Ten Days and Ten Nights

CHAPTER 4:

Ten days and Ten Nights

A tall man, not too thin but definetly not too fat either, attired in expensive robes with the infamous ‘La Cérrîtté’ logo on the shoulder, and cleanly cut jet black hair, staggered into the bathroom of Ministry Bathroom at eleven o’clock in the morning.

‘Ugh,’ he spat, as he deposited two sickles in the dispenser. It churned for a few moments, before two white, chalky tablets dropped out the bottom.

Harry Potter picked up the two Revitalizing Headache Remedies, popped them in his mouth, and bent over the elaborate Baroque water fountain beside him.

Fresh, cool water leapt from the outstretched hands of the marble winged angel perched atop the fountain, and into his mouth.

As Harry stood up, he heard a door close behind him.

‘Morning, Harry,’ said Percy Weasley brightly.

‘Percy,’ said Harry curtly.

‘Rough night?’ asked the head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation.

‘I left at half four,’ said Harry. ‘Singing in the streets.’

‘Oh,’ said Percy, wincing. ‘I left at half eleven, and I’m tired. God knows how you must be feeling.’

They walked out into the lobby of the Ministry of Magic facility.

‘SO have you heard about the new appointment, then?’ asked Percy. ‘I can’t say I’m terribly pleased. I mean, it’ll be a battle for me every day of the week now, and I could do without that, I’ll tell you!’

‘Who did they appoint?’ asked Harry. Having not been in that morning due to ‘sickness’, he had not been told who had got Hermione’s job.

‘You don’t know?’ asked Percy incredulously. ‘Didn’t they owl you this morning?’

‘Who is it, Percy?’ snapped Harry irritably.

‘It’s not my place to say, Harry,’ said the cabinet member smugly. ‘You’ll have to speak to Matilda. Have a nice morning!’

He pushed off through a door into his Department. Harry walked into the Cloister corridor.

Pushing through the swing double doors into the Cloister itself, he paid no heed to the people milling around outside waiting to be let in, and barged right past them all.

‘Whom did you hire?’ he called to the diminutive woman sitting behind her large desk, which dwarfed her even further.

‘Harry!’ she said nervously. ‘If it isn’t the highly respected, pivotal part of my team who I would be lost without.’

‘Cut the crap, Matilda, who is it?’

‘Erm,’ she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘Well…’

‘Answer me!’ Harry was not in the mood for silly games.

She was spared from answering, however, by shouting behind the doors. It took Harry a few moments to figure out who was causing all the commotion.

‘Oh, no,’ he said, burying his face in his hands as he figured out who it was. ‘No. Don’t tell me…’

‘Hmm,’ Matilda looked even more uncomfortable as the shouting became clear enough to hear.’

‘… WHERE IS MY OFFICE?’ shouted the female voice. ‘I THOUGHT I ASKED YOU TO…’

BANG

The Cloister door blew open, and a tall woman dressed in velvet grey robes, which matched her hair, and thin rectangular spectacles that balanced on the end of her nose. Her nose, which, like the rest of her face, was thoroughly wrinkled.

Behind her a small man with thin hair, which was balding at the front, nervously flitted beside her.

‘GET ME A CUP OF COFFEE, AND ORGANISE A MEETING WITH THE CHIEF AIDE,’ she shouted.

‘Yes,’ stuttered the woman’s aide.

Harry groaned

There could be no doubt about it. Melissa Muddy-Duck was back.

***

Harry had made his excuses and left Melissa Muddy-Duck and Matilda alone in the Cloister do discuss the ‘policies.’ He could hear their shouting through the wall to his office, as he tried to work on a strategy to combat anti Hag violence, which was on the rise in the Borders and Dumfries.

‘Harry,’ said Linda, as she came clunking into his room with a pile of correspondence for him to sign. ‘You’re wanted in the Blue Room in five minutes.’

‘Why?’ asked Harry, taking the pile off Linda and beginning to leaf through the various letters, invitations, decrees, and notices.

‘The Minister is calling all the Executive Staff for a meeting before you speak to the press.’ She smiled benignly.

‘Lucky me.’

‘Five minutes.’

