Notes: Surprise!

Tom is Minister in this piece, so we're jumping forward to the time immediately following Grindelwald's assisted escape.

This is a political subplot, but in the next chapter and the three after it, I'm finally going to get to the political subplot I've been talking about.

Chapter Ten: Arrogance and Arrogation

"I've called a meeting at the Serpents' Chalice this afternoon," Tom said. He knotted his tie. "Will you be able to come?"

Hermione considered. "I should. I'll let you know if that changes."

He nodded, gave her a quick peck, and headed downstairs to Disapparate to the Ministry.

Hermione did not know exactly what the meeting would be about, but she knew, more or less, who would be there and why. As Tom had hoped—and helped accomplish—the Serpents' Chalice had become the unofficial headquarters of his Nationalist political faction. No longer just the haunt of Tom and his closest allies, the pub now hosted meetings of top Nationalists in the Ministry and Wizengamot in the private rooms upstairs. The common area was open to the wizarding (and Squib) public, but most customers went there because they knew they could talk politics with like-minded people. Partisan Reformists and Isolationists just did not frequent it. They had their own haunts.

Hermione expected that Tom was going to tell his coterie what he and she had decided to do about an upcoming vote on the Wizengamot. The current Chief Warlock was an aging Reformist wizard who had been there for a while and was regarded with some affection by all three factions. It was in part because the position was basically a ceremonial title with no real power. The Chief Witch or Warlock did not have any more voting power than the regular members of the body. He or she didn't even have exclusive power to call for votes. Anyone on the Wizengamot could propose anything, and it had to be voted on. It created an atmosphere of disorder and seemed to trivialize the process of voting itself. Most votes failed as a result. The current proposal would change all that, awarding two votes to the Chief and giving him or her sole power to bring non-criminal matters before the Wizengamot for a vote—or withhold them. Two-thirds of the body would be able to override the Chief in that.

Tom and Hermione were going to vote yes on the proposal, siding with the Reformist faction. The Nationalists were expected to fall in line behind their Minister and factional leader. Hermione had privately agonized over her vote, but in the end it seemed to her that the Wizengamot needed to act more often than it did, and having a strong Chief Witch or Warlock, a clear leader rather than a mere title-holder, was a good step in that direction. At any rate, Tom did not seem to be after the Chief position himself—at least not yet. He apparently understood that he was still regarded as too green to hold that one.

The Wizengamot initiative, Hermione was sure, was part of the reason for the meeting in the bar. She did not think that was all there was to it. There was probably something he was not telling her. Tom had not been Minister for very long, and he had not yet proposed any new policies beyond those he had advanced in Law Enforcement. Hermione expected that the meeting would primarily be about whatever he had in mind now. It was something she was actually rather curious about. He had held his cards very close to his chest lately. She had not known in advance about his plan to discredit his competitor, Ignatius Tuft, by freeing Grindelwald, although she had worked it out quickly enough once he set it in motion. She certainly didn't know what he intended to do next policy-wise, and it bothered her a bit.

He had not kept secrets from her in a long time, but when he had in the past, it usually meant he suspected she would not like his plan and wanted to keep it private until it was a fait accompli. That was ominous.

The policy of designating parents and siblings of Muggle-borns as Squibs, and bringing them under wizarding law, was good. Others in the Nationalist faction were even trying to discourage the use of the term "Muggle-born" on the grounds that it was inaccurate and exclusionary; they were trying to promote "Squib-born half-blood" instead. The wizarding adoption laws were good. The new rules about informing non-magical families of their child's abilities in infancy were good. Even the Wolfsbane Law wasn't awful, especially with the potion now so improved.

With all the decent laws that he had put in place, Hermione wondered what Tom had up his sleeve that he didn't want her to know about in advance. She supposed she would find out soon enough.

Hermione glanced around the pub as she passed through. It was dimly lit: little candles at each table, a sparkle of reflected light from the bottles and mirrors behind the bar, and muted recessed lighting in the ceiling. The floor was smooth tile, and artwork adorned the dark brown stucco walls. Her gaze caught a large poster on the side wall, a piece of political art depicting the Nationalist symbol. Tom's own symbol. It was a green Ouroboros, the serpent that consumed its own tail, with a pale beige wand passing vertically through the ring and casting a spell. Ouroboros was a symbol of eternity, and the wand obviously meant magical power. The official explanation was that the motif symbolized a strong wizarding nation that protected magic users and those who might birth magic users, ensuring that the wizarding world would last. However, Hermione knew Tom had a double meaning in mind. He was essentially boasting to the entire wizarding world of his… exploit… if anyone but her had known to interpret it so.

