Chapter 9- The Scrimgeour Solution
May. 4th, 2009 09:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coyotegothTITLE: The Scrimgeour Solution
CHARACTERS: Harry; Scrimgeour; Stan Shunpike; Ron; Charlie; Remus; Cornelius Fudge
RATING: gen
WARNINGS: references to genocide
FEEDBACK: welcomed
ARCHIVING: please ask
SPOILERS: Half-Blood Prince
This is the latest chapter of my Harry Potter story. (Please note also that this series is not Deathly Hallows compliant in the least.)
Chapter 9- The Scrimgeour Solution
Scrimgeour’s magically amplified voice echoed throughout the Ministry auditorium- specially created with Expansion Spells for the occasion- as Harry fidgeted in his waiting area backstage, and nervously wiped his palms on his Ministry dress robes. He took another look at the parchment he was holding; yet again, his gaze paused at one particular section:
...in particular, you will have heard about the use of our new top secret weapon, with which we have removed one of the most terrifying and dangerous threats to Wizarding society, once and for all.
“What’s that mean, anyway?” he’d asked Scrimgeour. “What weapon? What threat?” He then had to duck his head, as a pair of scissors floated up, and snipped at his hair. “And why do I need this stupid haircut? It’ll just grow back by tomorrow, anyway.”
“All in good time, Harry,” said Scrimgeour. “That section of the speech concerns a pre-emptive action that will be announced today- in fact, Barnabas Cuffe has just brought the Prophet to press on a special edition. Besides, you need to look presentable for this.”
“Yes, but what...” He was interrupted then, as a brush flew in, and vigorously dusted the back of his neck. Finally, the scissors and brush laid themselves upon a tray, as the barber’s cloth untied itself from around Harry’s neck; Harry felt a slight prickling as loose bits of hair floated off of his skin, and drifted to the floor. A mirror floated in front of Harry’s face, as a broom began sweeping the hair into a pile.
“There’s something you’re not telling me,” said Harry, as he pushed the mirror aside.
“Merely a security precaution; we’ll get to that, soon enough,” Scrimgeour said. “For now, though, there’s someone here who wishes to speak with you.”
The door opened; Stan Shunpike shuffled in, looking pale and nervous. “Say hello, Stan,” Scrimgeour said.
“’Lo,” Stan murmured, barely audible.
“Hi,” Harry said awkwardly.
“We have to leave for your speech in a moment," Scrimgeour said, as he draped an arm over Stan’s shoulder, “but Stan here has something he wants to say to you- don’t you, Stan?”
“Yeah,” Stan said quietly, looking at the floor; he seemed to be making a special effort to speak formally and clearly. “I want... I want to thank you for presentin’... presenting my case to Minister Scrimgeour. It was foolish of me to speak so thoughtlessly in public, what with a war on and all, but Minister Scrimgeour was wise enough to realize I ain’t... I’m not an agent of You-Know-‘Oo, and so... I’m out of Azkaban now, thanks to him, and to you,” he concluded awkwardly.
“Err... good,” Harry replied after a moment. “Are you back working the Knight Bus?”
“The Knight Bus has been temporarily leased into service by the Ministry,” Scrimgeour interjected. “However, the Ministry has also helped Stan find new employment- haven’t we, Stan?”
“Oh, yeah,” Stan said quickly. “They been... they’ve been really good to me. Usually, it’s tough for someone fresh out of Azkaban to find a situation, but Minister Scrimgeour helped me out right proper, he did. I’m in the mail room here now, where I can help in the fight against You-Know-‘Oo.”
“Mail room...?” Harry asked, frowning.
“I’m sure Stan would be delighted to give you a tour, after your speech,” Scrimgeour said, as he handed Harry a scroll. “For now, though, I want you to familiarize yourself with this, and to be ready to discharge your duty to the Ministry. After all,” he continued, putting one hand on Harry’s shoulder and the other on Stan's, “the Ministry has kept its promises to you.”
