Office Politics
DISCLAIMER: That part of this world and those characters you’ve seen before belong to their Creator: JKR. The rest is mine - although I cannot quit my day job as I make no $$$
A/N: And because you either read repetative stuff or skimed through the last chapter, something with more meat.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX: OFFICE POLITICS
TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 23 rd 1993
“Albus?” Minerva McGonagall asked outside the gargoyles that stood a form of sentry before the entrance to the stair leading to the Headmaster’s office, “I wasn’t expecting you here.”
“I wasn’t expecting to be here,” Albus Dumbledore sighed. “Not at this time for certain. But here I am, unexpected. We can speak in my office.”
The two of them passed the stone gargoyle sentries and rode the rising spiral stair to the level of the door to his office. He opened the door and allowed her entry before following and walking to take his seat on a chair behind his very large desk. The walls contained the sleeping portraits of past Headmasters. There were bookshelves lines with books mostly, but also some odd gifts and devices that only he knew the full story behind. A golden perch stood near where he sat upon which was a scarlet bird unknown to Muggle science but not unknown to their myths. The Phoenix cooed when it saw Dumbledore enter, but then tucked its head beneath its wing and presumably went back to sleep.
“A most trying day,” Albus said shaking his head. “You would not believe the inconveniences of international travel even with magic. I have often wondered why it is considered worth the bother by some. Were it not for the necessity of it from time to time, I would pass on such misadventure.”
“Do you want my report?” Minerva asked.
“Is there anything in it that demands my attention going forward?”
“No. Not really. Some matters of interest to be sure, but nothing that I can’t handle.”
“I am glad to hear of it. It is always comforting to know there is one place in this world that is not descending into incomprehensible chaos. I would say two, for in my opinion our government made such a descent some years ago and seems most reluctant to climb out of that abyss. It seems that world affairs are taking a similar turn. Perhaps it’s just me,” he finished with a sigh.
“What are you saying, Albus?”
He sighed. “It will be in the papers tomorrow and if not then than certainly the day after. Unless certain of our more creative members of the press pen the article, I would say that what is likely to appear with be true, but not truthful.”
“That would be a contradiction, I should think.”
“The paper should report that after forty-six years of honourable service and sage leadership in our international affairs, I have decided now is the time to step down as Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and have submitted my request for retirement which has been accepted. Depending upon who pens the report, it may well be laced with a list of accolades and the usual plaudits one might expect at the sunset of such a long career as a statesman or some such. Then again, should the task fall to one of the more sensationalist reporters maybe not.”
“You retired?”
“That is the truth of the matter, but it is also not truthful.”
“How… how can it be both?”
“I did in fact retire. That was this morning when it was clear that far more was to be lost unless I accepted that fate. A coalition of ambassadors made it clear that they had met and had the votes behind them to remove me from my position and cast me out of the ICW in disgrace if need be or I could do the honourable thing, protect my reputation and legacy, and remove myself voluntarily.”
Minerva gasped. After all, Dumbledore had been Supreme Mugwump since 1947 longer than he had been Chief Warlock, longer than he had been Headmaster. His tenure in that mostly honourary yet coveted and influential position had been the longest in history. That body seldom ever played hard politics regarding its delegates. Of his three positions, it was one she felt was least at risk. After all, although the circumstances were clearly suspect Dumbledore had been removed as Headmaster briefly just this past year and had been censured as Chief Warlock only recently narrowly avoiding a call for a vote for his removal.
“How…? Why…?” she stammered.
“Ambassador Giraldi, whom I think was merely the spokesman, said that the consensus was my position within our Wizengamot was now in conflict with my position as Supreme Mugwump.”
“But there were those who said that during the War, and yet you remained!”
“Indeed there were. It was a minority position. True, it was a very loud and outspoken minority, but a minority nonetheless. What I faced most recently was a very quiet majority and a fairly substantial one at that. The only delegate whose vote might have been secure for my continued retention was our own British Ambassador and that assumes he voted on behalf of Britain and not for his own personal beliefs as he and I have never seen eye to eye on any issue on this side of the Channel. I regret I had not seen this coming…”
“How can they have said…?”
“The matter of Gringotts has been before the ICW for two months and remains undecided. It is possible that the Goblins have put pressure upon certain member states to do something - it certainly has been suggested by certain parties - but I doubt that. The Goblins do not truly care about such things; that Britain is discomforted for the actions of the Minister and others is more than enough in their view unless they have undergone a fundamental transformation of late. After all, if they were truly serious about actual sanctions they would have done something before submitting the matter to the ICW for consideration. But there are countries who feel something had to be done and the fact that this matter has yet to be debated on the floor of the chamber, which rankles countries who wish ill of us. I had hoped that this matter could wait until the passions of the moment had subsided and true diplomacy was viable, but it was not to be.”
“But… but didn’t the Minister…?”
“He eventually did as I suggested which under other circumstances might’ve been enough. I have it on good authority that the Goblins are… accepting of that resolution for their honour is assuaged at least to an acceptable degree. Doubtless they would have preferred that we handed over the miscreant to their headsman; but they understand why that might prove difficult. As the Goblins have withdrawn further demands or complaints since the Senior Undersecretary in questions was stripped and demoted, one normally would expect the rest of this matter to have resolved forthwith. Except obviously it has not.”
“Why hasn’t it?”
