Chapter 27

Yeah, in case anyone remembers how this story started, with regular updates every saturday... We don't do that anymore.

-/-

"So you see, your entire department is actually just a valve to slowly and temporarily lighten the pressure that criminal actors apply to our society. However, they can never be fully removed, because when the obviously dangerous elements are removed from society the general populace has the time to stop being afraid for their lives and wallets, but for their rights." I said to Amelia Bones, head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement.

She tilted her head downwards to look me in the eyes from above her monocle. "While I agree that this is one of the effects that could be interpreted from the current modus operandi, I can assure you that no-one ever sat down and implemented it with this specific thought in mind." She said reassuringly.

I smiled while raising a hand to prevent any further words from coming from her mouth, she paused. Most likely due to bewilderment that I would have the balls to do something like that to a department head. "That would be true if one assumed only the agency of human actors." I spoke. "But, should one not prescribe the concept of ministry and governance that collectively exists within the minds of those that work within its frame, its own agency?"

Amelia looked at me with a tilted head. "You are proposing that one should treat abstract concepts such as the ministry as an agent in its own right?" She asked dubiously.

I shrugged my shoulders, unwilling to continue with the aggressive line of argumentation I had originally been planning, seeing as I was growing to like this severe woman. She was very accommodating towards the constraints of my form. It was always nice to be treated as an adult. "We already do this. It can be discerned from the way we use language. 'The ministry will, has, thinks." I smiled. "If we want to admit it or not, any institution created, propagated and directed by our hands will inevitably gain a will of its own that is directly linked to our conscious or subconscious understanding of it, trapping us in a frame of action that does not necessarily serve our purpose."

"Even if we were to agree that what you're saying is indeed true, there doesn't seem to be much that can be done beside living out our own agency." She responded simply, with a frown, seemingly expecting a counter.

"And from that answer I can indeed see that you are a smart woman. Bones, you have inadvertently solved the issue of determinism. What does it matter if everything was fated? You can't predict the future, so just do what you were going to do anyway." I started. "But my theory doesn't postulate under the premise of determinism. In no way do I claim that we are bound to our unfortunate circumstances created by our humanity. In this case, at least. What I was trying to suggest is that perhaps through a better understanding of our thought patterns in regards to seemingly autonomous entities such as the ministry, or even academia, we might find it easier to affect meaningful change." I grinned a bit helplessly. "After all, we're trapped in so many boxes we don't even know of, that it can be quite impossible to think outside of them. The first step is always acknowledging the problem."

A raised eyebrow greeted me. "Interesting, I was thinking you would continue more along the lines of burning down institutions and building newer, better ones." She said, absent-mindedly taking a sip of whatever drink was in her hand. I didn't really know what she was drinking, but I assumed it was alcoholic. I couldn't help but feel jealous.

"That wouldn't be acknowledging the problem that I was focusing my discussion around. While doing away with the old is often a solution, it is too often seen as the only one. Conscious re-imagining is just as important." I spoke.

"Hmm, yes, bloody revolution and take-over does seem to be the one charm people think will solve all their problems." She agreed, "but talking about old things," she said while nodding to something behind me. "I'd have to go now, there's someone I don't want to talk to approaching."

I turned to look and saw an old man with a very long beard, and bright purple robes strolling in our direction, gaze directed at my partner and a small smile tugging at his face. "Is that something you should say about a child's future headmaster?" I asked with faux horror to Amelia who was already putting down her glass on the table and making to leave.

"Oh please, you're the worst actor I've ever met." She snorted. "While there's no point in detaining you, considering the Malfoy's brought you along out of their own accord, and I can't figure out how you're disguised in that form. Now, I really have to run." She said before turning around and starting to walk away. "Oh," she said before turning to me with a small smile that made her look like she was in her twenties instead of the thirties range that she undoubtedly inhabited. "Do owl me when you're done dressing up like a child, I enjoyed our conversation." She said before speed-walking away.

I couldn't help but notice the way the robes framed her swaying behind. It was something I'd assuredly be interested in if I had the correct equipment. For now though, my interest was mostly academic. "Hate seeing them go, love watching them leave." I muttered, before frowning. "Who came up with this, it's so crass." I complained as I turned to the table to grab something to drink.

"I imagine someone with a very dirty mind." An old voice commented from behind me with a chuckle.

I turned to look at Dumbledore as my hands fumbled for a glass of what I assumed was apple juice. "Most likely. After all, most men enjoy female behinds, but its not like there's a need to talk about it as much as some apparently feel the need too." I said, as I picked up a few ice cubes with a prong and put them in my juice, making it look slightly more like whiskey than was probably safe for my ears if my mother saw me drinking my creation.

Honestly, I thought, as I fully turned around to look up at the old man looking down on me, why did a supposed homosexual feel the need to extend a conversation about booty. I thought for a second of asking him if he felt sexual attraction to women to at least some extent, but decided against it. It would have been rude. Taking my pause as a sign that he should be the one to start the conversation, Dumbledore began speaking.

"It's not often I get to meet one of my prospective students before they receive their letter." He commented with a kind smile. "Can I assume that you're looking forward to it?" He asked amusedly, pre-supposing that I would since I must have already exhibited accidental magic, or my parents wouldn't have dared show me to the public.

I chortled, conceding the point. I'd always seen making connections like this as easily as breathing to be one of the most accurate signs of intelligence. This would probably be a difficult, and perhaps interesting conversation.