It was well-chosen, Hermione had to grant, and not grotesque like the Dark Mark.

The symbol also had a strong resemblance to the sign of the Deathly Hallows, though hardly anyone in Britain connected that with Grindelwald. It was just as well. The pro-Muggle Reformists already grumbled darkly that the Nationalists were "proto-supremacists," referring to Grindelwald's advocacy for open wizard rule of Muggles.

Hermione looked away from the poster and faced the stairs. Tom's meeting would be in the Morgana Room, the nicest of the lot—and the one in which the Muffliato spell worked best.

Tom is not merely a proto-supremacist, she thought again as she climbed the stairs. He's a full supremacist, but he can't push for it openly.

There was often a fine line between nationalism and supremacism of any kind, but Hermione knew full well that Tom's underlying motives for his signature policies were supremacist. His laws about Squibs were not about "Muggle-inclusiveness" to him, but rather the opposite. To him, they were about catching as many people as possible with magical ancestry to increase the likelihood that they would have magical offspring together.

"The siblings of Muggle-borns have the potential to have magical children," he had said once, "but they have to marry amongst themselves for it to happen. Or I suppose some witches or wizards might want to marry them," he had added disapprovingly. "I don't understand it, but that's still better than marrying complete outsiders."

Still, Hermione always told herself, at least he was not inciting violence, promoting blood-status hatred, or pretending to be a pureblood. He had made genuinely useful laws, a breath of fresh air in wizarding politics. The Nationalists had shaken things up, now that some supporters that the others had taken for granted had another choice. The Reformists no longer had a stranglehold on Muggle-born support; many supported the new faction due to the legal protection and formal inclusion of their families in the wizarding world. Others had long disliked the Reformist position that certain technological and cultural advances in the Muggle world should not be "co-opted" because it was "supremacist" and "put Muggles at risk," whereas Nationalists explicitly supported magically enhancing the best that Muggles had to offer. On the other hand, the Isolationists had lost many purebloods and half-bloods who weren't bigoted but were nervous about telling so many outsiders about magic so casually—or who did not like the fact that most Muggle culture that was brought into the wizarding world seemed to be cheap, low, and insipid.

Yes, so far Tom's ideas has been good for wizarding politics and society. He was a supremacist—he definitely thought that wizards should rule Muggles—but he was not about to wreck his career by advocating to repeal Seclusion and take over the Muggle world. I'll just have to keep watching him and make sure that he doesn't push for anything bad, Hermione thought, feeling suddenly tired. These meetings were taxing, if she were honest with herself. She knew Tom expected her to support him unquestioningly here, not challenge him in front of his deputies and hangers-on. She understood the reasons why he wanted her to stand by him here, but it was hard sometimes to hold her questions until they were alone.

She reached the Morgana Room, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Tom looked up. "Hermione," he said, smiling.

She took her seat in the place of honor next to him at the head seat and gazed down the table. There was Vincent Rosier, Tom's deputy, looking pleased as he could be. Hermione supposed he was very happy about the recent birth of his son, Evan. There were several more of Tom's people from the Ministry too.

There were several bottles of wine on the table, as well as shakers of assorted mixed drinks. Hermione could not help but observe that Tom appeared to have the strongest cocktail of anyone. In these settings, everything was about appearance to him.

He smiled faintly as the minute hand on the mantel clock reached the upright position and the clock began to chime. "Well," he began, regarding each face at the table—except hers—with a piercing look in turn. "I'm sure you are all curious to know my plans, and that is exactly why I have called you here. Vincent, do you have the newspaper?"

Rosier nodded. He withdrew a copy of the Prophet from his briefcase and set it on the table. It was unfolded to the editorial section, which bore the large headline, "Time for Underage Squib-borns to Have the Right to Practice At Home." The author of the piece, who had the byline of Special Contributor, was Horace Slughorn, Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Tom nodded in contentment. "Sluggy really came through with this." His gaze settled on the Head of the Office of Non-Magical Families of Witches and Wizards, Geoffrey Fox, who was himself Muggle-born. "Geoff, would you explain to anyone who doesn't know?"

