Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN:
Thanks to all reviewers and sorry I took so long to update. But I must admit that it will probably happen again, I'm not sure. I'm very busy nowadays and don't have much spare time, so my updating will be sporadic – I might update several times in one month and then there might be a period in which I don't update for a couple of months, and such.
Sorry, I know how bothersome that is for readers, but it can't be helped.
Now, you must know beforehand that there is little action in this chapter and no Tom/Harry scene. This is mostly filled with information, so it will be boring and tedious for some of you, but it's very important for the development of the plot.
In the next chapters things will pick up quite a bit, hopefully.
That said, I hope you let me know what you think and enjoy it nonetheless!
Part I: Chapter 6
In his flashy yellow velvet suit, after leaving The Leaky Cauldron to enter Diagon Alley, Albus Dumbledore had traversed the length of the bustling street, pausing here and there to exchange greetings with acquaintances, shoppers and passersby.
When he reached the end of Diagon Alley, where Gringotts stood in all its splendor, he didn't even glance at the corner of the street where the shadowy entrance to Knockturn Alley could be seen. Instead, he stood on the opposite side where there was a small expanse of brickwall between Gringott's building and an owlerly post office.
He gave the brickwall a single tap with his wand and soon an archway materialized in front of him, gleaming bright blue with the age line charm that prevented under-aged wizards and witches from crossing it. As Albus took a step forward, it gleamed green and then the brickwall sealed itself behind him as he entered Leisure Alley.
The cobblestoned, winding street was bustling with activity, being as it was the preferred shopping and dining site, not for families with their children, but for couples wanting to have romantic get-togethers in the cafés, for witches shopping for the latest fashions from wizarding Paris in the three exclusive stores, for Ministry officials who liked to go there during their lunch breaks to partake of international cuisine in its many restaurants, for tourists who could choose between staying in the lavish Hotel Boadicea, favored place for many foreign, visiting dignitaries, or the more relaxed and cheaper Wild Boar's Inn, or, late in the evening, for witches and wizards who wanted to spend a night of cheer and festivity in its many pubs or in Leisure Alley's dancing hall.
Albus soon located the restaurant where he had been 'requested' to partake lunch with the Minister. Dionysius' Abode had become a favorite dinning place for purebloods and high-placed Ministry officials; with elegant Roman columns displaying coiling vines, hanging and heavy with grapes, with a high, arched ceiling charmed to show a sunny, cloudless sky, with a majestic fountain decorated with stone nymphs in the middle of the many tables, and with arches along the walls which resembled windows, charmed to show views of the Mediterranean sea, sprawling villas and vineyards.
For all its pretentiousness, Albus nevertheless admitted that Dionysius' Abode's chocolate and lemon dessert was truly exceptional. It was the one positive aspect of being forced to be in such surroundings.
"Mr. Dumbledore, the Minister is already waiting for you," said the hostess as soon as she caught sight of Albus, as he stepped further inside the restaurant's lobby. The beautiful young witch, dressed in form-fitting scarlet robes, charmingly smiled at him as she started to lead the way. "If you'd be so kind as to follow me…"
Cheerfully trailing after her, Albus waved and nodded in response to the greetings shot at him by acquaintances as he passed by their tables. A group in particular caught his attention; from those quarters he received no greeting but rather poignant stares.
Old Maximilian Malfoy, with his long, dark blonde hair and cunning blue eyes, seemed to be holding court in the best-placed table in the restaurant, the wizard's thin lips curling in distaste as his chilly gaze followed Albus' progression across the room.
Albus recognized the man's companions: two Ministry officials from the Department of International Magical Cooperation, who seemed to be preening and basking in the glory of being seen next to such an eminent figure as the Paternas of Malfoy House; an elderly member of the Wizengamot, who -when catching sight of Albus- squirmed uneasily in his seat, as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar; the middle-aged Arcturus and Pollux Black, cousins, and the Heads of their respective branches of Black House; and last but certainly not least, Aurelia Bones, the Minister's Undersecretary.
The hostess led him to a table occupied by a wizard of Albus' age – the Minister of Magic, Charlemagne McLaggen, with his long, thin mustache, its tips curled upwards into spirals, which, in the wizard's opinion, gave him a sophisticated and majestic look.
Furthermore, the man wore rich robes of the latest fashion and seemed to flinch when blinded by Albus' flashy yellow attire, his expression then souring as if Albus' choice of wardrobe had been made with the sole intention of offending him.
Albus took a seat and pleasantly greeted the Minister as the hostess left them after conjuring the menus. It didn't escape Albus' notice that their table was but an arm-length's away from Maximilian Malfoy and his cronies. It seemed the Minister had decided to have reinforcements for their 'casual' meeting – it surprised him not.
Albus had long ago become tired of warning Charlemagne of the dangers of 'befriending' Maximilian Malfoy and lending an ear to the wizard's advice. It was no secret to Albus that Maximilian's sphere of influence was far reaching, his web not only threading through the Ministry –as it seemed a Malfoy tradition of old to bribe their way through the Ministry's ranks. But Maximilian had taken it two steps further by managing to get himself a seat in the Wizengamot and elected as the Head of Hogwarts' Board of Governors.
Thus, the old wizard had the three bastions of power of wizarding Britain under his influence. However, while Maximilian Malfoy surely considered Albus Dumbledore his foremost archrival in political matters, Albus merely thought of him as one more wizard whose actions had to be monitored and nothing else – even the Malfoy Paternas, with all his cunningness and power, paled in comparison to the Dark Lord Gellert Grindelwald, no matter how much Maximilian Malfoy would certainly desire to be considered in the same league.
