Not much Sirius in this chapter ( read: no Sirius in this chapter, though it is serious ), but well...
By the way, I have no idea how the people work at Number 10, Downing Street, so I made up an excuse: the United Kingdom being under a rather incredible number of weird events, natural disasters, murders et caetera because of the Dark Bastard, the madness out there reached the Prime Minister's Office, and there are no rules anymore. Or at least, not for quite a bit of time.
Chapter 8: The good old muggle way
Armand locked the door behind him, his black leather satchel hanging at his side, and sighed. It was late in the evening, but with everything happening in the country, he was sure to find Downing Street still filled with ministry employees. Himself, he knew who was to blame for the murders and catastrophes and odd events in general, and the fact that he couldn't tell anyone why the United Kingdom was almost falling apart was disturbing.
He left his apartment, his building, his street, and walked to the nearest subway station.
He had been supposed to go back to work only at the beginning of next week, but the Prime Minister himself had asked for him and White to come back as soon as they could, and so he had received a distressed call from a co-worker only minutes before. He knew that White had returned hours only after his own return, and that they were likely to arrive at roughly the same time.
Armand watched pensively the underground scenery blurring as the tube train went on and on in the darkness. Soon, he'd be at Westminster, and after that he'd have to walk to 10, Downing Street, as he did every morning.
But this time, it wasn't the morning, not at all, and he had no idea why the Prime Minister would want to see him of all people. Sure, he knew that the Prime Minister was aware of the existence of the magical world, but even if Scrimgeour, who was the new Minister for Magic, had already informed him that the natural disasters weren't exactly natural and that the murder victims were mostly witches and wizards, there was no way for the Prime Minister to know who Armand was.
Armand, and Alexander White, had been urgently called to come back ahead of schedule. Either the Prime Minister had understood the link between magic and the incidents, or he had been helped to do so, but no matter what, it had to be about the investigations the two employees had been sent on in the past month.
The tube train stopped, and Armand walked out, into the Westminster Underground station.
Now, the problem that Armand knew to be bound to arise, was his family name. As soon as he'd meet the secretary to the Prime Minister / auror-in-disguise, there would be an uproar. After that, it could as well be a one-way ticket to the Auror Office. As if he could do anything to anyone, being a squib. Though, he mused, he could murder, assassinate, poison the Prime Minister the good old muggle way. But really, working for a pureblood supremacist when you were a squib was stupid. Not that logic could stop the aurors from considering him a suspect – not that logic ever really stopped anyone from making bad decisions, such as, going to work even knowing what he knew.
Armand winced, dejected that even without magical powers, his family name was giving him a hard time. Yes, he was a pureblood. But the thing was, he wasn't a wizard. And that mattered more than anything else.
As he walked up the street, a dementor passed by him, and the man had to force himself not to react to the monster's presence. Muggles couldn't see dementors, though they were aware of their depressing presence. And although it was faint, Armand had hope that maybe, he wouldn't be found out and lose his job in the process. It was a fool's hope, he knew that. Kingsley Shacklebolt would jump wand in hand the very moment he'd see his family name. But he was pretending to be a muggle, he had spent too much effort to be where he now stood, and he wouldn't let any opportunity to keep the position he had earned slip by. So he wasn't going to walk away.
Armand walked into 10, Downing Street thinking about everything but his job. He passed the security, politely greeting the guards, the employees, his superiors, and people he had never seen before or hadn't bothered to remember. He stopped by his computer, looked around, and noticed that indeed, for a friday evening, there was way much more people than what was usual.
Armand was preparing himself to go and see the Prime Minister, as he had been asked to, when a haughty Alexander White dropped his bag at the computer beside his.
The two colleagues looked at each other with contained hatred, searching the other's features for a sign of defeat or victory. Everyone in this part of the Prime Minister's Office knew of the rampant rivalry between the two men, and neither of them bothered to hide their disdain for one another.
