-The Slippery Broomstick Gentleman's Club

Rufus Scrimgeour was too much the Slytherin and professional to show any reaction to deciding the leadership of Wizarding Britain in a booth by the main stage of an exotic dance club. Alastor Moody was simply administering seventeen different tests for poisons, potions, curses, and anchovies on the nachos ordered for the table. Alastor didn't mind a good assassination, but anchovies had no business in food.

Lord Sirius Orion Black had summoned them, surprisingly enough, he commanding the third largest voting block in the Wizagamot, or possibly second. It depended on the body identification on some of the Death Eaters whose bodies had been less than intact at the World Cup. Those that had not been properly identified and heirs elevated in time for the next session could not of course vote. The decision on the next Minister was all anyone could talk about. Fudge was deader than Harry's chances to make Prefect.

"I think the last time I was here, I was raiding the place." Rufus said reminissing.

"Me too." Said Mad Eye Moody, taking a chip and dipping it while his extra eye tracked a dancer showing a great deal of enthusiasm, flexibility, and thigh. "And I was arresting that one." Moody said pointing at Sirius who chucked and grabbed his own chip.

Rufus looked at him disapprovingly. "Got fresh with one of the dancers Black? I thought better of you."

Sirius looked offended. "I was a perfect gentleman at all times. I'll have you know I wasn't even in the audience when the raid hit."

Scrimgeour looked at Moody. "Black was dancing on the mainstage. His mother bribed Barty Crouch Senior to raid the place. Claimed young Sirius was performing lewd acts on stage."

Sirius smiled, remembering. "Wicked Witch Wednesdays, god I miss those. Did the first one when I lost a bet with James. Then it was a riot, so I did Wednesdays and Saturdays until dear old Mom got a glowing review from six of her garden party hens at the big fund raiser for St Mungo's. I think Grizelda Marchbanks has a signed poster from that run posted in her study."

Then Sirius winced. "When Walburga's howler got to the Potters and went off, it dissolved the coffee table and we had to replace the tiles. I like to think that took years off her life."

Rufus Scrimgeour rubbed at his forehead and muttered. "And this is the best hope for political stability in Britain."

Moody passed over his flask and Rufus took a big swig, breathed out a burst of fire then grabbed a chip.

Sirius turned to look at Rufus and his smile was suddenly a thing of sufficient power to make Rufus nearly choke on his chip. Sirius spoke swiftly and quietly, without any drama or emotion.

"Rufus, you are here looking for our support as the next Minister of magic. You know Cornelius Fudge is going to fall when the house meets next. Everyone with half a brain cell knows it, and the ones without a brain cell have aides that will at least try to explain it to them. Well, I like you, and I think you have a lot to offer. That is why you are not getting my support." Sirius said, then took a sip of his own whiskey and saluted the dancer with his glass and a golden galleon tossed onto the stage.

Scrimgeour looked shocked. "You won't support me?" He asked.

Moody snorted. "Rufus, the Aurors have been cut to the bone every year since Fudge took office. Those that survived the cuts did so not because they were good, but because they were connected. Most of those connections had tattoos on their left forearm they don't like to talk about in mixed company.

War is coming. Dumbledore and his light faction won't let the Aurors hunt Death Eaters before it starts because they deserve a second chance. Parkinson and his dark faction won't let Aurors hunt Death Eaters because that is about half the Dark Faction, and they really want the ones Voldemort trained himself when the balloon goes up because the difference between those he trained and the pathetic crap coming out of Hogwarts under Dumbledore is like dragons versus ducks.

When the war starts, Dumbledore and his light faction won't let the Aurors defend themselves with lethal curses because Death Eaters deserve a second chance. Parkinson and his dark faction won't let Aurors defend themselves with lethal curses because he wants as many of the innocent Aurors dead before he openly declares for Voldemort again and overthrows the Ministry."

Scrimgeour looked between the two ex Aurors in horror. "You don't think we can win."

Sirius barked laughter that was bitter as it was rich. "Of course not. What we can do is preserve those people we are going to need to win the next war, my war. Once the Ministry and Dumbledore's faithful Order of Sacrificial Idiots have handed Voldemort victory on a plate, Harry is going to teach Voldemort he lost the day he let Harry live."

Scrimgeour made a face and sipped his whiskey. "I won't be there when it matters. If I am not Minister, I will still be head Auror when the war starts, even if they kick me to the curb when it starts, once the bodies start piling up I will be reactivated. You know the ones on the take will make sure I die bravely before they openly switch sides."

Alastor laughed, then dug an improbable amount of salsa onto his nacho. "Oh I have just the place to keep you safe. Hogwarts. They need a new DADA instructor, and I dropped a word with Minnie to make sure you got suggested when Dumbledore fired me. Didn't even get a first day before firing, that has to be a first."

Rufus looked shocked. "How did you get fired? You were always Dumbledore's hatchet man. When he got done talking peace love and happiness, you got sent and we were wiping up blood and body parts for at least a shift, plus the report writing."

Sirius laughed again. "Told the git of the Greater Good where he could stuff his Order of the Noble Sacrifice badge and asked me to sign up right in front of him. I thought Albus was going to blow a vein."