She walked out the room as Harry assembled his press statement, which he would be making to the Wizarding Press in the Pressroom in fifteen minutes. If the wizarding world reacted badly to the news that George Dimple had been made Cloister Liaison Officer, how on earth were they going to react when Harry told them Melissa Muddy-Duck, the infamous feminist battleaxe, had replaced him? Harry could only speculate.

***

The blue room was a square room with a large square table in the centre. The walls were covered in patterns of squares and the square windows allowed square patches of light to fall on the square-covered carpet. The chairs fitted in with the theme of the room and were, very uncomfortably, square. This had the effect of not only near paralysing everyone who sat in them, but getting them to hurry up with their news so everyone else could get the hell out of there.

The Minister had just finished reading Harry’s press statement out to the assembled Executive team.

There were 7 people sitting around the square table. Alongside Harry, Melissa Muddy-Duck and Matilda, Joanna Moose, the Chief Speechwriter, Jack Jamestown, the Deputy Chief Speechwriter, Anna Vyrubova, the Ministerial Advisor on Death Eaters and National Security, and Millicent Fawcett, Ministerial Advisor on the Magical Interior, with whom Harry had went to Hogwarts.

‘Okay, then,’ said Matilda. ‘The Death Eater activity in the Balkans is being investigated by the International Federation, and at the moment is causing no concern to us. We’ll probably have a more solid policy on that as soon as the report is open to the public.’ Death Eaters in the Balkans had been causing some concern.

‘Is that what I should tell the press?’ asked Harry.

‘Yes’ said Anna. ‘But don’t tell them anything about the British Auror team that’s been sent to help the Federation inquiry- that’s supposed to be secret until the report gets published.’

‘What if, as those dears at the Federation are likely to do, the report is leaked?’ asked Millicent, the straight-talking business executive type woman, who took no nonsense but wasn’t as up front about it as Melissa Muddy-Duck.

‘Then heads will roll.’ Melissa Muddy-Duck ventured. ‘I’ll see to that.’

A few glances were exchanged throughout the room.

‘Well,’ said Matilda, concluding the meeting. ‘That’s all for now. Harry will be making the statement in, what? Five minutes or so?’

‘Yup,’ agreed Harry. Everyone around the table rose to their feet and began packing their papers into their briefcases.

‘Harry?’ Anna Vyrubova was a plump woman of average height, with dark red hair and thick black spectacles. She was incredibly nice and went out of her way to make other peoples lives easier- it was for this reason that Harry had suggested to Matilda that Anna be hired.

‘Yeah, Anna?’

‘There are some things I need to talk to you about? When are you free this afternoon?’

‘Um…’ Harry glanced down at his diary, which Linda had arranged on a scroll of parchment on top of all his folders. ‘I’m free for lunch,’ he said. ‘Does that suit you?’

‘Sure,’ said Anna. Harry suspected that even if it didn’t suit, Ms Vyrubova wouldn’t say anything anyway. ‘The Romanov?’

‘Two o’clock,’ said Harry, to which Anna smiled in response and headed out the door. Harry made his way along the corridor to the Pressroom, which was situated at the other end of the long Cloister corridor.

‘Harry,’ said Linda, as Harry walked down the corridor. ‘Have you got your briefing?’

‘Yeah, thanks,’ he said. ‘Can you get me some information on the International Federation’s report on Dark Activity in the Balkans?’

‘Harry, that’s not public yet,’ said Linda.

Harry looked at her imploringly.

‘I’ll make some calls,’ she said, smiling sheepishly. ‘Who’s the best assistant in the world?’

‘I love you,’ said Harry, making puppy dog eyes at her.

‘Go,’ she said, snapping her fingers. ‘Do the briefing.’

‘Jerwohl!’ replied Harry, and marched off down the corridor.

***
 

‘Hi,’ said Anna Vyrubova, as Harry steeped through the glass doors onto the sunlit terrace of the Romanov *. The Romanov was an up class café bistro near the Ministry complex. The grey brick herring bone floor was dappled with sunlight, which streamed through the leafy maple and oak trees that lined the avenue two floors below. The air was sufficiently warm that Anna had taken off her crisp robe to reveal a blood coloured sleeveless blouse underneath. Her deep cherry hair reflected in the light, her dark spectacles in contrast to her white, heavily made up face.