“My dear, there is no one reason. The reasons are as varied as the individual ambassadors' personal predilections and the individual nations' strategic aims. Suffices to say there are some nations and individuals who were opposed to my selection as Supreme Mugwump when it was offered back in ‘47 and they have remained steadfast in such opposition ever since. There are others who have no personal complaint against me either as a wizard or Supreme Mugwump but are concerned as to my length of tenure which is merely a manifestation of their or their nation’s political ideology. There are certainly certain vanities at issue, members whose objection is strictly because the Supreme Mugwump is not themselves. There are nations opposed to the structure of the ICW and that position, believing that the tenure of office should be fixed or that the position should be rotated as between each of the member states. Then there are those opposed not to me personally, but to support me could be viewed as supporting the policies of the British government which they are not inclined to do for any reason. Finally, there are certainly some who believe with or without any reason that they or their country or both stand to gain should I or Britain or both suffer as a result of this crisis. It is fair to say such has been the circumstances for quite some time.”
“Then what changed?”
“If we were to say that each of the various objections to my continued tenure as Supreme Mugwump constituted a faction, then it’s fair to say that never before have the various factions been willing to either agree or otherwise work together for their common purpose; that being ending my tenure. For whatever reason that changed. I was told that I either retire from the field, as it was stated, or I would be removed most harshly. I was told that the votes for my removal were split on several points most notably what to do about the actions of our own government officials, but should I insist upon remaining as Supreme Mugwump or resisting an ouster, those factions inclined to show mercy and which had been arguing for such would abandon their position and let the thing play out however it may. It is fair to say it would not go well for us if the more vindictive States were to control the outcome.”
“You’re talking about France?”
“There is no love lost between our governments. We have been historical adversaries since before the Muggle Norman Conquest which, as you should know, only made a bad situation worse. The French were most disappointed with our neutrality during Grindewald’s time and our inaction during Voldemort’s. They would reduce us to a province or Trust Territory governed and policed from without given the chance as we both suspect. But it was not just the French. The Americans, the Japanese and to some degree the Chinese are inclined to seek restrictions on our sovereignty; specifically to punish states such as ours for our restrictive trade laws. African nations are opposed to our immigration laws as applied to their people. The colonies are opposed to our emigration laws as applied to their countries. We have few true friends beyond our shores and I fear much of that animosity is our own doing. Doubtless, those differences were a factor in what has happened for in my retirement one can rest assured that the next Supreme Mugwump will neither be British nor a friend of Britain.”
“It doesn’t sound good…”
“Indeed it would not have turned out well at all had I not quietly stepped down. In so doing, the moderate elements whose opposition is merely to my ‘conflict of interest’ or my length of tenure or my desire to let things simmer down before opening debate, but not to my person, abilities, perceived beliefs or the internal politics of our country which are clearly not my politics; it is those moderate elements that prevailed. The next Supreme Mugwump will not be from Britain, although one of the incentives was neither will France or America fill the position. Our ambassador might face a period of censure for our Minister’s foolish actions, but that will be the extent of any sanction imposed which is far less than many wished and certainly far less than could have been imposed. More important, France has withdrawn its objections to our plans for next year as an added incentive. Given the importance of those plans and the risks of trying to avoid the inevitable, it seemed prudent to step down. Naturally, I made certain that there would be no reconsideration of the concessions we received or of the sanctions imposed and discussed. But I will advise the Minister and the Wizengamot that while we certainly avoided a Bludger, the international community is not likely to be as accommodating should we cross such a line again.”
“You’re telling me you gave in to keep that tournament?” Minerva asked in shock.
“It is important. One might say it’s more important than my continued tenure as Supreme Mugwump. But it was by no means the only concession I received for my former chair.”
“But the only one that mattered,” she grumbled.
“In the near and long term, it very well may be the only one that matters or will be remembered.”
“It still strikes me as it always has, Albus: an unnecessary frivolity, an amusement, a trifle and nothing more.”
“In the short term, it may well be that especially if it is not renewed. But the long term benefits are real enough and as a Muggle American once said we must stand together or we will certainly hang separately.”
“I doubt he was talking about a tournament with that toll on the contestants… children!”
“It is still apt.”
“I still think that tournament was best left in the dustbin of history where it belongs!”
“It is not so much the events themselves that can be important, but the bridging of divides of space and language.”
“There are other ways…”
“None with the prestige sufficient to generate interest both here and abroad.”
“My position on this remains unchanged, Albus.”
“It has been noted. I do not expect you to agree.”
“Then we are at least agreed on that point. Might I say that I don’t expect you to agree with certain things I deem necessary as acting Headmistress?”
Albus nodded. “I was in no way in favor of humoring Harry with that Manor Court…”
“You can call that what you will. I call it justice as does Madam Bones, most of the Wizengamot and the press.”
“I take it there’ve been other developments.”
“Not from that, at least not to my knowledge; but yes there have been and I trust you will allow me to handle them within the discretion allowed as Acting Headmistress.”
“Such as?” Albus said nodding as if he agreed.
“There is the Malfoy matter,” Minerva began.
“Yes, most distressing. I am aware of what has happened in regards to Lucius. I dare say I would have thought that given a second chance at life he would have made a better go of it. That being said, had I and others been aware of his more unsavory business propensities he might well not have been believed when he claimed he had been coerced into service during the War. I am rather surprised he confessed although relieved given the circumstances as it spares the Wizengamot the need to conduct a trial. Still, it should be of little concern here at Hogwarts except for those who enjoy such titillating details.”
“I would agree that ordinarily it would not, Albus,” Minerva replied. “But circumstances are not ordinary. This turn will have a direct bearing on young Mr. Malfoy.”
“And why would it? His father will spend the rest of his miserable life in Azkaban for misery is all he can reasonably expect. The young man, however, should not be tainted by his father’s failings.”
“There have been unexpected developments,” Minerva began.
“Oh?”
“I have not been fully appraised of the details and am not surprised as many such details are not school business, but I received notice that Mr. Malfoy’s guardianship arrangements have changed.”
