A/N: A couple of particularly insulting reviews made me disinclined toward writing for a few days. If someone dislikes my stories, ideas, or style – please feel free to not read what I write. I write for my and other's amusement and to contemplate "What If's" that I think of. Many lone timg readers will note that, while I often use fanon cliché tropes, I also tend to think of things here and there which had never been really thought of before. I have actually created a few fanon clichés – the goblins despite of Horcruxes such that they won't even say the word (along with a viable reason for it) way back in Afterlife, Inc, for example – and so I do know that there are those that find some of what I write intriguing, logical, and/or useful. I also liberally use logical clichés that I find – some which are canon, some written by Rowlings but not part of the original books, and many that are pure fanon – I think Rowling commented somewhere about muggleborns coming from squibs, or it's fanon; but I find it eminently logical and regularly use it. Anyway, I could brood further over a few bad reviews, or I could expand my ideas forth for possible enjoyment of others. For now, I have decided. And so … I write.

The Greatest Minister for Magic in History Part 7

The Minister of Magic waited cheerfully at the Ministry entrance for the others. Having completed their visit to Gringotts, the group had dispersed to take care of personal things and to 'Dress Muggle.' They were to take a Ministry car to a Muggle store that his new-found kinswoman had named: Harolds or Hadders or some such – like most wizards he often botched names that he was unfamiliar with for some reason.

It was something of a oddity amongst magicals: Names of unfamilar or non-magical things were mangled as a matter of course and the oddest magical creatures or phenomenon were remembered far past the time when such information was useful: Something to ponder when he had time to just sit and think and was not so busy.

Cornelius spent the time waiting speaking with this visitor or that to the Ministry. The importance of the average citizen was something that the Traveler had wrung into his head. Originally, like most politicians and upper class, the average wizard and his troubles had been something that others worried about – something for minions to deal with.

His original foray into Diagon Alley after his election – at the Traveler's insistence – had been very educational. While some were truly only interested in 'being seen talking to the Minister' many were honestly happy to just stop and talk. Listening to the stories and concerns of the average citizen – and being seen doing it – had made him very popular.

Being seen doing it was less important than he had originally thought – but he was still a politician. Besides, people remembered and spoke to others and word got out even with no press around to relay the image he presented.

Soon, the others arrived. Cornelius almost militantly, after greeting them, continued talking to the average visitors. During a quiet moment, Mathias Greengrass asked him why he was doing it.

The Minister chuckled. "Politics is a harsh mistress, Greengrass. Although the average problem falls far below what I should be dealing with, the fact that they had a chance to tell me engenders a certain amount of trust and familiarity. And if I happen to enjoy being trusted by the voters by my actions … well, it's politics. Give it a try sometimes – find out what the average person thinks about international trade or dealing with muggles or goblins or centaurs. Not the politicians – the average wizard or witch."

Mathias considered it as he watched the Minister talk. After another ten minutes, the remainder of their party arrived and they made their way out.

Before they got in the car, the Minister asked Ashlee to ensure they didn't look silly.

She looked at each person. "Well, Minister, your coat might be considered a bit long – but it's traditional so it should be alright. Mr. Greengrass," she paused, took a breath and said, "are you good at color changing charms?" He nodded. "Change your pants and coat from the plum to black – your suit looks nicely cut but the colors are something that most Muggles see as … well, odd. It's not unheard of, so you don't have to, but a nice strong black would be more common."

Mathias shrugged and changed as requested. Ashlee smiled. "Now it just looks classic."

She turned and inspected her immediate boss. He was wearing black trousers, black shoes, and a royal blue jumper over a white collared shirt with no tie. "Mr. Weasley – you did well with what we've covered before. Seeing who you're with – you might want to look a bit more … well, upper crust if you will, but overall, no one should give you a second look." She looked down and sighed. "Except the socks. Black trousers and black shoes means black socks. Yours are Gryffindor gold and red and catch the eye. Color changing charm."

Arthur sheepishly did as asked.

"Dirk – you're good." Cresswell was dressed in what most Muggles called business casual. He had asked Ashlee to call him Dirk as technically she was at a level above him on the ladder.

