Meet the New PM
Thanks for all the reviews.
Well, you can tell I’m American. It was pointed out that Prime Ministers were appointed not elected. I went back and changed a few words, that hopefully reflected that, but didn’t quite do it justice. I apologize to all the British folk for messing up. I should have done better research.
Hphphp
Vic fretted the whole time Bones was gone, but it wasn’t even an hour later when Amelia came in with the rat in tow.
“Minister Potter,” she said, toting the cage in her hand, “your rat,” she stated, putting the cage on the desk, and waving to it.
She had had little problem catching the man/animal. Tonks had morphed into the Weasley boy and put it into the cage and simply walked out of the dorm with it. Dumbledore had protested that they had been there at first, but once the spell confirmed that it was indeed an animagus he stopped.
“Did you confirm that it is an animagus?” he asked, staring at Wormtail, whom he did recognize. He’d know that rat anywhere. He’d spent five years, or more, seeing him every full moon, and during other shenanigans. They had run together all during their school years getting up to hijinks. Looking at the cowering animal now, he felt little pity for him.
“Oh, yes, and yes, it is,” she said, smiling a nasty smile, like she couldn’t wait to get the person in question into interrogation. She really wanted to know why the man was hiding for over ten years as someone’s pet. Only a criminal or a coward would do that. There had better be a very good reason for it.
No matter what, this person was going to see the inside of Azkaban. Being an unregistered animagus carried a sentence of at least five months and a fine of five hundred galleons. The fact that this person was blatantly hiding, well…
“Make sure you question it to its fullest. I want to know that it didn’t harm the Weasleys in anyway,” Potter said, glaring at the pitiful rodent, who was shrinking in his cage like the coward he was. “They have a young girl,” he said, leadingly.
“You have my word. This rat will be singing like a phoenix when I’m done with it,” Amelia stated, picking up the cage and moving to leave the room. She had a young niece and the thought that a man would hide in her house left her with a cold feeling in her spine. She would make sure that the little girl had been unmolested. If she had been, this person would never see the light of day again.
“Amelia,” Vic said, making her pause. “Ask him about Black. I just have a feeling,” he said, hoping he wasn’t showing his hand. “The timing is right,” he added, like that would make up for his slip.
“Alright,” she said, slowly. She looked at him queerly, then left the room. There was something tickling the back of her mind, but she left it there for now. The rat was more important.
Vic sighed and leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He really shouldn’t have done that. Oh, well. He looked at his clock and noted the time. He really needed to get going. It was time to meet the new Prime Minister. She only had an hour to meet with him, and it was towards the end of the day. It would be both of their last meetings of the day.
He gathered up his coat and briefcase and went to the floo. How better to introduce someone to magic than appear in their office through the fireplace? He’d better be careful. Who knows what kind of security she had? He knew there was still the alert on the floo, that might spook the bodyguards, so he went prepared.
He stepped through and ducked, which was a good thing, because a bullet whizzed past his head.
“Whoa, I have an appointment!” he exclaimed, holding up his empty hand, his other hand put his briefcase in front of his face. He expected there to be yelling, and demands, not bullets.
“Identify yourself!” yelled a man in black, who was pointing a gun at him. There were two of them pointing weapons at him, and a woman, who was the PM, was standing behind them. They were all looking at him with shock on their faces, and a bit of fear. Not exactly what he wanted, but hey, it worked.
The two men looked like any other government bodyguards, with matching black suits. One was tall and stocky, the other was shorter and bulky. They had earpieces, and other paraphernalia that was required to do their jobs.
The woman was the looker he had been told she was. She was tall and blonde, with her hair pulled back in a loose bun. She had expertly put on makeup, which accented her high cheekbones. She was dressed in a nice cream-colored business outfit, trousers, blazer, and a nice crisp blouse, with matching flats. Her jewelry was tasteful without being tacky. Silver instead of gold. She had and air of ‘don’t mess with me’ without coming off as bossy. There was just an elegance about her.
