are talking to the Americans, we are talking to the protestors, and from there we will decide on the best course of action. When we do we'll be sure to let you know."
Hermione stepped down from the podium, even as several reporters tried to get their last second questions answered, and walked from the room, handing over her notes to Demelza as she went, her assistant promptly disappearing down a corridor.
"Hey," said Ron, falling into stride beside her. "I saw your briefing."
"They're against the death penalty," Hermione said simply. "Hardly surprising. There's a reason we don't have it here." She glanced at him. "Did you hear the bit about Alea?"
"Yeah," said Ron.
"That's not going to be good for Neville," Hermione commented. "And it doesn't give much hope for our negotiations with them." Ron sighed.
"She believes what she believes and she stands by that," he said simply. "I could say the same about a lot of the people here."
"Only difference is that they are doing so behind the Minister's vision," Hermione pointed out. "With Alea she has no one to advise, she is the one who has to lead."
They reached Hermione's office.
"Anyway, we'll just have to see how this goes," she said, rounding her desk and moving around some papers as Ron followed her inside. "I wonder how Harry's getting on. Has he finished talking?"
"He was still meeting when I left," Ron told her. He hesitated. "Hermione, I have something I need to talk to you about." He closed her door.
"What is it?" She asked, looking slightly wary by his suddenly changing behaviour. Ron shifted awkwardly.
"I had an… unusual meeting," he told her, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he pursed his lips. "Barnabus Lee came to see me."
"Okay," said Hermione. "Who is that?" Ron fought an eye roll.
"He's the owner of the Chudley Cannons," he explained. Comprehension dawned on Hermione's face.
"I think I remember," she told him. "So, what was the meeting about? What did Lee want?"
"Well," said Ron hesitantly. "He wanted to offer me a job."
"A what?" Hermione gasped.
"A job," Ron repeated. "He wanted me to be some sort of ambassador for the Cannons."
"You're not going to take it, are you?" Hermione asked, aghast. "You'd have to leave this job. You love it here."
"Yes, I do," Ron agreed. "But that's a problem." Ron took a breath. "Barnabus seems to think that the Minister won't run for reelection." Hermione looked at him.
"So?" She asked. "What does he know?"
"A lot, apparently," said Ron, shaking his head in disbelief. "He's heard the rumours about Duncan Ecclestone too, he's really clued in. And he knows that the real reason dad ran in the first place was because of Amos telling him to. And he thinks that he won't run. And truth be told I've started to wonder the same thing."
Hermione bit her lip.
"No one knows what the Minister will do," she said softly. "He might not run but to predict that with any degree of certainty…" she paused. "I don't know. Only the Minister can truly say whether he's going to run or not."
"But what if he doesn't?" Ron asked, falling into the seat across from her and leaning forward intently. "What if he decides not to run and… that's it. Our work here is over in about a year and a half and then we'll have to clear out for the new people. What happens to us then?"
"Well," said Hermione. "Well, then we move on. We take on new opportunities, try out new things. Who knows, the next Minister might even want us to stay on. There's really no saying what will happen but… well, these four years will certainly have done some good for our resumes." Ron snorted.
"So what would you do?" he asked. "If the Minister doesn't run and we have to leave these jobs behind, what's your plan?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Hermione, considering the idea. "I suppose I'd quite like to stay in government work. Maybe I could become a full time lawyer, or perhaps join the staff of one of the warlocks of the wizengoamot."
"You could run for the wizengoamot yourself, you know," Ron told her. "You're smart and talented, you'd make a great warlock." Hermione smiled.
"Thanks," she said. "But I don't know about being the person making the big decisions. Maybe I'm better suited as an advisor." She glanced over at him. "So what about you?" She asked. "What would you do?"
Ron shrugged.
"Maybe take up Barnabus's offer," he said offhandedly. "Spend my time helping out the Cannons. It was my dream job when I was a kid. That and be a muggle firefighter, but that was only because of the Martin Miggs comics dad always got me."
"You'd really want to do that?" Hermione asked doubtfully. "Somehow I don't think that would satisfy you."
"Maybe not," Ron shrugged. "But I'll have the offer, so…" He looked away.
