The Minister's Tale

CHAPTER I

CHRISTMAS IN COVENT GARDEN

The shopkeepers of Covent Garden thought the Christmas lights were the best in recent memory. The stores and restaurants in the old Floral District were enjoying a banner season. Though the night was chilly, shoppers crammed Floral Street. Tourists were busy taking photographs of the quirky buildings and the outlandish displays in the store windows. Above their heads, the sound of Christmas music filled any remaining space.

The bustle of people made it possible for two men to walk down Floral Street unnoticed. Both of them enjoyed the scene that lay before them. Occasionally, they would stop and comment on something that had just happened in front of them. The first man was tall, young and fair skinned. He had close-cropped black hair and bright blue eyes. His black Burberry overcoat was tightly knotted and hung well below his knees. Many times he would smile at a group of young ladies that would pass by. Some returned his gaze, as his appearance and mood was pleasant. The older gentleman, in contrast, was slightly shorter that his young acquaintance and had short grey hair. His eyes were light brown and piercing in nature; his grey moustache and beard gave him a regal bearing. His tan overcoat was open, as if to show the cold that it had met its match. As the young man walked casually through the crowds, the older man stood ramrod straight and walked stiffly through and rarely excused himself when he jostled with the other pedestrians on the street. A stranger who bumped into him might have thought the older gentleman was a retired military officer, or perhaps a member of Government.

Indeed, the older man was a member of government, though the stranger would have never heard of the department. In fact, these two men were wizards' enjoying their time in a world where magic was part of legend and folklore. The elder was a Senior Minister in the Ministry of Magic; the younger was his son who was currently home from school. His school though, was not Cambridge or Oxford; it was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the son was exceedingly confused. His father had asked him to come home near the holidays because there were, as his last letter stated, "some things that need to be discussed." So the young man thought there would be a quiet dinner at home and some time by a roaring fire. Instead, his father had made a reservation in a Muggle, or non-magical, restaurant and told him to walk with him after dinner. As the father walked ahead, the son looked at the people the passing by. His eyes noticed an attractive Muggle woman. So intently he stared at her that he did not notice his father had stopped in the doorway of a clothing boutique. The young man ran straight into his father; both exhaled with the impact. The father slipped and his son helped him regain his balance.

The old man looked up at his son.

"Please watch where you are going. Let me guess, some young face caught your eye?" His voice sounded gruff and every word was pronounced with a precise British accent but the smile on his face was warm. The son looked down and laughed softly.

"Well, father there are some very pretty--" the father cut him off in a light but firm voice.

"I KNOW there are. I'd like to know when you will bring one of these 'very pretties' to meet me. Am I that bad?" The young man shook his head. A senior minister and yet at times he acted liked a matchmaker.

"No father, but with school, the Quidditch team, the dueling team and everything else, I just don't seem to have the time."

"Well then, make the time. Do you think I will live forever?" The father slapped his son's arm gently to keep the mood light. Then he turned and looked down Floral Street. The younger man looked at the doors of the shop and read the stenciled words on the glass.

"Paul Smith. I heard of this shop at Hogwarts and-"

"It was here, son. Here is where it all began. I think this is the exact spot where I saw your mother for the first time." The young man turned to his father; he had spoken in an unfamiliar tone. Usually, the Minister's voice was gruff, powerful and loud; but his father had spoken in a soft, almost wistful tone.

The young man knew that when he was six months old his mother had died. His father had never spoken about how she died or what was the cause of her death. For all his life it had been the Minister and his son, the son and the Minister. When he was a young boy he attended a Ministry of Magic function and a junior clerk called him the Assistant Minister. The nickname stuck. As he grew older, he liked the nickname less and less. The young man cared for his father very much. He was a good and honorable man, but he also had a secretive nature that frustrated the young Assistant Minister. Whenever he asked about his job at the Ministry, the answer was always a non committal, "Another day, another Galleon." He asked about his mother and his father would say, "She was the best Quidditch player I ever saw." That was fine as a young boy but now he was nearing his graduation from Hogwarts. There will still so many questions yet to be answered, and he wondered if would ever hear them at all. Hearing his father bring up his late mother without a question or comment from him made the younger man think that today, finally, he was ready to tell him what had happened to the mother he barely remembered. He stepped closer to his father, the older man turned to see him and he smiled, then he looked up at his son.

"Yes my boy, I think the time is right to tell my story to you. All I ask is that you listen now with an open heart and a mind free of preconceptions. When I am finished, you will know many things about mine and your Mother's life. What you do with the knowledge is up to you."

The son nodded.

The older man opened his mouth to speak, passer-bys walked around them going in and out of Paul Smith's. The younger man noticed some nasty looks on some of the faces and he realized they would have to move out of the way. He placed a finger up to his own lips; the father understood. At once, the older man began to look around for a place to move to. He moved quickly through the throngs of people and signaled for a taxi and one came up to the curb immediately. The old man opened the door and motioned for his son to get in. As he entered the taxi, the old man gave an address and the driver nodded. Once the father stepped into the cab, they moved away from Paul Smith's.