“I was unaware of anything in regards to his mother,” Albus began. “She is well?”
“I have no reason to feel the need to inquire. But she is no longer his mother. Lord Black annulled the marriage not days after Malfoy senior was carted off to prison. I was informed that Malfoy senior’s activities during and since the war were contrary to the terms of his betrothal agreement and against the explicit desires of Lord Arcturus Black. The former Lord Black left it to his heir to decide the fate of that marriage and it is now annulled.”
“Completely?”
Minerva nodded. “Narcissa’s location and whereabouts are unknown. I have mailed her and the posts are returned. She is alive, that much is certain. But she is not responding to any inquiries I’ve made in regards to her son. Severus informs me he has been unable to contact her as well. I am not certain if the boy has been successful. Severus is not aware that the boy has even tried.”
“So the boy is an orphan?”
“And a bastard,” Minerva nodded.
“He has no expectancy?”
“That is generally the case with bastards, Albus.”
“I have tried…”
“And failed and given the foibles of more than a few Heads of the older families in our history, it is not surprising they are reluctant to change those laws such that there’s any chance the fruits of their dalliances might find grounds to dissipate their estates.”
“So he has nothing, then?”
“I have not been appraised of the specifics of his finances. I have been advised that had there been a trust in place, the annulment confiscations would not have touched those funds. Then again, his tuition was paid in full years ago and the confiscations did not seek to recover those payments either.”
“Still, this school is not an orphanage…”
“Another battle you’ve fought and lost,” Minerva grumbled.
“The Board of Governors have at least rescinded their former policy regarding attendance,” Dumbledore replied. “Their way would have barred perhaps a fifth of our current enrollment for one reason or another. That would now include Mr. Malfoy had I not managed to change that policy. Does he know this?”
“Not from any on the staff. Severus is of the opinion that things in his House will not be pleasant should that information become generally known. Apparently, Mr. Malfoy’s behavior to date has not endeared him with most of his Housemates. They might take advantage, or so Severus fears.”
“And his arrangements for the holidays?” Dumbledore asked.
“He is betrothed to the daughter of House Parkinson. There was apparently a pre-existing agreement that in the event he should be orphaned he was to go to them unless he was otherwise of age. My guess is that arrangement was in anticipation of the possibilities that were quite real during and after the War, but I have been advised that they implicitly cover the current situation as well.”
“Is he aware…?”
“I can’t say. If he is, it is not from the staff.”
Albus nodded. “Such agreements are fairly common.”
“As I said, he’s not been informed of his change in circumstances, not by us in any event. It remains possible that he has had contact from either Mr. Parkinson or his family - or I should say former family solicitor. I have not noted such contact, but I cannot say that it has not occurred. There was a Hogsmeade weekend last weekend and it’s possible there was some contact but the staff has not been informed of any such contact. Severus will be contacting Mr. Parkinson regarding the boy’s arrangements for the Holidays if he has not done so already.”
“I assumed keeping him ignorant is prudent?”
“Mr. Malfoy has few friends in his own House, according to Severus. It is Severus’s opinion that it is best to keep the information quiet for as long as practicable which he thinks should be until the day of the Christmas Holidays provided that the Parkinsons choose to bring him to their home. Mr. Malfoy has already suffered some retribution…”
“Retribution?”
“His arm was broken under suspect circumstances. There were no witnesses. But the fall that sent him to the Hospital Wing could just as well have sent him to his grave had it been his neck rather than his arm that absorbed the fall.”
“I had hoped such actions were a thing of the past,” Dumbledore said shaking his head.
“The War is not yet so distant, Albus. There are children here old enough to remember that time even if they were very young then and there are children here who have older siblings who might well remember those times and families who still have scores to settle. I never agreed with the policy that let so many of his supporters walk free without even an investigation.”
“It was necessary…”
“Do not try and convince me! I did not support your merciful stance then and I have seen nothing since to change my mind. It preserved nothing! It was not necessary! It was a fool’s errand as recent events have shown! Each and every one of them should have been tried and if convicted incarcerated! Perhaps, had we been less merciful and allowed justice to take its proper course, the children of those who suffered in that war would not be trying to get even with the children of those who caused that suffering!”
“They should learn to be…”
“But they haven’t! Mr. Malfoy seems to have his own learning disability! Then again, it has not helped that you’ve interfered with his discipline.”
“I felt he was being set upon because of his father.”
“He was being set upon, as you put it, not for what his father had done, but for his own words and actions Albus! He seems to believe there are rules that do not apply to him because he is a Malfoy. Perhaps that was his upbringing in which case we can hope he learned a lesson from his father’s incarceration for believing himself above the laws of the rest of us mere mortals. But I don’t think we should wait and see nor allow him to sit back in contemplation and hope he sees the truth. I will not go easy on him…”
“After all that’s happened?”
“Especially after all that’s happened! I will not let him think we will sit idly by while he seeks his revenge for any slight real or perceived! Don’t misunderstand me, Albus. That goes for any student in this school, not just the son of a fool Death Eater!”
“We have had this discussion before,” Albus began as a counter.
“When you are here and acting as Headmaster, I am obliged to follow your lead even if I may have disagreed with it. Are you telling me you’re resuming you duties full time now that you’re not distracted with the business with the ICW?”
“There’s still much beyond these walls that demands my attention…”
“So I’m still Acting Headmistress?”
Albus nodded.
“Then,” Minerva said, “unless you’re also thinking of retiring from the Wisengamot, kindly allow me to run this school!”
WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 24 th 1993
For the young residents of the Estates, the last few weeks had seemed to be the least exciting perhaps since June. There were no new revelations, no bondings, no secrets learned, no trials, no memory uncaps; nothing out of what some considered ordinary. For Harry, the lack of excitement included the fact that so far has he knew and for the first time since he started Hogwarts, no one was actively trying to kill him. Then again, it was possible someone was plotting it. After all it had taken Voldemort all year to get to that bit last year although Dobby’s help that year could be misunderstood as a separate plot. But so far there had been no truly life threatening experiences, not that Harry was complaining.
The last few weeks had been rather dull in that regard. Following Daphne’s birthday Hufflepuff had surprised just about everyone including themselves when they slipped past Ravenclaw in their Quidditch match. Harry and the others on the team considered it fortunate that Wood believed it had been more accident than design as they were losing by 110 points when Cedric Diggory, their Seeker and Captain, flew into the Snitch. That was not some turn of the phrase nor was it anything remotely related to Harry’s “eating the Snitch” his very first match two years ago. Harry had been chasing the thing when he fell from his broom and almost swallowed it whereas Diggory probably had no idea it was anywhere nearby when he flew into it. As Wood had not thought the Puffs won on the skill of their play he had not tortured his team with significantly more demanding practices. Then again, his team was fairly certain that just about any of the other teams would disagree with their assessment of his usual practices as being relatively torture-less.
The biggest event since the match had been the Hogsmeade Weekend. Of course, it had the advantage that most students considered a visit to the otherwise sleepy little village a big event. For the residents of the Estate is was bigger than normal in that Ron and Katie had used the time to go to London and fill out paperwork so that they could marry over the Chistmas Holidays. Unlike Harry, Hermione, Luna and Neville, Sally-Anne and Padma; Ron and Katie did not have the convenience of a Ministry certificate stating they might bond and a pre-existing betrothal contract so there were forms that needed to be prepared, verified, signed, sworn to and filed with various places. For their friends, it meant a day in Diagon Alley which was certainly more of an adventure than Hogsmeade.
But aside from that trip, it was more of their new normal. Their weeks were now eight days longer what with Oliver’s extra practice day and the added week which continued as much for the Muggle girls they had yet to meet as for themselves. They were spending some of this extra time researching and training as the Parker / Flamels and others were teaching them magic beyond what was offered at school. They did want to be rid of that other horcrux sooner rather than later which meant they were all being taught the first step in curse breaking which was curse detecting. They were also being taught how to fight both with and without magic. They knew one day they would have to most likely and while Professor Lupin (now a regular Estate guest) was by far the best Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor any of them had ever had, dueling was not taught until OWL Year and even then it was formal dueling, not combat magic and there was a difference.
“ The major difference between formal dueling and combat magic is this,” Sirius had told them. “In dueling, there are rules and if you break them you lose. In combat magic the only rule is if you lose, you die. There is no such thing as a fair fight; just the fight you walk away from in the end.” Thus, while it might seem unfair, driving one’s wand into the opponents eye and brain was acceptable as was just about anything that put the opponent down. Naturally, such a tactic while discussed was not something one did in practice; but the point was made.
Ron had finally been told in detail about the future knowledge. Katie had known about that, the Fidelius and Ginny’s part in it because that information had been revealed on the Hogwarts Express when Ron had been off in another compartment with Dean and Seamus. The group was more and more comfortable with their versions of the charm, which included the secret Secret Keeper who could not reveal the Secret even of her own free will. Thus, once Ron was in on the future knowledge bit, he learned the truth about how Harry and the others had figured out that Sirius was not the crazed mass murdering psycho the rest of their world had thought he was.
“ That was my cousin Bellatrix,” Sirius said. “There’s no misunderstanding about her.”
“ But you said they learned about you through research,” Ron protested. “Are you saying that Goblin thing was a fake?”
“ It was real, Ron,” Hermione said. “You can’t tell a lie with it. But, you can tell a falsehood.”
“ There’s a difference?”
“ A lie is not the truth,” Hermione nodded. “What I mean by falsehood is different. Everything Sirius said was true, but it left a false impression. We did learn about Sirius through research… after Harry and my future memory told us what we had known in that time. Sirius knew we had researched his past in detail and in so doing came up with the evidence that freed him. He was never asked if he knew what set us off to do such research.”
“ I would’ve objected had it been asked,” Daphne added. “Sirius had no firsthand knowledge of that. He did, however, see our research so he could testify to that.”
“ They haven’t tried Pettigrew yet,” Ron observed. He had a tendency to move on once he was satisfied and felt he understood things.
“ Susan tells me her Aunt wants the undivided attention of the Wizengamot for that,” Hannah said. “Right now, they’ve got that ICW business hanging over all of us and that stuff about the Malfoys. She hopes it will be soon.”
There were some loose ends from the memory uncaps. Some clearly fell within a category of unanticipated consequences. Harry and the others believed that those loose ends were what they were because nothing like them had happened in that last timeline. None of those with future memories had any sense of déjà vu about them and this included the current imprisonment of Lucius Malofy and all that had been discovered and revealed about his post War activities. The stuff between Gringotts and the Ministry also drew a blank in that regard as did, most recently, the four Muggle girls. As Sirius had noted, everything came from a stray ham sandwich. Harry said it truly came from when they each started to do something that did not result in déjà vu which had led to the ham sandwich and everything else.
“ The problem is, have we changed too much?” Harry asked. “I mean what if certain things that were supposed to happen don’t now?”
“ Like what?” Ginny had asked.
“ Obviously, if we knew that there’d be nothing to worry about,” Hermione said. “Still, I’d like to think we thought this through before we did it - whoever we were in that other time.”
“ I’m sure we did,” Luna said. “I don’t think Sirius being free changes all that much that matters. Things may happen differently and maybe even in a different order, but my guess is that certain key elements will be substantially similar even if they don’t seem that way at all before we have another uncap. Just ‘cause there isn’t that French Word thing happening, doesn’t mean it’s all down to wrackspurts.”
