emeraldshadows (emeraldshadows) wrote in contentious, @ 2008-09-15 04:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | * complete, harry potter, npc |
WHO: Kingsley Shacklebolt and Harry Potter
WHEN: Monday, 15 September, 2001
WHERE: Ministry of Magic, the Minister's office.
WHAT: Harry confronts the Minister of Magic about the alleged bill going around.
RATING: PG-13
WARNING: Language
STATUS: Private/COMPLETE
"I've an appointment to see the Minister," Harry answered, after the witch sitting at the desk in front of him gave him a questioning look. He felt her eyes rest on his scar and pursed his lips, waiting for her to acknowledge the fact that he was, in fact, expected. She nodded finaly and gestured for him to take a seat, which he did.
Harry was wearing the same trousers and dress shirt he'd worn to the Nogtail gala, only the trousers had been charmed a more subtle charcoal grey, the shirt a deep emerald green. On top of those were plain, dark grey robes. Boring, but functional while at work.
Harry's mind wandered while he sat there; to the suppose new bill about executing Death Eaters of course, but also to other areas of his life. He started to question what happened the other night with Ginny and the fact that he wasn't quite sure what his feelings for her were anymore. What that meant, he didn't know. The gravity of being a surrogate parent were taking their toll, the responsibility of it all. The fierce protectiveness he felt over the little boy, how worried he was that someday, someone who hated him would use Teddy to get to him. To hurt him, to take yet something else away from him. He frowned, broken out of his thoughts as a large figure suddenly towered above him.
Shrugging back his shoulders, the Minister of Magic sat up a little straighter and held the parchment he'd just signed in front of him. The ink right where his signature was still wet and glittered a little as it caught the light. It felt like he'd been signing a hell of a lot of things these last few weeks, and it was a headache processing each and every one of them.
The most dreaded bill, or decree - as it would be by the time it reached his quill - if it reached his quill, was that one about executing all former Death Eaters. The rumours were true. The debates within the Wizengamot had been red hot, but the conclusions weren't going anywhere. Perhaps, Kingsley supposed, because the Head of the Wizengamot had not been convinced by the arguements that wanted them all dead to risk calling for a vote.
He'd made up his own mind a long time ago, of course. Based on what he'd seen and what he knew as not only an Auror, but a member of the Order of the Phoenix. And yet, like some of his advisors had insisted on telling him, this was probably not the right perspective to look at it from. But it was the perspective that had pulled the Wizarding World from the rubble it was under at the end of the war. Surely it would continue to keep them afloat? No?
Kingsley set the parchment back down and looked at his watch. Ah. Harry Potter would be due for his appointment now. Usually, he'd have pressed a button and it would have activate a charm to alert his secretary to let his next appointment in, but this was Harry. He knew Harry. Well enough to give him the respect of getting up and inviting him in himself. And so this was what he did.
"Harry," he smiled warmly, upon seeing the young man seated outside his office. "It's a pleasure to see you again," he said genuinely and offered his hand to shake.
Harry stood up as the Minister approached; Kingsley towered above him, but Harry knew the man well enough to not be intimidated by his presence.
"Kingsley," He greeted in return, grinning as he accepted Kinglsey's hand and shook it. He shot a glance at the secretary, who had raised an eyebrow. "Er, Minister." He corrected himself. The man in front of him was someone who he still considered a friend; they'd fought side by side in battles, they were comrades. Kingsley was one of those people who Harry trusted in a very physical way, as someone who would have his back if it was ever needed.
"Thanks for agreeing to see me, I know you're really busy." He said, remembering his manners and the fact that they were still in a place where eyes tended to pry. He would wait patiently for Kingsley to invite Harry into his office, he knew enough to know that it wouldn't be appropriate to walk in uninvited, or without the Minister leading the way into his own office. As thick as Harry could be, he was slowly learning the game of politics and hierarchy and how to play it.
"A little," Kingsley confessed. "But I'll gladly make time for you." He stepped back and gestured at his office. "Perhaps we should continue in my office. Would you like any tea or coffee, Harry?"
"Thank you," Harry said genuinely, taking Kingsley's cue and entering his office. "Tea would be lovely, yeah." He was a sucker for a nice cuppa. "We haven't spoken in a while. How are things going for you?"
"Things are going," he replied enigmatically and pointed his wand at the kettle he had set up in his office. His wife had been telling him to cut down on coffee much more insistently of late, and he was, amazingly, following her advice. "And for yourself? Paperwork piling up on you?" he asked knowingly.
"That's eloquant," Harry teased, grinning a bit before nodding. "Paperwork is all I ever see anymore. The last time I was actually out in the field was last year, Kingsley. And that was because someone thought it was funny to put dung bombs in public toilets. Not exactly what I had in mind."