"Certainly, Minister." Fox cleared his throat and addressed the table. "So—one of the reasons the Isolationists have been against Squib-borns is that statistically, they don't perform as well in school as other children. There are individual exceptions, of course—who tend to be really exceptional, at that—but as a group, their scores are lower, especially in practical magic. Isolationists claim that is evidence of inborn inferiority. However, Slughorn and a couple of his seventh years have definitively linked the score difference to the ban on underage sorcery, because it turns out that the effect decreases as soon as these students come of age. Minor children who have an adult witch or wizard in their home, of course, can practice magic freely, because the Ministry does not track them due to the likelihood of picking up the adult's magic instead."

There were murmurs at the table.

"Thank you, Geoff," Tom said smoothly. "And now that their families are designated Squibs, they have the right to be connected to the Floo network. There is also a project underway to make the Muggle telephone work off magic, but it's run into a hitch… it seems that once it's made to use magic, it can't work the Muggle way, so a household would have to have two telephones… but in any case, they can use Floo if an emergency should arise. And they have a specific case worker assigned to their family while their child is underage. There is really no reason for there to be an underage sorcery ban anymore. This is the third editorial to that effect, and now that Sluggy has shown that it hurts scores, I think we can repeal it."

Hermione was pleased. This was good news, and it wasn't surprising either. She had followed the editorials and knew that Tom wanted to do this.

"Next order of business… the upcoming Wizengamot vote." Tom sipped his cocktail. "Not all of you have seats—yet—of course, but those of you who do, Hermione and I have decided that the Nationalist faction should vote with the Reformists on the proposal to empower the Chief Warlock."

The cronies who were on the Wizengamot nodded, unsurprised. This was expected.

Hermione frowned into her glass, not allowing anyone to see her expression. There was something else. There had to be. Surely this wasn't the purpose of the meeting.

It was as if Tom was reading her mind. As soon as she had the thought, he cleared his throat and looked around the table significantly. "And now… the real reason I called everyone here."

Every head turned to him.

He fingered the rim of his glass, enjoying the attention. "I'm going to restructure the Ministry," he said. "Some of the changes I am going to make should not be controversial, but there are others that might meet with resistance. I have reasons for every change I intend to make, and I expect your unconditional support in this matter."

Hermione's pulse began to increase. What was he going to do? No one in the room looked inclined to challenge him, but unless they knew something she didn't—and they had better not, she thought—they did not even know what he intended to do.

There was a murmuring of general assent around the table, which seemed to satisfy Tom. "Very well. First of all, I am going to move the Offices of Social Welfare, Adoption and Fostering, and Non-Magical Families of Witches and Wizards out of their present departments. These offices will move to the Office of the Minister, and their heads"—he inclined his head at Fox and others—"will answer directly to me. Since I created these offices, I do not expect too many objections to this."

A part of Hermione did not like that, but she did understand it. These were Tom's pet projects, and it made sense that he wanted to retain control over them rather than having a layer of bureaucracy between them and himself. Still, she waited for the other shoe to drop.

"As for the more controversial changes… well." Tom flicked his wand, and a small stack of papers flew out of his briefcase. "Here are the other departments I want to move, reform—or abolish." With another flick of his wand, he sent a sheet to everyone at the table.

Hermione regarded the list before her. Each line had a brief explanation given for the change. She started to read it. Reform the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office to "make it less arbitrary and focus only on illicit sales in the Muggle world." All right, fair enough. The "Muggle artifacts" that were prohibited from being sold in charmed forms were rather arbitrary, and it made no sense to restrict wizard ownership of charmed objects.

She continued reading. Abolish the Centaur Liaison Office on the grounds of "unyielding centaur isolationism, contempt for humans, and danger to the civil servants who attempt diplomacy." Ouch. That was… fairly accurate… but it still hurt Hermione's idealistic sensibilities.

Prune the Improper Use of Magic Office. Hermione wasn't sure what she thought about that. She had not had good experiences with them—or, rather, her friends hadn't—in her old life, but the office did seem to serve a purpose in theory.

She reached the section that mentioned other offices that Tom wanted to move to the Office of the Minister. The Office of Magical Refugee Relations, another new creation, which helped refugees fleeing Muggle Communism… the Magical Resistance Liaison Office, which handled relations with the people who remained in the Soviet bloc and headed shadow governments. Tom wanted those. Hermione really was not sure what she thought about that. Why did he want those offices? Perhaps he wanted the latter to help protect Grindelwald if Grindelwald became a resistance leader, but he certainly could not admit that to anyone. The International Magical Cooperation Head wouldn't like this. There would be a fight over those, Hermione suspected.

The next item was "Move the Auror Office from DMLE to the Office of the Minister."

