Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

7th December 1998

11.45am, Arthur Weasley's Office

"Sweet Circe, Weasel, this job is driving me 'round the bend!"

Arthur didn't bother trying to hide his amusement. "Hello to you too, Shackles. Do you mind not swinging on the chair?"

Kingsley grunted and let the chair drop to its correct position with a thump. "Better?"

"Much. What's the problem?"

"Paperwork," Kingsley grumbled, "everything's all paperwork! How the HELL am I supposed to effect any sort of meaningful change, when it's all about paperwork? If it's not the Wizengamot wanting everything written out in quadruplet and then voted on fifteen times, then it's the Prophet going on about change not coming quick enough. I haven't been home before midnight for a month!"

"That's par for the course, Shackles," Arthur pointed out.

"Yeah, well the course can do stick it up its jumper!"

"What?"

Kingsley chuckled. "Something my muggle grandpa used to say."

"You know what I think you need?"

"What do I need?" Kingsley muttered. "A brain transplant?"

"That too," Arthur nodded, "but in your more immediate future, you need some manual labour!"

"Oh, sure," Kingsley rolled his eyes irritably, "that's going to be so easy to come by, here in the Ministry."

"Merlin's pants, are you finished with the whinging? Harry's doing up Grimmauld Place."

"I heard from Percy," Kingsley nodded, "I can think of better places to live."

"Me too," Arthur agreed, "but Eamon Finnigan and Stan Thomas are doing the job, and they're muggles."

Kingsley laughed. "So that's got you all excited."

"You're such a laugh," Arthur said in a dry tone, "don't give up your day job. My point is that they're muggles, the fathers of a couple of Ron and Harry's friends, and they're doing the job without their usual employees."

"Ooooh," a slight smile crossed Kingsley's face, "so they need a bit of help?"

"Exactly." Arthur nodded sharply. "I'm taking the afternoon off to help them bash down a few walls."

"The muggle way?"

"Indeed. Manual labour, my friend." Arthur chuckled. "Are you coming?"

"Give me 20 minutes! I'll tell Annalisa to clear my afternoon and change into old clothes."

oOo

"Dad! Kingsley!" Ron embraced his father quickly and shook Kingsley's hand. "You're just in time. I just got back with lunch." He waved around a paper wrapped parcel and then addressed Kingsley specifically, "I can't believe he roped you into this."

"It wasn't difficult," Kingsley said. "I need an afternoon off."

"Off?" Ron eyed his father suspiciously. "Did he tell you what you're doing?"

"Knocking down walls the muggle way," Kingsley grinned, "believe me, Ron, that's the afternoon off."

Ron shrugged. "OK. Come into the kitchen and meet Stan and Eamon. I've got to get back to the shop by two."

oOo

"I have to tell you," Kingsley said seriously, "I do believe we've met before."

"I can't see how," Stan Thomas said, frowning, "but can't say I disagree."

"Nevermind," said Arthur, "I'm sure it'll come to you before long." He turned to Eamon. "What exactly do you want us to do?"

"It's easy enough, Arthur," Eamon said, "especially now that you've made another sledge – really useful skill, I'll say – you see here?" He took a strange looking can and made several red dots on the wall.

"Uha."

"You need to hit these, hard as you can. That's all there is to it."

"What happens if the ceiling falls in?" Arthur asked, only half joking.

Eamon smiled. "If that happens, which it won't, you use some of that magic of yours to make sure it doesn't."

oOo

"This isn't bad at all," Stan Thomas said, starting on his second butter beer, "low alcohol, so the Mrs doesn't have a fit, and it tastes good into the bargain."

"Montserrat!" Kingsley said suddenly.

Arthur and Eamon raised brows at each other. All afternoon Stan and Kingsley had been trying to remember where they knew each other from.

"St Augustine Primary School," Stan's face cleared, "you were a couple of years ahead of me."

"Yes! You were in the under 8 cricket team!"

"And your brother, god, what was his name?" Stan frowned heavily, "Winston! He went out with my big sister, Lina."

"I remember that! He put on such a ruckus when Dad decided we were going to move to Birmingham. 12 years old and he was sure he'd met the love of his life."

"That's right." Stan laughed. "She moped around all that summer, like you wouldn't believe."

"I'd believe it," Kingsley snorted, "Win did the same thing. What's Lina up to these days?"

"Ah, she's got a brood of kids, lives in Leeds with her husband Jim. He's a good bloke. What about Winston? What's he doing with himself?"

"He was killed by death eaters in the early 80's," Kingsley said bluntly, "he was making his way up the Ministry ladder and they wanted him in their pocket. He refused."

"Damn. I'm sorry, Kingsley," Stan said sincerely.

"It happens," Kingsley shrugged.

"Do you remember Stella Holbrooke?" Stan asked, as much to change the direction of conversation as anything else.

"Merlin yes," Kingsley brightened. "She was a pretty little thing; I even noticed that at 10 years old."

"I married her," Stan said proudly.

"No." Kingsley looked aghast. "Well done, how is she?"

"I know," Stan looked slightly smug. "She's well. Hitting Regent Street as we speak, no doubt. We've four kids together."

"You sly dog!" Kingsley tilted the head of his butter beer toward Stan in salute. "Four of them?"

"One boy and three girls, all lookers like their mum and clever to boot," Stan said proudly. "Well, the oldest, the boy Dean, he's not mine technically, but he might as well be, and the girls are. Right proud of the lot of them I am too. You might of heard about my boy Dean? He's one of your lot, a wizard, and was on the run from the Death Eaters during the worst of the war. Didn't get caught til the last few months, then he was rescued by Harry and Ron and he went in hiding at the oldest Weasley boys place." Stan nodded to Arthur in appreciation.

"Merlin yes!" Kingsley nodded. "I heard about that. He's your boy? Well I'll be."

"You'll have to come around for dinner one night," Stan grinned, "just wait til I tell Stella you're the Minister of Magic now, she won't half have a laugh at that."