“Yeah,” Harry said. “Yeah- see you later, Stan.”
A sudden burst of applause interrupted Harry's memories, as a Ministry worker took the scroll from him. “It's all right- you’ll be prompted,” the worker explained. “Get ready- this is your cue.”
Harry readied himself as he heard Scrimgeour’s voice rising to a climax: “...the symbol of our struggle against Voldemort, the Chosen One himself- Harry Potter!”
Harry took a deep breath, and focused on his Occlumency training, blanking his mind of all thought, all emotion, concentrating only on his speech. As he walked out to sustained applause, he saw the opening words of his speech, writing themselves across the back wall.
“Don’t worry, it’s a Prompting Spell- only you can see it,” Scrimgeour muttered, as he put an arm around Harry’s shoulder and led him to the podium. “This is your moment, Harry- the future of the Ministry may depend upon you.” Then he stepped away, joining in the applause as Harry took another breath, and prepared to speak. He looked out at the audience for a moment- hundreds of witches and wizards, in all manner of garb. Harry saw a huge man in Arab robes; an African witch doctor wearing a three-piece suit; what looked like a Native American war bonnet... who was that? Harry faltered for a moment as he saw Cornelius Fudge standing at the side of the room near a door, trying to catch Harry’s gaze. Fudge anxiously mouthed something at him; from the corner of his eye, Harry saw Scrimgeour scowl, and nod to a Ministry worker who started toward Fudge. Yeah, Harry thought contemptuously, as he looked away from Fudge, I really have a lot to say to you, after you tossed Sirius into Azkaban and all. He frowned, and began to speak.
“In the year since he took office, Minister Scrimgeour has shown unstinting resolve and strategic brilliance in facing tremendous challenges to the safety and security of the Wizarding United Kingdom. Foremost among these difficulties, of course, was the tragic loss of my own Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, to the depredations of Voldemort and his traitorous Death Eaters...”
Harry's words faltered; he paused, loathing the casually manipulative mention of Dumbledore’s death. For a moment, all that he could see was the look of revulsion and hatred on Snape’s face as he raised his wand; the flash of green light- green as my eyes, he thought nonsensically- striking Dumbledore, brutally knocking him back over the battlements; the tremendous wash of anger and disbelief and loss... The pause drew out; Harry closed his eyes as he took a deep breath to steady himself. He could hear Scrimgeour whispering, asking if he was all right; the murmurs and shuffling of the audience; then, these were drowned out by a hated voice, echoing in his mind: Blocked again and again and again, he heard Snape taunting him, until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Potter!
Too right, Harry thought with a grim smile as he opened his eyes. That was the best lesson you ever taught me. I hope you appreciate how well I learned it, when I blast you straight to hell. Then, Harry focused his anger, using it to declaim the next lines with a conviction and power that silenced everyone in the room:
"However, while Albus Dumbledore may have made the ultimate sacrifice, the struggle against Voldemort lives on- and we at the Ministry shall never rest until he and his cohorts are brought to justice! We shall strike at them on the land; we shall strike at them in the air; we shall strike with spell, and sword, and with every weapon we have, until the taint of their villainy has been expunged from the face of the earth, once and for all!”
A tremendous roar of applause followed this; Harry used the pause to see if he could spot Cornelius Fudge. The Ministry worker was standing by the seat Fudge had been occupying, looking perplexed; a few rows behind him was Ron, looking up at Harry with a bitter expression on his face, not applauding or cheering. For a moment, Harry felt a pang of sadness, as he remembered the old quarrel from fourth year. I never wanted this- any of it Harry thought, looking at Ron as the applause began to die down. I'd give it all to you, if I could. Ron deliberately looked away, crossing his arms over his chest; Harry scowled for a moment, before returning his gaze to the words of his speech.
