The Minister

"You wished to see me, Minister?"

"Yes, Dagobert, please have a seat."

Dagobert Higrave, Head of Hogwarts Affairs Department, obediently sat down in the chair vis à vis the Minister's desk. He was well into his seventies, a friendly old gentleman whose bald head was rather accentuated than hidden by the greying remnants of his former hair.

The Higraves were one of the dynasties of civil servants who formed the very backbone of the Magical State: a respected family, but not one of those whose sons aspired to a place in history. They had done well with it: They had never risen as high as the Malfoys, but never fallen as deep as the Blacks.

More than once, Dagobert Higrave had even been talked about as potential Minister for Magic, significantly just when there was need for a compromise or transitional candidate who could be entrusted with government affairs until the struggle for power between the more ambitious wizards would be decided. Higrave had always known to deflect such advances and send others ahead.

As a kingmaker he had a certain talent, but never aspired to be himself the first man of the state. Not for lack of ambition, but because he knew that no Minister remained in office for more than a few years, but an officer, once having been Minister would then have to retire and never work in the Ministry again.

Higrave, however, loved the Ministry. He loved the calm soberness of his work, with which he and his colleagues used to prepare decisions, make bills ready to pass, or suggested small reforms here and there to adjust outdated regulations. He would never have admitted it, but what he loved in particular was that certain pleasurable thrill of knowing about the background of affairs that normal wizards, who had to rely on the Daily Prophet, could at best speculate about – mostly guessing wrong.

He had seen many Ministers come and go and made himself indispensable to each of them. He knew how to treat them. He knew that there were different kinds of Ministers, and Higrave gave everyone what he desired. He most liked the mere incumbents who enjoyed the glamour and public attention but lacked the ambition to define and implement their own policy. Such Ministers were happy when their officers put ready-to-decide proposals on their desk.

Of course, he also got along well with the other type: dynamic, ambitious doers who developed their own visions and insisted on realising them. Unlike the incumbents, they were hard to steer, but after a certain settling-in period, you knew what was important to them and what kind of assistance they appreciated. Preparing speeches for such Ministers, however, could be tricky. Over the decades, Higrave had compiled a personal archive of old speeches by Ministers and senior Ministry officials. From this archive he used to take text segments he needed to re-arrange them to a new speech. Who would notice that a speech had been compiled from some others given twenty years ago? The incumbent type of Minister just used to read off his speech and was satisfied. The doer type was more demanding; with such Ministers, Higrave had accustomed himself to filling a maximum of one-third of their speeches with recycled phrases and text modules. For the rest, he always listened carefully to them so as to fill their speeches with the ideas they wished to express.

Hermione Granger Weasley, now Head of State for a little more than a year, was decidedly of this second type. Right from her inaugural speech to the Ministry staff, she had made unmistakable that she was determined to pursue a vigorous course of reform. As she said, she wanted to "break new ground", to "open new frontiers", to "blow away the dust of thousand years". Overcoming the backwardness of the wizarding world by opening up to the Muggle world – this was her great vision that she pursued from day one in small but deliberate strategic steps.

This did not only make her friends in the Ministry. Many a venerable officer who politely but emphatically expressed misgivings about her bold course found himself sidelined or relegated to an unimportant position and had to witness one of Hermione's ardent supporters – for there actually were a lot of them – take his place. As for the Minister, opinions clashed: Some, especially ambitious younger officers, praised her for being dynamic and modern, others called her ruthless and arrogant.

Higrave, however, had no intention of antagonising the energetic young Minister with too much opposition. He, too, occasionally raised objections, but did so in a way that Hermione could take them as constructive. Thus he had been Hermione's natural choice when she looked for a Head of the newly created Hogwarts department. The fact that he, like all Higraves, was a Slytherin was even more of a recommendation than a flaw, as through his granddaughter he was up to date on many of the internal affairs of that house that was particularly problematic in Hermione's view, but particularly important for that very reason.

"I've got McGonagall's report," she started the conversation, "that the Sorting Hat has rejected Bernard Wildfellow and recommended his return to the Muggle world."

"Yes, but the Headmistress then assigned him to Hufflepuff." Patricia had informed her grandfather immediately. "So the problem appears to have been solved."

"For this particular case, perhaps, but if something like that were to occur more often in the future, the impression produced would be devastating," Hermione replied sharply. "And I don't intend to get my policies dictated by an old hat exceeding his authority. He doesn't have to decide who's admitted to Hogwarts – that's up to the Ministry – but only to sort the students selected by the Ministry into the houses."

"Probably," Higrave objected reluctantly, "the Sorting Hat believed to have good reasons for his recommendation. Perhaps, in his eyes, young Mister Wildfellow does not have the necessary magical talent ..."

"Balderdash!" the Minister cut across him briskly. "Doing magic is something you can learn! If people in the wizarding world would finally take note of the findings of modern science, they would know that there is no such thing as innate talent. After all, there are not even innate genders."

"Er ... I beg your pardon?" asked Higrave in irritation.

Hermione replied with an annoyed sigh.

"What there actually is," she lectured, "are social constructs, stereotypes and role labelling, including the notion of 'innate' talent that non-wizards are supposed to lack. There is no reason at all to generally deny so-called Muggles magical skills. If they don't have them, it's because they were never given the chance to cultivate them."

"May I ask, Minister, how you know that?"

"That's the state of science," Hermione informed him curtly. "With Wildfellow, we will demonstrate that even non-magically skilled persons are able to become wizards, provided that they receive proper instruction."

"This will no doubt be very interesting to find out," Higrave said politely.

"Dagobert, I'm afraid you don't quite understand me." Hermione was annoyed. Higrave was loyal and reliable, but seemed rather slow-witted to her. "There is nothing to find out, just to prove. And since it's absurd anyway that a hat without any scientific education decides on the future of young people, the Sorting Hat will have to retire. Starting next school year, the sorting of students into the houses will be done by a commission of the Ministry. Prepare a bill to this effect in the strictest secrecy. It will be put into effect last minute during the next summer holidays. That's all for today. Thank you, Dagobert."