Scrimgeour chuckled. "That would do it. Dumbledore likes to paint himself as the kind grandfather, but no one defies him openly and survives, or at least not their career. Not as open about it as Lucius used to be, but the end results are about the same."

Scrimgeour sighed. "Its all just whistling in a graveyard anyway. Harry Potter killed Voldemort back in 1981, and that still didn't stop him. I don't know what I can do that will make a difference. Oh sure, I had plans to deal with the Death Eaters, but how do you stop a man you can't kill."

Moody laughed. "Potters killed him more than once. The kid's a nasty piece of work. Gathered a bunch of kids just about as nasty. Turned Neville Longbottom into someone about three times as deadly as Frank or Alice at their best, and I doubt he even has pubic hair yet. He's got two Dark families taking his orders already, and he's got people in every Hogwarts House backing him."

Scrimgeour eyed moody, weighing his words, then turned to Sirius for clarification.

"The Ministry has to fall. The rot is too deep. They are turning on Harry now for the crime of not wanting to be sacrificed while they lose the war. Dumbledore, the Ministry, they both have to fall before we can win the war." Sirius said coldly.

Scrimgeour sighed. "If the Ministry falls, the people will lose hope. Without Dumbledore to rally around, say what you will, the whole Champion of Light thing is what kept everyone fighting the last time, what can Harry do that will get all of Wizarding Britain off their asses and into the fight?"

Sirius smirked. "Rufus, back in Auror training, you were brought in to test our Occulmency. You were the best Legimens we actually trusted. Have you kept in practice?"

Scrimgeour looked at Sirius, then nodded slowly. Sirius met his eyes and waggled his eyebrows. Rufus palmed his wand and pointed it at Sirius, then whispered "Legimens!"

His mind pushed into Sirius, and he was immediately concerned. Sirius mind he had known from Auror training. Rufus had been sure he could defeat Sirius shields, unless you were a specialist like Rufus, your shields rarely developed enough depth and complexity to hide anything from a truly powerful Legimens given time and leisure to probe.

Sirius mind had changed. The mind was not the brick wall for Rufus to batter and plunder like he expected. It was like pushing into a mass of coils. Sliding and slithering coils of a dark snake whose eyes and gaze he could feel upon him. Rufus was suddenly glad he had permission, because his instincts were screaming at him that if he had pushed his way in uninvited, he might not get to leave.

Pushing deeper, following the only path that opened for him, Scrimgeour saw a vision. An island he knew well and hated. A dragon blazed in the sky above, and a castle burned. Rufus recoiled in shock, yanking himself out of Sirius mind in terror.

"You can't be serious!" Rufus whispered. The very idea of a boy leading an assault on a place that the whole of Wizarding Britain feared to face back when the Aurors were not a joke shook Scrimgeour to his core.

"I am always Sirius!" Sirius quipped, then continued seriously. "The second we get word the Ministry falls, Harry will move. Do you think that will wake up the public, do you think that will make old Moldyshorts need a change of underwear?"

Scrimgeour shuddered. "It would make me need a change of underwear. I know these kids aren't scared of…them. I saw that for myself, but do you think they can actually win?"

Moody took a swig from his flask and sighed. "I think I would risk my last eye to find out."

Rufus smiled. "I say, Moody old man. You wouldn't happen to have done any course planning for the whole DADA thing have you? It would be a shame to waste it."

Moody reached into his battered coat and pulled out a tome that looked to contain half the theory and practice of magical violence, but was labelled "DADA done right". He slid it across to Scrimgeour without comment. As Rufus leafed through it, the old waitress swayed over to their table and leaned over Sirius shoulder.

"Lord Black, some of the wait and bar staff were talking to the dancers, and they don't believe us when we told them how you used to drive the witches wild back in the day. You know the back room is available now, and if I recall correctly, when you got arrested back in 1979, you did promise me a rein check."

Sirius looked shocked. "Esmerelda McMillan, are you trying to tempt me into taking off my clothes in front of a room full of women I've never even met? I will have you know I am a respectable lord of the Wizagamot."

The waitress gave him a long slow look up and down. "A fit one too. The ladies love a man with a nice tight political platform in back and serious talking point up front."

Rufus shot up an eyebrow. She couldn't possibly think the Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black was going to strip for the wait staff and dancers just for old times sake!

Sirius tossed a handful of galleons on the table. "Right you are Esmerelda. A gentleman pays his debts, and I can't leave that many witches crying in their potions."

Rufus watched as Esmerelda McMillan pinched Lord Blacks bottom as he swayed to the music towards the back room where, indeed, half the duty waitresses and every off duty dancer seemed to be waiting for his show.

"That is the best hope of Wizarding Britain?" Rufus Scrimgeour, future candidate for post war Minister of Magic, and potential next semester DADA instructor whispered in horror.

Alastor 'Mad Eye' Moody laughed softly. "Desperate times indeed. Trust me Rufus. Those kids are coming for Voldemort. It isn't just Harry. Sirius and a whole bunch of very capable and very dangerous people are working to make it come to pass, but it is Harry Potter and his friends who are going to war. They are going to finish it or die trying."