The next section of his presentation went smoothly; Harry concentrated on making what he said sound convincing, on making eye contact with key figures in the audience at certain points, and punching key phrases home. Make sure that you look at Takashima-san when you mention the dementors, Scrimgeour had said. Dementors are a serious problem for Wizarding Japan right now, and we need their support. Harry did this, then paused dramatically, as he had been instructed. I’m just an actor, playing a part, he thought. Is any of this really real?
Then, he read off the section about the new secret weapon. “...with which we have removed one of the most terrifying and dangerous threats to Wizarding society, once and...”
“So it’s true?” interjected a man with a Spanish accent. “We have heard rumors; now, you're admitting it’s true about the were...”
“Questions will be addressed to me, and only me, at the conclusion of the speech, Senor Ramirez,” Scrimgeour interjected. “Harry needs to finish up, and to go back to leading the fight against Voldemort- don’t you, Harry?”
“Uhh... yeah,” Harry said. There was an awkward pause; he resumed his speech. At first, the audience seemed restless; he was struggling to keep his focus. However, the speech had been carefully crafted, with several stirring climactic phrases; at the end, they applauded loudly.
“Excellent, Harry- you may have saved the Ministry today,” murmured Scrimgeour, as he took Harry’s elbow and led him to a door at the rear of the room. Ron was standing there, with Williamson, the Ministry worker who had met them upon their arrival, right behind him. “Isn’t that so, Ron?”
“Yeah- brilliant,” Ron muttered.
“And of course, Ron is helping out as well- quite the gift for tactical thinking, wouldn’t you say, Williamson?”
“Yes, Minister.”
“Yes, indeed- we’ll have this solved in no time,” Scrimgeour said; then, he clapped his hands together sharply. “Now- why don’t you bring these two up to the cafeteria- I’m sure they’d like something to eat, while I entertain questions from our guests.”
“Yes, Minister,” said Williamson, taking them to the elevator. They went up several floors, then walked down a corridor; Ron stopped at the doorway. “I’m not hungry,” he said, with a glance at Harry. “Think I’ll head home.”
As Ron started off down the corridor, the cafeteria door opened, and Charlie walked out, looking at a note he was holding.
“Oh,” Charlie said upon seeing Harry; he blushed, then hastily tucked the note away. Then, a look of concern came over his face. “Harry,” he said, glancing into the cafeteria, “err- you may not want to...”
Harry saw Remus walk up behind Charlie; Remus saw Harry, and came to an abrupt halt. Harry never forgot the look that came over Remus’s face, for just a moment- a look of utter loathing and revulsion. Then, the look was gone; when Remus spoke, his tone was stiff, and formally polite.
“Congratulations- your speech was very effective,” Remus said. “I’m afraid I couldn’t attend in person, but they were kind enough to amplify it for those of us up here.”
Harry paused, still taken aback by Remus's expression. “What’s the matt...?”
“I’m afraid I have to go,” Remus interjected. “The moon is full tonight, and it’s important for me to set a good example for all the other werewolves, after all.” He brushed past Harry and Charlie without another word, and headed for the elevator.
Harry shook his head, and looked over to Charlie. “What was that about?” he asked.
“You haven’t heard?” Charlie asked disbelievingly. “Oh, Merlin... here; come inside.”
They entered the cafeteria, which was empty save for a wizard clearing a table in the corner, using his wand to float Remus’s plate into a tray. He glimpsed Harry; the plate crashed to the floor. “Leave it,” a voice called. “We're not supposed to re-use anything a werewolf has used.”
The wizard nodded, and hastily left the room, as Charlie picked a copy of the Prophet off of a nearby table. On the back wall, Harry saw a gigantic poster; as Harry watched, images of himself and Scrimgeour Apparated into view, dramatically drawing their wands...
“Here,” Charlie said quietly, handing him the paper. “Best if you read it for yourself.”
Harry cast him a puzzled glance, then looked at the front page; he froze in shock and horror.