Harry sighed, closing his eyes as he tried to remain calm.
"I'm sorry. I am grateful that you've given me this opportunity," He insisted quietly, looking up at the Minister imploringly. "It's just...not exactly what I had in mind, yeah? But...that's not why I'm here." He squared his shoulders, setting his jaw. "What do you know about this supposed bill? The one about executing Death Eaters?"
"I'd have thought they would have put you out on the field with the others investigating the latest robberies?" the Minister said with a frown. He'd have to look into that. He'd told the Head of the Auror Department to not give Harry any particular special preference or favours, but that didn't mean he was supposed to entirely disregard his skills and leave him haniging about filling out an endless stack of parchments.
But suddenly his attention was being called for to a more pressing and important matter. He had a feeling that Harry wanted to chat to him about this. Ever since the rumours had leaked, there'd been a number of people who'd been asking him about it. Not to mention, Lucius Malfoy - the nerve of him.
Harry looked so determined. It brought back a fleet of memories Kingsley had no room to sift through, forget the time to do so. Resignedly, he pushed them away, just like he'd had to do with so much of late.
"It is being passed around amongst the Wizengamot, that much is true. But nothing's been decided of it and no votes have been cast at present," he replied patiently.
"Apparently others don't have quite as much faith in my abilities as you do," Harry replied tersely; he'd heard the other Aurors talk about the robberies but had been left out of the in field investigations, which was beginning to drive him round the bend.
Harry listened as Kingsley confirmed the rumours about the bill, leveling the Minister with a quizzical look.
"What's your stance on it?" he asked simply, not bothering to beat around the bush on this one. "I started hearing rumours a couple weeks ago. Why hasn't it gone to votes yet?"
Ah. The frankness. To be honest, it was rather refreshing. Kingsley tired of the political correctness and the careful wordings and double meanings and unnecessary pleasantries that were never heartfelt. If he wasn't eager to see the Wizarding World safe and stable, and improved, he'd be done with this whole gig. He'd done more than enough of his share anyway.
"Because the Head of Wizengamot is not convinced, and I believe his stance mirrors mine. I believe, Harry, that neither of us are quite ready to murder a group of people during peacetime."
But that didn't mean he didn't want some sort of payment or retribution. Striking a deal with a Dementor and passing over a few scarred and irreparable souls seemed like an attractive alternative each day he had to sit through the same Wizengamot proceedings.
"Good." Harry stated with a little nod of his head, clearly approving of the Minister's stance, whatever his reasoning may have been. "So what needs to be done in order to make it go away?" He asked, once again meeting Kingsley's gaze. "Is there anything that can be done, before it reaches the voting stage?"
"We have a fairly convincing arguement, we believe, which we have held back for now - and will stress the increasing of security measures in Azkaban." It was not Harry's place to know more than these basic details and Kingsley had shared enough. "I'm afraid we cannot do anything in order to make it go away," he replied sadly. "But the final signature is mine. And I will do everything to ensure it does not occur. Unfortunately," he noted significantly, "My hand is not always my own."
"What does that mean, 'My hand is not my own'?" Harry asked boldly, green eyes narrowing slightly. It sounded like a way to ease the responsibility away from ones self. Perhaps people did change when they were in a position of power. "I don't mean make it go away per say, but what about some sort of, I don't know, counter act or something? Passing around a bill that would make it impossible?"
"I'm sure you know what it means, Harry," was the flat reply. He wasn't going to go into it. It was almost too obvious to him. And to think he'd started out so idealistically before. But those ideals were still there. And he would succeed with them, regardless of what had been printed about him by young upstart opinion columnists.
"We could, but what exactly? The Reformation Act of Willing Former Death Eaters? I'd be laughed out of office. People want to be safe and sure. Can you give them that?" He refrained from mentioning the idea about Dementors. He knew how Harry would feel about them, and he wasn't eager about the prospect, but so far it was a valid and sure method of achieving the results desired without actually killing anyone.
But was there a difference? Between killing and a Dementor's Kiss?
"If I knew what it meant, I wouldn't be asking." Harry pointed out smoothly, pressing his lips together in impatience. Kingsley was starting to play games with him, and he didn't like it. "I don't know what to call it. But how is deciding, after they've been given their sentences, to execute every Death Eater regardless of what their actual part in things was, considered justice?" He demanded; it was getting harder to control his growing temper. "People are a hell of a lot more safe than they were when Voldemort was around and you damn well know it. I did have a slight hand in that."
Harry stood up, his fists clenched at his sides. He'd always thought that he and Kingsley were on the same page, that they agreed on things like this. What exactly was the Minister saying, anyway?
"What's the use of being Minister of Magic if you can't prevent something like this from happening? It goes against everything all of us fought for during that bloody War!" He glared with nothing short of accusation at the Minister, eyes blazing with green fire. "Or at least, I thought so."