They really had little choice but to accept that whatever was truly important would happen more or less as it had before. But that did not mean they would happen anytime soon or that the changes were over and done with.
“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed. He was looking at the morning copy of the Daily Prophet.
“What is it?” Ginny chided. “Don’t tell me the Cannons are leading the League.”
“You see me dancing ‘round the Hall?” Ron snarked. “No? Then the Cannons are still not there. Tied for last, truth be told. Odd. They do have some good players. It said yesterday that two of them made the cut for World Cup play. Devlin’s made the England team and Moran made the Irish one. Doesn’t seem to help the Cannon’s 'though.”
“Then what was with that language?” Hermione asked in a near scolding tone.
“Oh come on!” Ron complained. “That was barely a swear word!”
“But it was and you’re off topic! What’s in the paper?”
“Oh, um says here that Dumbledore’s retired from being Supreme Mugwump.”
“What?”
“Why?” Harry asked.
“Doesn’t say,” Ron shrugged. “Most of its stuff ‘bout all the great things he did. Doesn’t say why he retired. It does say he’s not retiring from Chief Warlock or Headmaster though. Why not Chief Warlock? I mean they almost gave him the sack a few weeks ago.”
“He probably doesn’t want to give them the satisfaction,” Daphne observed.
“Still, I wonder if this means anything.”
“He was there forever,” Harry said. “Might not mean anything at all. All I know is it’s new, if you know what I mean.”
“Just ‘cause it’s new doesn’t mean it means anything,” Luna commented. “I think we’d have some kind of warning if it did.”
“If it had been thought about and that stuff works that way,” Ron said worried.
“There’s nothing we can do about it,” Harry said. “I don’t see it as having any importance, not in any way that matters.” He then opened a letter and read it.
“What’s that about?” Hermione asked.
“My guess indirectly it’s about Dumbledore,” Harry replied. “Madam Bones want to arrange the transfer of Pettigrew to DMLE custody pending trial. She says she has it scheduled for a week from Monday.”
“Is that a problem?” Ginny asked.
“Shouldn’t be.”
“But doesn’t he need to escape?”
“We don’t know that,” Hermione said. “He was the one in that timeline, but there were others who could’ve done that too.”
“Not my call,” Harry said. “We have him and DMLE will get him. If he scampers, I’d rather it be their fault and not ours. Hermione’s right, there are others if he should remain in custody. I want that rat tried.”
MONDAY, NOVEMBER 29 th 1993.
There had been a debate about who should go. After all, his wife and Lily had been raised Muggle and this trip required more than a passing acquaintance with that culture. Sirius Black told them he had loads of training back during the War and reminded Lily Potter that she was as clueless about any changes as he was. Connie had to work, so she was out. Lily had only mild intentions of going anyway as she had a newborn to care for and would rather attend to that. And as Lily observed the only thing worse than one blind man stumbling about Central London would be two blind men, as it were; which would be the case if James went along. They were not worried about the secret. The Fidelius had worked exceedingly well. They had not truly tested it. It was not like they walked up to Dumbledore and introduced themselves or attempted to proclaim their former identities outside of Gringotts. But for the elder Potters a trip to Diagon Alley was not a problem. It’s not like any of the stores or such asked for identification so long as the money was good. In the end, however, it was decided Sirius would go on his own. After all, it was House Black business.
It had taken Sirius a few weeks to get ready for this trip. While most of his new attire looked Muggle, it was purchased through magical vendors on his now infamous trip to Gringotts. He favored the Italian ones which were the least wizarding in appearance in his opinion, but for this trip he, his wife and the elder Potters agreed it might be best to wear the real thing and not “some magical knock-off.” So as part of his preparation, he had gone to Gringotts to obtain the means to make purchases on the Muggle side. They gave him a small card. The card made less sense than Muggle money which was worth nothing really. After all, paper was not worth much, certainly not what was printed upon it and their coins were made of metals that had little value as well. Gold and Silver had real value. Muggle money was not worth anything unless you believed it was worth what it said it was worth. More vexing, a Muggle could not go to his bank, ask to see his money and then actually be allowed to see it. Mr. Granger had tried to explain Muggle money to him, but it made no sense. The thought that most money did not exist at all except as numbers on some account statement was almost incomprehensible. Then there was the idea that it was somehow more stable and therefore move valuable when it was not tied to anything gold or silver. Then there was this card thing. The Goblins had told him it would automatically pay for his purchases in the Muggle world. His choices were that the card would instantly transfer his money from his account to the account of the seller (actually, the seller’s company) or it could instantly loan him the money which he paid back later (with hefty interest).
Sirius decided it was best not to think about such things. There was something to be said about the card. It was easier to carry around than gold or silver and the venders always gave it back after wiping it on something and then handing him a printed receipt from another machine. If Sirius did not know better, he would have thought it was some kind of magic.
With his Muggle Money Card, Sirius had gone to a store in London. Mr. Granger had recommended a few, but had added which ones catered to what types of people. He went to one that catered to more wealthy clients. It was called Harrys or Harrolds or some such and was in a huge, reddish building that looked old on the outside but brand new on the inside. It easily had more stuff for sale inside that Diagon Alley in terms of just about everything. It took him some time to find the part that sold Muggle Suits, but once he found it, it was surprisingly easy. The sales person or clerk pretty much outfitted him from head to toe and he walked out not knowing how much he had spent, only that he now had four Muggle business suits with shirts, ties, shoes, socks and various “accessories.” Of course he had to return for the trousers as they needed to be hemmed and that was something their “magic” could not do immediately. Still, Diagon Alley could learn a thing or two about catering to customers, he thought.
