One Favour Too Many

Harry looked up as his assistant entered the office. One of the perks of being Minister of Magic was being able to appoint your own staff, and Harry had never regretted for one moment of his three weeks in office to date asking Belinda Chesterfield to be his personal assistant.

She had come highly recommended from a number of sources, including a couple of high-flyers that had retired over the past couple of years towards the end of Scrimgeour's time in office, and her work had been exemplary. She showed just the right amount of deference towards Harry, whilst being able to remind him that he was human and had an exceptionally good relationship with all the visitors that came to Harry's office. Even Hermione had commented on how effective and efficient she found Belinda.

Ginny had complimented Harry on such a good choice of assistant. Despite the fact that Percy had also been keen to take up the role, she had to agree he'd made the right decision, and so far he was enjoying having the middle-aged lady working in his office.

It hadn't just been the wonderful references that had swayed him to choose Belinda over the other seven applicants for the post. Unknown to each of the candidates he had spent a couple of days observing their daily work, just to see what they were like at their current jobs, and he'd been most pleased with her performance on those occasions.

Her annual reports from her previous department heads had been positive but not glowing, a sign Harry recognised instantly of someone that the department wished to keep. Had the reports been especially exceptional, he would have suspected they were trying to get her headhunted by another department.

Not that the other candidates had been lacking in general. Aside from Percy, who Harry had dismissed out of hand as totally the wrong sort of person to work for him, there were three other highly qualified secretaries and a couple of personal assistants to department heads that would easily have fitted the bill, but Harry had like the efficient yet unobtrusive way that Belinda went bout her work, and her interview had merely cemented his opinion.

Yes, he was most pleased with the appointment. Belinda made the duties of his position so much easier to deal with. His diary was well organised and left him just enough time each day to relax between official appointments without getting too wound up about what problems each correspondent would be bringing to his attention to solve; his calls were taken smoothly and swiftly, and if there were people that Harry would rather not speak to, Belinda managed to divert their attention to other sources of information or help rather than burdening the Minister with their troubles, a skill Harry had been most grateful for when Cornelius Fudge had come crawling to his door the day after Harry had summarily dismissed him as a consultant to the Minister.

So, it was a little strange that on this particular morning Harry could feel Belinda's apprehension as she approached the Minister's desk. Normally she would breeze up to his elbow, place his most pressing mail in the in-tray, already annotated with her comments and collect the work he'd done in the couple of hours he'd been in the office, then wait for his attention before detailing the most urgent items of the day and outlining his expected schedule.

Today, however, she seemed rather tentative as she approached his desk, and it was this air of uncertainty that Harry detect and made him raise his eyes from the latest reports from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that Remus Lupin had signed off.

"What is it, Belinda?" he asked kindly, wondering whether perhaps his most efficient servant had decided she no longer enjoyed working for him and had gotten a job elsewhere.

She hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"Minister..." she began.

"Come on, Belinda," Harry grinned. "You haven't called me 'Minister' in private since the day I took over and insisted on everybody using my Christian name. Now, what's wrong?"

"Sir..."

Harry rolled his eyes at the honorific and gestured for her to speak.

"Well, it's Horace Slughorn, sir, Harry."

"Oh yes," Harry recalled, "I remember him. He taught Potions in my sixth year at Hogwarts, but left immediately afterwards, claiming that once Albus had died there was nothing that could possibly keep him safe, at Hogwarts or anywhere else. I think he moved to America where he thought it was safer."

"Well, he's back, Minister."

Harry looked over the top of his glasses at Belinda. His old black frames had long since been replaced by a much more stylish pair of wire-framed glasses, and the pair that Harry wore today were reminiscent of those that Headmaster Dumbledore had worn, half-moon shaped, and with a tendency to slip down Harry's nose from time to time.

It was at one of these moments that he was eyeing his assistant over the top of them.

"Harry," he stated firmly.

"Okay, sir. He's back, Harry."

"Well that's nice to know, Belinda. I hope he's well. I can't imagine that the American way of life has encouraged him to diet particularly, but I suppose it's good to be aware that he made it through the war intact. Many didn't."

Reminders of those who had died during the battles against Voldemort still haunted Harry on occasion. Arthur Weasley had been one of the first significant casualties as he'd attempted to defend The Burrow from an onslaught of Death Eaters that were targeting pureblood families who had aligned themselves with Harry. The Weasleys had managed to repel the attacks on their property, but unfortunately Lucius Malfoy had managed to get hold of Arthur and spirit him away. When they finally found him he hadn't been a pretty sight, and Harry had helped to ensure that those closest to Arthur hadn't had to see his remains.