She looked again at the four men and nodded. "Now, I am dressed in common clothes for a Muggle woman. My blouse is feminine but not overly formal or overly casual, basic black skirt – considered very normal for women both casual and professional – and these shoes are called pumps; black to match my skirt with socks to match my blouse. Women, I am sorry to tell you, can get away with far more unusual dress than men."

She took another deep breath. "Now, we're going to be going to a pretty upscale store – they will have pretty much anything you ask for. Please, PLEASE, let me give the helpers directions. It's part of Muggle culture to pretty much allow women to use any colors they like. As wizards, you are used to being allowed any color you like – but many colors most Muggle men wouldn't wear or will only wear on item.

"For example: Pink. A pink shirt might be considered alright – but if you wear a pink suit, people will think you are a man who likes men. Purples are the same: Avoid too much purple, yellow, bright or light blues, and bright reds. Darker colors are not uncommon for casual wear: Black, brown, green, maroon, royal or midnight blue, maybe even up to cobalt blue: Perfectly fine for casual. We, however, are going for professional or wealthy looking.

"This means, mostly, blacks, blues, greys, browns, and white. What differentiates power and wealth is not color, such as you often see as wizards, but cut and the type of material. Basic wool – to a muggle – looks cheap while higher quality wool looks traditional. Suits don't change much but what the Minister normally wears looks to be a robe version of a traditional suit: trousers, shoes, vest, long coat. Muggle have shortened their traditional suit coats. The one thing that gives the suit a bit of color might be a tie – a nice bright or patterned tie is considered as showing personality.

"Today, we will go mostly single color suits with vests, with complimentary tie colors. The sales assistants will look at your skin tone and try to match colors based on that. Just remember this: To Muggles, image is often everything. Many muggles can take one look and tell your social rank, wealth, family structure, health, and sexuality."

The wizards looked at each other and considered that. It was almost inconceivable that just the way one dressed communicated all of that. But none denied the certainty which Ms. Ashlee Attaberry spoke on the matter.

Ashlee chuckled. "On the first day of Hogwarts – when I was 11 – my conclusions based on my Muggle upbringing about Albus Dumbledore, for example, just from the way he dresses: He's very old fashioned, comes from common but not poor roots, has never made a lot of money but has made a comfortable living, very eccentric, very well respected despite his image and so likely very intelligent and likely also powerful, he prefers men to women, and he doesn't care what people think about him personally – but does work to manipulate people's opinion on social and political issues. Not the words I would have used at Eleven – but the basic idea I had of the man."

The wizards looked at the formerly-labeled Muggleborn with astonishment. Mathias Greengrass asked, "What do you think about working for an Undersecretary directly? Higher pay and more authority."

Arthur interrupted, "Now wait just a minute! I hired her – I'm keeping her. She's too important to my new job. Get your own Muggle-raised witch!"

Ashlee blushed a little. "Sorry, Mr. Greengrass. I happen to like my current job. Give it a couple of years and we'll see."

The wizards chuckled and everyone entered the car. On the way, "One more thing: Muggle etiquette. Everyone refers to the Minister as Mr. Fudge – it will tell everyone that he's the highest ranked person. Do we want formal or casual speaking? A trip to a shoppe is considered casual but the presence of high-ranked individual can make any casual situation formal. It depends on the opinion of the highest-ranked individual there. Mr. Fudge?"

The Minister chuckled. "We're co-workers. Let's be more casual. And you call me, Uncle Cornelius."

Ashlee gave the Minister a small smile. "Okay. Everyone used first names for those of equal rank or one rank higher. So Mr. Greengrass is Mr. Greengrass to Dirk and I and Mathias to Arthur and Mr. Fudge. I speak to Mr. Fudge using familial reference but I speak about him as Mr. Fudge. Arthur is Arthur to everyone and he calls everyone by their proper name, except Mr. Fudge. The on-duty guards speak to no one – and no one speaks of them. They just stand looking casual and dangerous keeping an eye out for Mr. Fudge and whoever is around him."

There were nods all around.

Harrods was a new experience for the wizards. They had never seen such a busy shopping facility. Even Diagon Alley, the day after the Hogwarts letters arrived, was not this busy normally. That this was considered a normal day was slightly unnerving.

