The Minister's Visitor

Chapter 19

Monday, August 5

Sirius stepped out of the telephone box into the bustling Atrium on a Monday morning, his crisp, well-fitting black robes blending into the sea of witches and wizards scurrying about. He strode purposefully, noticing the empty plinth where the Fountain of Magical Brethren had once stood and thought the Atrium almost lacked its usual glamour without it.

He joined the group of Ministry employees making forward, grateful that nobody had noticed him yet. He stepped out of the stream of people heading for the golden gates, toward a desk on the left over which hung a sign saying SECURITY. A wizard in peacock-blue robes looked up as he approached, putting down his Daily Prophet.

"Visitor," stated Sirius and was not at all surprised when the man gaped open-mouthed at him. He knew he must have looked a bit intimidating with the flat expression on his face and the reputation that surely preceded him. People still couldn't shake off the thought that he was a violent, mass-murderer.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "I haven't got all day."

The man quickly came to his senses as he stood up hastily. He produced a pair of Secrecy Sensors and ran it down Sirius' front and back, nervously. Then, he asked quite politely, "I need your wand for identification."

Sirius handed it to him and the man dropped it into the brass instrument which vibrated then produced a strip of paper. The wizard read it aloud confirming its identity and handed his wand back to him. Sirius nodded and joined the crowd of wizards and witches heading for the golden gates.

It led to a hall where at least twenty lifts stood behind wrought golden grilles. Sirius walked to stand beside one that was relatively less populated. The lift descended and Sirius followed the two witches and two wizards as he entered the lift. A couple of wizards who had been about to enter the lift, froze as they took one good look at his face. They hurried away, presumably to take another one. Sirius was amused to note that the occupants already present had edged as far away from him as possible and the grilles shut.

The lift stopped at Level Seven where predictably the people waiting outside did not enter the lift and then at Level Six, where one of the wizards behind him scurried out.

Sirius idly noted the flying memos that he had not seen before his time in Azkaban. It must be some sort of new method of communication. At Level Five, two witches got in and stood to a side, watching Sirius unabashedly.

After a couple more stops, the entire lift was empty as he descended straight down. The cool female voice announced, "Level One, Offices of the Minister of Magic and Senior Undersecretary to the Minister."

He stepped out into the purple-carpeted corridors. It seemed like a spell had been cast over the unnaturally silent corridors. He walked forward and turned a corner to see a door ajar leading into a hallway where there were a couple of Hit Wizards standing guard. A desk was propped up beside a large set of oak double doors with the plaque:

Rufus Scrimgeour

Minister of Magic

He went up to the desk and watched as the witch who, he assumed was some sort of assistant, looked up at him with a self-important expression, which immediately morphed to amazement.

"Sirius Black. I have an appointment with the Minister," said Sirius by way of introduction.

The witch nodded hastily, pushing back a strand of her hair as she rifled through the parchments in front of her. "Yes, yes. Of course."

She stood up and knocked one of the doors before pushing it open and walking inside. Sirius waited, noting the Hit Wizards staring at him apprehensively. A moment later, the witch came out and held the door open for him. "The Minister is expecting you."

Sirius inclined his head and walked forward where the Hit Wizards stopped him before passing the sensors down his front and back again. He bit back a comment at the absurdity of checking him again and stepped into the grand office as the doors shut behind him. It was a large office with plush furniture and the same purple carpets. An oak desk was stood on one corner of the room, and tall bookshelves lined the wall. There was also a chest of drawers with expensive-looking wine bottles and crystal goblets.

Behind the desk was none other than the Minister of Magic himself surveying Sirius with unabashed interest, leaning back on his chair.

Sirius took a moment to appreciate the irony of the situation. Not two months ago, Sirius Black was the most wanted criminal in all of Wizarding Britain. Now, he was having a meeting with the Minister of Magic on his request.

He walked forward and decided to be polite till he could observe the man properly and make further opinions of him. "Good morning, Minister."