WEREWOLF MENACE TO WIZARDKIND ENDED FOREVER, SAYS MINISTER OF MAGIC
“Today has seen the eradication of one of the most dangerous menaces to Wizardkind,” Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic, announced today in an interview with Barnabas Cuffe, editor of the Prophet.
“Aurors armed with a new top secret spell were able to trace these vicious menaces to their lair, thanks to a Location Charm covertly placed on a spy who had managed to infiltrate their pack,” the Minister explained. “Once we had this knowledge, it was simply a matter of waiting until our new secret weapon had been developed. Then, acting in my capacity as Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, I acted to coordinate simultaneous strikes with the wizarding forces of other nations- who, of course, had had werewolf problems of their own.
"Naturally, it grieves me to have had to resort to such violence; after all, secure Ministry facilities have been free for use by any werewolf during the full moon for many years now. In fact, although there have been persistent rumors of anti-werewolf discrimination, a werewolf even taught for a full year at Hogwarts recently, under the auspices of Albus Dumbledore himself. However, these bloodthirsty killers preferred, in the end, to side with Voldemort- to viciously strike out at Wizardkind, and to live apart from our society and its laws.”
When asked if their behavior wasn’t simply the result of their incurable disease, Minister Scrimgeour firmly replied, “Unfortunately, recent events had put the lie to this tragic notion of werewolves as helpless victims of their condition. After all, Bill Weasley (pictured below; may not be suitable for younger readers) was attacked and nearly murdered by the werewolf Fenrir Greyback- despite its being a week before the full moon at the time. No- although certain isolated individuals such as Remus Lupin have had the courage and foresight to look past their disease, and accept the hand that the Ministry extended to them, werewolves in general were ruthless, bloodthirsty monsters, killing or infecting all who crossed their paths, and utterly rejecting the Ministry’s efforts to help them. In the end, this will have proved to have been the only possible solution.”
The paper dropped from Harry’s hand; he looked at Charlie in shock, shaking his head no. Charlie seemed to be trying to find words as, behind Charlie, Harry's poster image blasted what was unmistakably a werewolf with a spell from his wand, before turning to face the front of the poster with a confident smile.
CHARACTERS: Harry; Scrimgeour; Stan Shunpike; Ron; Charlie; Remus; Cornelius Fudge
RATING: gen
WARNINGS: references to genocide
FEEDBACK: welcomed
ARCHIVING: please ask
SPOILERS: Half-Blood Prince
This is the latest chapter of my Harry Potter story. (Please note also that this series is not Deathly Hallows compliant in the least.)
Chapter 9- The Scrimgeour Solution
Scrimgeour’s magically amplified voice echoed throughout the Ministry auditorium- specially created with Expansion Spells for the occasion- as Harry fidgeted in his waiting area backstage, and nervously wiped his palms on his Ministry dress robes. He took another look at the parchment he was holding; yet again, his gaze paused at one particular section:
...in particular, you will have heard about the use of our new top secret weapon, with which we have removed one of the most terrifying and dangerous threats to Wizarding society, once and for all.
“What’s that mean, anyway?” he’d asked Scrimgeour. “What weapon? What threat?” He then had to duck his head, as a pair of scissors floated up, and snipped at his hair. “And why do I need this stupid haircut? It’ll just grow back by tomorrow, anyway.”
“All in good time, Harry,” said Scrimgeour. “That section of the speech concerns a pre-emptive action that will be announced today- in fact, Barnabas Cuffe has just brought the Prophet to press on a special edition. Besides, you need to look presentable for this.”
“Yes, but what...” He was interrupted then, as a brush flew in, and vigorously dusted the back of his neck. Finally, the scissors and brush laid themselves upon a tray, as the barber’s cloth untied itself from around Harry’s neck; Harry felt a slight prickling as loose bits of hair floated off of his skin, and drifted to the floor. A mirror floated in front of Harry’s face, as a broom began sweeping the hair into a pile.
“There’s something you’re not telling me,” said Harry, as he pushed the mirror aside.
