Once Upon a Wish

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It took some doing, but after about two weeks of disruption, the Ministry was hooked up with phones. The contractor, one Joy Henderson, was paid the full £10,000. Marcus tried, but she wanted what she felt was her due. She had been one of the many that had failed to find work in the wizarding world after getting full marks at Hogwarts. She was very bitter.

She had had to get her certificate working days and going to school at night. It had been a hard road, but she had finished after six years. She now worked for the phone company and was doing this on the sly. If she got caught, it would be her job. Even though there was paperwork, it was gotten by magical means. She was going to milk it for all they were worth.

It turned out that the phones worked perfectly well in the building. There was no interference whatsoever. They got all the bells and whistles too. Call Blocking, Call Waiting, Caller Id, and such.

At first there was a great deal of protest by the upper elitists. Then Vic showed them how useful they were, and people settled down. That was until the bill came.

Most people put it down to the new Minister just wanting to be closer to his muggle upbringing. No one had figured out yet that Vic Potter was as wizard-born as they came. Though there were a few muggleborn that were questioning his lack of knowledge of muggle things. It was a good thing they were few in the Ministry.

The hardest part was explaining to the phone company how they now had service to an address that didn’t exist. Marcus had put a Confundus Charm on the billing agent to send it to a P.O. box. There was talk in the Wizengamot about not paying the debt at all, but that was vetoed by the PM and the MoM. They weren’t going to shirk their responsibilities.

That and it was too close to ‘muggle-baiting’ for the Prime Minister. She put her foot down and threatened them with further interferences if they didn’t keep their noses clean. If they were willing to steal services, what else were they willing to do to the poor unsuspecting muggles?

She would be keeping a close eye on them. She still had Selby’s spies, and his secretary. She had thought of firing the girl when she first took office, but now was glad she hadn’t. She needed these resources to prevent things like the whole not paying the bills from happening.

Vic was just as upset that the Mot thought they could get away with not paying it. Dumbledore was one of the leaders in the campaign in getting free services from the muggles. They were meeting about it right now, and Vic was pissed that they were even discussing it. He was laying into them with vigor.

“Why are we even here?” he demanded, looking at the Chief Warlock who had called this meeting.

“We cannot risk them finding out about us,” the old man said, running his hand down his beard in a knowing fashion. He was sitting in his fancy chair high above everyone like he was more important than them. “Which they will do if we pay this bill,” Albus said, like he was speaking to a child.

“And they will find out faster if we use the phones and don’t pay for them,” Vic said, upset that this was even being debated. He stood to his full height and was towering over those seated around him.

He was glowering at Dumbledore, and he wasn’t making much of an impression on the man. Damn the seating arrangement. They were going to make some changes to that. There shouldn’t be this type of separation. The old man wasn’t that powerful. He was just a figurehead. His job was to open and close the meetings, keep order, and break ties. There was no reason he should be seated so far above everyone.

“Why do we even need such contraptions?” Dumbledore asked, a twinkle in his eyes. “We have magic that delivers messages to our satisfaction,” he pointed out, with a little laugh. As if the whole thing was a trivial joke. “It has been this way for centuries,” he added with some satisfaction.

“To bring us up to date with the rest of the world. We are woefully behind,” the Minister said, rubbing his forehead as if to stave off a headache. He had been fighting with most of the older generation over this from the get-go. He thought he had gotten it through their heads by now. Obviously not.

“We do not need to be up to date with them. We have magic,” someone from the galley stated. There were murmurs of consent from the older folks, while the younger ones protested.

“And we risk the Statute of Secrecy every time we enter that world. We’re dressing all wrong, we don’t know the culture, or their technology,” Potter stated, opening his robes and waving his hand over his body showing his suit and tie under his Wizengamot robes, and then over the man next to him showing his attire under his, which was three decades old. “I am dressed like a normal muggle. He is not. He stands out, I do not. This risks us being found. Don’t you people understand, we are going to be discovered if you don’t get your heads out of your arses and see the problem right in front of your eyes,” he stated loudly and slammed his hands on the table in front of him.

“Now see here, Minister, there is no need for vulgarity,” Dumbledore said, peering over his half-moon glasses as if disciplining a student.

“Yes, there bloody well is. You are not listening. I need the phones to keep in contact with the Prime Minister. You don’t need them, fine, but they’re already installed. Use them or don’t. I don’t care. The rumor that electricity doesn’t work with magic is bullshit, plain and simple. Now, we can do things with magic that can’t be done with electricity, I know that, and I respect that. However, taking multiple calls at one time is not one of them. I need to be able to do that if I want to do my job more efficiently,” he said, passionately. He knew he could just give a mirror to Stacey, and he probably would. But he couldn’t talk to multiple people on one. With this, he could confer with three departments at the same time. He already taught them how to have a conference call and they were ecstatic to be able to do that. It saved so much time and energy.