Nevertheless, Albus Dumbledore was no fool, and he soon covertly swished his wand to envelop both him and the Minister in an invisible magical bubble – their conversation would remain private. He shot a benevolent smile at Charlemagne McLaggen, and while the wizard realized what had been done and shot him a resentful glare, Albus took the opportunity to very briefly, and covertly, share a glance with Aurelia Bones.
Their quick, shared gaze spoke volumes, a silent conversation traded. The witch's minute nod of the head conveying that Mrs. Bones would later apprise Albus of the particulars of Malfoy's conversation with his cronies, in that evening's meeting of the Order of the Phoenix – the secret group Albus had recently founded when it became evident to him that the English Ministry of Magic was ill-prepared, and its leader too weak-willed, to pose an opposition against Gellert.
Aurelia Bones, the Minister's Undersecretary, was -secretly in her case- one of several Ministry officials who followed Albus' lead in political matters. She was his spy – though Albus didn't like to use that word, since dire had to be the times in which they lived when he had no other choice but to have spies in his very government.
Charlemagne McLaggen's mood –which had never been a good one- soured further with each passing second; when Dumbledore magically isolated them from prying ears, when the odious carefree wizard plucked a grape from the vine dangling above their heads and popped it into his mouth, when the man cheerfully hummed as he asked the waiter to only be served 'that scrumptious chocolate and lemon cake', instead of asking for a full meal as any respectable wizard would do. Everything about Albus Dumbledore offended him – it always had.
The man's garish yellow suit insulted Charlemagne's sense of style, the man's benevolent expression and calm airs made him want to strangle him, Albus' mere presence made him grit his teeth – with envy, anger and bitterness.
They had known each other for a very long time. They had attended Hogwarts in the same year; Charlemagne being in Ravenclaw, as most McLaggens before him, and Dumbledore in Gryffindor. Even back then, Charlemagne couldn't stand the sight of him.
Every year, he had come second place after Albus, always bested in grades. Every year he had to watch as the wizard stole the limelight, with teachers praising Albus instead of paying attention to Charlemagne's accomplishments; when Albus was made Head Boy instead of him – a position that should had been his, something he had always coveted- when Albus' NEWT scores were perfect, and when the wizard had been the winner of the Barnabus Finkle Prize for Exceptional Spell-Casting and the British Youth Representative to the Wizengamot – another two things Albus had stolen from him.
Back then, Charlemagne's sole respite from being in Albus' shadow was that he was free of him during summer holidays. But that had also changed. Like several light pureblood families, the McLaggens had a summer residence in Godric Gryffindor's hometown. And one year, all of a sudden, a huge scandal had shaken the wizarding community of Britain; Percival Dumbledore, Albus' father, and a very well respected pureblood wizard since the man had been the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, was sentenced to life-imprisonment in Azkaban for the murder of a couple of muggles. The whole affair had been very hush-hush, the Ministry unwilling to leak information about the matter in their shame of having one of their Head of Departments being convicted of such a serious crime.
Charlemagne, for his part, had been ecstatic at the news, hoping that the infamy of having such a father would put Albus in his place and take him down several notches. What he hadn't expected was for the Dumbledore family to move right next to his family's summer house in Godric's Hollow.
After that, all he had heard about during those times were his mother's offended remarks and indignation because Kendra Dumbledore had slammed the door shut in her face when his mother had paid a visit to welcome her to the neighborhood; all gossips suddenly were about the Dumbledores, all attention drawn to them and the strange noises that had come from their house, as if they had a wild beast caged within their home.
The following summer had been worse, when Kendra Dumbledore had died from an 'accident', and everyone in the neighborhood pitied Albus and Aberforth Dumbledore, and spoiled them, trying to make up for their loss.
And the last summer, in their seventh year, it became unbearable for Charlemagne. The eminent and famous historian Bathilda Bagshot, the pride of Godric's Hallow, received a visit from her grandnephew, and everyone in the neighborhood doted after the handsome young man, and cooed and speculated when they saw that the boy was always seen in Albus' company. And when the cat was out of the bag and everyone discovered the existence of Ariana Dumbledore when the girl was killed in another 'magical accident' which was blamed on no one at all, Albus was once again the focus of everyone's attention and compassion.
It had galled him, yet Charlemagne considered himself as not being resentful. If Albus Dumbledore had apologized for being the bane of his existence, Charlemagne would have magnanimously forgiven him. But it seemed that Albus wasn't even aware of the damage he had caused to him.
Yet, Charlemagne had been gracious enough to even consider forgiving Albus when he had found out that for all his perfect scores, the wizard had decided to become a mere Transfiguration Professor. That had been a joyful day for Charlemagne, and after Hogwarts he went on to climb the ranks in the Ministry of Magic, his ascendance slow but firm, gaining many important posts before becoming the Minister of Magic.
He had thought, then, that Albus would fade away into insignificance and oblivion in the dusty and lackluster post as a school teacher. But even from such an inconsequential placement, Albus had managed to outshine him.
First, when Albus advocated the preservation of the almost extinct merpeople, managing to convince the Ministry to allow a community of merfolk to take residence in Hogwarts' Lake. Then, when the wizard was awarded with the Gold Medal for Ground-Breaking Contribution to the International Alchemical Conference in Cairo – a prize which hadn't been conferred to anyone for over four centuries. After, Dumbledore was further acclaimed as the key mediator in the formation of the Union of Wands and Staffs of the Americas. Later, Albus broke all records by being elected the youngest Wizengamot member in British history.
Dumbledore even gained further fame when he solved the centaur-problem by reaching an agreement with the beasts, giving them a home in Hogwarts' Forest in exchange of allowing the Ministry to keep them in check by forming a sub-department for the regulation and control of centaur population. That no centaur ever registered, thus breaking the deal, seemed to escape everyone's notice. No one had blamed Albus for it, even when it was clear to many that the wizard seemed quite happy that the halfbreeds weren't submitting to the Ministry's control.
