While JK Rowling might own Harry Potter and all the rest of it, I have nearly every Harry Potter Lego set…so there.

Chapter 42

The few solid facts about what had happened were forgotten by breakfast the following morning. Heather hadn't seen Hogwarts this rife with speculation and rumor since Sirius had broken into Gryffindor tower all those years ago. The corridors were rampant with wild speculations and ideas, with each person eager to outdo their friends in coming up with the wildest theories. From what she'd seen and later learned from Hermione, Heather thought that whoever had done it had done so perfectly.

No witnesses came forward with information, not out of fear or reprisal or sympathy with the culprits, but because there had been no witnesses to what had happened. More than half the castle's inhabitants, both students and staff, had been down in Hogsmeade. Those who had stayed behind were safe in their common rooms or the library, meaning that the Entrance Hall had been empty. Out of desperation for some clue, Professor McGonagall questioned the stone gargoyles flanking the staff room doors. They should have had the perfect vantage point, but they were as flummoxed as the rest of the castle. It seemed that the culprit or culprits had been invisible, either using a cloak or disillusionment charms.

Heather didn't voice this opinion in case it was misconstrued as approval of what had happened, particularly around Neville. He brushed aside any attempt by her to talk about it the next day. At first, she had felt put off by his cutting her off whenever the subject was brought up. Then Ginny pulled aside. "Heather, leave him alone about it." She said this firmly but without aggression. "He's angry because whoever's doing this had to have been part of Dumbledore's Army last year. We used to do the exact same sort of thing to tick off the Carrows."

"But, shouldn't that help him narrow it down?" Heather asked.

Ginny shook her head. "Yes, but at the same time no. You weren't here, Heather. You didn't see what we were dealing with daily. I know it wasn't all that easy for you three, but you weren't here. We were fighting literally everyday, and we didn't have anywhere safe to hide, at least not initially. Dumbledore's Army became family to each other. And don't forget, Neville and I were basically the leaders of it. The thought that one of us is behind what's going on…it's not something we really want to think about, you know? It's like if you had to suspect Kingsley or Lupin or any other member of the Order being a traitor."

As if there wasn't enough going on for all of them, the last week of term did nothing to slow the feeling of being swept along by events. Two letters arrived within days of each other that had ended up giving her and Hermione plenty more to think about. The first came on Monday to Ginny from her mother. It had, in Mrs. Weasley's usual way of considering the matter already settled, invited both Heather and Hermione to spend Christmas with her, Ginny, and Mr. Weasley at the Burrow. Reading between the lines, Heather decided that the real point of the invitation had been to let Ginny know that she was expected to come home for the holiday.

Even with the three of them being aware that Christmas was right around the corner, none of them had informed the others about any plans they'd made for how to spend it. In fact, they hadn't given any thought to the matter at all. The only thing she knew for sure was that she wasn't going to stay at Hogwarts, no one was. For the first time, no one in any of the four houses has put their names down to stay over the holiday. Those who didn't have families to go to were being taken in by friends, meaning that the castle would be completely empty.

Somehow, Heather's first reaction to being essentially told that she was expected at the Burrow was something bordering on resentment. When she tried to come up with a reason for this, she was unable to at first. It was no different than any other year Mrs. Weasley had arranged for her to come to them, either at the Burrow or Grimmauld Place. Was it possible that something about her had changed, then? Or maybe it was how Ginny had delivered the news. It wasn't hard to see that she wasn't thrilled about going home but at the same time she knew better than to cross her mother while she was still in school.

That night she laid in bed for a long time, wanting to get to the bottom of this rather than taking the chance of something new demanding her attention tomorrow. There was no doubt that the Burrow was still the closest thing she had to a home outside of Hogwarts. She didn't need to worry about anything there. The Burrow was safe and comfortable. After a while she realized there lay the problem. It meant putting herself once again into the care of adults, even though Mrs. Weasley had never been a disciplinarian with her. In all her life she could count on one hand the number of days where she'd actually been free outside of school. Free to do what she wanted, go where she pleased, all without having to tell an adult or register her movements with someone. Working at the Ministry had been the closest she'd come but even then, it hadn't really been full freedom.