“Merely a security precaution; we’ll get to that, soon enough,” Scrimgeour said. “For now, though, there’s someone here who wishes to speak with you.”
The door opened; Stan Shunpike shuffled in, looking pale and nervous. “Say hello, Stan,” Scrimgeour said.
“’Lo,” Stan murmured, barely audible.
“Hi,” Harry said awkwardly.
“We have to leave for your speech in a moment," Scrimgeour said, as he draped an arm over Stan’s shoulder, “but Stan here has something he wants to say to you- don’t you, Stan?”
“Yeah,” Stan said quietly, looking at the floor; he seemed to be making a special effort to speak formally and clearly. “I want... I want to thank you for presentin’... presenting my case to Minister Scrimgeour. It was foolish of me to speak so thoughtlessly in public, what with a war on and all, but Minister Scrimgeour was wise enough to realize I ain’t... I’m not an agent of You-Know-‘Oo, and so... I’m out of Azkaban now, thanks to him, and to you,” he concluded awkwardly.
“Err... good,” Harry replied after a moment. “Are you back working the Knight Bus?”
“The Knight Bus has been temporarily leased into service by the Ministry,” Scrimgeour interjected. “However, the Ministry has also helped Stan find new employment- haven’t we, Stan?”
“Oh, yeah,” Stan said quickly. “They been... they’ve been really good to me. Usually, it’s tough for someone fresh out of Azkaban to find a situation, but Minister Scrimgeour helped me out right proper, he did. I’m in the mail room here now, where I can help in the fight against You-Know-‘Oo.”
“Mail room...?” Harry asked, frowning.
“I’m sure Stan would be delighted to give you a tour, after your speech,” Scrimgeour said, as he handed Harry a scroll. “For now, though, I want you to familiarize yourself with this, and to be ready to discharge your duty to the Ministry. After all,” he continued, putting one hand on Harry’s shoulder and the other on Stan's, “the Ministry has kept its promises to you.”
“Yeah,” Harry said. “Yeah- see you later, Stan.”
A sudden burst of applause interrupted Harry's memories, as a Ministry worker took the scroll from him. “It's all right- you’ll be prompted,” the worker explained. “Get ready- this is your cue.”
Harry readied himself as he heard Scrimgeour’s voice rising to a climax: “...the symbol of our struggle against Voldemort, the Chosen One himself- Harry Potter!”
Harry took a deep breath, and focused on his Occlumency training, blanking his mind of all thought, all emotion, concentrating only on his speech. As he walked out to sustained applause, he saw the opening words of his speech, writing themselves across the back wall.
“Don’t worry, it’s a Prompting Spell- only you can see it,” Scrimgeour muttered, as he put an arm around Harry’s shoulder and led him to the podium. “This is your moment, Harry- the future of the Ministry may depend upon you.” Then he stepped away, joining in the applause as Harry took another breath, and prepared to speak. He looked out at the audience for a moment- hundreds of witches and wizards, in all manner of garb. Harry saw a huge man in Arab robes; an African witch doctor wearing a three-piece suit; what looked like a Native American war bonnet... who was that? Harry faltered for a moment as he saw Cornelius Fudge standing at the side of the room near a door, trying to catch Harry’s gaze. Fudge anxiously mouthed something at him; from the corner of his eye, Harry saw Scrimgeour scowl, and nod to a Ministry worker who started toward Fudge. Yeah, Harry thought contemptuously, as he looked away from Fudge, I really have a lot to say to you, after you tossed Sirius into Azkaban and all. He frowned, and began to speak.
“In the year since he took office, Minister Scrimgeour has shown unstinting resolve and strategic brilliance in facing tremendous challenges to the safety and security of the Wizarding United Kingdom. Foremost among these difficulties, of course, was the tragic loss of my own Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, to the depredations of Voldemort and his traitorous Death Eaters...”