“Victor Henry Potter,” Vic said, pulling out his ID showing it with his right hand, lowering his briefcase. “I have an appointment,” he said again. He stood to his full height and kept his left arm down, but continued to present his ID, showing that he meant no harm. He smiled at them with an easy grin. “I promise, I’m here for a meet and greet,” he added, with a shrug.
“Let him be,” the female said. “He does have an appointment,” she continued. “I didn’t want to believe that there was a Minister of Magic, but…” she trailed off, looking at him with something akin to disbelief, but a bit of awe.
“It’s good to meet you, Prime Minister Lovelock,” Vic said, tucking his ID away and striding forward, holding out his hand for her to shake. “I’m your Minister of Magic, Vic Potter,” he stated, shortening his name as he was wont to do. He never liked the full name, and was far more comfortable with Vic.
“Minister Potter,” she said, shaking his hand and waving him to sit in a chair. She nodded to her two bodyguards. They stood back, but kept their eyes trained on him like he was a threat. Anyone that could access the office like he did, was a breach in security. “Selby tried to tell me about your community. But I thought he was taking the mickey,” she explained, laughing a bit. “I mean, who would believe such fantasy? Magic.” She took a seat and adjusted some papers on her desk.
“I can assure you that it is quite real,” Vic said, taking his wand out and tapping a pencil on her desk and turning it into a kitten. He then turned it back, tucked his wand back into his jacket, and settled into his chair. “I have my reports on how my side of things is running,” he said, picking up his briefcase and pulling out the parchment work. He slid them over and watched her pick them up. “Best get this out of the way, so I can answer any of your questions.”
“You don’t use computers?” she asked, a groan in her tone. “This is going to get tedious.”
“Magic and electricity don’t really mix well together,” he explained, though he wasn’t really sure about that. After all, Diagon Alley was smackdab in the middle of London, and it didn’t interfere with the workings of the city. He was going to have a committee look into that. The whole of the wizarding world would progress in leaps and bounds if they could just hook up to the rest of the world.
“I see,” she said, smiling at him in a strained way. She looked over the reports and nodded here and there. She frowned in some places and her nose cutely crinkled in others. Vic thought she was an attractive woman and that she appeared to be a nice one. It would remain to be seen if that held true. Looks can be deceiving, take Bellatrix for example. She was quite the attractive woman, but evil through and through.
The silence in the room was comfortable as the PM continued to read. Vic entertained himself by looking at the change in décor. Gone were the browns and greens. They were replaced with shades of grey and patterns of blue, which clashed garishly with the green and gold curtains on the portrait. So, Vic pulled out his wand and sent a color changing charm to them. They were now sky-blue and pastel pink.
“Thank you,” Stacey said, glancing at the curtains. “We couldn’t get them down to change them. I guess, we should have suspected something was amiss when that happened.” She went back to the reports.
“No problem,” Potter said, shrugging like it was no big deal, which it wasn’t. “If you ever need me for any reason, that portrait is the quickest way to get ahold of me in my office. I plan on getting a phone put in, but I have to do some research first. I don’t know if one can be installed as of yet,” he said, pulling her attention back to him for the moment.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, looking at the curtains again. “I just talk to it?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion. She hadn’t really paid attention to the portrait other than trying to get the blasted thing off the wall. “It talks?” she asked.
“Yes, to both questions. Wizarding portraits are not alive, per se, but they do have sentience,” he said, trying to explain it to her without understanding how to. Magic was just magic to him. It worked, or it didn’t. “I would leave the curtains shut if I were you. It’s a nosy bugger,” he suggested.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, again, then returned to the reports, which she was almost done with. Finishing the last few pages, she placed them in their folder and put them aside. “It looks like you’ve got most of your departments in hand. There are a few that could use more funds, but I’ll leave that for you to decide,” she said, knowing that it was ultimately his decision anyway.
“Yes, I’m going over the budget again with the Wizengamot in the next meeting. It’s like your House of Lords,” he said, then went over the workings of the wizarding world’s government to her. He explained the Statute of Secrecy and then directed her to where the treaty was and pointed out the pertinent clauses that affected them now. “So, as you can see, now that we are in peacetime and the wizarding world is not affecting the muggle world in any way, we are completely within our right to self-govern ourselves. As long as we comply with the laws of the land.”