Armand noted that White looked rather angry, not that it was unusual. His red hair, which had always been oddly still despite being cut and styled midlength, seemed more flaming than ever, and the squib had half a mind to step away, in case it was to ignite. White's azure eyes – and as always Armand couldn't refrain from inwardly sniggering at the colorless name – were death-staring at him, and as always that was enough to strangle silent the mental sneer.
"White."
The man greeted him back with the same lack of respect, and the two of them glared at each other. They had practice with doing so, and did it very well.
"Do you know why we were called?"
"I don't even know why we were sent looking for Santa and the magical explanation, not that we were likely to find anything, so why would I know why the Prime Minister wants to see us? It's certainly not what I had in mind when I decided to work here."
Armand arched an eyebrow, but stayed silent. He still had no clue how White could be so polite – or at least proper – with just about everyone, and yet let down the mask for him. For half a second, the squib felt flattered to be in the know, but the feeling soon disappeared. Lucius too didn't bother with appearances when it came to him, and that wasn't because the wizard thought him worthy of knowing his true face. More like, "Armand" equaled "worm-a-Malfoy-shouldn't-bother-himself-to-look-proper-with".
Alexander White was just like Lucius Malfoy, only standing for military officers and soldiers rather than for pureblooded wizards and witches. Therefore, to him, Armand was certainly something like a "worm-the-former-soldier-would-never-respect".
He shrugged, and both of them walked in silence to meet the Prime Minister. On their way, they saw a highly distressed Thomas Johnson, who had apparently been waiting for them since he had called the two men, and who led them to the office as if they didn't know their way around.
Armand glanced at the black man who was the new secretary to the Prime Minister, searching his memory for a previous meeting between the auror and himself, and felt relieved when he found he had no recollection of such an encounter.
Johnson began to talk with Shacklebolt, saying that the two men had been asked to come urgently, but the secretary shrugged and said that the Prime Minister was not to be disturbed. Johnson was becoming paler by the minute, arguing that the Prime Minister was certainly not to be disturbed while Alexander and Armand would be talking to him, after all, he had expressly asked to see the two men. But Shacklebolt only said that he had heard the door being locked from the inside, and didn't know anything else.
Of course, Kingsley knew that the door wasn't exactly locked. They had discussed it with the Minister for Magic, Scrimgeour, the ex-Minister, Fudge, and the new head of the Auror Office, Gawain Robards. Scrimgeour was to spell the door not to open for anybody who wasn't magical during his talk with the Prime Minister, so that no one would barge in, but Kinsgley could still come in if somehow there was an attack.
The auror sighed, as Johnson was becoming more and more distraught.
The Death Eaters were getting bolder with each day that passed, and Kingsley didn't like that at all. During the last wizarding war, there had been up to thirteen attempted attacks on the muggle government, leading to the permanent assignment of an auror at 10, Downing Street. It wouldn't have been good if the Prime Minister of the Muggle Community of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland had been killed by a Death Eater, or worse, put under the Imperius curse.
And so here he was, Kingsley Shacklebolt, working as a secretary while his colleagues and friends, fellow aurors, members of the Order of the Phoenix, and family members, were out there, battling masked murderers or simply praying to survive.
The Prime Minister was certainly having a fit in his own office, talking about dark wizards and dark lords and murders and natural disasters and suspicious accidents with the former Minister for Magic and the current Minister for Magic, he mused.
Armand and Alexander had gone back to bickering. Which was one of the things they did best together, with ignoring each other and competiting for the title of best ministry employee.
Johnson eventually calmed down, and let himself fall on a chair, obviously brooding. He had had a terrible week, like everyone else, and had had to put up with journalists and groundless accusations for hours sooner this day. Really, the world was going crazy, and none of the employees in the building were doing what they were supposed to do anymore. Johnson was doing the work of others, others were doing his work, and he could only hope that the madness in Downing Street would soon die down, because they weren't working right for now.
After five minutes of waiting, Armand grew impatient, and though he knew there was no way the door would open, he turned the handle and pushed, just to be sure. If the door wasn't really locked, and Shacklebolt had been wrong about it – maybe hearing another sound and believing it had been the door being locked – he had to make his and White's presences known, since the Prime Minister had asked for them.
