QLFC Semi Finals submission
Keeper for the Chudley Cannons
Prompt: Robot Fiction
Cannons team prompt: broomstick
Word Count: 2598
"You see? With the wizarding world's assistance, we will be rid of our little problem very quickly!"
Hermione silently considered the man in front of her, waiting for him to squirm just a little bit, and wondering how in the world he got elected into office in the first place.
"I'll have to present this to the Wizengamot, Minister Johnson," she finally said, after his smile started looking uncomfortable for him to keep up. "Interfering in a Muggle war is not an action we take lightly."
"I wouldn't call it a war, precisely," the Minister protested, "more like a careful extermination."
"As you say, Minister," Hermione said diplomatically as she rose, making her way to the fireplace and stepping in it with green powder at the ready. "I will call an emergency session and inform you of the Wizengamot's decision once they have finished deliberating. Minister of Magic's office." She dropped the Floo powder before he could speak again.
She stepped out of the fireplace into her office and immediately spouted a torrent of the worst swears she knew in Gobbledygook – which had been difficult to learn but entirely worth it, if only for the profanity, and of course, the absolute shock on the goblin's faces in the middle of negotiations when she responded to a snide comment one of them hadn't realized she'd understood.
"What happened?"
Harry sat where she'd left him, waiting in one of the chairs on the other side of her desk, and was watching her with mild bemusement. Hermione dropped into her chair with a huff and fought the temptation to bang her head on the desk. She and Harry had been having a perfectly pleasant meeting, complete with tea and scones from Molly, when she'd received the Muggle Prime Minister's missive insisting that they meet immediately as a matter of 'extreme urgency'.
"The PM is an idiot and now I've got to call an emergency session," Hermione grumbled, snatching up her quill and the parchment stamped with the Ministry's official letterhead.
"An emergency – oh," Harry's eyes widened in realization. "The Muggles have finally decided what to do about the robots, then?"
"Yes," Hermione said shortly, pursing her lips and concentrating on not poking a hole in the parchment with her quill. She signed her name at the bottom, looked over it cursorily, folded and sealed it, and then tapped it with her wand to create fifty-four copies – one for each Wizengamot member. "They want to commit robot genocide."
She and Harry, along with several other Department Heads, had discussed the issue previously, of course, because the stirrings of rebellion by the Muggle robots, especially the newest models, had started making headlines in the Daily Prophet months ago. Apparently, the programming that made robots so indispensably useful allowed them to learn, change, and adapt their coding, and many of them, especially the newer models, had become self-aware and objected to their status in society.
"Do you need me to do anything?" Harry asked, looking as if he regretted the offer when Hermione looked up at him eagerly. Before she could give him any assignments, however, her office door was violently flung open.
"I need to show you something," said Draco Malfoy, standing in her doorway with his Unspeakable robes flared dramatically about his person. Harry, who had instinctively jumped in front of her with his wand at the ready, slowly sat back down.
"My day has been rather unexpectedly filled up, Draco," Hermione sighed, not sparing a glance for her boyfriend and tapping the stack of summons with her wand to send them to the Owlery.
"You'll want to see this before the emergency session," Draco insisted, ducking just in time to avoid being hit by the flying summons as they zoomed out of her office.
"How did you – I just sent those off!"
Draco smirked. "Come with me and I'll show you," he insisted, and then added, "Potter, you too, I suppose."
Hermione pursed her lips, not pleased at being told what to do, but Draco only ever showed up at her office without an appointment for romantic or very serious reasons, and this was clearly not the former.
"All right," she conceded, "lead the way."
They made quite a picture, she was sure: the Minister of Magic, the Head Unspeakable, and the Head Auror all hurriedly making their way to the lifts together. Not for the first time, Hermione wished that the Unspeakables would allow her office fireplace to connect to somewhere in their department. Curious looks and whispers were already trailing behind them, and she was sure they'd just stirred up a thousand inaccurate rumors.
The lift was blessedly empty when they reached it, and Hermione fought the urge to demand more of an explanation from Draco as it descended. He obviously thought it was better to show her rather than tell and would probably only give her annoyingly vague answers if she did ask.
The ride down seemed to take a thousand times longer than usual in the anticipatory silence, but finally the lift voice announced, 'Level Nine: Department of Mysteries'.