"Where are we going, father?"

"My office, at the Ministry of Magic. This will take a while; we might as well be warm." He turned his head to look back at the busy street through the window.

CHAPTER II

A LONG LOOK BACK

The taxi slowly made its way down Floral Street. The father turned his head from the window and looked at his son. His face had none of the sternness that it was known for. It was softer and full of fatigue; he sighed and began to talk in a low voice.

"I was in my third year at Hogwarts and like you I was in Gryffindor. My marks were average, except in Muggle Studies. I was the reserve Seeker for the Quidditch team, beaten out of the team proper by a first year. Your grandfather was taken ill, he died soon after and never saw me graduate from Hogwarts. The money that was provided to send me to Hogwarts had been spent for his care at St. Mungo's. I had no girlfriend and my friends started to do other things without me. In short, I felt sad about my father and incredibly confused about my life at Hogwarts. I seriously thought about dropping out." The older man smiled. "Life was NOT good!" He glanced over to see if his son was listening. Satisfied, he continued. "However, I did get through the third year. One weekend over the summer one of my mates on the Quidditch team said they were going to London for a weekend of fun and games. I think the only reason they asked me was because I was good at Muggle Studies. I could handle money, get tickets, order off a restaurant menu--"

"Like you taught me at home?" the son interrupted.

"Yes exactly. Anyway, my friends and I were outside that shop, Paul Smiths, just talking and wondering what to do next when I saw your mother with a bunch of girls I knew from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. She stared at me and my heart just melted. Then she smiled. Son, have you ever felt like that?"

"No dad," the young man said quietly. He was looking at his father like he had just met him for the first time. The Senior Minister for the Obliviator Headquarters was once a lovesick schoolboy? The man responsible for some of the most powerful Memory Charms ever given was once hopelessly infatuated? The son started at a side of his father he had never seen or even thought he possessed.

"Well you will know it when you do. It changes you. I went over to her and introduced myself. She smiled again and said, 'My name is Livia and I am glad you came over to say hello, because now you can stop staring at me.' She laughed, I laughed back. We talked for a few minutes and I found out she was from Poland and was transferring from Drunstrang. She was with some female members of the Hogwarts welcoming committee. Her friends went to another shop and I followed here in, I asked her when I could see her again. Her answer changed everything." The father paused to catch his breath; his face was full of color. It was a face of a man who had some happy memories.

"Well dad, what did she say?"

"She said, 'I will see you at school in September.'"

The old man smiled. "I sat with her on the Hogwarts Express. She said she saved a seat for me; I asked her to come to meet my mother over the Yuletide break, she said yes. She was my first and only date for the Yule Ball, and the rest, as Muggles say, is history." He looked out the window and then began talking at a quicker pace and with greater emotion. His voice became louder and more expressive.

"I was a different student in the fourth year. Every grade was at the highest level possible, I became a student teacher on the dueling squad and I was nominated for prefect and almost got it. Your grandmother, by Merlin's beard, found the money to keep me at school. Livia... err... your mom was sorted to Ravenclaw and immediately became a first line Chaser. She was--"

The son repeated his father's next words. "-The best Quidditch player I ever saw." Both men laughed, the father spoke softly, "I guess I've told you that haven't I?"

The son smiled broadly. "If I had a sickle every time you did...Dad, what happened next?"

The father smiled. "Well, we finished school and I proposed. She said yes and we were married before I began Aurora training."

"WHAT?" The son spoke so loudly the driver of the cab looked back. He pushed himself out of his seat, looking like he had been struck in the stomach by a large pole. His mouth was open and his eyes were wide with surprise, he could only speak in a short burst of words. "You... I mean... you never told me... I can't believe... You're an Auror?"

"No son, I was in training. This is where you come in, listen carefully, please?"

The son slumped back in his seat; his face had still not recovered from the shock of finding out his father had been in training to be an Auror. To be an Auror was to be a member an elite group of witches and wizards, fighting the worse threats imaginable. Every little boy played Auror games, battling legendary evils until they won or were called in by their mothers for lunch. And his father may have been one?

The father paused and looked over. His mood had returned to the stern, strict Senior Minister in charge of the Obliviator Headquarters. "I know this comes as a surprise to you. However, I did not finish. Now if I can continue--"

The son nodded silently, the father began.

"After training as an Auror for a year, your mother told me we would be having a son. I was the happiest man in the wizarding world. On that day I finally beat my dueling instructor. I would have beaten anyone that day. Two days later, an owl carrying a short note was waiting for me after my class in Concealment and Disguise. It was from St. Mungo's, your mother had been taken there, and she was ill and needed help."