Still, he was a bit surprised when the door really opened.
Kingsley stilled on his chair for a second, before letting his wand out of its holster and asking the family names of the two men who had to see the Prime Minister, suddenly remembering that Johnson had never told him their last names. How could he have been so irresponsible?
Armand pushed the door a bit more, and looking inside the office, spotted the Prime Minister sitting at his desk, speaking with two men whom he couldn't recognize from the door – though the bright green bowler hat was highly suspicious.
"Excuse us, Prime Minister, but you asked for us, didn't you? Shall we come back later?"
The moment he had seen the bowler hat, Armand had known he was in deep shit. When Shacklebolt had said that the door was locked, he hadn't meant it as locked with the key as much as locked with a spell... that certainly distinguished magical beings and muggles, thus allowing the auror entry in case of attack. And if the door had opened for him...
Squib status given away by the simple act of pushing open a door.
Brilliant.
Back on the other side of said door, Johnson looked at Shacklebolt as if he had gone insane, and that was comprehensible seeing as the secretary was pointing a stick at Armand's back, while Alexander White looked upset at that sight, as if he knew why the secretary to the Prime Minister was pointing a stick at his colleague.
Still, Thomas Johnson had seen a lot of madness in 10, Downing Street, during the past days, much more than he had ever thought he'd witness in his whole life, and he knew that an overworked man could do strange things. It was certainly better to just go along with the situation, and wait for it to calm down.
But maybe it was only the tiredness in him that was making itself known, rather than his sense of duty pushing him to safely handle the situation.
"Alexander White and Armand Malfoy, why?"
Armand heard his name being said, and decided it was the right time to enter the Prime Minister's office, letting Shacklebolt to deal with Johnson. The poor man would certainly be obliviated, but with the craziness which had invaded Downing Street, thanks to the Death Eaters and Voldemort, Johnson would surely believe he had worked too much and blacked out for a couple of minutes.
Armand saw the two wizards sitting with the Prime Minister draw out their wands, and sighed. Oh, the infamous name of Malfoy had certainly something to do with Fudge and Scrimgeour's reactions. And let's not forget that he had basically entered an office in which no non-magical person was supposed to come, even less so when the current and former Ministers for Magic were in the room.
If he could strangle Lucius right now, right here, he'd do it.
Armand also expected Shacklebolt to join them once he'd have taken care of Johnson.
What he hadn't expected was that White followed him in, closing the door behind them. What he hadn't expected was that if White seemed deeply angry at the whole situation, the man didn't look like he was the least surprised with what was happening. What he hadn't expected was that White seemed to know about the wizarding world.
Armand decided to ignore all this, and to focus on the Ministers.
The Prime Minister looked gobsmacked with everything that was happening in his office, and the fact that two of his employees seemed to know about all this madness, or at least not to be disturbed in the slightest with the lack of logic in what was happening.
Fudge was still sitting in his armchair, his wand pointed at the two intruders, but he didn't seem to understand much of what was going on either.
Scrimgeour, on the other hand, looked like he could hex someone into the next century. Not so surprising, Armand mused, as the wizard had been an auror for years before becoming Minister for Magic. But even if it was to be expected, it didn't make it more reassuring.
Fudge observed the two men who had walked in despite Scrimgeour's spell on the door. If something had to be done about them, the former Minister was positive that the former auror would deal with it way better than he could have. So Fudge simply stared at the two men.
The first one surely had some Malfoy features, such as the pale blond hair, and he stood as it was befitting of a Malfoy. And the name wasn't widely spread, even less so amongst muggles. What's more, the rare squibs in the family were to be wed a witch or wizard of lesser birth, never a muggle, so that the name wouldn't be lost in "muggle filth" and the descendants, if proved worthy, would be able to reenter the family one day. So this "Armand Malfoy" was likely to be part of the House of Malfoy. Strangely enough, Fudge didn't remember him from any kind of events at Malfoy Manor, and even less out in society.