And lately, for some years now, Albus had dealt him the most grievous of insults and offenses, when the wizard started war-mongering from his seat in the Wizengamot, warning about the perils of Gellert Grindelwald's rise to power in Germany, spouting vile alarmist lies regarding impeding doom for them all if something was not done to halt Grindelwald's ascendancy. Worst of it, half of the Wizengamot believed him, and even before that, many had attempted to convince Albus to become the Minister of Magic – when Charlemagne himself had already acquired the post.
"This is quite tasty," remarked Albus as he loaded his fork with another morsel of cake, at last breaking the silence that had reigned between them after their dishes had been served. "Would you care try a bite-?"
Being yanked away from bitter reminiscences, Charlemagne, who still hadn't touched his dish of duck a la orange, skewered him with a poisonous glare as he said acidly, "We're not here to enjoy the culinary delicacies of this establishment."
"Ah," said Dumbledore, as he set down his fork and leaned back on his chair to regard him with utter calmness. "Why are we here, then, old friend?"
At the appellation, Charlemagne's spiraling moustache twitched with incensed anger. He considered himself to be the consummate politician, a smooth-talker who could persuade even the most hostile of audiences; as cunning as a Slytherin, as prodigal as a Ravenclaw, as loyalty-inspiring as a Hufflepuff, and as noble-bearing and morally upstanding as a Gryffindor. But Albus Dumbledore was the one person in the whole world who instantly riled him up with his mere existence – he was utterly unable to be his restrained, polite and charming public self in the man's presence.
Thus, his dark brown eyes narrowed as he hissed sharply, his tone of voice agitated and enraged, "To discuss two matters. First, I want you to call off Carlotta Pinkstone and her cohorts."
An expression of earnest surprise flashed across Albus' face, his eyebrows shooting upwards.
Charlemagne shot him a venomous glance, not believing Albus' innocence in the matter for one second. For the last two weeks, a halfblood witch by the name of Carlotta Pinkstone had begun campaigning for the lifting of the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy; her aim being that Muggles be told about the existence of the Wizarding World. Of course, it was preposterous and no one supported her cause.
Nonetheless, the witch and her equally deranged small group of friends had somehow managed to slip into the Ministry of Magic and they had chained themselves to the Fountain of Magical Brethren as a means of protest – refusing to leave until the Minister agreed to her conditions.
Articles in the Daily Prophet had found it vastly amusing, ridiculing the Aurors' inability to break the unknown spells that Pinkstone and her friends were using to remain attached to the Fountain. It made Charlemagne look like an incompetent fool, and that he was not.
In his years as a Minister, he had achieved no spectacular accomplishments -nothing flashy and thus not considered by the papers to be news-worthy- but British wizarding society had known years of peace, stability and bountifulness under his mandate. His problems had started with the rise of Gellert Grindelwald and with Albus Dumbledore's alarmist views about the matter.
"You must think very little of me," said Albus at last, his tone of voice grave as he pierced the Minister with his sky blue gaze, "if you believe I'm behind it."
McLaggen met the wizard's stare as he remarked sharply, his tone of voice openly accusing, "I believe you would resort to any lowly measure to ensure I'm ousted from my post."
"I'm not after your job, Charlemagne," interjected Albus, letting out a weary sigh.
"I know you're not," said the Minister sourly, and that very fact burned like acid through his veins, since he knew that Albus could take the post from him if he so desired, but Dumbledore had no interest in it and he felt as if he was being given the leftovers the wizard didn't want. "But you wish you could have a more amenable wizard in my place – someone who could be easily manipulated by you, someone who would do just as you ask."
"I see you're not mincing words today," said Albus with a wry chuckle, as he shook his head as a means of letting the wizard know that he had no such heinous and underhanded intentions.
"I'm taking the direct approach," bit out McLaggen through gritted teeth, "since all other attempts to reach a common ground with you have been thrown back to my face."
Albus shook his head once more, looking pained for a brief moment as he said quietly, "As always, you misjudge me. Nothing would please me more than to reach an agreement with you, Charlemagne."
"How can I believe you have no hand in Pinkerton's protest when just the other week you proposed in the Wizengamot that the Statute of Secrecy be breached?" hissed out the Minister through clenched teeth, his outrage and indignation clear in his incensed expression, his level of voice rising with each word spoken, as he leaned forward against the table's edge to be closer to Albus' face. "You and your followers in the Wizengamot are pushing for your proposed law to be passed and I will not have it! I will not be known as the Minister who doomed the Wizarding World by unraveling our existence to Muggles! It's preposterous, it's sheer madness!"
McLaggen's infuriated, looming visage before his face did nothing to ruffle Albus' calmness. Dumbledore merely stared at him in silence, allowing some time for the wizard to compose himself and restrain his temper.
For a minute, Charlemagne looked mortified that he had lost his cool in such manner, quickly glancing around to see if the other patrons of the restaurant had been witness to his shameful loss of control – the last thing he needed was such an event to reach the ears of the Daily Prophet.
The eyes of many people were indeed on him, some even gawking – Charlemagne was known to be a very even-tempered wizard. However, he remembered the spell Dumbledore had cast at the very beginning and for once he was glad for it. No one could have overheard the reason for his outburst. Nonetheless, he didn't feel even the tiniest bit of gratefulness towards Albus for his spell. It only made him resent the wizard even more; that his reputation had been salvaged by Albus' actions felt like a dagger being cruelly dug between his ribs.
The Minister let out a slow exhalation of breath as he leaned back on his seat, forcing a pleasant smile to stretch on his lips to show observers that all was well.