On the other hand, she admitted to herself around two in the morning, it wasn't like she had any other ideas on where to go. London was an option. Her room at Grimmauld Place should still be empty and it would probably be a good idea to stop by the house in any case. She was curious to see what had become of the place in her absence. A lifetime of friendship with Ron left her with no delusions that he was capable of keeping things clean. If it weren't for the fact that he had Katie, Padma, and Kreacher there with him, she would reasonably expect that the house would be a wreck by now.

From London the whole country was open to her. She could try visiting some of the other magical hamlets scattered across Britain. By the time sleep finally descended on her she was toying with the idea of finding her old fake muggle identification and taking out a stack of muggle cash to travel on her own that way. She could go by train and stay in hotels along the way, just pretending to be a muggle the whole time. There was even the possibility of inviting Neville along if he could escape his gran's clutches. She'd even agree to come for Christmas dinner at the Burrow if it would help smooth things over with Mrs. Weasley if it meant she'd be free the rest of the time.

The cold light of morning after a fitful night of sleep kept her from voicing her plans before breakfast. It went without saying that Ginny would not react well to this. Being summoned home by her mother for two weeks accompanied by her two friends was one thing. Having to spend that same amount of time there by herself was another entirely. Even with just Hermione and hopefully Ron being there, Heather expected a fight over it.

Then Hermione's letter arrived and Heather's ideas shriveled away into nothingness as quickly as they'd blossomed into life. It came by way of a large tawny owl that they assumed afterwards had been somehow hired at the post office in Diagon Alley. Upon landing, it extended it's leg towards Hermione who, as far as any of them could remember, hadn't received a single piece of mail all term. Her initial confused look faded into a pale terror as she removed the envelope and read the address. Sitting across her, Heather wasn't able to see who it was from, and she was puzzled by the fact that it was made out of flimsy white paper unlike anything that witches and wizards used. From the looks of it the letter had been crumpled and flattened several times prior to its journey attached to an owl's leg.

The single piece of paper inside was semi-transparent and through it Heather was able to make out that the writing was in a small, flowing hand that reminded her very strongly of Hermione's handwriting. Hermione read the letter twice through before extending it wordlessly to Heather. As one, she, Neville, and Ginny, who were seated on either side of Heather, leaned in to read it.

Hermione,

I hope you are well. I'm sorry that I haven't written to you since you left us in August. Truthfully, it has taken quite a while to come to terms with everything that has happened. If I'm being entirely honest, I'm still having a hard time with it and I'm not sure that your father will ever entirely forgive you. More on that later.

We have returned to the country and done our best to resume our old lives. As I'm sure you're aware, our old house burned down in what the police are calling 'mysterious circumstances' almost two years ago, shortly after our departure. The current owners of the property have since rebuilt there, meaning that your father and I have been forced to seek other arrangements. We are currently renting a small two bedroom flat down the street from the dental practice where your father has found a job.

Now, about your father. As I said above, I'm not sure if he will ever completely forgive you for what you did. Only in some ways do I see glimmers of hope that he will come around someday. For instance, when we were looking for a place to live, he insisted that we get a place with a second bedroom for "guests." I believe he meant you when he said this, although I know your father well enough not to press him to admit it out loud.

It's for this reason that I am writing. I know you felt like you had to do what you did because there was no other choice. I still maintain that your father and I had a right to know, however. That being said, the only way forward through this hardship is together, as a family. Enclosed at the bottom of this letter is our new address. I wouldn't blame you for chucking this in the nearest bin after some of the things we said to you the list time we were together. But I truly hope you will consider coming to spend your Christmas holiday with us. I am willing to travel to London and meet you off the school train, although I know that you have much faster means of travel available to you.

Hermione, your father and I still love you dearly. Not a day has gone by since you showed up on our doorstep in Perth that you have been far from either of our thoughts. It is clear to me that what you were going off to do was important, even if I will probably never fully understand it all. From the moment you went to school we lost you to that world and the things you were facing there. But if what you told us during your visit is true then the danger has passed and it's time to mend the damages between us. I hope in the way that only a mother can that you are willing to finally come home to us again.