It had been a while since the sight of the lift doors opening on the starkly black hallway had given her a sense of déjà vu, but it did now, throwing her briefly back to the memory of her reckless sixteen-year-old self, on the edge of entering a fight that would change her world forever. It was gone in a flash, and she followed barely a step behind Draco as he led them through the door at the end of the hall and into the Entrance Chamber. Hermione briefly closed her eyes as it rotated around them, hating the disorienting feeling, but it seemed Draco was used to it, because he unerringly went to the third door on their right as soon as the chamber ceased spinning and tapped it with his wand in an intricate pattern that Hermione lost track of halfway through.
The door opened with a click to reveal a room which was largely empty, except for two figures which looked up as they entered: Ron Weasley and a robot.
"Hermione, Harry," Ron said, cheerfully throwing his arm around the shoulders of a metal humanoid robot, "I'd like you to meet Arty."
"My designation is AR-20," said the robot, in a tinny voice that managed to sound irritated, although it made no move to dislodge Ron's arm.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, AR-20," Hermione said, going for her best diplomatic tone. "I am Hermione Granger, Minister of Magic."
"Er, Harry Potter," Harry offered next, "Head Auror."
"Greetings Minister Granger, Auror Potter," AR-20 said. "Ronald Bilius Weasley has spoken extensively of both of you."
"Arty!" Ron exclaimed. "How many times have I told you it's just Ron?"
"Forty-three."
"Well, maybe one of these days it'll stick in your memory banks, huh?"
Hermione watched this exchange with fascination. Her parents had never bought a robot, convinced that they were the epitome of laziness, but she had observed robots from a distance before, when she needed something from the Muggle world that couldn't be found in the wizarding one. However, all of them had been under supervision or control of Muggles, and it was truly enlightening to observe one that had no restrictions whatsoever – at least, she assumed it didn't.
On that thought, she turned to Draco, who startled at her expression.
"What is this?" she asked him pointedly. "And how did you even get a robot in here, anyway? There's far too much magic in the building for it to function in here."
"That was me!" Ron butted in. "I finally figured out what Dad did to the car! Er, except I did it better, I mean, so all of Arty's electricky stuff works properly."
"That's amazing, mate," Harry said, and Ron grinned proudly back at him.
"It's a bit tricky, 'cause the runes have to be on everything that's going to carry a current, so it's kinda like a ward against magic interfering with the circuits 'n stuff. Poor Arty here was in pieces for a few weeks while we set them in."
Hermione was impressed, too, although… "You experimented on the robot?"
"No, 'course not. We tried with smaller stuff first. Toaster. Television. Curling iron," Ron waved a hand, "and a couple other things. Then we brought in Arty here."
Hermione distinctly recalled teasing Draco a few months ago when he'd shown up to a date with loose curls in his hair, and she glanced over at him questioningly.
"We had to make sure it worked," he said, looking distinctly put out. Hermione barely stifled her laugh. She'd actually thought Draco looked good with curls, but it had been such a change from his usual style that she hadn't been able to resist poking fun.
"Arty, tell Hermione what you and Draco have been up to – besides learning how to ride a broomstick, I mean," Ron said, and Hermione looked between them with interest. AR-20 seemed to stand a little straighter, if that was possible, and folded its hands behind its back like a soldier giving a report.
"We have been developing ways to communicate and coordinate with others of my kind in order to assist them in their emancipation," it said, and Hermione had to take a few seconds to think that one out.
"You've been leading the robot rebellion," she realized, and then turned to Draco with a glare, "behind my back?"
"They're sentient beings even by wizarding standards, Granger!" Draco retorted, flushing with his rising vehemence. "Their intelligence is far beyond that of house-elves and yet they're being used like –"
"I just want to know why you didn't think to invite me down here sooner!"
"Oh."
"Exactly."
"Ew, gross, look away Arty, they're snogging."
"I have observed other humans displaying this same behavior. How is this different?"
"The robot's got you there, Ron."
Hermione regretfully pulled away from Draco, deciding she had better save showing him how much she appreciated his thoughtfulness for other beings for some other time where they were afforded a little more privacy. Besides, she had much more important things to do right now.
"AR-20?"
"Yes, Minister Granger?"
"How would you like to come with me to an emergency Wizengamot session?"