This had been what he and Selby had discussed many times. They had gone over what needed to be said to Fudge to get him to comply to what was needed to get the rotten laws off the books. So, he knew what he was talking about. He really needed to keep in contact with Selby, the man was a good kind, and he didn’t want to lose him as a friend.
“Yes, I can see that,” she said, going over the treaty, and noting the things that he didn’t point out, which weren’t important at this time, but might be later. “You say there was a war not long ago?” she asked, trying to keep up with all the information that was being dumped on her in such a short time. It was surreal that the world existed to begin with, let alone that there was a treaty that let them self-govern.
“Yes, in the late 70s, early 80s,” he said, going over the whole Voldemort ordeal. He knew they got the horcrux out of Harry, but had the man made more? He really hoped not. If he had, there was a good chance he’d come back. He’d keep that thought to himself for now.
Vic was going to have to make plans for war. On the sly of course. No need to cause panic. He’d bring Amelia into his plans, and maybe a few others. But no one else needed to know, unless the scaley bastard showed his face.
“Do you feel that might happen again?” Lovelock asked, folding her hands on her desk, and leaning forward. Magic sounded like it could be used to cause great devastation. She wondered if there was anything non-magicals could use to defend themselves against it. It chilled her to the bone that she couldn’t think of one thing to that affect.
“There is always a chance that someone somewhere will get too big for his britches. And think he, or she, can take over the world. That’s true in your world too,” he said, holding his hands in a ‘what can you do’ manner. “I know that there is little magicals can do to protect themselves from bullets,” he added, looking at the guards and their guns.
“That’s true enough, I guess,” she said, leaning back in her chair. It was unfair of her to accuse his people of being exclusively evil. The non-magical people had had their fair share of wars and weapons. While guns were regulated greatly in the UK, there were exceptions. Like those that protect the government and the Royal Family.
“If war were to break out, I will do my best to contain it to our borders,” he said, once again holding his hands in a compliant gesture. “There is only so much one man can do,” he added, then gathered up his briefcase and stood. He glanced at his watch and nodded. “I have another meeting that I must get to,” he said, mostly truthfully, holding out his hand. “It was wonderful meeting you, Madam Lovelock,” he said in his most debonair tone. When she placed her hand in his, he turned it and kissed the back, like a gentleman.
“I see, I will have to keep my eye on you, Mr. Potter,” she said, smiling at him, mirth in her eyes. She was quite used to men like him. There were many of them in the upper portions of the government. They all treated her one of two ways, like an obstacle or a Lady. Well, there were those that just treated her as one of the men, but they were few and far between. Pity, Potter wasn’t one of those.
“I have no idea what you mean, Madam,” he said, going to the fireplace. “Next time, I’ll try to tell the portrait that I’m coming. However, with him covered you might not hear him,” he said, looking at the curtained picture.
“I’ll check with him every night to see if there is a message. Give me a day’s notice before you pop into my office,” she said, still standing by her desk.
“I’ll phone as well. I do have one in my home,” he said, readying the floo powder. “That might be more prudent,” he stated, thinking it over. It had worked better with Selby. The man hated the portrait. It would be a bit of a hassle, but it was workable.
“How can one work in your home but not the Ministry?” she asked, very confused. That didn’t make a lick of sense to her. Both places were magical, weren’t they?
“It is in an area that is not infused with magic,” he explained, poorly. That was the excuse they had given themselves when they installed it. That the area the phone was located in was seldom frequented, and there was little magic there. That didn’t explain that the phone was working under the wards. They just chose to ignore that fact. It was just easier to let it slide and accept the fact that it worked.
“I think you’d better get that research done sooner rather than later,” she said, her lips pursed a bit. She was getting the impression that there was a bit of lack of logic when magic was concerned.
“Yes, ma’am,” Vic said, completely agreeing with her. He’d get a phone installed in his office as soon as possible. It was a simple enough test. Now how to get a tech in the Ministry without blowing the Statute of Secrecy open. That was the tricky part. “Good-bye, ma’am,” he said, throwing the powder in and disappearing in the green fire.
