Kingsley had been asking about it with a different meaning, different sense. He hadn't meant to ask how the Death Eaters controlling the people worked, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the face, when he knew it wasn't about to bite him. So he listened, finding it rather a bit intriguing. The more under its influence someone was, the easier it was. But that was the thing - it was made to apply just to Death Eaters. But logic is a thing to be twisted, and magical logic of the ties of the potion were still tied to that. He had ideas, but they were for another time. And Kingsley filed them away.
Few people probably read the newspaper as religiously as Kingsley did, with his decades of cut up reports all organized so well. Every strip that had ever been written. There was a phrase out there - once written down, never truly gone, or something like that. Maybe it had been a muggle thing, said while working for the prime minister. Something of the sort, and it was right.
"It's a delicate balance," Kingsley nodded, "between alerting people and catching the eye of the Ministry. We don't want to give the staff a death sentence, as right as you are." Seamus Finnegan worked for the Daily Prophet. Admittedly, quidditch was not truly a political topic, but he had been on their side back in the day. It was potentially a start. Kingsley knew all the writers writing like the back of his hand, but that didn't mean he truly knew the people.