"I think you'd be better off working in politics," Hermione told him. "I know I'd quite like to continue working with you." Ron turned to her.
"Yeah?" He asked, meeting her gaze. Hermione nodded, a small smile on her face.
Harry walked the halls of the Ministry, physically drained, many of the workers having already left as he made his way towards the Minister's office.
"Is he free?" He asked as he reached Daphne and Blaise's workstations, Blaise just closing the Minister's office door behind him. Blaise nodded.
Harry walked forward and knocked on the door.
"Enter," the Minister's voice called from inside and Harry pushed the door open and softly closed it behind him. "Harry."
The Minister's office was dark, his large magical windows showing the night sky from outside. The Minister himself was sitting behind his desk, his glasses sitting on the end of his nose as he scribbled away at something with a quill, only looking up to greet him.
"Good evening, Minister," Harry told him, wandering further into the room and stopping by his desk. The Minister removed his glasses, placing down his quill.
"You've been meeting with the Americans?" He asked. "Where do we stand?"
"The Americans don't want to hand him over," Harry told him, taking a deep breath. "He committed his crimes on American soil, he is an American citizen, his victims were American citizens. Quite simply they have every reason to keep him and we have no real argument against that."
"They were not to be persuaded then?" The Minister asked.
"They were adamant," Harry told him. "I get the feeling that this case his gripped the national attention of the US just like it has here, if only for different reasons."
"I've read his crimes," the Minister commented. "They're bad."
"An understatement, sir," said Harry. The Minister nodded. "James Francis's crimes have enraged the public as well as the prosecutors. They do not have the same clinical detachment that would help our cause."
"And do you not believe there are ways we might be able to convince the American government otherwise?" The Minister queried. "Surely there is something we could offer them, something that they want from us in a quid pro quo type of arrangement."
"It is possible," Harry said uneasily. "If we were to give up something the Americans saw as of equal or greater value than avoiding the backlash they would get by releasing Francis into our custody then it could certainly happen. But I wouldn't do it, sir."
"You wouldn't?" Said the Minister. "You're not against the death penalty?"
"I am," Harry told him. "But sir, this isn't some guy who is being unfairly treated. This isn't someone who walked into a country ignorant of their laws and found himself come afoul of them. James Francis's crimes - murder, rape, torture, pedophilia - they are not the actions of a good man and they are more than deserving of such a fate."
"But it is not our right to decide that," the Minister argued.
"It's not us that is deciding that," Harry pointed out. "And in a perfect world I would certainly want to stop James Francis from being executed and have him locked up in Azkaban for the rest of his life, but… in this world that would come at a cost, and there are people far more worthy of our aid than James Francis."
The Minister sat in his seat in silence, considering what Harry said as tired eyes stared across the room. He closed them, rubbing them softly, before he turned back to face Harry.
"It pains me to say this," he said, his voice weary. "But I believe you are right. This battle we must concede."
"There will be plenty of fights worth fighting, sir," Harry told him firmly. "And I promise that the next time something like this comes along that I will be fighting right along side you."
"Small comfort to Jeremy Francis," the Minister murmured. "I saw him on the news, telling the story of how he and James used to play in the stream, how he'd always tried to look out for him. How heartbroken he will be. How much he will hate me."
"He can hate you all he wants, sir," said Harry. "But you didn't make James Francis the man he was. I don't know who is to blame but he grew up with his family in Kent and if they had done a better job teaching him the morals of basic human decency then your morals wouldn't have to be so sorely tested now."
The Minister shook his head. "A man like that…" He sighed. "There is no doubt in my mind that he has been messed up beyond help. No human could act like he has. Maybe his family are to blame for that. Maybe they just had the bad luck of loving someone bad. We may never know."
"Francis's execution date has been set," Harry told him. "Christmas Eve, they're not messing around. The Americans are going to say they will not be releasing him to us. We should alert the press that we are not going to be asking for him." The Minister nodded.
"Tell them," he said tiredly. "Tell them and then get yourself out of here, Harry. It's been a long day and it is about time you got some rest, and hopefully that will go some way in helping us put this unpleasant experience behind us."