I know it's too late for you to get us a reply before your school lets out so I have decided to hope that you will take me up on this. I'll be waiting on the platform for you on Sunday. If I don't see you, well then, I guess I'll have my answer.

Hoping to see you soon,

Mum.

No one sitting nearby needed to hear the sniffles that forced their way though the hands tightly clenching her face to know that Hermione Granger was crying. Word seemed to have been passed up and down the length of the Gryffindor table that something was going on, and even a few people from other houses were looking over. No one overtly stared at Hermione, something that Heather was exceedingly grateful for. She didn't know if this was out of respect for Hermione. After all, what could possibly have happened to make Hermione Granger, the smartest witch of her age and a war hero at that, cry? Alternatively, it could also be because the sight of a crying girl tended to make people uncomfortable. Either way, she appreciated that no one was pointing fingers or whispering to their neighbors.

All three of them rose and bundled Hermione out of the Great Hall and upstairs to a bathroom where she could rinse her face while Neville kept watch outside. "Do you have any idea what you're going to do?" Heather asked as Hermione pressed a soaking wet towel to her face.

In between gasps as the icy water raced down her skin, Hermione replied uncertainly, "I…I think so."

She refused to say any more about it for several hours. Knowing it wouldn't help to press her for a further answer, Heather resigned herself to waiting until Hermione was willing to talk. That night in the common room she told Heather and Neville that she had just written to her mum that she would come visit.

Neville summed up what Heather was feeling in a quiet mumble. "Good. You only get on set of parents, you know?"

Even with her decision made and her reply sent, the coming reunion with her parents did not sit easily on Hermione's mind. She was often times distracted in their lessons, more so even than Heather had been lately. She was equally snappish in the common room when people were making so much noise that she couldn't think straight. Finally, Neville had offered to cover the rest of her duties as Head Girl until term ended.

Now she sat next to Heather in their compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express with Crookshanks in his basket between them. Luna was on the other side and was doing her best to keep as far away from the other occupants of her side as possible. Ginny and Susan had practically squeezed themselves into a single seat and were entirely lost to the world around them. They'd been that way since the train had left Hogsmeade, intent on enjoying their last few hours together before they were separated in London. If Heather hadn't been so uncomfortable by their lack of modesty, she might've been jealous that she and Neville weren't similarly engaged. She missed him, but she understood why he was patrolling the corridors so that Hermione could mentally prepare for what awaited her at the end of this trip.

"We'll be at King's Cross soon," Luna's far away voice broke through the compartment, the first to speak in what had been several hours. It hadn't been an easy last week of term for anyone, and that feeling had not dissipated since the Hogsmeade Express had departed for London. As if to mirror the mood inside the train, thick grey clouds plastered the sky and deluged endless rain all day long.

"How do you know?" asked Heather when no one else seemed aware that Luna had spoken. She hadn't been able to make out any sort of landmark through the rain spattered window and was genuinely curious.

Luna shrugged and smiled knowingly, as though she had some great secret she was unwilling to share. Within the next half hour they all realized that the train was beginning to slow. Rain splattered countryside turned into city buildings before they pulled to a stop below the great glass roof of the station. Platform 9¾ was crowded with parents as they waited for their children to get off. Here too was another sign of the damage done by the war. As soon as the doors all along the carriages banged open, the parents surged forward as though they intended to climb inside and search for their children compartment by compartment.

"You go on ahead," Susan said as Heather, Luna, and Hermione gathered up their belongings and Crookshank's basket. It was clear that she intended to say a very long goodbye to Ginny before they were to be separated. Even though Ginny was going to be staying at the Burrow, everyone expected her to find frequent excuses to come up to London where Susan would be staying at Grimmauld Place with everyone else. The only downside Heather could see to this plan was that they would either have to bring Ron into the secret of their relationship or try and hide it. While the couple had reached a degree of comfort being open about their relationship at school, that did not extend to doing so around Ginny's family.