The moment he saw that McLaggen had regained his composure, Albus eyed him intently as he started to say slowly, "Charlemagne, I'm not proposing to lift the Statute of Secrecy, nor indeed, to breach it per se-"
"I know exactly what you want," interrupted McLaggen crisply. "I've read your proposal – all three hundred pages of it." He shot him a baleful glare as he lifted up a hand, ticking off his fingers as he started enumerating, "A new department to be formed in the Ministry, the 'Muggle Liaison Office'. A means of direct communication with the Muggle Minister which consist of two things. The first, a magical portrait to be hung, irremovable, in the man's office, the portrait's subject being our ears while his second portrait is to hang in my office so the subject can move to it to alert me of any important happenings in Muggle Britain. The second, for the Muggle Minister's fireplace to be connected to the Floo Network, allowing me or any other I appoint, to be able to visit him if dire circumstances require it. All of it for the purpose of revealing the existence of our world to the Muggle Minister-"
"And only him," interjected Albus quickly, pointedly staring at him as if willing to drill his point through McLaggen's skull. "No other muggles would know-"
"The Muggle Minister would know and that alone is dangerous enough!" snapped Charlemagne angrily, frustrated by the wizard's blind obstinacy. "Even if he didn't blab to other muggles about it-"
"He wouldn't," interrupted Albus yet again. "No one would believe him. He wouldn't take the chance to be thought to be a lunatic. No muggle would."
"Even so," bit out McLaggen sharply, "it's too great a risk and we gain nothing by it."
"Gain nothing?" repeated Albus, his expression incredulous for one instance before his face became grave, his tone of voice turning harshly reproving, "If we don't help the Muggles in their War, they won't survive it."
"Ah, yes, the other point in your law – for us to have the responsibility to protect all Muggles, of any country, when their lives are endangered by a wizard, even if such wizard is not British." Charlemagne shot him a sneer as he continued sharply, "My duty is to protect and ensure the wellbeing of Wizarding Britain, and the safety of British Muggles from harm done to them by a British wizard – not a foreign one. That would be the responsibility of the Ministry of Magic of the wizard's country. Furthermore, the fate of Muggles outside Britain is not my responsibility either."
Albus shook his head sadly as he murmured, "And that is the point in which our opinions differ-"
"Indeed it is," bit out Charlemagne poignantly, narrowing his dark brown eyes at him. "Do not believe me to be a dim-witted fool, Dumbledore. I'm well aware of the reason behind this whole charade of yours, with this law you want to pass. You want us to be legally compelled to join the Muggle War, to be legally responsible to protect foreign Muggles who are attacked by foreign wizards – by German wizards." He pierced him with a contemptuous gaze, his lips pulling back from his teeth as he hissed out, "This is about Gellert Grindelwald and your claims that he has become a Dark Lord who wants to take over the entire world."
"I think there is little doubt that he is, indeed, a Dark Lord," said Albus sternly, his features hardening as he skewered him with his bespectacled gaze.
"I have no such evidence," interjected Charlemagne nonchalantly, waving a hand dismissively. "There hasn't been a Dark Lord since the fifteenth century, and as far as I've seen, Grindelwald has done nothing but become Germany's Minister of Magic and-"
"A post he gained through coercion and by underhanded means," interrupted Albus curtly, his expression becoming more thunderous by the minute, as if his patience with the wizard before him was reaching its limit. "Surely it's plain for anyone to see – the former German Minister of Magic didn't drop dead of his own accord-"
"There is no proof Grindelwald caused the wizard's death, and so far he hasn't done anything illegal either."
Being a wizard who had been a Ravenclaw at Hogwarts, Charlemagne had grown up believing in the precepts of his House – one of the most important ones which had served him well in the past, was that a fact was not a fact until there was solid proof of it. Moreover, upholding the Law and always acting within its marked boundaries was a matter of integrity and necessity for him, both because he was a Minister of Magic and because he firmly believed in the need for any society to adhere to strict rules in order to be civilized and peaceful.
A sound of frustration issued from Albus' throat, his angered exasperation with McLaggen's pig-headedness clear in his voice as he snapped, "He has taken over Austria, by force-"
"Has he?" said Charlemagne pleasantly, his lips curling upwards with satisfaction, as if he had found a legal snag with which to corner Dumbledore and win the argument. "According to what has been reported back to me, the Austrian Ministry of Magic voluntarily submitted themselves to Grindelwald's rule. Who are we to deny their wishes to join their two countries under one mantle? Indeed, if I did anything to threaten such a union, it would be I who would be breaking international magical laws."
Albus mutely shook his head, his bearded jaw clenching, before he attempted once more to make the wizard see reason. "Even before the Austrian Minister of Magic consented to become Grindelwald's puppet figurehead, in fear of his life, the Austrian muggles were already being coerced into annexing their country to the Third Reich-"
"Do not think I do not read muggle newspapers and that I'm ill-informed about the happenings in their world," snapped McLaggen incensed, believing that Dumbledore was trying to trick him with faulty information. "The Austrian muggles held a plebiscite – the majority voted in favor of joining the Third Reich, as muggles call it."
Letting out a tired sigh, Albus pinned him with his gaze as he said quietly, "It's clear to me now that you are unaware of the full extent of what happened in Austria."
Charlemagne narrowed his eyes at what he perceived to be an insult to his mental capacities. Nonetheless, he remained quiet and imperiously gestured for the wizard to continue. He would hear what the odious man had to say and then he would refute what would surely be outlandish ravings from a war-mongering loon.