"You want the Aurors?" Hermione burst out. Why on earth did Tom want—she had to call it as it was—a powerful security force that answered only to him?

Tom's hard gaze instantly snapped to her. "As the list says, my dear, it makes sense for the Aurors to answer to the Minister. They are not just used for domestic law enforcement these days. Whenever they have to deal with something in the East, it requires the approval of Law Enforcement, International Cooperation, and the Minister. Better to cut out the extra bureaucracy." He was staring at her very pointedly, silently ordering her not to question him further.

Hermione felt a surge of irritation flare up inside her. Heedless of the low murmurs around the table, she raised an eyebrow defiantly at him. "Tom, you would raise bloody hell if you were still Law Enforcement Head and the Minister wanted to take the Aurors."

Someone chuckled quietly. Tom stared at the wizard, silencing him. Then he turned to Hermione with a smirk. "Of course I would," he agreed. "That's my whole point. I expect the Department Heads not to like several of these, because they are focused on their own offices more than the greater good. But I'm not Law Enforcement Head anymore, so I see the big picture and understand the advantages of having the Aurors answer directly to the Minister."

Hermione glared back at him. No, you just want to arrogate power to yourself, she thought, staring right at his eyes, hoping that he would read her thoughts.

He apparently did, because his smirk widened.

"Minister," one of Tom's people said tentatively, "we're all prepared to stand behind you, but there will be objections, I fear. The Aurors—traditionally, they've been in Law Enforcement, but your reasoning is sound. I'm more uneasy about these Resistance and Refugee offices. It's not clear to me why the Minister's Office needs them."

Tom sipped his drink. "Frankly, Greengrass, I don't have my heart set on both of them. The one that I really want is the Resistance Liaison office. Those people—their heads—are in effect the heads of government in the East. When they have dealings with Britain, they should talk to the Minister for Magic, not a bureaucrat. But I know International Cooperation will object to that, so I'm asking for both offices for strategic reasons. I don't like 'losing,' of course, but the idea is to satisfy International with Refugee Relations instead of having a duel—figuratively speaking—over the office I actually want."

The low chatter subsided. Tom finished his drink and regarded the people at the table. "My friends… I realize that this may appear to a few of you as a power grab."

That's because it is, Hermione thought mutinously, trying not to betray her thoughts.

"But I've studied the actual powers of the Minister, and in my view, the position isn't nearly powerful enough. The Minister can set major policy, of course, but so can Department Heads. Because they control these powerful offices, Department Heads can de facto act independently of the Minister, and when it comes to major domestic and foreign policy, they really shouldn't be able to. I took advantage of that as Law Enforcement Head, of course, but I'm sure we all understand about using the system that we have to get things done." He smirked.

Hermione gazed around the table. To her amazement, the others seemed to be accepting this explanation.

"So I can count on all of you, I trust? I really do want to improve the Ministry, and these early days are critical. It would set our entire faction back if we didn't stand united."

Nods and murmurs of agreement. Tom briefly met Hermione's eyes again. She stared back defiantly at him.

"I wish you would control yourself better," Tom grumbled as they hung up their robes that evening. "You do realize I wouldn't tolerate that from anyone else."

Hermione glared at him. "Someone needed to say it. If you think you can make the Aurors into your personal security force without anyone raising objections—"

"Of course there will be objections."

"Then it's better for them to be discussed openly at your meeting." Hermione stared. "I do understand your rationale. I haven't studied the powers of the Minister as much as you have, I'm sure… but this does look like a power grab, and I have to ask you, now that we're alone, just how much of this has to do with 'improving the Ministry.' I think it's because you personally want all this power."

He gripped her sides, a smirk bursting on his face. "Of course I do," he hissed, his fingers pressing against her. He backed her against the nearest wall and began to stroke her sides lightly. "The International Cooperation Head is one of Ignatius Tuft's retainers, and this new Law Enforcement Head, Caspar Crouch, isn't personally dedicated to me. I don't even know what faction he is, actually. But since it wasn't a voluntary change of government, I'm stuck with Wilhelmina Tuft's old careerists for now. I'll replace them as soon as I'm secure in the job, but do you think I'm going to let bureaucrats who have their own ambitions have power over my work?"

Hermione swallowed, trying to ignore what he was doing to her body. Surely he was just doing this to manipulate her…. "Tom, I understand that you don't want the programs you built to be mishandled. But the Aurors?"