Finally, the group found themselves in Menswear. Ashlee flagged down a sales assistant.

"Hello," she looked at the name tag, "Mary. I have these men who need to each get fitted for suits. Mr. Fudge, Mr Greengrass, and Mr. Weasley," she motioned to each man as named, "need one suit that says 'High Level British Government visiting 10 Downing' if you understand me." The saleslady nodded. "Now each, plus Mr. Cresswell here, also needs a suit which screams 'Old Money meeting Traditional Banker.' Got that so far?"

Mary looked them over. "British or imported?"

"British – most definitely. Mr. Weasley also needs two more less expensive suits more appropriate to, say, consulting at Scotland Yard or a Mayor's office. And one casual outfit which says 'Government officer trying to blend in to the background.' You get my meaning?"

Mary nodded. "We can do that. What is the budget?"

Ashlee pulled out the black card from Gringotts – Mary's eyes lit up. "9000 pounds should be more than enough. We don't need to spend all of that – it has to be justified to an accountant. But quality must not suffer for cost. And needed accessories must be included: Belts, wallets, shoes, socks, undershirts, underpants: All of it."

Mary looked at each man thoughtfully and nodded. "That should be possible. And you?"

"I will need to get one outfit suitable for Number 10, one suitable for Executive Assistant visiting the bankers with her boss, and two outfits for more low level meetings. I've earmarked 1200 pounds for that – separate from the 9000. Do I need to go to that department or can it come here so that I can help with fitting the bosses?"

"We can arrange a private fitting room for the group and I'm sure that they can measure you there and then bring outfits for you to try on."

"Good. They are all familiar with being fitted as necessary – no off the rack for them, but they are also used to service befitting their status, if you get my meaning. Dirk Cresswell and I are more mid-level compared to the Executive level these are."

Mary nodded.

The group was led to a private room. Soon, several tailors arrived to take measurements and to present choices for color and material. Once that was done, the staff retreated to begin bringing items to fit. Refreshments were provided.

"Uncle Cornelius? I deliberately left a few hundred Galleons in case there are sudden 'Extras' – much better than giving the full budget."

The Minister smiled. "We are in your hands. I admit – the store is impressive, but once you arrive at this level, it's not much different than Madam Malkins – at least so far."

When all was said and done, it took a couple of hours but the suits were bought. It would take a few days before they could be completed, but the wizards accepted this – Magicals were more efficient at a few things. Not many – but a few.

It was a week later when the suits were picked up by Arthur Weasley's Deputy Director for Muggle Affairs. She ensured each wizard got their suit or suits and that there were no issues. Madam Malkin or Twillfitts and Tatting's could make final adjustments as needed.

Mr. Greengrass had also paid for a suit himself that was Armani – he felt that meeting foreign Ministry's or Muggles as needed would be smoother if he didn't ruthlessly keep his dress British-made and Ashlee had agreed with him. Besides – he highly admired the material and cut of the suit.

Finally, the Minister was prepared to contact the other Minister.

Margaret Thatcher sat within her office at 10 Downing St., reviewing the reports on the continuing inability of the Government to enforce the poll-tax against opposition that seemed unending. Even her own party was becoming quite disaffected due to the response by so many groups and average citizens.

Suddenly, she heard a small cough. Looking around the room, she saw no one – but then heard the cough once more. She realized where the sound came from and had a feeling of dread – what in the hell did those people need? "Yes?" she asked the painting.

"To the Prime Minister. Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge would like an appointment when it is convenient regarding a change in the Magical government and new procedures for contact between our two governments. When can such a meeting take place and should the party arrive via magical means or through the front door?"

Madam Thatcher was taken aback. In the nearly ten years that she had been Prime Minister, she had never seen a witch or wizard walk through the front door. She didn't know if she wanted to now – they seemed incapable of not attracting attention to themselves.

"I am available tonight at 9 O'clock. They should use the other way to get here and not the front door."

"Very well. You will have two to four at 9:00. Your assistants shall remember other business and no one else should wish to meet you then." The wizard in the photo then stilled once more.

At least they got permission first – that was a step up.