It could only mean...
That was it. Once, Fudge had heard Yaxley teasing the Malfoy lord about a squib cousin... assumptions that Lucius Malfoy had quickly dismissed by redirecting the conversation onto another subject.
But what were the odds that the Malfoy squib would be working a 10, Downing Street? The young man had surely been put here by the head of his family, to keep an eye on the muggle side, and be of some use for once!
Proud of his deductions, Fudge turned his attention to the second man, and quickly decided that though Alexander White had all the haughtiness that the Malfoy squib seemed to lack, this man surely had nothing to do with the wizarding world.
Yes, White surely had followed the squib inside, not knowing what he had walked into.
Speaking of that, it explained why the door had opened, if Armand Malfoy was a squib, but it didn't explain why Shacklebolt had let them in, and even less why the auror wasn't there with them.
Really, if Fudge had still been Minister for Magic, this particular auror wouldn't have lasted long after such a mistake. Hell, the wizard had been working for Dumbledore and his Order for the past year, despite the Ministry's policy, despite Fudge's policy, and no one had fired him yet? So what if Dumbledore had been right all along, and so what if Shacklebolt had done the right thing? He had worked against the Ministry, had worked with a convicted criminal, Sirius Black, had wasted the Auror Office's manpower by giving it false informations, had continued to work with Dumbledore after the old wizard's escape at Hogwarts! Nevermind that Black was likely not guilty, that Dumbledore had never been guilty of anything, and that Fudge had been wrong all along – there, see, he even admitted it. The thing was, Shacklebolt's loyalty obviously laid with Dumbledore, and not with the Ministry.
Fudge's internal ranting stopped when the man who had followed the Malfoy squib snorted, breaking the silence with something close to disgust in his tone.
"Prime Minister, would you be so kind as to dismiss us if you don't need us anymore? I'd rather not spend any time with people like them if I could."
All eyes went to the Prime Minister, who took a while to respond. He seemed really lost, this time, and maybe a bit shocked.
"Wait a minute, White, what do you mean, 'people like them'?"
Alexander White gave the Prime Minister a patronizing look that shouldn't have been – but he seemed to always get away with his attitude, much to Armand's surprise and discomfort. Seriously, how could no one see that White was obnoxious?
"Fools waving around sticks while shouting incantations freely when freaks like them should be supervised closely, for they could very well kill someone with their stupid magic?"
Fudge, Scrimgeour and Shacklebolt – who had finally joined them – glared at White in revulsion, and Armand could totally understand that. White had sounded exactly like Lucius did when he talked about the "filthy mudbloods, muggles and worms", and had directed his hatred at the whole magical population. And while it was true that the world would definitely be better off without some of the said wizards and witches, like, Death Eaters, most of the wizarding world was decent.
But it was mostly surprise that made everyone shut up, except Armand, who looked at his colleague with interest.
"And how do you know about that now, White?"
The man glared at his co-worker, and his eyes went back to the three wizards in the room.
"I could return the question, Malfoy. How do you know about the magical insanity of the world?"
Armand smirked, but did his best not to move around too much. He had yet to feel comfortable enough with two wands at his throat before acting in a the most arrogant Malfoy manner possible.
In other words, he woudn't ever.
"I was the first one to ask, White, but since you insist, I was born in one of the insane magical families, though I don't have any magical capacities. The most I can do is seeing dementors, ghosts, and other beings otherwise invisible to muggles."
Armand saw a sidelong glance being exchanged between Scrimgeour and Shacklebolt, whose wands withdrew a bit from his jugular, but not enough to his liking. Being a squib had its perks, sometimes. Rarely, but sometimes.
White glared at him and scowled, but it wasn't much more different from the usual, so Armand ignored it. Instead, he reiterated his own question.
But before White could even begin to answer, the Prime Minister came back to his senses.
"Yes, exactly, White, how in the world do you know about the magical world?! I thought the secret was well kept?!"
And he glared – though it could have been mixed up with a scared look – at the current and former Ministers for Magic, as if to say that they hadn't done their job well enough.