"They never should have been in Law Enforcement in the first place," he said. "They're the elite. They should be a national and international security team instead of being dispatched to Stupefy buffoons. It's a complete disgrace, the way they are used to do things that ordinary Law Enforcement employees can do… and it has even changed the typical meaning of 'Dark wizard' for them to be used in this way. It ought to mean 'master of the Dark Arts' once again instead of 'someone the Ministry dispatches the Aurors to catch.'"

Hermione really did not want to hear his rant about the Dark Arts. He held that it was an ancient, traditional, and legitimate field of magic, and that the Ministry had muddied its meaning to something more like "magic that is illegal." Hermione could see his point, to some extent, but she knew very well that it was largely for personal reasons that he held this view.

"Very well," she said to him. "You have a case, I'll grant—but you should be prepared for people to object."

"I am." He settled his hands on her waist and gazed pointedly at her.

She tried to look away from his intense gaze, but she could not. His smirk widened.

The Minister, it seemed, did have the right to shuffle offices around in such a way as to empower the Ministerial office a great deal. The Department Heads could not legally prevent it, short of petitioning the Wizengamot to block a move—but there was no precedent for that. The court could strike down or uphold Ministry laws, but it did not interfere with the internal workings of the organization itself. It appeared that only custom and tradition had kept previous Ministers from arrogating power to themselves.

Hermione kept her ears open while Tom restructured the Ministry to his liking. As they had predicted, there were objections. Even in Hermione's own organization, some people murmured to themselves about what was happening.

"He says he's left most of the offices in their original departments," Caroline Prewett said on lunch break, unaware that Hermione could overhear, "but which offices? The perfunctory, dull ones, not the ones with the real power. He's taken all the important ones for himself."

The staffer next to Prewett nudged her and nodded in Hermione's direction. Prewett subsided. Hermione did not know how to feel about the incident. It bothered her that her staff seemed to think that she would punish them for "disloyalty" not to herself or the organization, but to her husband. She and Prewett had had their differences, but Prewett was a competent witch who, in Hermione's opinion, was qualified to be VP of Research. The woman did not seem to be on Tom's side in politics, but Hermione was not quite sure what faction—if any—she did support. Well, there were many people who weren't overtly political, and she was probably one of them.

Other objectors were more public. There was an editorial in the Daily Prophet from new Law Enforcement Head Caspar Crouch, expressing dismay at the "clear disregard for Ministry tradition" that the new Minister Riddle had displayed in his "seizure" of several important offices. Crouch did not openly imply that Tom was going to abuse his newly gained power, which—Hermione admitted to herself—might have been a more effective attack. As it was, Crouch's piece just came across as a whine, particularly about his loss of control over the Aurors. The public mood was largely on Tom's side, since the previous Minister's administration had fallen due to a scandal of humiliating incompetence on the international stage. A strong Minister who made bold moves to improve the Ministry seemed to be a good change to most people.

Tom's arguments about the Aurors, the international offices, and the other controversial moves were sound. It did make sense for the Minister to have direct control over each of them. But Hermione could not ignore the fact that she knew he was doing this because he wanted the power, and she could not put aside her disquiet. Did he want the Aurors simply for his own pride… or was he planning to do something that might be so controversial that he thought he needed a force answerable only to himself?

The Wizengamot vote occurred in the midst of Tom's restructure. As everyone expected, the Reformist proposal to empower the Chief passed easily with Nationalist support. However, on the day of the vote, something occurred to Hermione that brought her up short.

The Wizengamot could remove the Minister for Magic.

Tom was not currently pursuing the Chief spot, but he almost certainly would do so eventually. The current Chief was old but not in ill health, and the Reformists jockeying to succeed him were unexceptional. No particular one of them seemed capable of consolidating support from within that faction. Tom might very well have a clear path when—and Hermione did not doubt for a second that it would be when—he eventually went for the spot himself.

The Wizengamot could remove the Minister for Magic, and with the change, the Chief Warlock alone would have the power to call for a vote. If Tom became Chief Warlock, he could remain Minister as long as he wanted provided that he didn't lose two-thirds of the body.

Nobody else seemed to realize that, and Hermione was not about to be the one to call attention to it.

She still voted yes. The Wizengamot was dysfunctional, and something needed to be done about it. Tom wasn't Chief Warlock yet. The current problems had to be addressed. Anything else was borrowing trouble.

Soon after the slight flurry of dust had settled, Tom called his cronies to another meeting at the Serpents' Chalice. He had a big plan in the works, he said, and he wanted to run it by them first.