“Let us vote,” Dumbledore said, knowing he had lost this round.

They voted and it was a tight vote, but Vic got his way. They would pay for the phones and use them in the Ministry. He would have overruled the vote if it had gone the other way and gotten his way anyway. It was one of the perks of being in charge. Still, he was glad they saw his point of view. Mostly.

He took the results to Stacey, and she was glad it worked out, but she was upset that it had come to that. He gave her a mirror and showed her how to use it. That gave them one more avenue of contact. She was enthralled over it. She couldn’t call him, but she could answer his calls.

They talked about the meeting for a while and sussed out that there were just too many old fogies on the Wizengamot to make too many changes. They discussed making them voted in instead of inherited. It was a longshot, but she was the one in charge of the government in the long run. They talked about it late in the evening and came up with a few plans.

There was talk of putting electricity in the building next, so computers could be added, but the logistics would need to be worked out. That plan would be far more difficult than phones.

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Some people were having too much fun with the new phones. They were talking on them all the time. While interoffice calls didn’t cost anything, they did tie up the lines. Vic’s secretary was one of those people. She had all five lines going at once and would bounce back and forth with many departments’ secretaries gossiping about the bosses or other office workers. It tied up the whole system.

“Cherry,” he said one day when he had been trying to get her attention, but her line had been busy. He had had to press the rune, which was still functioning, to get through to her. “Get off the phone and get Amelia in here,” he said, briskly. He might have to fire her, which was too bad. Other than her gossiping ways, she was a good secretary. She always had his files in order and his coffee ready.

“Yes, sir,” the nervous woman said, hurriedly hanging up all her lines and calling Bones.

Vic could see all the lights go out and was happy to see she complied. About ten minutes later Amelia came in. Cherry followed her with a tea service, but she scuttled out quickly enough.

“You needed to see me?” Bones questioned as she took a seat. It had been a long day for her too. She picked up a teacup and doctored it to her taste.

“I wanted to ask about the rat, first of all,” he said, having forgotten Peter in the rush to get the phones installed. He too took up some tea. He preferred coffee, but it was afternoon and tea was the way to go.

“His name was Peter Pettigrew. He was a Death Eater, and the one Black was accused of killing. He did everything that Black was accused of. I’ve cleared Black’s name, but the man disappeared years ago. I was unsure as to whether or not to advertise that,” she said, tilting her head in a way that invited his opinion.

“Go ahead and put it in the Prophet,” he said, waving his hand in a negligent manner. Like it didn’t matter to him. Inside he was ecstatic. Finally, that part of his life would be laid to rest. He could forget about it and move on. He placed his cup on his desk and sighed.

“It might make the Ministry look bad,” she cautioned, knowing that Fudge would have thrown a fit. She sipped her beverage and set her cup on its saucer, keeping them in her hands.

“Just make sure you throw the old ministers under the Knight Bus,” he stated, his tone firm. “Mention them by name if you have to,” he added, in a no-nonsense voice. “If you have to mention mine at all, then make sure to say that I was the one who found out about the rat and was instrumental in capturing him,” he stated, writing down a note for her on his part, signing it off and handing it to her.

“I can do that,” she said, putting down her cup, taking the note and tucking it in her jacket pocket.  

“Did you get anything else out of him?” he asked, leaning back, and crossing his legs.

“He wasn’t a sexual deviant,” she said, much to both of their relief. She picked up her tea and sipped it again. She really liked his blend. The minister got the best blend in the whole building.

“That is good to know,” Vic said, though deep in his heart he knew that. Peter was many things, but not a creep. Well, to women he was, but not little girls.

“I’ve told Arthur this already,” she informed him. Arthur had been so relieved that he had almost fainted. He had not told Molly about the man as of yet. Now he could tell her with a clear conscience. She would have fretted otherwise. At least that was the man’s story.

“Good, good. Anything else?” he asked, hoping to peg Malfoy.

“Should there be?” she asked, confused as to what else there could be.

“Did you ask about obtaining the mark?” he asked, giving her a knowing look like it was the perfect opportunity to peg those that got away.

“Why would I?” she inquired, still confused.

“So that we can nab those that got away with the Imperius defense. They were never tried, so Double Jeopardy doesn’t apply,” was the answer, a hint of anger in his tone. “I want those bastards behind bars,” he added, ready to slam his fist on the desk, but refraining. It wasn’t her fault the men were free. She had been a lowly Auror when the war was going on.

“Oh,” she said, making a note in her notebook that she drew from her jacket pocket. Now she understood. She didn’t think Pettigrew would give up this information freely. They would have to resort to Veritaserum again. “It might not be usable in trial though. It’ll be hearsay,” she added.