Harry's words faltered; he paused, loathing the casually manipulative mention of Dumbledore’s death. For a moment, all that he could see was the look of revulsion and hatred on Snape’s face as he raised his wand; the flash of green light- green as my eyes, he thought nonsensically- striking Dumbledore, brutally knocking him back over the battlements; the tremendous wash of anger and disbelief and loss... The pause drew out; Harry closed his eyes as he took a deep breath to steady himself. He could hear Scrimgeour whispering, asking if he was all right; the murmurs and shuffling of the audience; then, these were drowned out by a hated voice, echoing in his mind: Blocked again and again and again, he heard Snape taunting him, until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Potter!
Too right, Harry thought with a grim smile as he opened his eyes. That was the best lesson you ever taught me. I hope you appreciate how well I learned it, when I blast you straight to hell. Then, Harry focused his anger, using it to declaim the next lines with a conviction and power that silenced everyone in the room:
"However, while Albus Dumbledore may have made the ultimate sacrifice, the struggle against Voldemort lives on- and we at the Ministry shall never rest until he and his cohorts are brought to justice! We shall strike at them on the land; we shall strike at them in the air; we shall strike with spell, and sword, and with every weapon we have, until the taint of their villainy has been expunged from the face of the earth, once and for all!”
A tremendous roar of applause followed this; Harry used the pause to see if he could spot Cornelius Fudge. The Ministry worker was standing by the seat Fudge had been occupying, looking perplexed; a few rows behind him was Ron, looking up at Harry with a bitter expression on his face, not applauding or cheering. For a moment, Harry felt a pang of sadness, as he remembered the old quarrel from fourth year. I never wanted this- any of it Harry thought, looking at Ron as the applause began to die down. I'd give it all to you, if I could. Ron deliberately looked away, crossing his arms over his chest; Harry scowled for a moment, before returning his gaze to the words of his speech.
The next section of his presentation went smoothly; Harry concentrated on making what he said sound convincing, on making eye contact with key figures in the audience at certain points, and punching key phrases home. Make sure that you look at Takashima-san when you mention the dementors, Scrimgeour had said. Dementors are a serious problem for Wizarding Japan right now, and we need their support. Harry did this, then paused dramatically, as he had been instructed. I’m just an actor, playing a part, he thought. Is any of this really real?
Then, he read off the section about the new secret weapon. “...with which we have removed one of the most terrifying and dangerous threats to Wizarding society, once and...”
“So it’s true?” interjected a man with a Spanish accent. “We have heard rumors; now, you're admitting it’s true about the were...”
“Questions will be addressed to me, and only me, at the conclusion of the speech, Senor Ramirez,” Scrimgeour interjected. “Harry needs to finish up, and to go back to leading the fight against Voldemort- don’t you, Harry?”
“Uhh... yeah,” Harry said. There was an awkward pause; he resumed his speech. At first, the audience seemed restless; he was struggling to keep his focus. However, the speech had been carefully crafted, with several stirring climactic phrases; at the end, they applauded loudly.
“Excellent, Harry- you may have saved the Ministry today,” murmured Scrimgeour, as he took Harry’s elbow and led him to a door at the rear of the room. Ron was standing there, with Williamson, the Ministry worker who had met them upon their arrival, right behind him. “Isn’t that so, Ron?”
“Yeah- brilliant,” Ron muttered.
“And of course, Ron is helping out as well- quite the gift for tactical thinking, wouldn’t you say, Williamson?”
“Yes, Minister.”
“Yes, indeed- we’ll have this solved in no time,” Scrimgeour said; then, he clapped his hands together sharply. “Now- why don’t you bring these two up to the cafeteria- I’m sure they’d like something to eat, while I entertain questions from our guests.”
“Yes, Minister,” said Williamson, taking them to the elevator. They went up several floors, then walked down a corridor; Ron stopped at the doorway. “I’m not hungry,” he said, with a glance at Harry. “Think I’ll head home.”