Scrimgeour ignored the resentful-and-fearful-at-the-same-time look, and simply raised an eyebrow at White. This man reminded him of someone, but who did he know that had this condescending attitude already?
"Actually, we'd be rather interested in knowing how you understood that we were wizards, and not some lunatics trying to fool the Prime Minister? Did you know beforehand or did you simply deduce that we had to be magical in some way?"
Shacklebolt's voice surprised everyone, and Armand chuckled, trying to ignore the outraged look on the said Prime Minister's face, who was certainly wondering once again if the auror wasn't speaking the truth for once and he was really being fooled by some mad men, though he had no idea how they could have messed with the fireplace to make it look like they had stepped out of a magical green fire.
White assessed the black wizard who had just talked, then Scrimgeour and finally Fudge, before casting a quick glance at his colleague / sworn office-enemy / newly-discovered-freak-though-he-had-had-doubts-before.
"My older sister married one of you freaks, and my nephew is as abnormal as his father. Al turned my hair pink and green last month, his father had to undo it himself. Pink and green! As for how I recognized you, two of you are wearing robes, this man over there has a bright green bowler hat, no decent people wear a bright green bowler hat, and you're waving wands around."
Exactly, Armand thought, they were a bit obvious. On the other hand, Fudge and Scrimgeour had certainly not expected to meet another muggle during their visit to the Prime Minister, so they hadn't seen the point of wearing muggle clothes.
The squib also noted that there was pure disdain in his colleague's tone when he spoke of his brother-in-law, but not as much when he talked about his nephew. Maybe the child being his sister's blood made him less of a freak, as Armand was less of a disappointment to his parents than to the other branch of the family.
Armand sneered when his thoughts went to a green-and-pink-haired Alexander White.
Shacklebolt had frowned when White had mentioned his nephew, wondering if there was a White at Hogwarts, but he suddenly remembered that the kid certainly had his father's name.
"How old is your nephew?"
Alexander White scowled at the auror, but with less disgust than he had for Fudge. From what Al's father had told him, aurors were the top of the military aspect of the wizarding world. And as far as Alexander hated everything that had to do with magic – and how could he not, when his own sister had left the forces for this good-for-nothing wizard and married him? – he also had respect for anything remotely linked to the armed forces.
"Alshain turned eleven last month. Why do you care?"
"That's why, then. He'll go to Hogwarts next year only..."
Shacklebolt said nothing after that, looking more pensive than anything else, though he was still ready to attack or defend if needed.
Armand wondered if the boy, Alshain, was anything like his mother and uncle. If so, he'd be dangerous with or without a wand, regardless. And if the boy grew to be good at magic and even a bit powerful, he'd certainly make a very good auror... or anything else. Armand shuddered. He certainly didn't want to think about a younger version of Alexander White, able to do magic, and willing to serve the bad side.
That was when he noticed that all the eyes had fallen upon him once again.
Armand smiled a weak smile.
He didn't like being the center of attention. Because when he was, he always did something foolhardy, and for a squib with Malfoy as his last name, it wasn't a good idea at all.
Right, the truth was, he loved being the center of attention, the only thing was that it had rarely been a good thing with good consequences when he had been in presence of wizards and witches. But who cared? Lucius, the good cousin, the wizard, not-the-squib-shame, Lucius Malfoy the Great, Lord Malfoy, Lucius the obnoxious bastard who hated his squib-shame of a cousin, was in Azkaban.
Armand could just ignore him.
And hell, he hated his cousin Lucius the perfect Malfoy.
Armand's smile grew wider when Scrimgeour looked him in the eyes, asking him with a dead serious tone if he was working for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and spying on the muggle Prime Minister, possibly putting the man under the Imperius curse just for good measure. After all, who knew, maybe he had been lying when he had implied that he was a squib?
The man bowed, a large grin on his face, thinking of how much he could possibly shame Lucius this fine evening.
"Minister, I'm offended. Do you even know who I am?"