"You sure about this? You know I've got the cloak if you need it. If you don't want to go with her you don't have to." Heather reminded Hermione they worked their way along the corridor. Other than Crookshank's basket none of them had bothered bringing anything bulkier than a knapsack. In passing they watched as younger students struggled to retrieve their trunks from the luggage racks and haul them along behind them. Heather's offer wasn't out of a hope that Hermione didn't go see her parents, but to make sure that her friend knew she still had a choice in the matter.

Sounding more confident now that the decision was immediately upon her, Hermione shook her head. "I'm going home."

Neville found Heather right before she made the turn to descend to the platform and pulled her against the tide back to the first empty compartment he came too. Inside, he kissed her deeply and asked, "No chance of getting out of this?" After she had already given up her plans for travelling the country Neville had mentioned that he was also not looking forward to spending the holiday with his gran.

"None," Heather replied quietly, tuning out the yells of everyone on the other side of the glass as they shouted to friends and loved ones. With her cheek planted in Neville's chest she felt him sigh. She chuckled. "Look at us. We've faced down dark wizards by the dozens and yet we're both terrified to tell our families how we really feel."

"Write to me. If I can get away, I'll meet you in London. I won't ask you to come to Christmas, I'm not going to inflict my gran on you."

"Or the other way around," Heather said archly. They shared another kiss before rejoining the procession of people leaving the train.

Even amid the hundreds of witches and wizards crammed onto the platform, Mrs. Weasley was not hard to find. Her red hair was easy to pick out even through a throng of much taller people. Heather was slightly disappointed to see that she was alone. She'd been expecting Ron to meet them. Mrs. Weasley pulled Ginny, Heather, and Hermione into her traditional bone crushing hugs one at a time before, without a moment's hesitation, snatching up Susan and Luna. "It's so good to see you all, dears." She said happily. "Right, lets get out of this madhouse, shall we?"

At a wave from the wizard monitoring the barrier, all six of them dove through the evidently solid wall and out into the muggle station. "So, any plans for the holidays?" Mrs. Weasley asked no one in particular.

"None," replied Luna from the rear of the group.

"Me either," said Susan with a wink towards Ginny that Mrs. Weasley was too busy trying to navigate through the station to see.

"Well then," blustered Mrs. Weasley, stopping short of running down a heavily laden porter, "you'll both just have to come to our house for Christmas."

Walking well behind her mother's line of sight, Ginny skipped a step. "We couldn't possibly intrude-" Susan tried to say but was cut off midsentence.

"Oh it's no bother dear. You're both staying here in London with Ron, right? Well, he's already coming, and he's told me everyone else is going home for Christmas. So, you two just come along with him, alright?"

Trapped between Mrs. Weasley's inescapable hospitality and her girlfriend's overwhelming discomfort at the prospect, Susan had no choice but to cave. "Alright then," she said and looked forlornly towards Ginny. In her defense, Heather thought, she was beaten before she'd even started. Few ever escaped when Mrs. Weasley put it in her mind to invite them over.

"Excellent!" said Mrs. Weasley brightly. "What about you, Hermione?" When no one answered, she stopped and turned back. "Where's Hermione?"

The crowd around them was so thick that even though it had been several minutes since they'd left Platform 9¾ they'd only made it a hundred feet or so down the platform. Looking back, they saw Hermione tightly hugging a woman who Heather recognized as her mother. "Is that…" Mrs. Weasley began and stopped as comprehension dawned on her.

"Mum, let's go," Ginny said quietly.

Out on the sidewalk, they said goodbye to Susan and Luna. "Now are you sure you two wouldn't like us to escort you to the house?" Mrs. Weasley asked for the third time in as many minutes. Both girls politely declined again before crossing the street and disappearing from view. "So, dears," Mrs. Weasley said, "it looks like it'll just be the three of us then." She ushered them towards the same alley they'd used as an apparition point in September.

"Won't Ron or George be meeting us?" Heather asked.

"Oh no. I'm sure they'll be too busy working. The shop is as hectic as ever and the Ministry's been keeping Ron very busy what with things going on."