At precisely 9:00 PM, the fire within the fireplace in her office lit up and then immediately turned green. Very soon, and to her surprise, a few people stepped through. First was the man she had met only a few weeks earlier – the new Minister. Unlike the last visit, his dress was actually normal enough to walk through the front door – actually, ALL of these visitors were dressed well enough that no one would have commented on that aspect if the had arrived during regular business hours.

"Good afternoon, Prime Minister! As you might remember, I am Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic. I've brought those people from my government who you might need to know of or you might need to contact."

The Iron Lady of Britain nodded. "You are welcome here; please be seated." She motioned the chairs across from her desk..

The visitors did as asked and with minimum fuss.

"Now, what is this all about?"

Cornelius nodded. "Recently – well, as soon as I was elected Minister for Magic – I instituted a reorganization of the Ministry to provide more clear-cut lines of authority, to optimize its functions, and to reduce waste in terms of overlapping areas of responsibility."

Thatcher looked interested. "All of that in two months."

The Minister nodded. "We have a tendency to allow bureaucracy to overflow – I just wanted to rein it in a bit. As a result, there are now three clear-cut areas of authority: matters internal to the Ministry; matters dealing with our domestic responsibility to our citizens and Magical Issues specifically; and all matters dealing with our society's external relationships.

"The relationship with your government, for example, falls under this third area: We are, in practical matters, two separate governments, no matter how much our basic laws are built on those of your government before the separation. You could almost say that the Magical clauses of the Acts of Union finalized the matter after our Statute of Secrecy was passed. Which brings us to why we are here today."

He pointed to the people with him. "This is Mr. Mathias Greengrass, Undersecretary for International Law and Cooperation of the Ministry for Magic. His position is just below mine and his areas of interest include your government and our relationship."

The Prime Minister exchanged pleasantries with Mathias.

"This is Arthur Weasley, The Director of the Interior actually deals with all governments not our own within Great Britain and Ireland. As a result, he will be the new contact between our governments as required by treaty."

The Prime Minster nodded. "Secretary."

Arthur stood up and bowed. "Prime Minister." He handed over a newly-made card and sat down. It only gave his name and his Mugglefied title: 'Advisor to the British Prime Minister, Matters Special and Confidential'. "As our office shall now take over responsibilities for helping to keep our world and troubles away from you, it was the closest we could come up with which didn't sound … false and misleading. Should you need our help regarding our world, the phone listed is always available to you."

The Prime Minister nodded and said, "Well, Matters Special and Confidential certainly includes what you deal with." She paused and said, "I shall include your name and contact information within official directories as needed such that you are not listed as a paid employee but a consultant as needed. However, I shall have to contact the Queen about this."

The visiting Magicals were surprised. "Why is that, if I may ask?" the Minister queried.

"Your position should not be dependent upon the acceptance of each new Prime Minister. For example, if things can't be turned around soon about the Poll Tax – there may very well be a new Prime Minister in power before the end of the year. When a new Minister is named, very often all previous appointments have to be approved again or are replaced. The exceptions are those whose positions fall under the purview of Her Majesty. Your Ministry, from my understanding, is based on treaty with the Monarchy, correct?"

The Magicals all nodded. "Then you're really an Adviser to Her Majesty's Government regarding Matters Special and Secret. I am the head of Her Majesty's Government, so no change in whom you liaise with. It just makes it sound more … archaic and unchangeable. Such is the case when dealing with matters Royal." She paused. "You wouldn't happen to be a Baron or an Earl or some such, would you?"

The Magicals chuckled. Mathias explained. "There are no real patents of Nobility in our Government. Certainly some families had them historically but they gave them up when our societies separated. The only Lords and Ladies we have are the members of our Wizengamot whom are referred to as the Lords and Ladies Wizengamot as a whole and Lord or Lady as individuals. The Wizengamot is our body which passes laws and oversees trials."

"I see. Which of you are members?"

Fudge replied, "As Minister, I hold a seat. The new Undersecretaries all are Wizengamot positions – there are four of these total, which includes an Undersecretary for my office which I haven't named yet – haven't found a good candidate that I can work with so far. So that's five seats out of 50 – of which only I and Mathias here are present. Some Directors can be made Wizengamot members but it isn't automatic."