Getting his fancy Muggle attire was the easy part. Setting up this meeting was what had taken much of the time. He had to find the person he needed to meet and then set up the meeting all the while avoiding the true nature of the meeting and, of course, the fact that he was a wizard. But it had worked out and he did not even have to use any magic to get things set up. He now stood in front of an older office building not far from Whitehall in London. There was little to notice about the place as it had no sign on the outside announcing its purpose or at least who its major tenant might be. But it did have the number on it above a large pair of glass doors that seemed to magically open when someone walked up to them on either side. That number was the same as the number he had received and it was on the same street so this had to be the place.
He walked in. The Muggle “magic” doors opening without a sound before he could even touch them. It was a large atrium with some kind of polished stone walls that had all kinds of swirling colors, although they were very subtle. At one end of the atrium was a desk with a man in a uniform of some kind. Sirius walked to the desk.
“Yes Sir?” the man behind the desk said when he looked up.
“I’m Mr. Black,” Sirius said. “I have a scheduled meeting with…”
“You’re expected, Sir,” the man said cutting him off. “Take the lift to fifteen and you’ll be met.”
“Um… thank you.”
“You’re quite welcome.”
“You must be Mr. Black,” a man in a suit said pleasantly as Sirius stepped off the lift and offered Sirius his hand. “I am Sir John Fitzedward, assistant to Lord Denworth. This way please.”
“Um… I was expecting,” Sirius began.
“It’s been arranged,” the man said. “Here we are,” he added opening a door. They entered a large office with a large window that looked out over London and the Thames. Two other men in suits rose as they entered. “This is Mr. Black,” Sir John said. “Mr. Black, this is Lord Denworth and his son Commander Fitch-Fletchly Royal Navy.”
“We have been looking forward to this, Mr. Black,” the older man said.
“Um…”
“You inquired in regards to my son,” the man introduced as Commander Fitch-Fletchley said. “You must understand that might provoke my personal interest.”
“I had, but… well, the information is sensitive.”
“Indeed it is,” Sir John said once the door was closed. “To be honest, you intrigued us even before we received word of your inquiry.”
“I did? How?”
“You are, are you not, Sirius Orion Black?” the Earl asked.
Sirius was surprised. He had not used that name in any of his inquiries.
“Sirius Orion Black,” Sir John said reading from a file he opened just after he took a seat in the room, “born 19 December 1959, St. Mungo’s Hospital of Magical Injuries and Maladies, known to our side as the ever under refurbishment department store Purge & Dowse, Ltd., London, eldest son of Orion Black and the former Walburga Black (same last name), who were second cousins. Younger brother Regulus joined known terrorist organization and disappeared, presumed dead, 1979. Parents were unemployed socialites. Aforesaid Orion Black was next in line and heir to the Earldoms of Hangleton and Falthsome and the Baronetcy of Savoy, all hereditary titles and all having been attainted by the Crown, the most recent being the Baronetcy being attainted by Charles I and not restored. Orion Black died 1979, making subject next in line after his Grandfather Arcturus who passed away 1991. Subject finished Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (see current report of Treaty education) 1978 and joined Hit Wizard Corps, Greater Britannia Ministry of Magic (see current report regarding OOB, Treaty equivalent roughly corresponding to weapons response teams of Special Branches or Counterterrorism Assault teams of MI5 or similar sections in Armed Forces.) Transferred to Auror training in the fall of 1980. Completed training and assigned to Auror Corps (see reports of Treaty law enforcement). Subject married the former Miss Constance Donovan (non Treaty parents, witch, Hogwarts Class 1981, Healer) August 1981 in Bordeaux France. They have a daughter, Anna Fitzhugh (reason for surname unknown but came from maternal grandmother), born June, 1982 St. Bartholomew’s Hospital London. Do we need to go on?”
“How did you…?” Sirius asked in confusion.
“We know who and what you are, Sir,” Sir John said. “We have quite the dossier on you as you are a person of interest to this office.”
“It is the only reason you’re here at all,” Earl Denworth added. “As we knew who you are, what you are and why you are here, it was not necessary for security to run its usual thorough job. Had you not been expected, you would’ve been surrounded by men with guns moments after entering the lobby. Because you were expected and we’ve had some coverage such that we knew what you look like and our files do not label you as a threat, you were not even asked to present identification.”
“But… How could you know?”
“Indeed,” the Earl said smiling. “Sir John?”
“This is an office of Her Majesty’s government,” Sir John said. “We call ourselves the Loony Bin, ‘cause most everyone would think we’re nutters if we told them what we do. Officially, we don’t have any name or designation. As far as the government is truly concerned, we don’t exist. If asked, the Prime Minister and Home Secretary - both of whom we technically answer to - can honestly say they have no idea about us. If Her Majesty was asked, she would look the person dead in the eye and lie.”
“Then again, she does make Maggie Thatcher look like a harmless housewife,” Commander Fitch-Fletchley said, “but most people do not know that.”
“And few would believe it,” Earl Denworth added. “We’re off the books, hidden in obscure line items in some government accountant’s ledger. Our Director answers directly to Her Majesty.”
“You’re not this Director?” Sirius asked.
The Earl snorted. “I am a recent hire. I was brought onboard in 1980. Before then I was with the Ministry of Defense and before then an Army officer. I’m still too junior to head this nuthouse, as we say. Besides, I need a modicum of plausible deniability seeing as I do hold a seat in the House of Lords. Sir John’s been with this office since he left the Army.”
“Sixteen years,” Sir John said.
“But you know about magic?”
