A Destiny for Truth

The red-haired witch nervously picked at the frayed hem of her dusty, purple traveling cloak as she sat in an uncomfortable chair outside of the Prime Minister Tony Blair's office. She tried looking through a Muggle newspaper, but she felt she was disturbing the secretary by shaking the pages to try to make the pictures move. Through the glass in front of the secretary's office, she saw the Muggle press something blinking red on a box, talk briefly, and then slide open the panel.

"Mr. Blair will see you now," said the secretary curtly, and she closed the glass. The witch stood up, carefully put the Muggle paper on a table, and opened a handsome wooden door to the Prime Minister's office.

Tony Blair was there, looking a little worn but still friendly. He stood up from his desk, on which the witch saw half a dozen Muggle newspapers and what looked like that day's edition of the Daily Prophet, and shook her hand. He motioned to a chair for her to sit down in, resumed his seat behind the desk, and picked up the wizard newspaper.

"You were sent here by the Ministry of Magic, am I correct?" he asked her without preamble. The redhead nodded, and started to feel hot under her cloak. Blair scanned the front page, in a weary manner that told the witch he had looked at it a thousand times before. "I simply don't know how you're going to get non-magic folk involved with the wizarding world," he admitted, referring to the headline "RE-ASSIMILATION INTO MUGGLE WORLD IN WORKS" underneath several, larger messages concerning the recent events and crises. "You're here because you have an idea as to how it can be done, am I correct?"

The witch nodded and licked her lips nervously. "I plan to write books about the wizarding world - mostly revolving around the hero of the moment, of course - and release them to the Muggle public as fiction."

"You mean, as in presenting magic as fantasy? That's already how we see it."

"Well, I don't know how much you read your kind of fiction, Mr. Blair, but it's rather...confused. We've been in hiding for centuries. Even if you'd had everything about us correct before the persecution, we've changed greatly since then. As I know you have, too," she added quickly, as though making sure she didn't blame him for the massive witch and wizard hunts of darker days.

"Okay," Blair replied, making sure he had his information correct. "So, you'll sure that the facts are all straight by writing a book. Then what?"

"Not just a book, but a series. I'm looking at seven - one for each year at Hogwarts. They'll be aimed at children in the beginning, and then written for a more and more mature audience as they come. So, by the time the seventh is published, the children who grew up with a love of the wizarding world will be adults - who can cope with the truth of its existence, revealed at the very end of the final book. What do you think?"

Blair leaned back in his chair and stared though the Daily Prophet in his right hand. For a while, the witch was afraid he was going to reject her idea. Finally, he spoke.

"What kind of writing experience have you had?" he asked her, and she felt caught a little off-guard by it.

"Little articles and short stories, mostly. I just think...that I would be able to pull this off. It kind of feels like...." She thought about it for a minute. "Do you believe in destiny, Mr. Blair?"

He didn't reply, but instead began to write something on a slip of paper on his desk. Without looking up from his message, he said, "You do realize that you're going to have to live a life of utmost privacy, quite possibly as a Muggle, until the books are all public, right?"

The witch found her stomach again and repressed an urge to smile. "I am well aware."

"How soon can you begin writing?" Blair put down his pen and placed the paper into one of many trays on his desk.

"I've already begun outlining the first book," she replied eagerly.

"Excellent." Blair rose, and the witch followed. He shook her hand again, and, just as she was about to go, he said, "Wait a minute, madam - I just realized I never knew your name."

This time, the witch smiled. "I'm Rowling. Joanne K. Rowling."