The Prime Minister thought about that. "Well, I can accept all of this. As a matter of fact, I feel a bit better about your government now. By the way, who is the last one here?" she asked looking at Ashlee.

Arthur replied, "This is Ashlee Attaberry, my Deputy Director for Muggle Affairs. She's a recent graduate from our educational system who grew up in the non-magical world. As a result, she has a better idea of dealing with things we aren't used to. She's the one who decided on our dress for today – as an example."

The Right Honorable Prime Minister nodded at the young lady with a smile. "Very good – and very wise of you. Young lady, just the difference in how my visitors look today compared to my past experiences shows the wisdom of your position. I hope you do as good a job in all matters you deal with."

Ashlee blushed a little. "Thank you. I hope to."

Thatcher nodded. "I will be sending the message regarding the change to Her Majesty as well as your contact information as supplied. I am certain that you will be notified if any further contact is needed." She stood up. "I will admit that your visit has been much more comfortable and productive than I was expecting. Thank you for your time and your service."

The visitors all stood and returned the polite words and then made their way through to floo back to the Ministry.

Mrs. Petunia Dursley

Greetings. I hope this letter finds you and your family well.

Due to a number of recent occurrences, the conditions of which I originally wrote to you when I placed Harry Potter in your care as his blood relative of his sister have some need of modification.

Whereas the original letter stated that there would not be contact until Harry received his invitation to Hogwarts, the situation now stands thusly:

Harry's godfather, as named by his parents Lily and James, has recently been exonerated of any involvement in their death. He had originally been placed in Azkaban prison as it was suspected that he was the source which allowed those who sought harm to the Potters to find them, creating the situation which then obtained which required Harry's placement with you.

This suspicion, originally taken as fact, has, however, been disproven.

It was found that it was another acquaintance which, in fact, provided the information allowing Harry's parents to be killed and Harry orphaned.

While Mr. Sirius Black has spent the previous month recovering from his stay within prison, he will soon be released. And, upon his release, he will demand the opportunity to visit with young Harry as is his legal right in our society.

I should warn you that this does not negate the need for the protections which your family enjoys due to Harry's presence in your home. The individual who attacked your sister and her husband has not, in fact, been definitively proven as deceased and, it is my contention, it is likely that he will re-appear at some point in the future.

Harry's protection, given by his mother's sacrifice, means that currently Harry – and your family – are protected against any magical attack against you. So while it may seem that the reappearance of Mr. Black would result in Harry's removal, such is not the case.

So, I am writing this letter to inform you that soon Mr. Black will be calling upon your home and I ask that you provide him such welcome as you can in the hopes that the protections afforded can remain in place. Should Mr. Black force the issue and demand custody of his godson the protections afforded to your family shall be negated.

Sincerely I am,

Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump International Confederacy of Wizards

Petunia considered the letter before her with a disagreeable look. While she had recently become less … angry (she wouldn't admit to jealousy) about the world her sister left her for, she was by no means sanguine about it. It had only been in the last two months that the sight of her nephew's eyes did not make her want to yell out in hatred (and hurt if she was being honest with herself) but it did not make her comfortable.

Finally she sighed and called out, "Vernon!"

Her husband's voice called out from the sitting room which contained the telly, "Pet?" Vernon sounded distracted.

A little irritated she repeated herself, "Vernon! Come here, please."

She heard Vernon's heavy steps before he appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. "What is it, Pet? Can it wait? It's only a few minutes of the match."

Withholding her worse ire, "Vernon, there are more important things than the replay of the match of the week."

Vernon sighed. "Okay, Pet. What do you need?" He walked over to the table and sat down.

She pushed the letter over. "Read this."

Vernon read through the letter. He had to consciously withhold his temper – his doctor was complaining about his blood pressure – but he completed the whole thing. Finally he sighed, "It isn't natural, what these people do."

"Natural or not, the boy's Godfather can apparently make trouble. And if we don't tell him a few things first, that's what will happen."

Vernon sighed again. Truthfully, he had been feeling guilty recently for his behaviour toward the boy. The boy had never asked to be placed with them and apparently nothing could be done about his unnaturalness.

Denying it made no difference.