Scrimgeour only looked at him oddly, but Fudge fidgeted and Shacklebolt's wand withdrew a bit more. Surely, a Malfoy with a sense of humor couldn't be so bad, could he?
"Armand Nicholas Malfoy, the great and only living shame of the Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy, the most useless, hateful, worthless card in the Malfoy deck, for your eyes and ears only: the squib."
His smile had disappeared as he had ended his tirade, and he was standing tall again, a grim look on his face that no one missed before it faded away, replaced with a pleasant but business-like expression. A pure Malfoy one at that.
"Seriously, Minister. Most of the wizarding world ignore my existence, and it's not because I'm a secret weapon or anything. Half of my family denies being related to me, and the other half would cry every night because I'm not a wizard though I'm theoretically a pureblood, if Malfoys could actually cry, that is. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is stubbornly going after the muggleborns and those who stand against him for now, but if he gets his way, he won't stop there, and will go after muggles and squibs alike. I don't have anything to gain by serving him, not even my life, since he seems to like to off his own followers when he's angry. Which is pretty stupid, by the way."
Armand saw Shacklebolt nod to himself as he finished speaking, while Fudge and Scrimgeour observed him carefully. At least, he wasn't threatened with a wand anymore.
White was looking at him very stangely, and Armand shifted under his glance, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden. To end this, he tried to walk out of the room with a quick "if there's nothing else of importance, we'll leave you to what you were doing".
But Scrimgeour's voice stopped him even before his hand touched the door handle.
"As pleased as I'd be if you were to be saying the truth, I'm afraid I can't simply take you at face value, which is, considering you're a Malfoy, not so great to begin with. I've also been thinking that it would be good to change the Muggle Liaison Office a bit, especially during these troubled times. Your involvement with this government makes me wonder: most of us can't understand a world without magic, and even the muggleborns are too estranged from the muggle way of life. Squibs, on the other hand, and muggles with the knowledge of our world, would be the perfect candidates for such an office."
Everyone looked at the new Minister for Magic with wide eyes. The Prime Minister was literally lost this time around, and even Armand stood mouth hanging open.
"Wait a minute, are you offering me a job in the wizarding world? Because if that's the case, I'm surely dreaming, and that would even explain how in all hell and heavens even White can be aware of the existence of magic..."
The way the young Malfoy squib squinted his eyes clearly implied that the man was really considering his explanation of the situation as possible. Kingsley Shacklebolt smirked a bit, suddenly reminded of another member of a well-known dark family who had surprised everyone. The auror wondered for a second if Sirius and Armand could possibly get along, which led him to think that if he was allowed a job at the Ministry, the young squib would be a good addition to the Order of the Phoenix. He obviously wasn't pleased with Lucius Malfoy or his ideals, and he would have access to everything going between the two worlds.
Because the Muggle Liaison Office was often overlooked, but it was important enough. The most pressing situations, such as the worst attacks on which the muggle authorities should better back down quickly, but didn't always, because no one told them so, were handled thanks to this office. If Scrimgeour considered changing the way the Muggle Liaison Office worked...
Kingsley and Tonks, as aurors, could warn Dumbledore and the other members of the Order, but most of the times, it happened only after the facts, for they were a tad busy fighting off Death Eaters during the facts.
Scrimgeour frowned before remembering that Armand Malfoy was certainly a Malfoy, but also a squib. The boy, and now the man, had always been kept away from the wizarding world even if he was magical – not so much, that was true, but magical nonetheless. Because he was a shame, for himself and for his family. And because, what the hell would he do in the wizarding world? It wasn't as if he could do any magic.
Scrimgeour, with his old lion looks, sat back in the armchair he had left the moment he'd heard the name Malfoy.
"My offer isn't a joke, nor is this a dream, mister Malfoy. The Muggle Liaison Office is doing a one-sided job, because of the Statute of Secrecy. But some people without magical powers are allowed to know about our world without being obliviated, such as the parents of muggleborns. If the Prime Minister allows it, I'd like to hire you two, but still have you work here, to counteract the job of the Office at the Ministry of Magic. You'd be part of our Ministry, not of the muggle one, you'd be payed by the Ministry of Magic, and of course, no muggle who isn't in this room would know of your change of job. This way, the Prime Minister wouldn't have to deal with the stress of a wizard's visit if some catastrophe happens, and you are more qualified to explain simply to a muggle what is really going on than we are."