“It’ll be enough to get them in for questioning,” he said, going over what they could tell the Wizengamot.

“I’ll do my best,” she said, thinking on how to pose the questions.

“When is his trial?” he asked, hoping to clear his schedule for that day.

“Next week.”

“I look forward to it,” he said, making a note on his calendar.

“If there isn’t anything else, I’ll go and ask some pertinent questions,” she said, finishing off her tea and getting up to go and do just that.

“No, that’s all for now, but I’d like to talk to you about something else later,” he said, thinking about the whole horcrux thing. However, he didn’t want to do it here. For all they swept his office for listening charms daily, they found them every now and then. Best not risk it. “Can you join me for dinner at my home? Harry will be there, if you don’t want to be alone with me,” he added, not wanting her to think it was a date. He currently had his eye on someone else, though she was unattainable at the moment.

“I’ll bring the wine,” she said, getting the impression that he needed to speak with her in private. She really hoped he wasn’t going to give her more work.

“8 o’clock,” he said, sliding some parchment work in front of him and starting to read. If he was going to entertain, he really needed to get some work done today. His tea was left to cool.

“I’ll be there,” she said as she went to the door. “Oh, by the way, tell your secretary to quit calling mine, or I’m going to have to fire mine, and I really don’t want to do that.”

“Will do. Send her in, will you,” Vic said, with a sigh.

Amelia nodded and did just that.

Cherry came in with a great deal of trepidation. After about ten minutes of scolding and threatening, Vic finally got through to the young woman that the phones were not for her personal use and that if she tied up the lines again, she would be without employment. She left the office in tears, but with a better understanding of her job.

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Meanwhile, Harry was having a great time on the computer that was now installed in the house. He was getting his schoolwork done in record time and his fingers loved him for it. No more cramping from writing. Well, not as much writing. Sure, his typing wasn’t up to par, but he was working on it.

That and there were games that he could play that helped his eye/hand coordination, not to mention his observations skills. That was his story, and he was sticking to it.

Marcus came by twice for dinner during those two weeks, and Harry hoped he would come by more often. He was a surly bloke, to be sure, but he was family, and he relaxed the more he came by. Marcus would tell stories about his siblings and his dad, which Harry and Vic ate up. They knew so little about the squib side of the family. They learned more about the muggle side of life too.

In turn, they told a few about what they knew about the Blacks. Given they were supposed to be Potters raised in the muggle world, there were scant few of those. Arcturus told the most.

Vic was put in a quandary. He was supposed to have been raised in a muggle household, but he knew little of the muggle world. Marcus was going to figure it out soon. If he hadn’t already.

Right now, Harry was cruising the World Wide Web and he was finding interesting things. There were popup sites, that were blocking his entertainment, and would get him in trouble if his Uncle Pads ever saw them. He closed most of them, but damn there were a lot. He’d have to ask his cousin Marcus if there was a way to prevent them from popping up.

“Harry,” came the call from his uncle, just as he closed a risqué popup.

“Coming,” Harry said, closing the computer down and moving to the door of the library. He went to the study where his uncle was and saw the man looked harried. “What’s up?” he asked.

“I’ve invited Amelia Bones for dinner. I want you to chaperone tonight,” Vic said, sighing and sitting.

“Why do you need a chaperone?” he asked, sitting opposite him.

“I don’t want the woman to think I have designs on her,” the other man explained. He snapped his fingers and a glass of firewhiskey appeared. “Thank you, Tibbers,” he said to the air, hoping he got the correct house elf.

“What time is she going to be here?” Harry asked, leaning back in his chair. He was tired too. His schedule was grueling.

“Why did you invite her?” Arcturus asked, leaning forward in his chair.

“She’ll be here at eight. And I invited her to talk about the horcruxes. It’s the only place I know that we won’t be overheard,” Vic explained, taking a long sip of his drink.

“I’m going to go and do some studying until then,” Harry said, getting up and going back to the library. He still had non-magical stuff to get done. All his magical work was practical, mostly. His spying homework was practical too, except law, which he was caught up with. It was non-magical that was written.

“Good kid,” Vic said, lifting his glass in a toast.

“Why are you telling Bones about the horcrux?” Arcturus asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“I think there maybe more,” was the answer.

“Why do you think that?”

“I’m not sure, just a feeling, I guess. I want to be prepared in case I’m right,” the tired man said, drinking long from his glass and setting it down.

“I hope to whatever god you pray to, there isn’t,” the painting said, shuddering at the thought.

“If I am right, I don’t want to get caught flatfooted. Besides, Dumbledore is always spouting that Voldemort isn’t gone. I think he knows more than he’s telling,” Vic said, glaring at the wall in real anger.

“You could be right about that.”