Scrimgeour inclined his head, his great mane of grizzled hair catching the light from the candles in the chandelier. "Good morning. Please, take a seat."

Sirius obliged and looked back at Scrimgeour who seemed to be closely observing Sirius, for what, he didn't know. Sensing that Scrimgeour wanted him to make the first move, Sirius said, "You wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes," said Scrimgeour. "Dumbledore is very protective of you. Which is merited I must say, after what the previous Ministry has done in regards to you. I extend my sincerest apology on behalf of the Ministry, Mr. Black."

Sirius nodded and said brusquely, "Your apology is appreciated, but I must confess, not exactly accepted. But that's not why I am here. Why did you want to speak with me?"

If Scrimgeour was taken aback by Sirius' blunt response, he did not show it. He spoke now with a tone of calculated calmness. "I invited you here to speak with you in regards to your charge, Harry Potter. At the present climate, it would be a boost to the people's morale to know that the 'Chosen-One' is involved in the fight against You-Know-Who."

Sirius did not like what Scrimgeour was saying, but chose to keep his cool as he narrowed his eyes, "Involved, how?"

Scrimgeour looked almost relieved that Sirius was willing to listen. "It would be beneficial for the public to see that Harry Potter is working closely with the Ministry. It would give them hope to know that we, that is to say, the Ministry and Potter stand together."

Sirius, whose expression had steadily darkened, said with an expression of forced neutrality. "I don't believe what you're trying to say. You, essentially, want to use a teenage boy to be your mascot."

"He is a symbol of hope, which is exactly what we need in the present climate—"

Sirius interrupted, "If the war against Voldemort (Scrimgeour flinched) and his Death Eaters is resting on the shoulders of a sixteen-year old boy alone, then we're buggered. You want to give people hope? Then do something worthwhile enough against Voldemort instead of sitting around and parading my godson for your whims and fancies."

Scrimgeour's tone was steadily rising. "You do not understand how dire our situation is! If Potter is indeed the 'Chosen-One', he has a responsibility—"

Sirius had stood up so fast that the chair toppled to the ground, righteous anger seeping into his voice. "Harry is not responsible for anyone! I find it despicable that the Ministry is trying to pass off their responsibility of protecting the people to a mere boy. I didn't think you, Minister, would be gullible enough to believe the drivel that the Prophet's spouting."

Scrimgeour had stood up too, scowling. "People are dying. Potter has to help—"

Sirius growled, "Harry doesn't have to do anything. It's you who should be helping the people and the young ones. Not the other way around."

They both stood like that, glaring each other down when Scrimgeour finally spoke, "That is your final word?"

Sirius straightened. "It is."

"I also wanted to discuss about Potter's security when he visits King's Cross and Diagon Alley," said Scrimgeour, almost as an afterthought.

"I am all the protection Harry needs," said Sirius, sharply. "I will not have the Ministry interfering unnecessarily with our lives. Good day, Minister."

Without waiting for a response, Sirius had turned his back on him and exited the door. The two Hit Wizards promptly moved away as Sirius stormed out, still seething.

How dare the Minister ask Harry's help? If the entire Ministry was collectively all dunderheads, it was not Harry's responsibility to right their wrongs! He would be damned if he allowed Scrimgeour to even look at Harry ever again.

Sirius did not notice the murderous expression on his face had driven away everyone from entering the lifts. He stalked out of the lift and to the Atrium, people pointing and whispering at him. He couldn't care less as he stepped into the telephone box and out of the Ministry.

oOo

It was not at all a surprise when the Evening Prophet reported on Sirius and his visit to the Minister of Magic. There was wild speculation on what he had been doing there – some were ludicrous, like the one about Scrimgeour requesting Sirius to join the Auror Program. Sirius had scoffed when Harry read it out of the newspaper. "Like I would ever join the Ministry! After everything they've done to me and to you, they would have some nerve to think they can have me under their leash."

Harry exclaimed, "But you would make a brilliant Auror!"