The young man noted his father's change in posture. He was leaning forward in the back seat of the taxi, slowly rocking back and forth; He seemed to have aged five years. Whatever happened to his mother, his father still felt the effects.

"Your mom was there waiting for me. I rushed there, and was led into a room with your mother's favorite healer. It was there I found out the news."

The father turned toward the son, his eyes were moistening. His father was staring to cry; the son's eyes widened, another unknown emotion coming from his father, he couldn't help but stare. The older man ignored the growing look of astonishment and continued to speak,

"Son your mother was an incredible woman. She was gifted, beautiful caring and the best--"

"That's another sickle, dad." The son hoped his poor attempt of humor would keep his father from crying. His father laughed and took the back of his hand and wiped his eyes. He took a deep breath and started talking again. His voice was becoming hoarse with emotion but it remained clear.

"Son, your mother could do anything. Having a child, though, would be a major risk to her health. She was strong enough to hold off a Slytherin Seeker, but she wasn't strong enough to have children. The healer left us alone to decide what to do. I was so confused and scared that I had no answers for her. So I asked her what she wanted, and she... she told me she would have our child, our son. She told me that she would have her "special boy." She decided for the both of us. She would carry you and give birth to you." He sighed deeply. "A month later she was placed in St. Mungo's for complete bed rest. She stayed there until you were born two months earlier than planned. I was there for your birth. You were so small; you could place your whole body in a Snitch's box. For six weeks after your birth, the healers, assistant healers and nurses of St. Mungo's worked night and day to give you a chance to live. And you did, as you can see today." The father looked up and asked the driver to stop the taxi. "I see we are at our destination," he said and pointed to a squat building.

The taxi stopped in front of a nearby pub. The driver slid the plastic divider open and announced the fare; then he glanced at the front of the building.

"Err... begging your pardon sir but are you sure you wanted to come to this place? It's not the most respectable neighborhood, if you know what I mean."

The father took muggle money out of his pocket and smiled at the driver. "Thank you, but we really do have business here. Here you are." As the father reached in to pay the fare, he gently touched the driver and said one word softly into the cab. "OBLIVIATE."

The driver blinked as it struck by a passing rain shower. He shook his head and wore a confused expression. He glanced at the older man as it he was looking at him for the very first time.

"Can I take you anywhere tonight?" the driver asked.

The son smiled. He had heard his father was good at Memory Charms but he had never seen it until tonight. He was better than advertised, just a touch and a word and the driver could not recall bringing them to the other side of London. He didn't even have to use a wand to cast the charm.

The father shook his head gently and spoke once more.

"No thank you, sir. We'll be on our way."

The driver nodded, put his taxi in gear and drove off. The father pointed to a phone box with a phone nearly torn off the wall. The father smiled and as spoke to his son he gently touched his elbow and directed him to the box. "I'm sorry but I thought the visitor's entrance might be better tonight. It will be snug but we will be inside shortly."

Both father and son entered the broken phone box and closed the door. They were tightly pressed together. The father dialed the five digit code to access the Ministry's front desk. A female voice filled the box.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. The Ministry is now closed."

Without a moments notice the voice changed in an instant to a gruff, loud male voice that rattled the glass and hurt the young man's ears.

"PLEASE STATE YOUR NAME AND THE DEPARTMENT YOU WISH TO VISIT"

The son thought if a growling dog could talk, that's what it would sound like, the voice made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He looked over at his father who seemed not to hear him. He spoke into the air, his voice echoed in the cramped phone box.

"I am Senior Minister Adrocca Broadren. I am with my son Tierney. My office in The Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Third floor, please."

"PLEASE STATE THE DEPARTMENTAL PASSWORD OF THE DAY."

Adrocca, the older man cleared his throat. "Incense and Peppermints."

Tierney smiled in spite of himself. Trust his father to think of such an unusual password, he wondered where he though up such a phrase.

The female voice returned to the decrepit phone box. Tierney found it comforting compared to the barking male voice.

"Thank you. Tierney Broadren, please pick up your visitor pass in the slot."

A small clicking sound was heard. Adrocca picked up the bright red plastic card from the slot marked CHANGE and handed it to his son. Tierney read the card. TIERNEY BROADREN, VISITOR.

Suddenly the phone box began to descend into the dimly lit London street. Tierney glanced over to his father.

"What was that male voice all about?"

Adrocca spoke without looking at his son.

"Extra security instituted after the break-in at the Department of Mysteries. You remember I told you about that?"

"Actually, Dad, you didn't. All I remember is the late night owl, the long nights you spent at the office and when you did come home you sat in the study sipping fire whiskey and talking to yourself. I never understood why you acted like that."

Adrocca turned his head away from his son. "After I finish, you will." He then turned back and waited for the descent of the telephone box to end.