Pushing his abandoned dish of cake to one side, Albus steepled his fingers over the table, boring his gaze into McLaggen as he said gravely, "The Austrian Muggle Chancellor was being pressured by Nazis from within his country and from Germany to agree to the annexation of Austria. The man attempted to keep his country independent, but he didn't succeed. The Austrian Nazi Party launched a silent coup d'état, taking over the country's state institutions. They transferred power to Germany and instantly sent troops to invade Austria in order to enforce the annexation. They didn't call it an invasion, of course, they gave other reasons for it – to keep peace and order in the country, they said. But the reality of the situation was that they left the Muggle Chancellor with few choices. He was coerced into holding a plebiscite, but he still hoped that Austrians would not vote in favor of the annexation, even if they were surrounded by troops-"
"I know this already," interjected McLaggen impatiently, "In the plebiscite, ninety-nine percent of the votes were in favor for the annexation. Nothing illegal there, they chose-"
Albus' sky blue eyes flashed behind his half-moon spectacles. "Precisely, Charlemagne. Ninety-nine percent. Not just a simple majority, but nearly an absolute one. Doesn't that give you cause for suspicion? Never have muggles reached such unprecedented majority of votes in any sort of election." His expression grew grave as he pierced the wizard with his gaze. "The general muggle populace showed signs of having had their minds tampered with, Charlemagne. I believe their water supplies were plied with a potion to make their minds pliable, open to manipulation- we both know that there are several dark potions that could do such a thing."
The Minister's dark brown eyes grew wide for a moment, before they narrowed, as he said stiffly, "That is a very serious accusation, indeed, if you're suggesting Grindelwald ordered such measure to be taken."
"I'm certain he did," retorted Albus firmly.
McLaggen's eyes narrowed even further as he demanded curtly, "You saw this yourself?" At Dumbledore's shake of the head, he pressed on, "Where is your proof, then, Dumbledore? You can't accuse the German Minister of Magic of such grave crime if you don't have the evidence to back it, if you don't have eye witnesses -"
"I do. I was informed about it by a wizard who saw the signs himself – the glassy eyes of the muggles, the-"
"Who is your witness?" demanded McLaggen instantly.
"That I cannot tell you," replied Albus sternly, peering at him from the top of his spectacles. "They must remain anonymous or their lives would be in danger."
"Are you implying that the information would be leaked out – that I have spies in my Ministry?" burst out McLaggen indignantly, his jaw clenching as his curled moustache shook with anger.
"Spies? Certainly," said Albus coolly, before his gaze flickered briefly to the table near theirs, where Maximilian Malfoy was still conversing with his cronies. "And many Grindelwald supporters as well. Your choice of… 'friends' is not a wise one."
McLaggen followed the wizard's gaze and his jaw clenched as he caught sight of Malfoy shooting them a covert glance. He turned to sneer at Dumbledore but said nothing about the matter. He was well aware that Dumbledore considered him a fool, but he wasn't one. He knew Malfoy was a dangerous, untrustworthy man to have at his side, but the wizard had his uses.
"Furthermore," started again Albus, "I have been informed of yet other grievous tampering of muggles. Recently, a region in Czechoslovakia called the Sudetenland has been occupied by the Nazi army-"
McLaggen interrupted him with a huff. "The muggles there are of German descend. From what I've heard, they wish to be annexed to their home country-"
"As happened with the invasion of Austria," continued Albus as if he hadn't been interrupted at all, his tone growing sterner, "the Nazi troops moved very efficiently, extremely quickly – this is already flummoxing other muggle nations, they believe it indicates that Hitler is a military genius. It instills fear in them. But the reason for it is a much different one."
He pointedly pinned the Minister with his gaze, as he added, "The food provisions for the Nazi armies are being laced with several potions, to give the soldiers strength and endurance beyond normal human capacity. Not to such abnormal levels as to raise suspicions but enough to make them tireless. Furthermore, they are starting to believe their own lies – that they are indeed superior to other muggles, that the reason for their tirelessness if due to their Arian race attributes shinning through."
"Again, and your proof of this-?"
"With those two examples, I believe we can see what Grindelwald's modus operandi entails," pressed on Albus, ignoring McLaggen's question. "First, he uses his muggle puppet, the man called Hitler, to give thunderous, agitated speeches to rouse their muggle armies into a frenzy and to give them a 'valid' excuse for the need to conquer a neighboring country. Then, the muggle armies are sent to invade quickly, in a flash, their very speed and efficiency bringing fear and terror into the hearts of the muggles of the country to be subjugated. After the muggle side of the country is secured, Grindelwald sends in his followers to take over the Ministry of Magic. The Ministry of Magic officials, already seeing that their muggle counterparts have fallen, and now being surrounded by muggle troops and thus vastly outnumbered, have little choice but to submit or be summarily executed."
He paused to pierce McLaggen with his gaze, as he said pointedly and sharply, "But, if they knew that the British Ministry of Magic would come to their aid, they would have hope – they would fight back, Charlemagne. We can save Czechoslovakia yet. We can attempt to halt Grindelwald's progress before he conquers more countries – before it's too late."
Charlemagne leaned backwards on his seat, his expression one of deep, grave ponderings. At last, he glanced up at Albus as he said curtly, "If what you say is true, then bring forth your eyewitnesses. I can call for an emergency meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards. I will give you permission to expose your case, to have your sources of information stand there, in the flesh, giving account of what they have seen – their proof of the illegal use of potions on muggles."
A sharp, hard smile spread on his lips, his expression smug, as if he had reached a solution that could satisfy them both, as he continued, "Only then, can we press charges against the German Minister of Magic. If Grindelwald is unable to show evidence to demonstrate his innocence on the matter, I have no doubt that I would be able to convince other Ministers of Magic to unite in the cause of declaring war on Grindelwald."
"We cannot afford to do as you say - to use legal means," retorted Albus with a shake of his head. "It would take too long. Grindelwald would find ways of postponing it and in the meanwhile he will keep on invading. Moreover, I cannot let my spies reveal their identities. It would instantly reach Grindelwald's ears and they would be killed. I cannot afford to lose them, they are my only source of information-"
"Then my hands are tied, Albus!" roared McLaggen, pounding a closed fist on the table. "I'm a Minister of Magic, I have to operate within the Law. And I cannot attack a fellow Minister without evidence of wrongdoing – if I did that, I would be condemned by other Ministries. It would be I who would be breaking international magical laws!"