‘I saw the briefing on the TV,’ said Anna, smiling.

‘Don’t,’ said Harry. The briefing had not gone well- nobody had been prepared for Muddy-Duck being parachuted into the post- Melissa had made many enemies in the past, many of whom would be spitting at the Minister’s appointment.

‘Wine?’ prompted Anna.

‘Please,’ responded Harry, and Anna poured him a glass of white sauvignon from the decanter on the table. Although this was a muggle café, it was used by the wizarding elite as a meeting place and hotspot.

‘So what did you want to talk to me about?’ asked Harry, taking off his robes, exposing his light brown khaki shirt.

‘It’s about the Dark activity in the Balkans,’ she said. ‘I had the Aurors brief me yesterday, and I had a few of the private ministerial agents go to the embassy in Serbia to do some discreet investigations.’

‘How discreet?’ asked Harry sharply. ‘If this gets back to the Federation…’

‘The Federation won’t find out, Harry,’ said Anna dismissively. ‘They’re too worried about presentation and media to notice that kind of thing.

‘Anyway, to cut a long story short, it isn’t good. Look at this.’

She reached into her red leather suitcase beside her, and pulled out a folder. Harry took it and looked at the information inside.

‘What’s this?’ he asked, puzzled. It was a birds-eye photograph of a small modern office block, surrounded on all sides by a high barbed wire fence and thick pine forest.

‘It’s the international headquarters of the DREM, deep in the Bulgarian forests.’

‘So?’ said Harry. The Developmental Research in Entrepreneurial Magic was an international agency-cum-quango, which did nothing but had elliptical connections throughout Europe. There wasn’t a single Minister for Magic in Europe, West Asia or North Africa who hadn’t donated a lot of gold to DREM at some point in their political career.

‘The DREM is a cover organisation for an international group of terrorists who are trying to destabilize international peace in order to let leaders with a leniency and toleration of dark magic take over Europe.’

‘What?’ asked Harry. This was too far fetched.

‘They’ve been slowly gathering support throughout Europe. They’re taking over on the international stage, replacing the more left-wing muggle-friendly leaders who currently run Europe.’

‘S what are you saying?’ asked Harry. ‘They have a right to organise politically.’

‘They’ve already bombed an oil well in Saudi Arabia, along with kidnapping the Minister in Bosnia Herzegovina. And have completely taken over the ministries in Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania.’ Anna looked across the table at Harry, and took a deep gulp of her wine.

‘Why are we only finding this out now?’ asked Harry. He was worried and angry that such a thing was even allowed to go on anywhere in the world.

‘As usual, the Federation hasn’t been policing Eastern Europe the way we thought they were.’ Anna shrugged. ‘I didn’t want to say to Melissa or George during their first day in the job, and I’m National Security adviser.’ She paused, considering her next statement. ‘Do you think we should tell Melissa?’

Harry thought for a moment. ‘Get a team of investigators out there to back up your ones. Alert the Aurors and the Department of Mysteries.’

‘There’s one more thing,’ said Anna. ‘Look at the next page.’

Harry flipped the photograph over, and saw on the next page a small note of parchment with seven names on it.

Draco Malfoy

Neutron Amersfield

Alana Hiltries

Hillary Neville-Jones

Graham Belvedere

Poseidon Aquatiol

Juliet Davies

‘Juliet Davies?’ asked Harry, after he had finished reading the note. ‘The Juliet Davies?’

‘The very one who is married to our good friend Roger Davies, the Head of the Department for Magical Games and Sports.’

‘Seriously?’ said Harry.

‘I told you it was big,’ said Anna. She took a gulp of her wine, and stood up. ‘I’ve got to go- I’ll arrange for some of my people to brief Matilda first tomorrow morning.’

‘Okay,’ said Harry. ‘See you later.’ She put her robes and cloak over one arm, picked up her suitcase with the other, and then took the folder from Harry.

‘Bye,’ she said, and walked off the terrace, leaving Harry to sit and ponder this interesting and scary new development.

