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Minchum for Minister


Alastor Moody refused to sit behind the desk of the Headmaster’s office. Instead, he had turned the two seats before it, where the students usually sat in Dumbledore’s presence, so they they faced one another. Harold Minchum, a high ranking ministry official, sat in the chair opposite him, looking about the room at Dumbledore’s abandoned belongings, which Alastor Moody had also refused to touch. “Quite the collector of oddments, Dumbledore,” Mr. Minchum commented, looking about.

Without turning his head at all, so that his regular eye stayed trained on his guest, Moody’s magical eye swiveled in the socket, taking in all the things that lined the shelves and tables about. “Quite the oddment himself, really,” he said lowly. Then, “I know you didn’t come all this way to marvel at the trinkets Dumbledore possesses, Harold. So let’s get to it. You know I for one am a man of little procrastination.”

Harold Minchum nodded and reached up to adjust the bowtie at his throat, uncrossing-the-recrossing his legs over one another. “Alastor, you have long been the best auror in the department, and for that I respect you very highly --”

“I’m a man of little tolerance for kiss-ass pleasantries as well, Minchum,” Moody growled.

“Very well.” Harold Minchum nodded, then, hard-lined the purpose of his being there, “I intend to be Minister for Magic.”

Alastor Moody leaned back in his seat and drummed his fingertips against the velvet arm rests for a moment. “Do you?”

“And I intend to do it now. I intend to force Eugenia Jenkins out.” He stared at Moody with a straight face. “I don’t intend to kill her,” he clarified, seeing the muscles in Moody’s cheeks twitch. “Nothing morbid like that. I’m not an assassin, nor do I intend to hire one. I simply don’t believe that Miss. Jenkins is qualified for the job, given the current political situation. She’s too soft. She’s too timid. I intend to end this ridiculous reign of terror that Voldemort currently holds over this country. I intend to actually act, instead of stand behind a podium, banging my fist, and making empty threats.”

Moody rubbed his chin thoughtfully, imagining a world in which Harold Minchum was in charge. It wasn’t a horrible thing - certainly something that he could be persuaded to get behind, should it come to pass. He eyed Mr. Minchum. “Many are calling for Jenkins to resign already. But the polls are saying Albus Dumbledore would be forerunner to be assigned the position. Many are pointing out the results of his duel with Grindelwald, picturing Voldemort behind bars in similar fashion.”

“Well. Those in the know of why the duel against Grindelwald went so well in Albus Dumbledore’s favor are... less inclined to believe Dumbledore is the right man for the job,” Harold Minchum said. He looked at Moody steadily, expecting a question to flicker of a question to appear in the man’s eye, but being disappointed by none. “Voldemort has no such past… feelings… for Dumbledore and therefore would not stay his wand from the killing curse as Grindelwald did, should it come to a duel. Dumbledore was simply lucky that his own reluctance to strike Grindelwald down didn’t kill him.”

“Albus Dumbledore is the only wizard which Voldemort has ever feared,” Alastor Moody replied. “I’ve seen him in battle before. Seen the way Voldemort flees before Albus Dumbledore. Runs away, like the cockroach he is.”

Harold Minchum smiled, “He has yet to face me.”

“Bold words coming from somebody wearing a bowtie,” muttered Moody.

Harold Minchum chuckled, “Well, in politics -- got to look sharp to be taken seriously. I could have shown up in something far more comfortable than this suit.” He ran his hands over the dark grey material of his slacks and chuckled, “I thought you might see me as more Ministerial if I wore something nice. I’ll remember to wear rags next time.”

Moody eyed Minchum carefully, “And you wanted me to see you as Ministerial, did you? Are you here for more than announcing your candidacy, then?” Of course he’d known Harold Minchum had further intents than to simply inform him of his plans, but Moody liked playing the game, liked making people say the things they intended - particularly if they seemed hesitant to do so. Especially if they were rather treasonous…

Harold Minchum folded his hands on his lap and stared at Moody. “I want your blessing, and your backing. I want your allegiance. If I win, I intend to appoint you as head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You’d be the head auror… if you back me.”