Harry nodded. He turned to leave.
"Sir," he said, turning back. "I was wondering if you'd heard… about Ecclestone." The Minister inclined his head.
"That he is planning on running for Minister," he said. "Yes, I've heard the rumours too."
"Well, what do you think?" Harry asked. The Minister looked thoughtful.
"Duncan Ecclestone is a very well respected, seasoned politician," he said. "He stepped down from the Wizengamot for family reasons, or so he said. Now, with his wife having recently passed away, it seems he's ready for one last hurrah."
"And what about you, sir?" Harry asked. "Are you ready for one last hurrah?" The Minister looked at him. "You haven't said anything. And even though it's early, with competition showing itself you should be preparing if you're going to run."
"I don't know whether or not I'll run again," the Minister told Harry. "In truth I have avoided thinking about it as much as I can."
"Well, people are starting to question," Harry told him. "It's mostly internal right now but others are starting to connect the dots. Ron's already been given a job offer for after you supposedly leave."
"Really?" Said the Minister, surprised. "Who offered?"
"Barnabus Lee of the Chudley Cannons."
"The Chudley Cannons," the Minister repeated, a soft smile spreading over his face. "I'm surprised Ron isn't already out the door."
"He doesn't want to leave, sir," Harry said anxiously. "None of us do. If you decide to run again then each and every one of us will be on board and will do everything we can to get you reelected and then to make your second term just as successful as your first. You have our full support, sir. We just need to know if you want it."
There was a long pause as the Minister pondered his response.
"I…" he said slowly. "I do not know. As I said I have done my best not to think about it. It just seems to have come by again way too soon, there is still so much governing to be done. There's still time."
"Not much," Harry told him. "The moment Ecclestone publicly announces he's running the first thing the reporters will do is ask you if you are doing the same."
"Then I need to make my mind up," the Minister concluded. "Fortunately I have the holidays to do so. That is providing Ecclestone doesn't make his announcement in the next couple of days, which I highly doubt. In the meantime I will have a good think about it."
"Thank you, sir," said Harry.
"Not a problem," said the Minister. "Now, why don't we forget about all this business for a moment and focus on what really matters. I hear you've got quite the gathering arranged for Christmas Eve." Harry flushed.
"Ah, you see, we were going to invite you, Minister," Harry stammered but the Minister just waved him away, chuckling.
"I completely understand, Harry," he told him. "Christmas Eve will be a night for the younger generations to enjoy. Have fun, and I will see you on Christmas Day at the Burrow." Harry smiled.
"Yes sir," he said, and after a slight pause he left the office.
Inside the Minister watched the door close with a slowly fading smile. It had been a taxing day, one with a far from satisfying outcome, and now he had a lot of thinking to do. He closed his eyes and sighed.
"Hey, are you just leaving?" Hermione asked, popping her head into Ron's office. Tinsel from the recently erected Christmas decorations fell in her face as she peered in, causing her to swat it away.
Three days had passed since the Ministry had made their decision on the fate of James Francis and now everyone was gathering up their belongings and preparing to go home for the holidays.
"Uh," Ron said awkwardly, looking up. "Kind of." He held up a suit-case, his suit for Harry and Ginny's gathering inside.
"I didn't really want to head back to my flat after work," he explained. "You know how it is. So I thought I'd change here instead but, well, every time I close the door someone else comes in." He flushed. "Lizzie caught me with my fly down."
"Oh," said Hermione, trying hard not to laugh. "How… unfortunate." Ron gave her an unamused look.
"Anyway, I was planning on just waiting it out," he told her, putting the suit-case down again. "People will leave eventually. I hope." Hermione smiled.
"Why don't you come back to my place," she suggested. "I've got to stop off there to change anyway, I could do with the company."
"You sure?" Ron asked doubtfully. "You don't mind me coming?" Hermione rolled her eyes.
"I'm not a prude, Ronald," she scolded. "I can survive you changing in the room next door." Ron flushed.
"Eh, alright then," he said, standing up awkwardly. "Are you going now? I just need to gather up my stuff." He picked up his suit-case, laying it on his desk, and reached down into a drawer, pulling out a small bag. "I got some wine," he told her, removing the bottle and showing it to her.