"It means, Harry, that not every decision I make can be made without considering at least 10 other very influential factors, and often, those factors are in conflict with one another." He could feel the growing anger in the man opposite him, but chose to keep his own cool. How could he make him understand? He hadn't understood before, had he? When it was a matter of life and death up there in the air the night they lost Mad-Eye? That sometimes you just had to do something, no matter how it made your hands dirty.
Dirty hands. And he'd thought it was a silly philosophical arguement once upon a time.
"People want total security. They want to know Lestrange won't get out and curse their children. They don't think sentences are enough. They don't believe in Azkaban as a stronghold, or an institution that is able to carry out its own purpose. I wouldn't blame them. After all, those mass breakouts were not so very long ago." He inhaled and paused to gather his thoughts once more before continuing in a calm voice. "I know what you did. I will not forget it, and I will not forget what we all owe you."
Apparently he was not calming enough. Suddenly Harry was up and clenching his fists, eyes blazing.
Kingsley blinked. "If you think I was fighting for my own share of power, Harry, you are wrong. I am tired. And I want this world to be a better place, but I am learning that it cannot be done in the way you and I once thought it might. We fought for the same things. But look around you - do you think everything vanished overnight with Voldemort?" He'd even managed to pull that one off without hesitating on the name.
Harry's eyes narrowed.
"So being Minister of Magic basically just means that you're a puppet." He deadpanned, shaking his head. "I don't get it, obviously."
Harry sat down then, tired. He suddenly felt, and perhaps looked, older than his years as he rested his head in his hands. He felt lost, defeated. It as was if he just learned that something he'd always thought was the truth, was actually a lie.
"Look, no one owes me anything. That's not what I'm getting at." He paused, pushing a heavy hand through impossibly messy hair. "I've been working here pretty much since the moment I left Hogwarts. I haven't complained at all the paperwork I've been stuck with, or the fact that I'm not getting to use my skills for anything other than arguing about new policies."
He stopped again, looking around for the tea that had never come. He found it on the other side of the room and with a flick of his quickly drawn wand, summoned one of the filled cups to himself. Hang being rude, he could use the distraction. He took a few small sips before continuing; he preferred it a bit sweetened, but he would content himself with what he had.
"I've been working hard doing useless things, keeping my mouth shut for several years now, simply because I believed in what you were doing and I thought, Merlin forbid me for doing so, that we were making some sort of progress towards the world I thought we both wanted to live in!" His hands began to shake and he set down his cup of tea on the desk in front of him. "And now you're telling me that it's impossible. So I ask you, Minister Shacklebolt, What am I doing here?"
"I am no one's puppet," Kingsley replied, his expression darkening as he lost a little of his cool. He was sick of people saying this. Sick of being portrayed as someone who had no idea of his own mind or ambition. His voice counted. And was strong. And came through, didn't it? But how do you condense your own ideals and hopes and strengths into an institution that people had either lost faith in or had too much? There was still so much to be done.
"I never said it was impossible. But in this world, words are important. I don't think it is fair for you to lose faith in me on a matter entirely undecided. And you, Harry, are a free man. I never asked for you to pledge your support to me or my ideaology publically. I do not wish to take advantage of your working here. You've been treated the same as any new recruit, which I am sure is what you would have wanted. I will still work to make this world a better place for all of us to live in. Look how far we've come already."
"Really, didn't you just say that your hand isn't always your own?" Harry asked, throwing Kingsley's words back in his face. He stopped himself just short of saying, 'I think I'm starting to see strings.'
"You also said that it can't be done in the way that we thought it could," He murmured darkly; the Minister seemed to be contradicting himself at every turn, which told Harry that the tall man wasn't sure of things himself. "I know you didn't ask for my support. I'm not being treated the same as any new Auror, though. There are blokes out in the field that haven't been here for a year, while I get stuck doing everyone's paperwork! Filing their reports, looking for inconsistancies."
Harry closed his eyes, rubbing at his scar unconsciously as a headache began to build behind his eyes. He was frustrated, and quickly losing hope in the Ministry once more.
"We haven't come that far if there's nothing we can do about this ridiculous bill going around. It exists, and that tells me that we haven't come far enough." He looked up at Kingsley again, his expression a mixture of anger and confusion. "I can't believe that they're even thinking of entertaining this. Of turning into the very people we're trying to protect the world against..."
"The world is," he paused to find the right word, "A very demanding place, Harry. I think it's time for you to go."
"Apparently." Harry said, his voice devoid of emotion. He stood, straightening his shoulders. He'd made a decision.
"My superior will have my resignation by Friday." And with that he turned to go, only pausing as he reached the door, halfway turning to regard Kingsley. "Thank you for your time, Minister."
And with that, Harry was out the door.