Harry had caught up with Malfoy Senior less than a week later. He'd goaded the high and mighty Lucius into duelling him one-on-one, and had spent a good half-hour toying with him before finally despatching him to his much-deserved death. It was rumoured that the corpse had at least one hundred separate broken bones, but Harry preferred not to deal with rumour. He knew for a fact that he'd only broken thirty-six, slowly and deliberately, as he meted out the appropriate justice.

"Harry?" Belinda's voice recaptured Harry's attention, and he shook his head to clear the memories.

"Sorry, Belinda. What were you saying? Oh yes - Slughorn's back. Is there a problem?"

Now Belinda's face turned bright red and she stuttered out something incomprehensible, which Harry had to get her to repeat. This was most unlike the usually unflappable woman.

"He's asked to see you."

"Has he? What did he want?" Harry wondered aloud.

"He wasn't very specific, but he was quite insistent. I'm afraid ... I'm afraid I promised him a meeting with you this morning."

Harry's eyes widened. Given Belinda's excellent tendencies to protecting Harry from the usual stragglers that seemed to want his time for no easily discernible reason other than to say they had been in his presence, he was somewhat surprised that she had succumbed to Slughorn's rather dubious charms.

"He's calling in a favour," she added a little miserably.

"Of me?" Harry asked. "I'm not aware that I owe him any favour."

"No. Of me," Belinda replied. "He helped me get my job in the Ministry, and helped me get this job, too.

It suddenly clicked for Harry. "You mean to say that all those people who wrote such glowing references for you did so on Slughorn's say so? Cashing in favour with them in response for one with you as the closest person to the Minister?" he asked incredulously.

Belinda nodded nervously and backed away from Harry slightly. He might now be a mature and responsible adult with years of experience fighting dark forces behind him, but his anger still occasionally became wild and uncontrollable, and the menace in his eyes was unmistakable at times like this, even when he had only been mildly riled.

"I'm sorry," Belinda whispered, dropping her head to stare at the floor. "He's in the outer office at the moment," she added.

The fire lit up in Harry's eyes. "Oho!" he exclaimed in triumph. "Is he now? Excellent. Please, show him in!"

He paused a moment, then called her back.

"One more thing, Belinda."

"Yes, sir?"

"Don't look so scared, dear. I'm not upset with you. Why should I be worried about how you managed to get the approval of Slughorn's buddies, when you do such a good job? That's all that matters here - if you hadn't been up to it, it wouldn't have mattered how good your references were. I'm not interested in who referred you."

"You're not going to fire me?"

Harry's eyebrows shot upwards. "No chance! How could I replace you?"

"Well there was that Weasley fellow that used to do the job for Fudge and then for Scrimgeour. You've always been close to his family, too."

Harry screwed up his face in disgust. There was no way he could have stood having Percy spending all day toadying around - he needed to get work done, not spend the whole day being told how wonderful he was.

"No, Belinda. You do a great job. I am going to have a few words with Slughorn about abusing his privileges though."

Belinda looked curiously at her boss, and suddenly realised that the momentary look of fury had been replaced by one of calculation, mixed with a little mischief. She turned back to the door and stepped out for a moment, before returning with the unmistakable Horace Slughorn.

"Mister Horace Slughorn to see you, Minister," she intoned formally as she escorted him into the Minister's office.

Slughorn hadn't changed despite it being nearly a dozen years since Harry had last seen him fleeing from Hogwarts. His bald head was a little darker now, no doubt a result of his sojourn in the United States, and his moustache perhaps a little greyer. He might even have filled out a little more, though given his prior girth Harry found it difficult to tell. He certainly hadn't been on a diet.

Seeing Belinda about to slip out the door, Harry motioned her instead to a chair off to one side, intending her to remain, and Slughorn was quick to spot it.

"Ah, Harry, Harry," he said jovially holding out a hand which Harry stood to shake. "There's no need to make this a formal occasion. Please, I'm sure Miss Chesterfield has lots to be getting on with."

"That's quite alright, Horace," Harry replied, matching the former Potions Professor's convivial tone. "My business is Miss Chesterfield's business. Anyhow, what can I do for you?"

He indicated that Slughorn should be seated and returned to his own comfortable but sturdy chair.

"I understand that you managed to obtain a slot in my crowded diary most rapidly on your return to the country. Not a feat many achieve, you know. You must have news of great importance for me."

"Why, no, not really," Slughorn smiled, "I merely thought that it would be beneficial to us both to have a friendly chat, you know, to apprise ourselves of what is going on in the world."

"Sorry, I must have misheard you," Harry suggested, allowing his smile to fade slightly. "I was under the impression that this meeting was of the highest importance, that you had something significant to pass on."

Slughorn's obvious plan of attack, to smarm and smile his way into Harry's good books was off to a shaky start. "Well, no, no, I just thought you might find it helpful to renew acquaintances with an old friend - someone well connected, who might be able to smooth the pathways of power for you."