"Oh, what kind?" Hermione asked interestedly. Ron squinted down at the bottle.
"Eh, Argentinian," he said uncertainly. "Is that good? They do good wine there, right?"
"Give it here," said Hermione. Ron handed it over.
"Ah, Don Cristobal, Triana," Hermione read. "A dry, full bodied red from the Mendoza Region." Ron stared at her. "Dad is a bit of a connoisseur," she explained. "I picked up a bit of it over the years."
"Right," said Ron, reaching over to retrieve the bottle and slipping it back into the bag. "Something I didn't know about you. And I thought I had you pegged." He placed the bag down on his desk, and let out a sigh.
"Ron?" Hermione questioned. Ron glanced up at her. "Something wrong?"
Ron waved her away.
"It's nothing," he said dismissively. "It's just… you know, this is all so grown up. Harry and Ginny hosting everyone for a holiday meal. I know they're married, and they've been married for months now, but it just seems as though they've all of a sudden become adults." Hermione laughed.
"Maybe it seems all of a sudden," she told him. "But they haven't really changed. And just look at the two of us, talking about wine of all things." Ron snorted, shaking his head.
"I know, it's awful," he joked, sharing a smile. "But I just can't help thinking… god, I wish I could just go back, you know. To when it was just me, you and Harry, having fun at Hogwarts, enjoying being young and carefree, and then after when we were still young but we were able to do whatever we wanted. And now we're here, thinking of whether the Minister will run for reelection or if we should take on the Americans to save someone from death's row. Things are just so much more complicated now."
"It was a simpler time," Hermione agreed. "And I do miss it. But we're doing so much good now, so much more than our past selves could ever have even dreamed of. We're making a difference and to be honest I could not imagine myself being anywhere better than where I am right now."
"Sure, in work," said Ron. "But what about in other ways?" Hermione hesitated.
"Other ways?" She asked.
"Like…" Ron sighed. "Like dating and going out and being with people," he said. "You know, with Harry married and, you know, children are bound to be on the horizon the way those two go at it, I just can't help but wonder if it's time for me to… I don't know, find someone? Settle down?"
"You tried that," Hermione reminded him. "With Josephine." Ron rubbed his face.
"Yeah," he admitted. "I just… It worked for Harry. And with him married and all I don't want to be left behind. I don't want to be that guy who stays single, still caring more about Quidditch than I do about dating, until I die all alone at the age of sixty from a well deserved heart attack. I don't want to lose my friends because I couldn't keep up."
Hermione watched him. She'd never heard Ron talk like this before. She supposed that since Josephine Ron had changed a lot without her noticing.
She walked over.
"Come on," she said, pulling him up to his feet as he gave her a questioning look. "Let's get out of here and get changed. We wouldn't want to be late." Ron nodded. "And we can talk more about this on the way," Hermione added. Ron looked at her.
"Thank you, Hermione," he told her and, with his suit-case and bag in hand, he walked with her out his office door.
The living area was bright and cheerful, already filled with chatter as Harry pulled open the door to find Ron and Hermione standing before him.
"Happy Christmas Eve," Hermione told him, stepping through and giving him a hug.
"Happy Christmas Eve," Harry said in return, gripping her back. "Thank god you're here, I thought something terrible had happened when you didn't turn up an hour early worried you were going to be late." Hermione hit him on the arm, though she smiled as she moved away from him.
"Hey mate," said Ron, stepping in after her. "Got you something. Finest wine from Argentina. A Triana, Don Mendoza… something."
"I see," Harry said seriously as he accepted it, reading the label. "This looks very nice."
Hermione shook her head, giving an exasperated sigh.
"Neither of you have any idea, do you," she said. Harry and Ron shared a look.
"She knows wine," Ron muttered conspiratorially. "And here I thought alcohol was something we had over her." Harry grinned.
"Come on in," he told them, leading them forward and towards the kitchen, where Harry found a corkscrew and began going to work on the bottle. "We're still waiting for a few others but food is just about ready. Ginny has been really nervous."