"What sort of things?" asked Ginny as she took hold of her mother's hand for side along apparition.

"Never you mind. We'll see them on Christmas day and perhaps here and there, but we can't expect them to take off work for your whole holiday."

Turning on the spot, Heather realized that maybe she should have risked having that argument with Ginny after all. A holiday of just the three of them was suddenly sounding far less fun than she'd been expecting.

Her bedroom at the Burrow had the unmistakable air of having been not been inhabited for quite a while. It was cleaner than it had been when she'd left four months ago so she knew Mrs. Weasley had been in to get it ready for her. But, as she unpacked the few things she'd stuffed into her rucksack, she couldn't help but feel like something was missing. She'd become aware of it shortly after climbing up the stairs from the sitting room. Where once the house had been full of life with, at times, almost a dozen Weasleys and guests filling every cranny, only Mr. and Mrs. Weasley remained full time.

She supposed it had been like this during her pervious Christmas visits, when all the Weasley children had been off at school with her. Then it had still felt like the rooms had been lived in, however. Ron's Chudley Cannons posters had hung in his room, the twin's bedroom had been a wreck despite their mother's best efforts to clean it in their absence. Even with them being empty for months at a time, they still belonged to someone. Now, they didn't and the house felt much emptier for it.

Through the open doorway leading out onto the landing she could hear Mrs. Weasley happily clattering around in the kitchen downstairs. Her first act after getting home was to declare that both girls were deplorably skinny and that only one of her dinners would set them right again. As Mr. Weasley was due home from the Ministry within the hour, she'd shuffled them both upstairs to unpack and rest until dinner was ready.

Her bag empty and tucked inside her wardrobe, Heather sat down on the edge of her bed. She wondered why it had never occurred to her that there would be little chance of seeing Ron while they were here. In her head she'd been picturing the old days before the war when Ron would've been there with her and there was every likelihood of George or Bill and Fleur dropping by. They'd see Mr. Weasley every morning and evening and on the weekends, but during working hours he'd be busy like practically everyone else she knew. This was a part of growing up she'd never really thought about before. It wasn't entirely her fault, she reasoned. After all, for the last two or three years there had been precious little chance of her reaching a point where a life outside of Voldemort could possibly exist. But leaving school meant finding work, and work meant that things like school holidays became a thing of the past.

Dinner surpassed Mrs. Weasley's usual level of a 'proper' dinner. Course after course came and went until all four of them were feeling a bit tight around the waist. Heather suspected that with only the two of them to cook for recently, Mrs. Weasley had used the arrival of herself and Ginny to go a bit overboard.

Both Weasleys were eager to hear about everything going on at Hogwarts. Ginny spent fifteen minutes being grilled by her mother about her marks and schoolwork until, out of desperation to get out of the spotlight, she let slip that Heather and Neville were dating. This news completely distracted Mrs. Weasley, who gushed and began pressing Heather for as many details as she could remember. Throwing a dark look at Ginny who had sat back in her chair with a smirk on her face, Heather gave Mrs. Weasley the abridged version.

"Heather, mind if I have a word?" Mr. Weasley asked as they all got up when dinner was over. Heather and Ginny were following him back into the living room while Mrs. Weasley started washing up. At a look from her husband, Mrs. Weasley summoned Ginny back imperiously to help her.

In the sitting room, Mr. Weasley led her to the far corner and motioned for her to sit. Unaware of what she might have done to warrant a private conversation so soon after arriving, Heather perched herself on the edge of the sofa and waited. "It's nothing serious," Mr. Weasley began, catching sight of Heather's rigid shoulders and back. "Kingsley wanted me to let you know that he received your letter."

"Oh," Heather replied, arching her eyebrow. Kingsley should have gotten it almost two weeks ago, which was more than enough time to reply directly rather than using Mr. Weasley as an intermediary.

"I hope you'll understand, but he's asked me to tell you that it would be better for you two not to meet at the Ministry." Mr. Weasley continued.