“And if I don’t, I’d be out a job once you’re elected in?” Moody chuckled.

Harold Minchum shook his head, “No, of course not, that wouldn’t be right. But there is quite a stack of paperwork that needs processing that may just find its way to your desk.”

Moody laughed, “I’m hardly the man you want filing your paperwork; I don’t give a damn about the organization of it. If it magics into a drawer, that’s where it’ll stay in whatever fashion it lands.”

Harold Minchum smiled.

“As you know, I am currently standing a post that is not my typical job description --” he waved about Albus Dumbledore’s office, “Headmaster of a school was never on my list of aspirations. But given the appointment - I do what I must. However, on a normal day, I serve as top detail on the Minister’s security team alongside Gideon and Fabian Prewett.”

“And in the Resistance, I believe?” Harold Minchum smiled conspiratorially.

Alastor Moody kept his face quite straight.

“I mean, you are a member of Dumbledore’s Resistance, aren’t you?” Minchum pressed, then, “Don’t worry, Moody, the secret’s with me, though you might wish to limit bragging about having seen Dumbledore and Voldemort in battle if you wish to keep that little secret.”

Alastor Moody stood up and walked across the room, his magic eye swiveled backwards in the socket to peer straight through the back of his head, watching Harold Minchum carefully as he stepped up to the little wood perch where the phoenix, Fawkes, stood, preening his feathers. Alastor reached out a finger - not actually touching the bird, but offering his knuckle up. Fawkes looked up and nibbled Moody’s knuckle with his beak.

Harold Minchum stared at Moody’s back, knowing that the magical eye was scrutinizing him still. “Alastor,” he said, “I know that if Albus Dumbledore were to accept the position you would back him far more wholly than you will ever back me. However, I ask to be your second choice for Minister. I ask for you to support me in removing Eugenia Jenkins from office -- politically only. I ask you to recognize that she is unfit as Minister in these times. I ask you to help me destroy the so-called Dark Lord.”

Moody turned and looked at Harold Minchum with both his eyes as Fawkes hopped from his perch to the window sill and swept from the office. Harold Minchum’s eyes swiveled from Moody to the fiery red bird as he left the room, then turned back to Moody. “What say you, Alastor? Will you fight to protect Eugenia Jenkins, or will you fight to protect the entire wizarding world?”

“I’ll need to hear more on your policy before I can back you as a candidate for Minister for Magic - even as running second to Albus Dumbledore,” Moody replied, “But it doesn’t take but a blind man to see that Eugenia Jenkins is ill-equipped against Voldemort.” He moved toward the door, and opened it wide, “I shall be expecting an owl with a written statement of your policy and what it is your intentions are for defeating You-Know-Who.”

Moody’s magical eye swiveled out to the landing and his eyebrows narrowed as though suspicious of something… it swung about before himself slowly and he cleared his throat. “For now, let me walk you down to the gates. We can talk about some of the policy along the way, perhaps.”

Harold Minchum nodded and stood up, “I appreciate your time, Mr. Moody, I am aware you are quite busy and your attention is much sought after. I wasn’t just paying you… what were the words you used? ...kiss-ass pleasantries before. I truly do respect your opinion and value your assistance and input on this campaign. Taking out the Minister for Magic is, of course, quite a risky move, but I think it shall be of the best interest of the wizarding world once we have replaced her with a leader who is not afraid to end this ridiculous war once and for all.”

Harold Minchum and Alastor Moody stepped out onto the landing. Moody turned back to close the door. “No, I have never been opposed to risky moves…” he said, and his magical eye moved to the Headmaster’s desk as he pulled the door shut, a smirk playing on his face.

When the door closed, there was silence in the Headmaster’s office for several long seconds. Dust danced in the light coming in through the window… a couple silver instruments whirred and whirled about. One of the portraits of the headmasters of old sneezed.

Then James Potter pulled off the invisibility cloak from over their heads. Remus Lupin’s hair was nearly on end from the static of it, being the tallest the cloth had directly rested on his hair, creating a bit of a tent effect for James and Peter. Peter looked quite nervous, wringing his hands, “You lot don’t reckon Moody could see us under there, do you?”