“At any rate, I want Bones and maybe a few others in on it. I won’t keep this to myself. Also, I want to tell Marcus who I really am. I think I’m going to need his help. I think he’s suspicious of me anyway,” the younger man said, sighing once again. Marcus had been shooting him some queer looks lately. Like he should know things he didn’t know. Like things about the phone.

“That might be for the best,” Arcturus agreed.

“I’ll call him tomorrow.”

“It’s getting late, and you need to change,” the painting said, looking at the man’s rumpled suit.

“Yeah,” Vic said, picking up his drink and downing the rest. He then left to go and change.

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Dinner was simple enough and pleasant. They had Cornish game hens with stuffing and steamed asparagus, and the wine Amelia brought. Well, Harry had a fizzy drink. They kept the topics to school and work and only the nice parts of both. Harry’s spy school was kept a secret, but his muggle schooling was expounded on. When it was time for coffee, they moved to the study.

“So, are you finally going to tell me why you invited me over?” Amelia asked, settling into a chair, while Harry and Vic took the sofa.

“What do you know about horcruxes?” Vic asked, looking at her with a serious face.

“Should you be talking about this with Harry here?” she asked, instead of answering. That was a dark topic of conversation to bring up in front of a kid.

“He knows all about them,” was the answer.

“I had one in my forehead,” Harry piped up. His tone was also serious. “It was Voldemort’s,” he added, making her flinch.

“Excuse me,” Amelia said shocked, so shocked that she almost dropped her cup. One didn’t just bandy about the Dark Lord’s name.

“Yes, the Dark Lord’s,” Harry confirmed. “We removed it when I was six,” he stated, showing his barely there scar.

“How do you know it was his?” she asked, gently putting her coffee cup on the table. She didn’t want to drop it and ruin the expensive carpet.

“The goblins told us,” Vic answered for him. “They are the ones who took it out. I think there may be more,” he added, giving her a concerned look. She was quite pale. He didn’t want her fainting. She was a strong woman, but this was disconcerting news.

“This is quite a lot to take in,” she said, her eyes darting around the room. “Are you sure?” she asked, not wanting it to be true.

“No, I’m just going on a gut feeling,” he said, not wanting to lie. “However, what if I am right? Do you want to take that chance?” he asked, picking up his cup and then putting it back down without drinking from it.

“No,” she conceded. “What can we do?” she asked, wracking her brain for a solution to this puzzle.

“That is the question. I was hoping that you could come up with some people that we can form a task force to delve into this quietly. I believe that Dumbledore knows something, but he’s keeping it tight to his chest. I was hoping Mad-eye Moody could get something out of him. They are friends,” Vic said, this time drinking some coffee.

“I can ask,” Amelia said, relaxing a bit. Alastor would be beneficial in this.

And with that they got to planning.

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Marcus was talking to one of his old acquaintances. John Stances. John had been in the muggle government as a bodyguard but had washed out due to a blown knee. He had been shot in the line of duty. He was a muggleborn and had gotten the knee fixed via a healer, but he couldn’t prove it to the muggles. There was no medical record.

It had been a bitch finding him. He had gone to ground when he left. It had taken quite a few favors just to get John to meet him here. He was a doomsdayer. He was sure that Armageddon was around the corner. Well, not quite Armageddon, but that bad things were going to happen all the time.

“So, do you want to protect the new Minister of Magic?” Marcus asked as they sat in a café’s outdoor seating area. It was getting too chilly to be doing this much longer, but it was okay for now.

“Is he an arse like the last one?” John asked, waving the waitress down. His eyes were roaming the immediate area in a constant motion.

“No, he’s actually a standup bloke,” Marcus said, then quieted down as the waitress approached. They ordered some fish and chips with a mug of ale. “He’s a distant cousin of mine, so I know him a bit.”

“Ah, you’re doing the family a favor. Can the magical ministry afford me?” the man asked, looking around for danger. He was always on the lookout for danger.

“For my dearly departed great uncle actually,” Marcus confirmed, looking for eavesdroppers. He didn’t want to break the Statute. “I don’t know if the Ministry can, but Vic can,” he stated, knowing his cousin could and should be able to keep the man around.

“I’ll meet him,” John said, then settled to wait for their meal. “Call it a favor for an old friend,” he added, thinking Marcus had done him good in the past. He could at least meet the man.

“That’s all I ask,” Marcus said, also relaxing and waiting. They talked of non-consequential things and passed the time away as they waited. When they parted, Marcus went home and called Vic to make an appointment for the three of them to meet that weekend. Which was good because Vic said he wanted to talk to him anyway. He wondered if the man was going to come clean about why he wasn’t up to date on muggle things. It was about time.

He then called John with the time of the meeting.

All in all, it was a good day, for Marcus.