"That's why I ask you to act unilaterally," interjected Albus firmly. "Aid the Czechoslovakian Ministry of Magic, and once others see that Britain has taken a stance, the other Ministers of Magic will follow your lead-"
McLaggen let out a burst of dry, humorless laughter. "How little you know my counterparts! They will not come to the rescue if they see we are vastly outnumbered – and that we will be!" He shot Albus a glare as he added fiercely, "According to reports, Grindelwald's followers reach the thousands, my Aurors number little over a hundred. And I cannot take a leaf out of the muggle's book and force conscription. If I send to battle every wizard and witch of age, they would be ill-prepared –it takes a wizard three years of arduous and constant training to become an Auror. I would be sending them untrained. I would be sending them to their deaths. I will not have that on my conscience!"
Albus skewered him with his eyes and said vehemently, "If we do nothing now, British wizards will die nonetheless when Grindelwald invades England."
"There is no reason to believe Grindelwald will invade our country-"
"Don't be a fool, Charlemagne!" thundered Albus with exasperated impatience. "He will not stop at Czechoslovakia. He won't even stop when he has the whole of Continental Europe. England is the one country he will surely not leave alone!"
"Why not?" snapped McLaggen, narrowing his eyes at him. "What makes you so sure of it?"
Albus leaned backwards on his seat, keeping silent for a brief moment before he cleared his throat and said carefully, "There are… things in England he wants."
"Things?" demanded Charlemagne instantly, his eyes narrowing to slits. "What 'things'?"
"That I cannot tell," replied Albus firmly.
"Ah," bit out McLaggen incensed, "another secret you want to keep. Very well, Dumbledore, keep your silence, but know that it comes at a high cost."
He then shook his head, huffing, as he added scornfully, "You refuse to bring to light any evidence you have, you refuse to bring forth your eyewitnesses. You're asking me to act blindly, on your word alone. And you want me to send my Aurors and untrained wizards to the battlefield, without thought of the cost in human lives-"
"I'm well aware that many would die," interjected Albus quietly, letting out a deep, weary sigh. "It pains me as much as it does you. But we have little choice. We have to act now. The longer we wait, the stronger he will get-"
"I cannot do as you ask," interrupted McLaggen, shaking his head repeatedly. "I won't send wizards to their deaths. If what you fear does come to happen and Grindelwald attempts to invade us, I'll negotiate for terms of peace instantly-"
"He will not respect any terms," muttered Albus, "and if you surrender as the Austrian Minister did, he will use you and then kill you when your usefulness expires. You'd be instantly replaced by one of his closeted supporters."
With this, he pointedly shot a glance at Maximilian Malfoy and McLaggen's lips twisted as he understood the meaning of Albus' words.
Nevertheless, McLaggen shook his head once more, as he said stiffly, "You have my answer. I will not change my mind."
Albus closed his eyes, his expression one of defeat and pained regret. In the next instant, he snapped his eyes open and leaned forward, boring his gaze into the Minister's, as he whispered quietly, "Then at least do one thing, and one thing alone. Grant asylum to Jewish wizards."
McLaggen flinched backwards as if he had been struck by a heavy blow. He tried to mask it in the next second by seating straight on his chair, letting out a hollow laugh. "Grant asylum to the very people Grindelwald is rounding up? And with valid, legal cause. I might as well be asking him to invade us."
At present, the Jewish people represented a difficult problem, a delicate issue.
Charlemagne remembered clearly the first time he had read about them when he had been a schoolboy, and how fascinated he had been with them - the Jews, the only group of muggles in the history of the entire world who had embraced their wizarding counterparts.
It had started many millennia ago when the Jewish people were bound by slavery to the Egyptian Kingdom. And in the midst of times of great misery for them, the first muggleborns had been born in their bosom. But unlike any other muggles who discovered that some of them had strange, inexplicable abilities, the Jews hadn't felt threatened, envious or scared of their muggleborns – they hadn't tortured, isolated or killed them.
No, they had seen their muggleborns as a benediction of their God, that their deity was giving them the means for them to break free from the chains of slavery – they had taken it as a sign that they were God's chosen people, because why else would their God make some of their own kind special just when they were so in need, and give them the wisdom to not fear them but to recognize a godly gift for what it was?
With the aid of their muggleborns, they managed to flee from Egypt and went in look for a territory to call their own. And with the passage of time and rise of new religions, they saw how other muggles viewed their own special people, how their religions spoke of evilness and how muggles instantly thought that their magical people were the very incarnation of such evil.
The Jews, however, remembered, and they closed quarters around their wizards, revering, cherishing and protecting them. They even generated their own version of a pureblood: a pure Jew descendant of only other Jew muggleborns.
With the passage of time, and with their muggle population growing much faster than their magical one, only some select Jewish muggle families remained attached to their magical kind – they made sure they remembered the reason why they were God's chosen people, they verbally passed down the knowledge from father to son, from mother to daughter.
Those families became the protectors of their wizards, living with them, willingly and lovingly serving them. Now, in modern times, only those numerous muggle families knew about their magical kind, since for the others their existence had become a mere legend, a fantasy, until it was no longer remembered at all. The others no longer remembered why, exactly, they were God's chosen people.
As a schoolboy, the story had filled Charlemagne with a hopeful, warm feeling, seeing that at least there was a race of muggles who had always viewed their own wizarding kind favorably.
Even now, they were the only muggles he truly respected, due to it. However, as a Minister of Magic, he understood the risk they represented.
Three years ago, when Gellert Grindelwald had abruptly become the German Minister of Magic, the wizard had sent envoys to all the Ministries in Europe – as any newly elected Minister would do.