"I see." Harry's face grew stony cold as the man opposite him tried to explain himself. "Then when you convinced my personal assistant that it was vital for you to speak to me, you were lying to her?"

"What?" he spluttered. "No, no, not at all. You know how it is - secretaries and the like often get confused about things like this. She must have misunderstood what I meant. Difficult to get the staff these days, after all..." he muttered, his voice growing quieter and quieter as Harry's eyebrows raised.

He chanced a quick glance across at Belinda and was relieved to see that although she looked a little nervous at the direction the conversation was taking she was still confident enough to raise a little smile for Harry. He winked back at her surreptitiously, and hoped she wouldn't get alarmed at his next tack.

"I see. So you think I should reprimand my assistant then?"

"No, no. After all, I'm here now," Slughorn insisted. "Just time for a quick talk. I'm sure I could give you a helping hand if you ever needed one, you know."

"Is that so? And what in particular did you have to offer me?"

"What? Well, I'm got all sorts of personal contacts out in the wizarding community that you might find it helpful to met - get yourself in tune with what the wizard in the street is thinking and so on. Meet a few celebrities. After all, you're something of a celebrity yourself, aren't you now? All I ask in return is a few moments of your time now and again to let you know what's happening, where public opinion is heading, the sort of concerns that my acquaintances have about policy, and so on. Just the usual sort of thing."

"Indeed! And what makes you think that I can't foster those relationships myself?" Harry asked dangerously, but Slughorn appeared not to notice the tone of voice.

"You? Young man, you're little more than a child still. Heaven's above! These sorts of contacts take decades of nurturing to bring to such ready ripeness. You'll hardly be in office a month and people will be calling for your head. They won't trust you! No, no. You need an old head, a man experienced in this kind of thing to bring the right sort of people to you."

"Actually, I don't think I do." Suddenly the atmosphere became even frostier. "You barge in here like I'm some long lost family member and try to insinuate yourself into my business. I don't like that. You prevail upon my personal assistant and call in favours from her to get in to see me, when you know she can't refuse. I really don't like that." He glanced over at Belinda and gave her a friendly smile to reassure her that he didn't blame her for Slughorn's intrusion.

"Your personal assistant?" Slughorn's voice rose. "You wouldn't even have a personal assistant if it were not for me! The hours I spent working on some of the finest minds in the Ministry to get them to write letters of approval for her! You owe me, dammit! You owe me a voice!"

Harry stood and glared at the bloated excuse for a man in front of him. His stare elicited fear in the hearts of some of the toughest Aurors in the Ministry, and Slughorn was far from that, and he backed away, trying to hide himself deep in the plush armchair that held him.

"First of all," Harry growled, "you do not take that tone of voice with me. I don't care whether you called in one favour or a hundred, Belinda is an excellent assistant, and she would have been promoted sooner or later anyway, regardless of your machinations.

"You might think that you've greased the wheels for all the members of your little 'Slug Club' over the years, but I can tell you now that it stops. You cherry-pick the best students to be associated with and then accept all the credit for their success. All you do is introduce them to other 'famous' members of your little circle.

"Well I've had enough of the sycophantic, ferrety, self-promoting line of bull that you've been feeding everyone, and I'm taking steps to reduce the patronage system you've set up. Please take notes, Miss Chesterfield." He'd added the latter for Slughorn's benefit, since he knew that Belinda would have been noting down everything that was said anyhow. He just wanted to put the scare on the old man.

He strode around the table and started pacing the floor, talking almost more to himself than to either of the room's other two occupants.

"Firstly, I think we'll put together a little database of all of the member's of Horace's little club," he began thoughtfully. "We'll also need to maintain good links with Professor McGonagall to make sure he doesn't start teaching again.

"I think I'll also take a good look at Mister Slughorn's accounts. He doesn't seem to have filed a tax return in many, many years. I'm sure all those 'gifts' are taxable.

"How does that sound, Horace?" he asked, turning back to his guest.

"You can't do that!" he squeaked.

"No? I'm Minister of Magic, so why not?"

"But ... but..."

"I think Mister Slughorn's run out of 'significant information' for me Miss Chesterfield. Please see him out." Harry turned on his heel and returned to the chair behind his desk, deliberately swivelling it around so that his back was to Slughorn.

He could hear the overweight man, spluttering incoherently as Belinda escorted him out, and sighed deeply, glad to be rid of the greedy hanger-on.

A few minutes passed and the door clicked open once again. He heard the familiar sound of Belinda's confident footsteps striding across the office floor, the noise as she shuffled his papers around and her patient silence as she waited for him to turn his attention to her.

Once again, she broke from her usual pattern, and spoke first.

"Harry?" she said quietly, once more confident using his given name.

He swivelled back around in his chair and looked at her expectantly.

"That was brilliant!"