“Indeed,” Sir John said. “As you know Earl Denworth’s grandson is a wizard. His son has officially known since the school official paid a visit and he learned this detail not long after at which time he was transferred to this office. The Earl was informed when this office learned that detail back in 1980.”
“How could you have…?”
“We have our ways,” and Sir John left it at that.
“And yourself?”
“Ah. Well, I’ve known all my life. I am a wizard, Lord Black.”
“I don’t recall a family Fitzedward.”
“We left your world centuries ago and have been working for the Crown ever since - well, aside from that time when Cromwell and his lot took over. I would not qualify as what you call Pure-blood, but my magical bone fides date back centuries and through most of that time we have worked for some incarnation of this office. The Director is my grandfather and my ancestors have served in that capacity since the reign of Elizabeth I, although this office has existed in some form since the Treaty of Separation with England. You are aware of that, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“Really,” Earl Denworth said with some disbelief. “It is my understanding your people are remarkably ignorant of it. My own grandson is only aware of it because we are. He asked about it in class once. The professor told him it was of no importance.”
“That professor does not consider the Muggle world of much relevance,” Sirius said. “My family was aware of that oversight and it was part of my education as an Auror.”
“That was my impression,” Earl Denworth said. “While the Treaty did not create this office itself, it is the reason for our employment.”
“The Treaty of Separation was before my family’s time magically speaking as it were,” Sir John said, “or at least before our time in England. My magical roots came from a part of Flanders in what is now Belgium. Or was it Burgundy? Borders shifted like ripples on a pond back then. The Treaty was made around the time - actually about a decade before the Magna Carta which most Muggles know about. The two had many things in common, except the fact that the wizards who wanted King John off their backs could turn him into a toad without so much as a by your leave and the barons could not force him to capitulate so easily.”
“Took almost all the nobility telling him that they would go over to the French King whom they had let land in England with an army to get him to sign that,” Earl Denworth said. “Only William Marshal and two others remained loyal in the end, although their loyalty did not extend to advising him not to sign.”
“Our archives show that Earl Marshal did not trust King John at all and had reason not to,” Sir John said. “That being said, he vowed to support the King so he did. Ear Marshal was instrumental in negotiating the Treaty of Separation and then was very successful in keeping John in line, unlike the situation some years later with the Magna Carta. But Earl Marshal also saw the risks and formed a special council to keep an eye on Treaty affairs, which over the centuries became this office. To keep this somewhat short, in other words we have had our eyes and ears within your world since the thirteenth century even if your people were blissfully ignorant of that fact.”
“But how? Why?”
“The ‘why’ should be obvious,” Earl Denworth said. “There is a secret, parallel society living amongst us. While we do not believe magic and its users are threats to us in the general sense, it does not follow that no witch or wizard has ever been a threat since the Treaty. Far from it and given your former occupation you should be aware that there has been a small minority of individuals who have been and remain a threat to us. Ever since the Treaty the existence of a hidden society could harbor a threat and, naturally, the Crown would rather to learn of and deal with such a threat before it could truly become a problem.”
“Witch burnings… ,” Sirius began.
“That was a continental phenomena,” Sir John said. “The few such burnings in England either occurred under the auspices of that raving lunatic Cromwell or some similarly delusional religious zealot. If the Crown dealt with a real wizard or witch, the methods were the same as any other criminal of similar notoriety.”
“There was Joan of Arc,” Commander Finch-Fletchly noted.
“Burnt as a heretic in Rouen in Normandy on the Continent where they preferred to roast their ‘alleged’ heretics,” Sir John said. “One must remember, she was convicted by a corrupt court of mostly French clerics for the English who’d’ve hanged her regardless probably as a brigand. She did, after all, thoroughly embarrass the English forces and as a woman at that time technically could neither be a soldier nor a true combatant regardless of whatever license she may have obtained from France or of what she accomplished. Probably made them question their masculinity losing to a teenage peasant girl time and again in battle. We don’t count that as a true witchcraft trial because first off it was clearly political and more importantly she was clearly not a witch to begin with. Lest you forget, their King did nothing and could’ve and been done with it. Then again, he was French and it had been less than a hundred and fifty years since a predecessor of his burnt his creditors at the stake rather than try to renegotiate his debts. The French kings seemed to dislike being beholding to anyone. They had, after all, set up their own Pope rather than listen to pronouncements contrary to their interests and desires from Rome. At least when England reached such an impasse they simply told Rome to bugger off. Why not let the English burn the girl who was more popular than the French King?”
“Especially if you could blame it on your enemy,” Earl Denworth snorted. “But we’re off topic. Her Majesty’s government has had an eye on your world from the off. As such, we do keep dossiers on persons of interest.”
“People you deem threats,” Sirius said nervously.
“And others who we deem of interest, Lord Black,” the Earl said. “You hold a hereditary seat on your Wizengamot and come from a very old and very independently minded family. You fought against the terrorists several years back which on your side would seem out of character given your family. That makes you interesting to us, if only as it gives a name and face to someone who represents a faction or an idea within your world.”
“You are hardly alone in our files,” Sir John said. “We have files on over seven thousand of your compatriots. Some are watched because they are threats or appear to be in league with them. The rest are watched because what they do and such may give us insights into trends for good or ill.”
“If it was your desire to remain unknown to us,” the Earl said, “then it was ill advised to have been mentioned in dispatches, as it were.”
“You are quite the figure in your press,” Sir John added. “We found the early reports in regards to your incarceration highly suspect at the time and your side never resolved that matter to our satisfaction until recently. A scion of an Ancient and Noble House turns against his parents and their beliefs most publically and then is that which he railed against? And agent provocateur perhaps? That might’ve made sense but for the little detail that there was no trial, something we’ve known from our sources since the beginning, I might add. I was one of the case officers back then.”