Charlemagne remembered his meeting with the diplomat clearly – he remembered how the wizard had explained that Grindelwald was concerned about the possibility that the Statute of Secrecy would be irreparably broken by allowing the select Jewish muggle families to live with their wizards, to keep knowing, thus, that a whole wizarding world existed.
Indeed, when the International Confederation of Wizards had established the Statute of Secrecy in 1692, those Jewish muggle families, the Guardians, had refused to adhere to it; they had refused to allow themselves to be obliviated and parted from the Jewish wizarding families they were attached to. In the end, no one had forced them into complying with the Statute, but they were breaching it nonetheless.
It was so, that the German diplomat had exposed his case very reasonably. As the new German Minister of Magic, Grindelwald had the legal right to fully enforce the Statute of Secrecy in his own country, and when those Jewish muggle families still refused, he had the legal right to take measures; to round them up -the Guardian families with their attached wizarding families- and relocate them to somewhere isolated where there would be no risk of any of them interacting with other muggles and thus expose the existence of wizarding kind.
It was a harsh measure, but legal, and it only represented isolation for those Jews, nothing grave. So Charlemagne had told the German diplomat that he understood and that indeed he could find no legal wrongdoing in the matter, and thus, wouldn't interfere with a fellow Minister's decision.
"Valid, legal cause?" muttured Albus incredulously, before his expression hardened. "You must be referring to that feeble excuse that is flying around – that Jewish families are breaking the Statute of Secrecy. But he's not capturing them for that reason, he wants something from them-"
"And that is?" snapped McLaggen impatiently, now having grown very tired of his conversation with Dumbledore.
"I'm not certain, yet," admitted Albus quietly. He sighed and carded his fingers down his long, auburn beard, before he glanced up and gazed at the Minister over the top of his half-moon spectacles, his voice turning soft, "But believe me when I say, Charlemagne, that Grindelwald doesn't care about the Statute of Secrecy – he never has. He has always believed that wizarding kind could easily subjugate the muggle world, that it's our duty to do so-"
"He has 'always' believed?" McLaggen's brown eyes darkly gleamed, his lips curling upwards underneath his long, thin moustache. "Yes, you would know, wouldn't you?" His expression was now both nasty and accusing. "Some of us, who lived in Godric's Hollow, still remember. Someone of us recognized him. Indeed, when I saw the wizarding picture of Grindelwald accepting the post as the German Minister, I instantly knew who he was. He's older, just like we are, but his distinctive features haven't changed. He was that boy – Bathilda Bagshot's grandnephew, the one you were so close and cozy with."
Albus remained silent, merely meeting his gaze, and McLaggen felt a burst of vindictive pleasure erupt in his chest, as he continued in a poignant tone of voice, "I could bring it to light. I could expose you and easily bring you down." He let out a harsh chuckle, as he added sharply, "Or perhaps I could reopen the investigation into the death of your sister. I wonder what my Aurors would discover? Who killed her, Dumbledore? Was it you, Aberforth, or Grindelwald?" He shot him a nasty smile and then gestured at Albus' long, crooked nose. "Ah, no, Aberforth couldn't have been – he hit you in your sister's funeral, he broke your nose. I was there, I saw. It was you then?"
Still, Albus remained impassive, as unmovable as a stone statue, with an air of unconcern and calmness around him. Evidently, the wizard couldn't be easily riled up or threatened.
McLaggen shot him a scornful glance and then changed tacks, to bring up a matter that had been in his mind for some time.
With an expression of relish on his face, the Minister comfortably leaned back on his chair, eyeing Albus almost mockingly, as he intoned, "The most peculiar thing happened to me three months ago. I was paying a visit to a dear friend in Hogsmeade, and imagine my surprise when I saw that a new pub had been opened – the Hog's Head, it's called. Of course, out of curiosity, I entered the establishment – if it could be called such." His lips curled as he continued pleasantly, "Imagine my further surprise when I saw the bartender and the owner of the pub. Your brother is a bit pudgy around the middle, nowadays, isn't he?"
McLaggen chuckled dryly, shooting a glance at Albus to see his reaction. When none came forth, he smirked and added loftily, "The last time I saw him was in your sister's funeral. I heard that a French aunt of yours had taken him back to her country. I even heard that he finished school in Beauxbatons and then became their Care of Magical Creatures Professor. Following your footsteps in your profession, it seems, and Abe always did like his dirty, beastly animals, didn't he?" He tutted mockingly, as he added, "I've even heard that for many years you wrote letters to him and attempted to see him – and he always refused. So, it has been what, over six decades since you haven't seen each other? Or have you already attempted to see him at the Hog's Head, hmm?"
He cocked his head to a side, waiting to see if the wizard before him would speak. But Dumbledore seemed content to let him continue cruelly taunting him, perhaps waiting for him to get to the point. Nevertheless, Charlemagne was not fazed by the man's unflappable silence.
"I had to ask him, of course, why he had returned to England, where so many painful memories awaited him," said McLaggen, placidly stroking one curled tip of his moustache. "And you know what Aberforth said?" He dropped his hand from his face, and leveled a hard stare at Dumbledore. "He said he was there to keep an eye on you. I had to ask why, and he didn't mince words in his reply. It seems he had read in the newspapers about Grindewald's actions. And Aberforth spat out to me, 'That man is truly on the move now. Albus was weak once, I won't let him make the same mistake twice.'"
McLaggen paused and shot him a sneer. "I thought he was implying that due to your previous… 'friendship', shall we call it, with Grindelwald, you were at risk of having certain feeling of … fondness for the wizard bloom forth once again. That maybe there was a chance that you would join Grindelwald's side. But Aberforth quickly rid me of that notion – he even laughed! 'No', he said, 'Albus wouldn't join Grindelwald. He can't, even if he truly desired it, he couldn't. He fears him, because he fears himself.'"