During the summer, the Dursleys had suddenly lost that manic drive toward normality that had driven many of their choices towards the smallest resident of Number 4. That change allowed them to see a few things that they had been blind to in the past.

They had been so worried about being normal that they had become ABnormal – which wouldn't do at all. Who kept a 10 year in a cupboard – no matter how much they didn't appreciate his presence? Who dressed such a child in clothes that were many sizes too large when a few pounds allowed for decent used trousers and shirts?

They certainly didn't spend the amount on the boy that they spent on their Dudley, but they were not quite so tightfisted: It wouldn't have been considered 'normal'.

Vernon finally said, "We will sit him and Dudley down this Saturday. We'll tell him that we lied so as not to alert those murderers who killed the fre … er the Potters. We told him a story that no boy would want to repeat just so that he wouldn't try to brag up how brave his parents were."

Petunia considered that. "Why not tonight?"

Vernon replied, "I missed the first part of Match of the Week helping to put the boy's room in shape; I'll be damned if I miss the replay to talk to the boy about that unnaturalness. I have limits, Pet."

Petunia touched her husband's arm consolingly. "I understand. Go watch your match."

Vernon went to the door and called out, "Boy!"

Petunia heard her nephew's voice from the sitting room. "Yes, Uncle Vernon?"

"Get me a pint and Dudley a fizzy drink. After that, you can have a fizzy drink too – a SMALL one. Get moving!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon!" Her nephew's voice didn't sound sullen at the sudden order at all. At least the way he was raised didn't lend itself to his being a Nancy-boy, crying over everything. He took the blows life gave him and moved on.

Petunia stood to retrieve the beer and the fizzy drinks from the icebox – the faster to get the boy from underfoot is what she told herself. She wasn't helping him – never that.

She heard her son's voice as the boy came in the kitchen. "I want crisps too!" He still wasn't used to the restrictions.

"Sorry, Dudikens. You heard the doctor – no snacks after supper and before bed. I'm allowing one fizzy drink because it just isn't proper to watch a match without a drink. But no crisps." Her husband hadn't liked the new restrictions but had agreed to them.

She watched the boy carefully pour the drinks even as she heard her Duddly-poo sound his disappointment. At least he no longer had tantrums about it.

As the boy picked up the tray with the drinks, she motioned for him to wait. She retrieved three bananas and put them on the tray. "Two for Dudley and the smallest for you. I expect you to ensure it's cleaned up after."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." The boy didn't even frown at her tone.

"Get moving."

She heard the boy say to Dudley, "From Aunt Petunia."

Dudley called out, "Thanks, Mum!"

She was proud: Her son was so polite!

After an hour, during the commercial, Vernon yelled, "Clean this up, boy! And you've seen the rest on Saturday – so off to your room!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

Dudley's voice could be heard, "Can I stay?"

"Of course you can! School doesn't start for another week or so."

Petunia watched the boy throw away the skins and put the cups in the sink. He started to reach for the tap when she said, "Leave it. I'll do it. Go off and start reading those books we spent that money on. Even if they are used, they're the proper material for Level 6. I expect your grades to rise this year. I don't want to hear about poor effort from someone living in my home!"

The boy looked at her dubiously. "But Dudley …."

"Never you mind about Dudley! We're getting him a professional tutor because obviously those teachers can't take the effort to ensure he gets good grades. You'll have to do with the books. Now get a move on!"

The boy shrugged and retreated to his room. For some reason, he didn't seem so … disagreeable about orders anymore. Maybe they had finally taught him obedience?

A/N: I'd like to point out that in the first Harry Potter book, Harry pre-Hogwarts was NOT a broken, beat down boy – remember when he tried to force Vernon to give him his letter? The Dursleys were horrible – but it hadn't risen to the actions that started once Harry began Hogwarts. There was nothing in canon that indicated that the Dursley adults ever actually hit him – even the description of Petunia swinging the frying pan described it as half-hearted and easily dodged.

Getting rid of compulsions might account for the Dursleys becoming … a little less overbearing. They still don't like Harry – but they can finally see how strange their treatment of him looked. Every improvement in Harry's homelife is based off of that one overdriving fact: The Dursleys love being normal.