“Aside from reading our papers… well, including that how do you do this? I’m pretty sure we’d know if Muggles were crawling about Diagon Alley or the Ministry…”
“Would you?” Earl Denworth asked. “I’m certain as long as you don’t expect me to cast a spell or brew a potion, I could pass as a wizard in your world.”
“While it is somewhat quaint and antiquated,” Commander Finch-Fletchley, “one might say we Muggles are acquainted with your world from a young age. All you need to do to read our first sources of intelligence is check out our children’s literature, and I don’t mean the picture books. It might take a moment to accept that what we later learned as make believe is very real, there are those who can and will accept it when confronted and so long as we accept, we can pass as it were. As inconvenient and uncomfortable as your robes are, we can wear them.”
“That being said,” Sir John added, “when it comes to Diagon Alley and such places, we usually do not use our Muggle resources on the off chance that magic is necessary. We have more than enough witches and wizards in our employ as agents to conduct such tasks.”
“And where’d you get them?” Sirius asked. He was at a loss as to what to think about this.
“According to your last Ministry census, there were about 70,000 witches and wizards in Greater Britannia which includes what for us is the separate country of the Republic of Ireland,” Sir John said. “This office as nothing to do with Ireland directly although we do have a small office in our embassy to keep watch. The Irish may have a similar office but if they do we are unaware of it. But according to our own figures, there are more than 80,000 witches and wizards in Britain, which is England, Wales, Scotland and Ulster in Ireland but not the rest of what you still call Hibernia. Now, if your numbers are accurate and there about 70,000 magicals throughout the British Isles and our numbers are accurate and there are more than that in Great Britain and Northern Ireland alone, what does that tell you?”
“Our ministry missed some?”
Sir John nodded. “More than some. They don’t count some fifteen thousand who reside under our jurisdiction. Some are those who married Muggles and crossed over to avoid the fuss, as it were, and some of those might reappear on your ledger when their children are of school age.”
“Not if we get to them first,” Earl Denworth said.
Sir John nodded. “We have our own school for those who reside on this side of the Treaty Line, as we call it. I went to it as a lad and we think it’s on par with your Hogwarts in many areas and better in others, namely Art, History, Maths, Science and Literature which your side does not truly teach at all. We also have a large immigrant population, most of whom would find society on your side of the Treaty Line less than inviting. Finally, we sweep in a fair few of your Muggle Borns once they finish school and realize just how little opportunity there is for them on your side. Now, I won’t say this office employs all or even most of them. But we are certainly the largest single magical employer on this side of the Line. Then there’s those such as myself: an old magical family that chose to live on this side of this Line long ago.”
“You still haven’t told me what this office is about,” Sirius said. “I hope you can understand my concerns.”
“After the loyalty your world had shown to you,” Earl Denworth scoffed, “it is admirable in a way to see that you are still loyal to them.”
“It is a valid question, my lord,” Sir John said. “And we can only ask forgiveness, Lord Black. Our line of work tends to encourage us to talk cryptically and evasively about it. We are quite literally our side of the Treaty Line’s Aurors. Our primary task is to prevent our people from violating the treaty. We are to prevent insofar as possible our people from causing harm to yours. Is that not among what your Aurors do?”
“It is,” Sirius said. “But we don’t spy on you!”
“That’s handled by another office of your Ministry, I can assure you,” Sir John replied. “For security reasons, we’re not as compartmentalized although some may argue the opposite should be the case. On this side of the line, treaty enforcement includes monitoring compliance; hence our office’s interest in the people of note and events on your side of the line.”
“That’s it then? You have no nefarious intent?”
“Had we such intent, I can assure you that question would’ve been entirely unnecessary assuming you were alive to ask it,” Earl Denworth said.
“Our more direct actions against wizards have historically been limited to those malcontents, criminals and terrorists who crossed the line and preyed upon our people,” Sir John said. “We did manage to kill more than a few Death Eaters during your last war.”
“I hadn’t heard that.”
“Doubtful that you would seeing as our policy was not to take prisoners alive and not to keep them alive if taken. The fates of those terrorists are unknown even to their comrades and yes, we do know that to be the case. I dare say had we caught you after that incident in Camden Towne, I can’t say you would not have been added to those statistics.”
“Giving you a proper trial would have necessitated revealing your true nature in a very public setting,” Earl Denworth said. “One must remember that evolutions in the law do not apply to Treaty violations and violators. For transgressors, the law is little different than it was in 1207 due to certain language in the treaty itself. Neither side wanted the other to change the law in ways it might consider undesirable to its interests. The language is such that any change in law since the treaty need not be honoured by either side. It is why Muggles have no rights in your courts. It is why we can treat your transgressors as enemies of the crown in ways which other Muggle enemies cannot be treated. We could have them hung, drawn and quartered, but a firing party is more efficient and having them wind up as little more than a number in our traffic accidents statistics these days is more convenient.”
“Do not forget an incident concerning one of your ancestors,” Sir John added. “Phineus Nigelus Black was gunned down in broad daylight in Diagon Alley in 1925, was he not? His assailant was a Muggle whom felt slighted in some way…”
Sirius snorted. “My ancestor got his daughter pregnant or so it is said. But considering how many young women bore his bastards over his lifetime, it is entirely likely the man was spot on.”
“Interesting,” Sir John said. “Anyway, Mr. Lionel Williams - that was the Muggle’s name - was dead before the sun rose the next day, was he not? You’re people may have abolished the death penalty, but it was the law in such cases in 1207 and it was the fate of that Muggle about 720 years later. In 1925 we would’ve waited three weeks for a successful appeal before hanging him. But he would’ve been hung the same day in 1205 unless the King was present and commuted the sentence.”