Heather's eyebrow continued upwards until she wouldn't have been surprised to find out it was now hidden beneath the hair sweeping across her forehead. She took a moment to probe Mr. Weasley's face to see if she could glean anything behind his words in his expression. He looked tired, not as badly as he had last year but more so than he should now that the world was supposed to be at peace. There were more gray hairs around his temples than she remembered over the summer and his shoulders sagged with what she recognized as weariness. Mrs. Weasley's hint that something was going on before they'd left King's Cross immediately came back to her.

"Mr. Weasley, what's going on?" she asked as the skin at the back of her neck began to tingle.

"Have you been reading the papers, lately?" he asked. Heather shook her head. She hadn't bothered after Rita's articles about her over the summer. "Well, you might want to,"

"Why, what's been happening?"

Mr. Weasley wiped his brow and massaged the bridge of his nose under his glasses. "Well, the short of it is that Kingsley's term as Minister for Magic didn't start out well and it's not gotten any easier since. These last few months have been very busy for the Ministry, trying to hold everything together. It's almost as bad as it was under Scrimgeour."

"But," Heather blurted out as a sense of dread overcame her, "we'd wrapped up most of the death eaters before I quit the Auror Office. All that was left were-"

"It's not the death eaters," Mr. Weasley cut her off and gestured for her to lower her voice. "I haven't told Molly all of it yet and I'd rather she didn't find out this way. No, it's not the leftovers of Riddle's forces. As you said you helped bring in the worst of them over the summer and those who survived are now in Azkaban."

"So, who then?"

Mr. Weasley shook his head. "I won't name names. Frankly we don't know them, and even if we did, well…" He paused and Heather thought he might be trying to decide how much to tell her. "Do you recall that during the trials there were people who felt like the Ministry shouldn't've been giving people like Delores Umbridge or Lucius Malfoy trials at all?"

"Yeah," Heather nodded. "They wanted Kinglsey to pull a Barty Crouch and chuck them all in Azkaban. Some of them even wanted the dementors put back in place so they'd have to suffer more. They were especially angry that Kingsley went as far out his way as he did to make sure the trials were completely fair."

"Right, well even when the trials ended that sentiment never went away. People were angry, and they still are."

"But, they can't really want the Ministry to go back to the old days of locking people up without any evidence or anything, can they?" Heather asked disbelievingly.

Mr. Weasley sighed. "You'd be surprised. There are even calls to restore Fudge to the Minister's office. They're remembering his time as Minister much more fondly now. Oh, it's not everyone," he added quickly as horror blossomed on Heather's face. "I'd go so far as to say that it's less than half of everyone out there that wants such drastic measures. But then these hotheads start shouting and everyone gets riled up."

"That's ridiculous," Heather exclaimed. "After everything we spent so long-"

"I know," Mr. Weasley waved her outrage aside. "But look at it from their perspective, Heather. You never knew the Wizarding world like it was before Riddle came back. You've been fighting him on and off since you were eleven. You saw everything he was doing in the last years before his return, more or less. Even after he returned and it became public, most witches and wizards on the street still didn't have a clue. Peace vanished for them overnight to be replaced by fear. It didn't matter to them that their peace was only an illusion propped up by Fudge and Scrimgeour, it was real to them. Then Riddle took over the Ministry itself and then they didn't even have that anymore."

"Most people I've spoken to, both inside and out of the Ministry, want to put the war behind us and move forward. We want to draw a line under the whole thing, because that's the only way we can truly survive it. But plenty of people can't let it go. They've suffered losses just like the rest of us, but their grief and pain have become too well rooted to be easily let go. Who they were before the war is gone, lost in the grief that has slowly twisted itself into anger."

"And you don't have any idea who these instigators are?" Heather asked.

"No, well not officially anyway. There's a deeper level to it. The few names we have, and no I can't tell you who they are, are the erm…most of them are the sort of people who were persecuted by the Ministry last year, if you catch my drift."