Armand blinked at the news.
If there was one thing he'd have never expected to happen in his whole life, even when he had been a kid and hadn't known yet that he was a squib, it was for the Minister for Magic to personally offer him a job.
Alexander, on the other end, had yet to come to terms with the fact that he had been included in the job offer.
Scrimgeour looked pointedly at the Prime Minister, visibly waiting for his approval, and the man shrugged before saying that, why not, if they could make it work, and really, from what he'd understood, it would be great if each time that Voldething did something terrible a wizard didn't step out of his fireplace. He was even ready to give White and Malfoy a room for their offices, as they couldn't possibly go around talking about magical things and even more magical events in 10, Downing Street. It would cause disorder if they did.
"But will two people be enough?"
Scrimgeour looked at the two men, sure that they were up to the task. After all, Armand Malfoy had been raised, before he had been discovered to be a squib, to live up to his name. He worked for the Prime Minister, and not for some random individual. Alexander White, on the other hand, appeared not to like the wizarding world much, but he seemed to care for his wizard nephew, so that could still change. And hell, the man was certainly able to cope, even with the death toll that would take over soon, or, well, that had already began to disturb everyone. It was written all over his attitude: Alexander White had been a soldier, and wasn't afraid of death, of killers, of bodies or of blood.
Though, the Prime Minister had a point. Two people weren't much, and the other part of the Muggle Liaison Office would certainly whine over his decisions and try to ignore a muggle and a squib, working on its own. If the 10,-Downing-Street-part of the Office was a bit more important in numbers, the Ministry-of-Magic-part would have more trouble trying to ignore them.
"We'll see with time. For now, those two are already something, and you'll know what you're dealing with next time the giants try something, even if you won't be able to tell anyone. I'll have someone change the Muggle Liaison Office system by the end of next week, and as soon as it is put into motion, White and Malfoy will change their job for this one. Will that do?"
The Prime Minister nodded, still wary with the statement about giants, but what could he do about that?
Fudge looked at his watch, and once again Armand rolled his eyes when he saw the magical watch. Of course, he knew how to read it, but he couldn't say as much of the Prime Minister and White. Why wizards needed to have the blooming cycle of some flowers on their watchs, though, he had never understood.
"Rufus, it's already this late. I believe we said everything that had to be said, didn't we?"
The current Minister for Magic glanced at the watch, frowned, looked at every person in the room and nodded thoughtfully.
"We were about to leave when... Well, we have a lot to tend to, with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters. We shall leave you, and if we are lucky enough, Prime Minister, you won't have to see me anymore, as Malfoy and White will take care of informing you if anything happens after next week."
The two wizards left through the floo network, and Kingsley Shacklebolt went back to his desk. The Prime Minister made it clear that he needed to think – and who would blame him for that? – and said that half of the inquiries he had for White and Malfoy had been answered with this peculiar visit anyway.
Alexander and Armand made their way back to their own desks, took their belongings in silence and left 10, Downing Street, still a bit unnerved by all that had happened this night.
Armand was eager to tell Eleanor.
At his desk, Kingsley sighed deeply, tired, and hoping that no Death Eater would try to assassinate the muggle minister while the man was still in Downing Street. He wasn't in the mood for a fight.
A quick Homenum Revelio told him that apart from the slightly drunk Prime Minister brooding in the nearest office, the place had been almost deserted. The auror pulled a mirror out of his suit pocket – and hell it was weird to wear a suit, not only because he was a wizard but also because being of african descent, muggles said nothing when he didn't dress muggle-like.
"Albus Dumbledore, liquorice wand."
The reflection of Hogwarts' old headmaster took the place of his own.