The Minister paused, and then demanded acerbically, "What did he mean by that, Dumbledore?"
Albus sat stiffly on his seat, his shoulders tense, his face pale. But then he let out a wry chuckle. "Aberforth did always know me better than I know myself."
"Yes, very endearing. But explain yourself," pressed on McLaggen briskly, but the man before him remained silent and merely relaxed on his chair. Bristling, the Minister bit out, "It has just occurred to me that we have another solution for the Grindelwald matter."
Albus shot him a glance of interest, and Charlemagne continued grudgingly, as if pained by having to admit such thing, "You are hailed to be the most powerful wizard in England. And you are believed to be, possibly, one of the most powerful in the entire wizarding world. Thus, why not fight Grindelwald yourself, Dumbledore? A duel, face-to-face, one-to-one. If you defeat him, I can arrange matters so that you wouldn't be convicted of the crime of murdering another wizard. Indeed, if you killed him then you won't need to protect the identity of your spies and they can come forth and testify about Grindelwald's crimes, and your murder of him would be legally justified. You wouldn't be punished – you have my word on that." He paused and then added bitterly, "Perhaps you would even be hailed as a hero. So what say you?"
"That, I cannot do," muttered Albus quietly, his expression closed off, but there seemed to be a hint of deep, painful self-reproach in his eyes. "I cannot confront him face-to-face."
"Merlin's staff, Dumbledore!" burst out McLaggen, his contempt for the man clear on his face. "To think you're sinking to such lowly hypocrisy. You have no compunction in asking me to send thousands of British wizards to battle against Grindelwald's forces but you refuse to put your own life at risk!"
"Believe me," said Albus, his eyes flashing behind his spectacles with a hard glint, "the outcome of having me face Grindelwald directly might be more dangerous for all of us than anything else."
"I don't see how it could be so," bit out McLaggen, making a move to stand up from the table. "You're a coward, Dumbledore, plain and simple. It's clear to me now that it's just as your brother said - you fear Grindelwald."
"Because I fear myself," interjected Albus curtly, the very intensity of the gaze he leveled at McLaggen making the Minister halt in his motion and sit back down. "Temptation, Charlemagne. I would be tempted, and now I know myself well enough to be aware that it isn't advisable for anyone's sake that I'd be put in such a situation."
"Temptation?" spat out McLaggen, looking both incredulous and repulsed. "What, would you expire in a delirium of lust for the man if you came to face him?"
Albus chuckled wryly, shaking his head with amusement. "I'm not a hormonal teenager anymore, Charlemagne. No, that wasn't my meaning. There's no risk of that."
"Then what? That he might tempt you to his side with promises of power," snapped McLaggen, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Perhaps to share his rule over Germany and Austria with you?"
"Not that either," said Albus impassibly, as he stroked his long beard. "I've long ago learned that I'm the worst suited wizard to have any position of power. I wouldn't make that mistake. No, what he has to offer is… knowledge about some matters, clues about something that tempts me, that I desire, but I know that I shouldn't have – and neither should he."
"And now you speak in riddles!" burst out the Minister, at the very limit of his patience.
Albus didn't shoot him an apologetic glance, he merely stared at him as if conferring that that was as good as it could get. And that he certainly wasn't about to disclose any secrets to him.
"I believe I've said enough," remarked Albus calmly, before he skewered him with an intense gaze. "In the end, then, you will do nothing about the war nor the Jews, Charlemagne?"
"I've already answered that," said McLaggen crisply. "You know where I stand."
"Very well," said Albus gravely, nodding his head once. "Then I'm afraid we have, indeed, reached an impasse. You leave me no choice. I will keep pushing for my law to be passed. It is tantamount that we join the war as soon as possible, if not, all is lost."
McLaggen bristled and jumped to his feet, as he hissed out, "Just put me to the test, Dumbledore. I'm itching to clash swords with you once again. But this time, make no mistake, I'll use all available means at my disposal. I will veto your proposed law in the Wizengamot, as many times as I have to. I will drag your name through the mud by disclosing your former liaison with Grindelwald."
He took threatening steps around the table, and when he reached Albus, he leaned down to hiss in his ear, "And if it comes to the point I have no other option but to surrender and reach a peace agreement with Grindelwald and you do anything to endanger it - if even the vaguest rumor reach my ears that you have done anything to countermand my decision and thus put in peril the lives of British wizards- I'll have you branded as a traitor, judged by the full Criminal Court of the Wizengamot and carted off to Azkaban in the blink of an eye. Perhaps I'll have you thrown into the very cell in which your father died, hmm? Wouldn't that be nice?"
And with those last words he spat out, the Minister of Magic pulled himself up to his full height, slammed several golden galleons on the table and then briskly strode away.
Not at all daunted by McLaggen's threats, Albus sadly shook his head as he watched how the wizard left Dionysius' Abode.
There was much to be done, now that Albus had ascertained that they would find no support in the Minister of Magic. Indeed, his mind was already filled with all that had to be discussed in that evening's meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. So much to do, so much to prepare for and organize, and so much to decide.
With a weary exhalation of breath, Albus flicked his wand once, his eyes growing wide when the sparkling numbers that floated in front of him indicated how late the hour had become.
Suddenly remembering his other chore of the day, the wizard patted his pockets, feeling the bumps of the two letters he had to deliver. He quickly stood up, left his galleons on the table, and dashed as quickly as possible out into Leisure Alley.
Hopefully, the visit to the orphanage would be an easy and quick one. Besides giving the letters and explaining about the existence of the magical world to the boys, it was just a matter of seeing why one of them didn't have a surname, after all.
Yes, it would be quick, and then he could concentrate on vastly more important matters.