“Nawh, if he had, he would’ve said something.”

“He said the thing about risky moves,” Remus pointed out.

“He was talking to that bloke,” James said, waving his hand. He threw the cloak over the arm of the chair Minchum had been occupying when they’d first come in, when Moody had stood holding the door opened. James headed over to the desk, looking at the heavy wood and running his palm over the surface of it. The desk was positively covered with documents that looked rather important and quills of various sizes and little ink pots of different colors. There was a small bowl of yellow candies and James took one and tore the wrapper off, shoving it in his mouth as he sat down in the chair and looked about importantly at the other two, “Look at me. I’m Dumbledore.” He pretended to pat an invisible beard.

“Such disrespect!” hissed a voice behind and above him. James tiled his head back to see the portrait of the former headmaster Phineas Nigellus frowning down at him.

“I’m only playing at it,” James said around the candy, which clicked against his teeth as he spoke.

“Bah!” Phineas Nigellus barked.

Remus came around as James shook the candy bowl at him, “Lemon drop?”

“No,” Remus shook his head and went for the drawer he’d seen Moody put Sirius’s wand in. Peter took a handful of the candies when James held the bowl out to him, though. Remus dug about amongst a bunch of papers and things and finally found the wand, buried deep below - still in one piece. He smiled and he pulled it out and held it gently in his palms. “Here we are. Sirius’s wand.” He looked upon it fondly.

“Good thing they hadn’t snapped it yet,” James said, “Wonder what stayed their hand form having done?”

Peter was unwrapping the lemon drops, the crinkling paper seemed very loud in the otherwise silent office. “Mehhbe deyyy wuurhh huhhnin uh edd hmm bbbhhhk mm?” he said, his mouth full of lemon drop.

James and Remus both stared at him. “Bloody hell, it’s Mandrake Leaves Peter all over again.”

Peter swallowed the lemon drops he’d shoved in his mouth quickly with a gulping sound in his throat. “I said maybe they were planning to give it back to him?”

“He’s been expelled, of course they weren’t going to give it back to him, don’t be an idiot, Peter,” James said, rolling his eyes.

“But maybe if --”

James wasn’t listening to Peter anymore, though, he’d already grabbed the invisibility cloak, “Alright, lot, let’s get out of here before Moody comes back.” He reached up for the jar of floo powder on the mantel.

Peter winched with nervousness as he took a fistfull of the green floo powder. Remus took a handful, too, as did James, and he replaced the jar to the place it had been. Being the brains of the operation, James stepped forward first, tossing his fistful of powder into the fire, making it blaze purple and then green. “Founder’s Tavern, Godric’s Hollow!” he commanded it and the fire blazed again and James grinned, “See you lot on the other side!” He stepped through, holding the silvery cloak over his arm, and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

When the fire had returned to normal, Remus looked at Peter, “You’re next mate.”

Peter cleared his throat and threw his own powder in, “Founder’s Tavern… Godric’s Hollow!” he said, echoing James’s command, and the fire blazed green again. Peter scurried in and disappeared.

Remus held Sirius’s wand tight in his fist with his own, and he took one last glance about the room as he waited for the fire to turn gold again. Fawkes the Phoenix returned through the window, landing on his perch, turing his beady black eyes to stare at Remus. The fire turned orange-gold and Remus tossed his handful of green powder in. “Founder’s Tavern, Godric’s Hollow!” he said, and then he, too, disappeared in a puff of smoke.

The door of the office opened with perfect timing to the hiss of the fire as Remus disappeared, and Moody watched the flames fade back to gold from green, a smirk on his face. He turned to look at the phoenix and noticed the parchment tied to the bird’s scaley black leg. He walked over and undid it, unrolling the parchment carefully.

Minchum for Minister. It has a nice ring to it.
He will find no opposition from me.
- A.D.


Moody chuckled and crumpled the parchment up. “Incendio,” he whispered, lighting the page on fire and letting the ashes drift into the bowl below Fawkes’ perch.