Over in the sitting room Ginny could be seen on the sofa, not looking nervous at all as she chatted with Luna, looking as serene as ever, and a quite beautiful looking Cho, who, as Harry had suspected, had brought Colin along with her, while Dennis and Lizzie chatted away by the window, talking with one of Ginny's potions buddies from work.
"So, what kept you?" Harry asked, pulling the cork loose and proceeding to pour out copious amounts of the liquid into three wine glasses. "Are you here together on purpose?"
"Hermione let me change at her place," Ron informed him. "And you know how girls are with getting dressed and all that." Hermione looked scandalised.
"Excuse me, I was waiting for you," she admonished, Ron ducking his head to hide his grin. "On that note, how did you take so long? Seriously, Harry, I was ready for about half an hour before he reappeared."
"I believe you," Harry chuckled. "He was the same back at Hogwarts. Every time there was a ball he was always the last ready."
"Well, I had a lot of work to do to look presentable back then, didn't I," Ron protested. "It was easy for the rest of you, with actual decent clothes. Mine looked like they came out of a shakespearian play. And only you can pull off the just got out of bed look, Harry, when I try it I look like a yeti."
"And all the time you spent on your appearance fixed that how?" Hermione teased. Ron frowned at her.
"I thought you were being nice to me," he accused.
"That's before you decided to throw me under the bus," Hermione countered. She turned to Harry. "He had a bit of a wobbly earlier."
"Hey," Ron protested. Hermione ignored him.
"He seems certain that you are too much of a grown up for him now and that you're going to move on and replace him, presumably with a younger model," Hermione said, to Ron's dismay. "I think he's worried you'll find your own children cooler than him."
"I did not say that," Ron defended. "I just said that you're a grown up, that's all." Harry chuckled.
"We're back at this?" He asked in amusement. "Ron, you way overestimate how adult and mature I am. And kids are a long way in the future."
"Yeah, you say that now," Ron grumbled. "But last time you said that about marriage and before that it was about dating and moving in. Who's to say next week you won't come out and announce Ginny's pregnant?"
"And if I do?" Harry asked. "You really think I'll stop wanting to hang out with you because I have kids. Honestly," he glanced around nervously, lowering his voice, "honestly I'm likely to spend more time with you."
"Harry," Hermione scolded. Harry had the decency to look ashamed.
"All I'm saying is that you guys are my friends," Harry finished, taking a sip from his glass and contemplating the taste. "You've stuck by me through some tough times and no matter what I'm not going to forget about you. I love you guys. You mean the world to me."
Hermione smiled at him, her eyes suspiciously moist, while Ron ducked his head in embarrassment, sniffing suspiciously.
"Steady on, mate," he muttered. "You're married." Harry shook his head, laughing.
He gazed out into the living room as Hermione scolded Ron for ruining the moment and his eyes fell upon the Lupins, having just arrived. Remus and Tonks were standing, talking with Cho and Colin, while Ginny was chatting with Teddy, the boy seated on the sofa beside her. As she spoke she glanced up and caught his eye, smiling as she saw him, and Harry smiled back, raising his glass to his lips with a warm glow in his chest.
The atmosphere in the Burrow couldn't have been any more different. It was quiet when the Minister apparated in, the only signs of life being from the kitchen where light poured through the doorway, the sounds of Molly cooking drifting through as he hung his cloak up on the hook.
"Honey, I'm home," he called and immediately he heard her reaction, smiling to himself as he stepped towards the door and a moment later was met by his loving wife, who engulfed him in a warm hug.
"You're earlier than I expected," Molly told him before fixing him with a firm look, "but still later than you said you would be." Arthur chuckled.
"I apologise, I had a few things to finish up with before I left," he told her. "It's been a difficult week." Molly's look softened.
"It's about that man, isn't it," she said. "He's been all over the news." Arthur nodded his head solemnly.
Molly patted him on the shoulder. "Come on in and sit down," she instructed, leading him forcefully into the kitchen before going back to the stove. "Dinner is almost ready. You should eat up and then get some sleep. You should enjoy your holiday."
"And I plan to," Arthur assured her, wandering up to his seat at the table and settling himself down in it. "And I'm not the only one. I'm sure you're aware of Harry and Ginny's gathering tonight." Molly snorted.