***

Harry walked along the marble tiled Cloister corridor, filled with soft light even although it was only the middle of the afternoon.

He silently opened the door to his office, and was preparing to get on with a good hors work when he noticed the person sitting in the chair.

Harry’s desk faced the door, and backed onto the large windows, allowing Harry to see whoever entered the room at a glance. Opposite Harry’s chair were two smaller chairs for visitors and other people who were called into his office for whatever reason. These chairs backed the door, so whoever was sitting in them, as the person was now, could not see the door.

Harry was slightly perturbed by the person he now saw at his desk. Slowly and quietly, he crept through the adjoining doorway unnoticed into Linda’s small office.

‘Is that…’ asked Harry. He dared not speak the name, but there was no mistaking the large bouffant hair and broad, manly shoulders.

‘Speak to the Minister,’ said Linda simply.

Harry silently obeyed.

‘What is Rita Skeeter doing in my office?’ asked Harry of Matilda moments later.

‘Oh!’ said Matilda. She paused for a moment. ‘I just thought that, seeing how badly the press briefing went, wouldn’t it be a good idea if a highly respected member of my team were to give an interview with the press, in which they were to say how simply wonderful the Greymalkin administration was!’ She smiled a sardonic and benign smile.

‘Yes, Minister,’ said Harry through gritted teeth, biting back his annoyance, and walked once more through the door into his office.

‘Rita!’ he said as he entered. ‘How are you?’

‘Harry!’ she cried, leaping out her chair. ‘Harry, how are you? How nice to see you!’

‘Lovely to see you to Rita,’ said Harry hypocritically, kissing her on each cheek.

‘Well, we’ll get started, shall we?’ she prompted.

‘Let’s,’ said Harry. Rita flashed her smile at him- it now had eight gold teeth minimum. She opened her electric blue handbag, which clashed dreadfully with her shocking pink and silver robes, and pulled out the legendary Quick Quotes Quill.

‘You know the Quill, Harry, don’t you?’

‘We’ve met before,’ he said.

‘Excellent.’ She missed –or ignored –his ironic tone. ‘So Harry,’ she said. ‘I’m running this for the Sunday Prophet, front page. An exclusive interview with the brains behind the throne, so to speak. And that’s what I want. None of the usual codswallop, Harry, I want to know how the most powerful man in the country thinks.’

Harry smiled, pretending he was flattered. But he had known Rita Skeeter far to long to know that she was only flattering him to get her story.

‘So let’s begin,’ she said. ‘What do you do?’

‘Well,’ said Harry. ‘I suppose my main job is to make sure that the Minister is informed of everything that she should know about what’s going on. I make sure that she’s prepared for any major disasters that might occur- that she had a strategy and a statement waiting for you and your colleagues.’ He nodded to Rita’s badges, proclaiming in large bold red letters that she was PRESS.

‘I know that,’ she said sharply. ‘What I want to know is, what do you really do. Not a job description- give me an example of your average days work.’

‘Well, take last week for example- there was a crisis brewing in Shetland- the locals were threatening to blow up the local Seer after she predicted all their sheep would die. If I hadn’t, the Minister would have had a huge embarrassment- people would say she couldn’t run her country- and it would steal the headlines from the main story; our success in handling the Parkinson trial.’

‘Do you think that you’ll ever run for the top job?’ she asked, as the Quick Quotes Quill flashed across the parchment beside her.

‘No, never,’ said Harry. ‘I don’t want to be in the limelight all the time.’

‘Do you think your famous childhood had put you off attention?’

‘I suppose it might have contributed- I never looked for publicity, it always found me.’

‘If only we all were so lucky,’ said Rita acerbically. ‘While we’re on the subject of your upbringing, is it true that with Miss Parkinson, your childhood sweetheart with whom you had a passionate affair, you once attended a meeting of the Death Eaters?’

Harry was numb with shock. ‘Who told you that?’ he asked.

‘Answer my question first,’ she said calmly.

‘Firstly, Pansy and I were not childhood sweethearts. In fact, we didn’t start going out until half way through sixth year, and the relationship lasted only five months. Also, nobody would call it passionate.’

‘That’s not what I heard,’ said Rita. ‘But please, finish.’