"Kingsley, I'm pleased to see you are well. How is your work going?"
Two-way mirrors weren't so common, and the charms and runes to make one – or more accurately two – were tricky, but the Order of the Phoenix had Albus Dumbledore on their side, and the wizard had succeeded in doing not only two-way mirrors, but multiple-way mirrors for all the members of the Order. Of course, it could be a problem if a Death Eater was to get one of the set and spy on them, and so they had been charmed again to work only with the right password, one for each member. Dumbledore's was, unsurprisingly, a sweet.
The auror winced.
"Not so good, is it? Something happened, perhaps?"
And the headmaster's eyes looked at him so strangely that Kingsley had the feeling Dumbledore already knew. It wasn't possible, was it?
"The Malfoy squib, Armand, works here. I hadn't seen him before, it seems like he was traveling. Fudge and Scrimgeour saw him, and the Minister talked about transforming the Muggle Liaison Office and opening two and possibly more jobs to squibs and muggles relatives who know about the wizarding world here, to interact directly with the Prime Minister. He seemed to be serious enough about that, and he offered the first two jobs to Armand Malfoy and one Alexander White, who has a sister married with a wizard. By the way, she has a son who will begin Hogwarts next year."
Dumbledore looked a bit surprised at the news, but the twinkle in his eyes made it known that he thought the change was for the best. Also, the auror knew that talking about new students had always been something which made the headmaster happy.
"If Rufus Scrimgeour has done one thing right since his nomination, that's it. If only he could stop suspecting Sirius so much, it'd be for the best, but alas he is still not disposed to hear reason..."
"How he is doing?"
"Sirius? I saw him at noon. He had two human, auror-shaped shadows, and seemed a bit disturbed when he finally realized what it implies to be the official Black lord, but that aside, he looked fine."
Kingsley turned his eyes away from the mirror, as if to hide the guilt and doubt in his heart from Dumbledore. He hadn't found the time to visit Sirius after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, and felt bad about it, but it wasn't the worst of it.
"What about his... stunt?"
For a second Dumbledore's reflection looked stern and even a bit frightening. Kingsley shivered. The next second, though, the grandfatherly behavior and smile were back.
"I hope you are not doubting him too, Kingsley. Sirius might need our help to stay out of prison, as we will need his in this war against Voldemort. He has proved himself often enough, I daresay."
The auror winced a bit at the soft reprimands. With the headmaster, it always made everyone think they were naughty children being scolded too gently, and the guilt-o-meter reached new highs with each scolding.
Kingsley gathered his courage and looked back at the mirror.
"The thing is, Dumbledore, that no one knows what Sirius did. How could he survive death itself? Tonks told me about his dark magic relapses, and even if I'm not sure she thought about it that way, it sounded very suspicious. The rare aurors who have an idea of what he did, because they were there when he gave a half-hearted explanation in the Atrium, have been told to keep quiet, but their disgust is showing. Mad-Eye defends Sirius, but I also know that he saw more than we did, and I heard him rambling about recklessness."
"Sirius will say everything at his trial, and frankly, Kingsley, even if he used the Dark Arts to survive, I wouldn't hold it against him. It was against Bellatrix Lestrange, to save his own life, and he is a Black. He will never lose himself to the temptation of the Dark Arts."
That statement stunned the auror, not only because it had been said by Albus Dumbledore, who stood publicly against unwarranted uses of the Dark Arts, but also because people tended to forget about the House of Black's particularities. Everybody always remembered their ease with dark magic, but never that this ease came from an immunity to the corruptive nature of the Dark Arts. It wasn't as if the Blacks were flaunting this particularity, after all...
Kingsley let out his last doubts. He didn't know if Dumbledore's approval of Sirius Black's actions would make him feel better about them, if he could trust the man again, but he needed to say it.
"Tonks told me he has taken the official Lordship."
The ever rebellious Sirius Black had accepted his pureblooded inheritance, in other words.
"And he took Andromeda back in the family, and Nymphadora and Edward with her. Isn't that enough to soothe your doubts, Kingsley?"