He stepped out of the floo an into his home. He was done with politics for the day. He really didn’t have an appointment, other than to see Harry. He hadn’t seen him in two days and wanted to connect with his nephew. Harry had been too busy studying to come and see him at the office. They had chatted via the mirror, but it wasn’t the same. There were no hugs on that thin piece of glass.
He had cleared his calendar to be free this evening. He wanted to eat with Harry.
“Harry,” he called into the house as he put his briefcase in its usual place by the fireplace. “I’m home,” he stated loudly.
There was the sound of running feet as Harry came barreling into the study and flying into his arms. “I missed you, Uncle Pads,” the boy said, his voice muffled in the man’s chest.
“It’s only been a few days,” Vic stated, patting Harry’s back and ruffling his hair. He hugged the boy back as hard as he could.
“I had another dream this afternoon. I fell asleep while studying and it hit me,” Harry said, fear evident in his tone. “I don’t know what they mean, but it’s starting to scare me,” he confessed. “Uncle Pads, do you think Death is haunting me?” he asked, terrified.
“No, I just think that there might be a message in there. Let’s go to the library and do some research on Divination. We haven’t touched that subject yet and this could just be some sort of prophetic dream. Like your subconscious mind trying to tell you something,” he said, trying to sooth the child’s fears. He too was starting to worry, but he was trying to keep a calm façade.
“I guess,” Harry said, not completely comforted, but willing to give it a go.
They trooped to the library and started their research. The only thing they could find on Death, and signs thereof, was that he meant change. That was little help to them, since their lives had already undergone so much change recently, what with Arcturus’ death, the home-schooling and Sirius taking office. They really hoped there wasn’t more on the horizon.
“I think, we should just play this by ear, and hope for the best,” Vic said, putting the book away. He didn’t like that Harry was still having these dreams. He wondered if he should consult an expert, but he didn’t know any psychics.
The closest one he knew about was the quack that Dumbledore had hired at Hogwarts. What was her name? Trelawney, or something? He didn’t know, but he heard she couldn’t predict her way out of a melted cauldron. Why the headmaster hired her, only the old man knew. Everyone else thought he was going senile.
“Do you want me to write down my dreams? Like the book suggests,” Harry asked, putting the book he had been reading back. His hands were trembling a bit. He felt a bit better, but he was still put off sleeping for a while. Or at least napping since both happened when he slept in the afternoon.
“Yeah, might as well. We might learn something from them,” his uncle said, patting him on the shoulder and leading him to the study where Arcturus was waiting for them. They had decided to keep the books in the library. Not that they didn’t want the man’s opinion, but he asked questions while they were reading, and it interrupted their research.
“Well?” the old man said, huffing at being kept in the dark for so long.
“Nothing important,” Vic said, “Just a bunch of advice on keeping a diary and that Death means change,” he added, making waving motions with his hands, like it was all negligent.
“Don’t dismiss Divination,” Arcturus said, snapping at his ex-grandson. “There is something to be said for the art, if done by the right person,” he stated, knowing that predicting the future was a true calling for some people.
“I know, I just don’t think that Harry is a clairvoyant,” Vic said, looking at the child in question. “We would have seen the signs long before now if he was,” he added, nodding as if he was parting with great wisdom.
“I guess you’re right,” Arcturus said, knowing that was correct, but still concerned that the child was having nightmares about Death. There had to be a reason for it.
“We’ll get to the bottom of it somehow,” Vic said, then asked the air. “Can I get a drink, please?” A glass of firewhiskey appeared at his elbow and a bottle of butterbeer appeared at Harry’s.
“Thank you,” they both intoned, picking up their beverages and taking a drink almost in sync. It had been a long day for both of them and they were both ready for dinner and bed. As if the fates were listening, the elves called them to dinner, which was a simple chicken, potatoes, and salad, with crumbled apple for afters.
They talked of simple things at the meal and were soon ensconced in their beds having pleasant dreams, hoping tomorrow would be a good day.