‘That’s all there is on the subject. I don’t know where you got that from.’

‘While you mention Miss Parkinson,’ said Rita casually. Harry snorted- she had brought up Pansy, ‘how do you feel that she and her father both languish in Azkaban. You mentioned their trial earlier.’

This, Harry had been mildly prepared for. ‘I am glad justice has been done,’ he said simply.

‘Did you attempt to sway the trial one way or another? Did you sit in on the meetings? Did you read the court papers?’

‘No I did not sway the trial!’ said Harry indignantly.

‘But you did read the papers?’ Rita looked at him from across the desk.

‘I…’ Harry didn’t know what to say.

‘You did!’ said Rita. ‘I checked with the Clerks office. So do you admit that you still have feelings about Pansy? Would you want to rekindle your old flame when she was released, or do you think her involvement in the second rise and her lengthy prison term would have put you off her?’

‘That’s none of your business!’

‘You like strong women, though,’ said Rita. ‘We can all remember Lea McKee, the Quidditch Champion and world cup winner. And your fling with the singing sorceress Florence Javelin.’

‘This has nothing to do with anything!’ spluttered Harry.

‘You haven’t had a meaningful relationship since Pansy, have you, Harry? Everyone Gryffindor who graduated in your year has either married or settled down. You and Miss Granger were the only two left, until she announced she was expecting earlier this week. Does that make you feel depressed, or are you happy to play the role of young, single and successful and rich? Do you accredit your love life to your isolation as a child, coming as an orphan from a muggle upbringing? Has your fame hindered or helped your “pulling power”? Were you determined that as another powerful orphan coming to Hogwarts that you wouldn’t go down the path of Tom Riddle?’

‘Can we get back to the subject, please?’ asked Harry, not answering any one of her mountain of questions. ‘I don’t have a grand plan or anything like you’re suggesting.’

‘While we’re on the subject of strong women,’ said Rita, ‘Melissa Muddy-Duck. Does it bother you that she’s a hatchet face, or does that turn you on?’

‘I can absolutely confirm that Melissa Muddy-Duck in no way turns me on!’ said Harry, shocked. ‘I do respect her integrity, however, and she has excellent credentials for the job. She has every confidence of the Minister and myself, and all the Executive team.’

‘No, she doesn’t,’ said Rita. ‘Two members of the Executive Team argued against her appointment, saying that Minister Greymalkin should have left her in retirement and chosen another candidate.’

‘I’m sure those reports are unfounded,’ said Harry smoothly. He was better at this than when discussing his personal sleeping habits.

‘Did you know that she once gave her assistant cardiac arrest?’ asked Rita.

‘Her style is quite abrupt,’ agreed Harry.

‘No kidding!’ said Rita. ‘Another member of her staff had to resign because his doctor advised that working with Muddy-Duck was dangerous when he suffered from angina.’

‘Yes, well. Oh, look at the time, Rita! I’m sorry, I have another engagement.’

‘Where?’ she demanded.

‘Elsewhere.’ Harry was giving nothing away. ‘Well, thank you.’

‘It’ll be front page on Sunday,’ she said. ‘Don’t miss it!’

‘How could I?’ asked Harry. ‘I don’t know what you’ll put me down as saying.

‘Bye!’

He slammed the door shut as soon as she had left.

‘What now?’ he said aloud, and held his head in his hands.

End of Chapter

Thank You

· The original Anna Vyrubova was a close friend and confidant of Alexandra Federovna, the last Empress of Russia. A humble and warm character by all accounts, she frequently acted as an intermediary between the Empress and the infamous Gregory Rasputin. Alexandra was married to Nicholas II, the last Tsar of Russia, with whom the ancestral ruling dynasty of the Romanov’s ended.

· Also, Millicent Fawcett, who appeared in the JK novels and in this fic is the Ministerial Advisor on the Magical Interior, was a leading suffragist at the turn of the century in Britain. She campaigned unsuccessfully yet peacefully for equal voting rights. The Suffragettes, led by Emmeline Pankhurst, who campaigned more militantly, succeeded her cause. Women were finally given equal voting rights with men in 1928, one of the greatest decisions ever mad by .any British Government.