"More than aware," she informed him as she stood over the stove. "Ginny has been on the phone here on and off all day. It took all of my self control not to go over there and supervise her cooking in person. Even now I worry."
"I'm sure it's fine," Arthur said, smiling benignly. "Ginny is a potion maker by trade. I'm sure her calls here were purely based on nerves, and not lack of ability. Undoubtedly she sees this as quite a big step for her, for both of them I imagine."
"I bet she's wishing she payed more attention when she was growing up," Molly told him, bustling around. "I tried to prepare her for just this sort of occasion." She let out a sigh. "But oh, she is grown up isn't she. Hosting friends for the holidays, and married too. It's just a matter of time before she has a family of her own, just like Bill and Fleur, and Percy and Audrey."
"I'd say she already has," Arthur told her. "After all, I had a family in you long before Bill was born." Molly gave him a fond smile.
"Not that long, Arthur," she reminded him. Arthur chuckled.
Molly began dealing out their meal onto two plates, bringing them over to the table for them to eat, and Arthur gratefully dug in, glad, not for the first time, to be married to such a wonderful cook. As he ate he smiled at her, and briefly squeezed her hand.
With the food gone and Molly successfully forcing him into eating seconds he sat back in his chair, stuffed and content. But as Molly moved to wash the dishes Arthur's good humour started to fade.
"Arthur?" He glanced up to see his wife looking down at him in worry.
"I'm fine, Mollywobbles," he assured her, but she wasn't convinced.
She sat down. "It's that Francis man, isn't it," she said. "He's stuck on your mind."
"A bit," Arthur admitted. "I've had to grapple with myself quite thoroughly over the course of the last couple of weeks."
"And?" Molly asked. "What's going to happen?" Arthur grimaced.
"He's going to die," he said heavily. "Later today, in fact. The Americans would not send him back and, quite frankly, there was little reason for them to do so. In the end it was better to simply let the matter rest. We've got to pick our battles, as it were, and James Francis was not a battle worth fighting."
"That doesn't sound like you," Molly told him. "You've never given up on anybody."
"Maybe," Arthur admitted. "But it is out of my hands. Is doing nothing just as bad as killing him myself?" Molly gazed at him and Arthur understood what she was saying. "An answer I must discover for myself," he acknowledged.
There was a brief pause. He took a breath.
"There have been rumours of a potential challenger for my job," he announced, watching his wife carefully. "Duncan Ecclestone is apparently planning to run and once he announces, which has to be soon, it will come down to me to make my own decision."
"And what is your decision, Arthur?" Molly asked. Arthur sighed.
"I do not yet know," he admitted. "Days like this, they drain me, Molly. They make me question whether or not I'm up for it. But at the same time I believe I can still do so much good."
"And Ecclestone?" Molly asked. "Would he do good?" Arthur shrugged.
"I suppose," he said. "We agree on a few things but very little, truth be told. But is he competent? Yes. Do I wish to pass on the torch to him? That is a much more difficult question to answer."
"And is there perhaps someone else you could support?" Molly asked. "Someone who you trust and who shares your ideals."
"Perhaps," Arthur told her. "But they are not running as far as I know. Who knows whether such a person will decide to run, even if I were to step down. Could I risk that?" He looked over at his wife.
"You know my position, Arthur," she told him. "I don't like what it does to you. But you're a good man, and you have done some good, and if you want to run again I will not stop you."
"I spoke with Harry about it a few days ago," Arthur told her. "I said I'd come to a decision over the holidays." Molly nodded.
"Then you know what you have to do," she said and she stood up, swishing her wand at the sink so that the dishes began to clean themselves. "I'll be going up to bed now. Don't stay up too late, Arthur. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Molly," Arthur said quietly as his wife turned and left the room, leaving him alone to his thoughts to ponder perhaps the biggest decision of his life.
A/N: Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed. I know it's been a long time since I last updated but hopefully it was worth the wait.
If you enjoyed please leave a Review and also if you want to get updates from this and my other works follow me on Twitter at KnightWolfsbane.