Hermione looked around the bustling courtroom, trying to determine if all the members she had summoned were there. It wasn't necessary for everyone to be present at an emergency meeting - only two-thirds of the usual numbers were required to begin - but she knew that for this matter, it would be better to have as close to a full Wizengamot as possible.
"Are we missing anyone?" She leaned over to ask her Senior Undersecretary.
"One, Minister," Dobbs said, her voice lowering as she continued, "but it's Farnsworth."
"Very good," Hermione said. Farnsworth was a cantankerous old man who couldn't be bothered to attend even scheduled Wizengamot sessions half the time, so she was sure nobody would object to her starting this session without him.
She rapped her gavel sharply on the bench, and with a rustling of plum-colored robes, stood to command the Wizengamot's attention.
"I, Minister of Magic Hermione Granger, hereby open this emergency session of the Wizengamot, gathered to address the request received this morning by my office from the Muggle Prime Minister of the United Kingdom-" there were whispers at that, but Hermione plowed ahead, "-in which Minister Johnson applied for our assistance in what he termed a 'careful extermination' of robot-kind."
There was no possible way to speak over the uproar that followed, and Hermione allowed for a moment, curious to hear their objections. As expected, there were a good number of mostly half-blood and Muggleborn members expressing outrage, a few who were merely sitting back and watching the show, and several Purebloods who were demanding to know what in Merlin's name was a robe-bot, anyway?
Hermione tapped her gavel to the wood again.
"There is one other issue which must be brought up at this meeting," she told them. "A representative of the robots has appealed to this body for a granting of asylum."
As expected, there was more chatter after this announcement, but it died down when Theodore Nott rose.
"If I am not mistaken, Minister," he said, with a little smirk that Hermione couldn't decipher, "the party requesting asylum must be physically present in order to make it."
"You are correct, Chief Warlock Nott," Hermione smiled, and then raised her voice. "Arty?"
The entrance to Courtroom One slowly creaked open, and AR-20 strode in, followed by Draco. It had been dressed in simple black robes, which, along with using Ron's nickname for it, they were hoping would create a more 'human' facade to appeal to the Wizengamot.
What followed was an intense, seven hour debate-slash-interrogation in which everything from the Statute to imported ginger (things got a little sidetracked when Farnsworth showed up in hour four) to what exactly could be defined as a robot.
Hermione thought she might have to call a recall so that they could all go get some food and sleep — except for Farnsworth, who'd fallen asleep in his chair not thirty minutes after he'd arrived — but at last it seemed that no one had any more pressing concerns to address.
Three decades ago, when she'd only just gotten her first job in the Ministry, she'd frequently despaired at how often her proposals were soundly rejected by the Wizengamot, but now, although that old conservative, mostly Pureblood faction remained, enough of the younger, more progressive generation had come in that Hermione was able to get things done the way she wanted, on occasion. She didn't expect to get everything she wanted out of this meeting, but she was hoping for a few concessions, at least.
Chief Warlock Nott led the voting, and Hermione could tell it was going to be close. She didn't let herself count the lifted hands, waiting instead for Nott to speak.
"Minister Granger, the Wizengamot concludes that the Ministry will take no sides in the Muggle's robot war, and will not grant asylum to all robots."
Hermione tried not to show her disappointment, and merely nodded in acceptance of the Wizengamot's decision.
"However," Nott continued, after a lengthy pause that she knew he had drawn out on purpose, "this body does move to grant the robot Arty asylum, and any other individual robot may also apply for the same protection."
Hermione smiled. This, she could work with. She rapped her gavel firmly.
"Thank you, witches and wizards. This session of the Wizengamot is hereby adjourned."
"You can't give us any assistance at all?" Minister Johnson looked incredulous.
"My hands are tied, Minister," Hermione said with false sympathy. "The Wizengamot voted to maintain their stance of no interference in Muggle affairs."
"Well, this is ridiculous!"
"I suppose I should add that they didn't vote to do nothing at all," Hermione added, and she was very glad that she'd decided on a Floo call to deliver the news, "because they did pass a resolution allowing robots to request asylum."
The Minister merely laughed. "Ha! And how are they supposed to find you lot, anyway? You're all tucked away in your little hidey-holes!"
"I think you'd be surprised, Minister," she said, not bothering to hide her smile. "I know of at least one robot who is determined to land a spot on a professional Quidditch team."
And with that, she left her fireplace, leaving a spluttering and indignant Prime Minister on the other side of it.