And there it was. If Muggleborns were the ones making problems for the Ministry, then Kingsley couldn't publicly take a position against them without risking being accused of being prejudiced against them. How long would it take for his record as an auror and his service in the war to be forgotten the moment someone brought up he was pureblood? Heather scooped up one of the pillows on the couch and pressed her face into it. This conversation had gone a long way from where she'd expected, and her brain was reeling with this new information. "Why can't everyone just want peace?" she breathed softly into the worn cloth cover. She was trying hard to stop her old sense of responsibility for everything that had happened rise up and overpower her ability to reason.

"They do," Mr. Weasley squeezed her shoulder firmly. "Well, most of them do anyway. But not everyone's idea of peace is the same. Truth and fact aren't easy to swallow when someone is offering you a more comfortable lie, not that I need to tell you that.
"No, you don't," Heather replied darkly She pulled her head out of the pillow and briefly considered chucking it across the room to relieve some of her anger. After a deep breathe the urge subsided. "Mr. Weasley, what's this got to do with me meeting Kingsley at the Ministry?"

For a moment, he looked like he was bracing himself for her reaction to what he was about to say. "Well, the truth is Heather, you're still a popular figure. Not just famous, but popular. You haven't been reading the papers, but if you had you would've noticed that Rita Skeeter is no longer writing for the Daily Prophet. They stopped buying her articles about you months ago."

"It's about time, but that still doesn't answer my question," Heather said, trying to keep irritation from edging into her voice.

"I'm getting to that, but bear with me for a few more moments. You know as well as I do that there isn't a secret the Ministry can keep for more than a few minutes, and that's on a good day. That is even more true for anything to do with what goes on up on Level One."

Feeling as though a few pieces had finally slid into place, Heather asked, "so, Kingsley doesn't want me to ask for what I'm asking for in a place where it'll be on the front page before our meeting is even over? Hang on, how did he tell you all of this if his office isn't secure?"

"He let me read your letter." Mr. Weasley shrugged. "But essentially yes. What you're asking for isn't going to be easy, and it will be ten times harder for Kingsley if he's forced to make the decision with the entire country already screaming about it. The hardliners will be clamoring for revenge, and he'll be torn to shreds for even considering it. Then, the longer it takes him to choose a position the more moderate voices will be swept along until they're against him too. What you're asking for has the potential to undermine what support Kingsley has."

A chill settled across Heather's spine; the same one she'd felt the night of the dedication when Kingsley had first shied away from the issue. "It sounds to me like what he really asked you to tell me was don't bother asking," she said, and this time failing to keep the bite out of her tone.

Mr. Weasley sighed again. He looked like he'd aged ten years or more since the beginning of this conversation. "That isn't what he's saying, although I can understand why you might feel that way. Kingsley isn't Scrimgeour or Fudge, but that doesn't mean that he hasn't become a politician. You don't occupy the Minister's office for long without that happening. I don't know which way he's going to come down on your request." He stared hard at Heather, "and even if you didn't already know everything I've just told you, I can't believe that you thought it was going to be an easy thing for him to decide."

Heather crossed her arms on top of the pillow in her lap and fumed in silence. No, she hadn't expected it to be an easy conversation, so why was this making her so upset? Mr. Weasley got up from his chair and moved to the other side of the living room to let her think in peace. He'd delivered his message and now it was up to Heather to decide what she wanted to do with it. "Is Kingsley in danger of being sacked?" She asked at last.

Mr. Weasley shook his head, but it was without much conviction. "Not at the moment, which is why this situation needs to be handled delicately."

"So, where can we meet?" She'd realized that she wasn't angry at Kingsley, but was completely over the stupidity of the rest of the world.

"He's coming for dinner on Christmas. He doesn't have any other family and since he needs to talk to you anyway it fit perfectly."

So, The Weasley family would be hosting the Minister to Christmas dinner. Heather smiled as something Mr. Weasley said earlier crossed her mind. "And have you told Mrs. Weasley about that small detail yet?"

Mr. Weasley went pale. "Erm, now that you mention it…no. Want to come with me and deliver the news?"

Heather waved him on. "I don't think so. Besides, I'm pretty sure I'll be able to hear her reaction from here." Sure enough, a few moments after her husband entered the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley's shouts carried clearly through the house.