As Ron started off down the corridor, the cafeteria door opened, and Charlie walked out, looking at a note he was holding.
“Oh,” Charlie said upon seeing Harry; he blushed, then hastily tucked the note away. Then, a look of concern came over his face. “Harry,” he said, glancing into the cafeteria, “err- you may not want to...”
Harry saw Remus walk up behind Charlie; Remus saw Harry, and came to an abrupt halt. Harry never forgot the look that came over Remus’s face, for just a moment- a look of utter loathing and revulsion. Then, the look was gone; when Remus spoke, his tone was stiff, and formally polite.
“Congratulations- your speech was very effective,” Remus said. “I’m afraid I couldn’t attend in person, but they were kind enough to amplify it for those of us up here.”
Harry paused, still taken aback by Remus's expression. “What’s the matt...?”
“I’m afraid I have to go,” Remus interjected. “The moon is full tonight, and it’s important for me to set a good example for all the other werewolves, after all.” He brushed past Harry and Charlie without another word, and headed for the elevator.
Harry shook his head, and looked over to Charlie. “What was that about?” he asked.
“You haven’t heard?” Charlie asked disbelievingly. “Oh, Merlin... here; come inside.”
They entered the cafeteria, which was empty save for a wizard clearing a table in the corner, using his wand to float Remus’s plate into a tray. He glimpsed Harry; the plate crashed to the floor. “Leave it,” a voice called. “We're not supposed to re-use anything a werewolf has used.”
The wizard nodded, and hastily left the room, as Charlie picked a copy of the Prophet off of a nearby table. On the back wall, Harry saw a gigantic poster; as Harry watched, images of himself and Scrimgeour Apparated into view, dramatically drawing their wands...
“Here,” Charlie said quietly, handing him the paper. “Best if you read it for yourself.”
Harry cast him a puzzled glance, then looked at the front page; he froze in shock and horror.
“Today has seen the eradication of one of the most dangerous menaces to Wizardkind,” Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic, announced today in an interview with Barnabas Cuffe, editor of the Prophet.
“Aurors armed with a new top secret spell were able to trace these vicious menaces to their lair, thanks to a Location Charm covertly placed on a spy who had managed to infiltrate their pack,” the Minister explained. “Once we had this knowledge, it was simply a matter of waiting until our new secret weapon had been developed. Then, acting in my capacity as Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, I acted to coordinate simultaneous strikes with the wizarding forces of other nations- who, of course, had had werewolf problems of their own.
"Naturally, it grieves me to have had to resort to such violence; after all, secure Ministry facilities have been free for use by any werewolf during the full moon for many years now. In fact, although there have been persistent rumors of anti-werewolf discrimination, a werewolf even taught for a full year at Hogwarts recently, under the auspices of Albus Dumbledore himself. However, these bloodthirsty killers preferred, in the end, to side with Voldemort- to viciously strike out at Wizardkind, and to live apart from our society and its laws.”
When asked if their behavior wasn’t simply the result of their incurable disease, Minister Scrimgeour firmly replied, “Unfortunately, recent events had put the lie to this tragic notion of werewolves as helpless victims of their condition. After all, Bill Weasley (pictured below; may not be suitable for younger readers) was attacked and nearly murdered by the werewolf Fenrir Greyback- despite its being a week before the full moon at the time. No- although certain isolated individuals such as Remus Lupin have had the courage and foresight to look past their disease, and accept the hand that the Ministry extended to them, werewolves in general were ruthless, bloodthirsty monsters, killing or infecting all who crossed their paths, and utterly rejecting the Ministry’s efforts to help them. In the end, this will have proved to have been the only possible solution.”
The paper dropped from Harry’s hand; he looked at Charlie in shock, shaking his head no. Charlie seemed to be trying to find words as, behind Charlie, Harry's poster image blasted what was unmistakably a werewolf with a spell from his wand, before turning to face the front of the poster with a confident smile.