"Everything I know, I learned from Moody and Dearborn when I joined the Order straight out of school along with your parents and Remus. He trained us up for a year and we spent the rest learning by ourselves. Even Moody used to say Auror trainees weren't half as good as we were. I'll stay in the Order if I want to make a difference in this war, thank you very much," said Sirius firmly.

Harry nodded, feeling a bit better. He had been quite dejected for days since he knew that he hadn't got the OWLs necessary to take Potions which was required to join the Auror Program. He had thought becoming an Auror would be useful in learning with the best of the best and it would help him defeat Voldemort. But he did have other ways of playing his part in the war. Like joining the Order of the Phoenix when he was of age. Like Sirius and his parents.

Remus entered the room, his expression miserable as he sat down beside Sirius. Harry knew Remus was leaving for almost a couple or more months for an Order mission involving the werewolves. Sirius looked more forlorn than Remus as soon as he saw him and asked Twitchet to bring three mugs of hot chocolate.

The three of them were gathered in the drawing room, the dull thud of the music in the background as Remus told them, "I'm all packed. I'll be leaving by tomorrow morning. Don't try to contact me, even using owls Harry. It's safer if Greyback doesn't know that I am in contact with other wizards."

"Who's Greyback?" asked Harry curiously. He was worried by the 'no-contacting' rule. What if something happened to him? Who would be able to help him?

Sirius growled in abhorrence at the name as he accepted the hot chocolate that Twitchet was serving.

"You haven't heard of him?" Remus' hands closed convulsively around his mug of hot chocolate. "Fenrir Greyback is perhaps the most savage werewolf alive today. He regards it as his mission in life to bite and contaminate as many people as possible; he wants to create enough werewolves to overcome the wizards. Voldemort has promised him prey in return for his services. Greyback specializes in children… Bite them young, he says, and raise them away from their parents, raise them to hate normal wizards. Voldemort has threatened to unleash him upon people's sons and daughters; it is a threat that usually produces good results."

Remus took a sip of his hot chocolate then said, "It was Greyback who bit me."

"What?" said Harry, astonished. "When – when you were a kid, you mean?"

Remus nodded. "Yes. My father had offended him. I did not know for a very long time the identity of the werewolf who had attacked me; I even felt pity for him, thinking that he had no control, knowing by then how it felt to transform."

Sirius muttered darkly, "Only you, Remus."

Remus smiled wryly. "But Greyback is not like that. At the full moon, he positions himself close to victims, ensuring that he is near enough to strike. He plans it all. And this is the man Voldemort is using to marshal the werewolves. I cannot pretend that my particular brand of reasoned argument four months ago was making much headway against Greyback's insistence that we werewolves deserve blood, that we ought to revenge ourselves on normal people."

"But you are normal!" said Harry fiercely. "You've just got a—a problem—"

Both Sirius and Remus burst out laughing as Sirius said amidst laughter, "You're just like James. He called it Remus' ' furry little problem' in company. "

Remus chuckled. "Many people were under the impression that I owned a badly behaved rabbit."

Sirius let out a shout of laughter and even Harry smiled a little, before it quickly fell off his face. "But if we can't contact you, what if… something happens to you? How will we know if you're all right?"

Remus was looking rather stonily. "Nothing will happen to me. Among werewolves, I am an equal and I can hold my own against them."

"But still…"

"I have already done this before, Harry. I assure you there is no need to worry," said Remus with a small, genuine smile.

Harry looked at him a moment longer before nodding. "If it gets too bad, just… just come back home. Forget the mission, it doesn't matter…"

Sirius cracked a smile. "That's right, Moony. Make sure you keep your priorities right. Knowing you, you probably have got it all wrong."

Remus grinned. "I really appreciate that, Harry. I'll be back within Christmas, I reckon."

Harry finished his hot chocolate and bid farewell to both men as he retired for the night, dreaming uneasily about werewolves and small children getting bitten.