Chapter Text
The Prime Minister had a very bad week. It started with a small comment which got heard by the press and was blown out of all proportions, in his opinion. It continued with a member of his own party casting doubt on his abilities as Prime Minister. And everyone kept on blaming him for his predecessor's mistakes and rather condescending attitude, not to mention the economic collapse, which really, that was the Americans' fault! And now the poll numbers. The poll numbers said the same thing they said since he called the election - he was going to lose, and his rival was going to assume his office in a week.
If ever he needed a miracle, it was this week.
He was so consumed by his troubles, that he didn't hear the cough at first. It was only after a couple of seconds that he realised what he was hearing. Once the little man in the painting saw that he was listening, he spoke in his smug, self-important voice. "The Minister for Magic will be arriving in five minutes."
Great. That's just what he needed, the Prime Minister thought bitterly. The Minister for Magic never dropped by with good news, oh no. It was always goblins this, dark wizards that. And if there were any more bad news, well, he might as well just give up and hand over the keys to Number 10 to that insufferable, self-important, public-school boy.
Five minutes later, like clockwork, the fireplace turned green. The first time the Prime Minister was visited by the Minister for Magic, the first time the fireplace turned green, he was terrified and shocked. Fortunately, he never got the chance to get used to it - the Prime Minister did not receive many visits from the Minister for Magic. But still, he was more prepared this time, when the tall and formidable Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt walked out of the fire.
"Minister," he stretched his hand for a shake, which the Minister took. "Prime Minister."
The Prime Minister then turned to the other man - Shacklebolt's secretary, he wondered for a moment? The man was younger, in his late 20s or early 30s, with a shock of black hair, bright green eyes, and a curious scar on his forehead, the shape of a lightning bolt. And unlike the minister, he was not wearing robes but regular clothes - jeans and t-shirt, in fact. Not the clothes one usually wears to a meeting with the Prime Minister, he noted disapprovingly.
"Prime Minister, this is the head of the Auror Office, Harry Potter."
"Prime Minister," Potter stretched his hand, and he shook it.
Auror office... "That's the guys who go after dark wizards, right?" he hazarded.
"Yes, Prime Minister," Potter confirmed.
The Prime Minister looked at Minister Shacklebolt with resignation. "We're a week before the elections, Minister. I can't have another disaster now. Whatever it is your dark wizards are after now, can they please wait until next week?"
"Don't worry," the Minister said in his booming voice. "There is no dark wizard emergency - yet. Can we sit down?"
"Sure, sure," the Prime Minister led them to his desk. "What is it, then?" he asked without apologising for disposing with niceties.
"Actually, it's about your elections," Shacklebolt said, and the Prime Minister raised an eyebrow.
"I did not know you cared about our politics."
"It would appear we have no choice but to care, Prime Minister. You see, some recent developments in other countries have left us worried about possible... ripple effects."
The Prime Minister remained silent. He knew by now that the Minister will explain himself. And indeed, Shacklebolt did not disappoint.
"We've seen it in three or four countries by now. A new, less responsible Prime Minister or President assumes office. He hears about the... arrangement, shall we say? in his country, between his government and the Wizarding World. And then..." Shacklebolt's voice trailed, and Potter picked up.
"And then he decides that he wants to change the arrangement. For his own benefit."
The Prime Minister rose to his feet. "Gentlemen - I hope you're not suggesting - I have never - I am an honourable man, regardless of what the Daily Mail says!" his Scottish accent became stronger as his protests grew louder.
"We weren't suggesting otherwise, Prime Minister," said Potter the Auror. "It's your rival we're worried about."
The Prime Minister sat in his office and snorted. "Look, I'll be the first to say he's a - " he paused for a moment before settling on " - toff, trust you me. But that does not mean that he...!"
"The world is changing, Prime Minister," Shacklebolt said in a heavy voice. "We may be paranoid, I don't know. But we can't take the risk."
"What are you suggesting, then?"
Potter handed him a list. "This is a list of Muggles with a long and proven record of service to the United Kingdom. Their loyalty to their country and to their government cannot be questioned. They are also people with a close family relative who is a witch or wizard. They already know about us. Any one of them can become a... liaison, shall we say. And we will have a liaison as well. A Muggle-born wizard or witch. Someone who cares just as much about the welfare of their family as they do about the Wizarding World. You pick one, we pick one. They do the coordination between themselves, we stay out of each other's way. And your rival doesn't need to know."
The Prime Minister looked at the list for a long moment. He recognised some of the names - civil servants, a director of a big company - even a couple of MPs from his own party. For a moment, the thought crossed his mind that keeping the wizard world secret cannot go on for long. Like Shacklebolt said - the world was changing, and fast. And if the list of names indicated anything, it indicated how many people knew about it already.
"Do you ever wonder," he asked the two, "what will happen when everyone in our world learns about yours? Will governments collapse?" he mused, thinking how close his own country came to collapse only a few years previously. "Or will people just shrug and go on with their lives - hell, half of them probably know already!" he said and tossed the list on his desk. "I don't know if hiding this information from my rival is the right thing to do."
"No one would need to know that you knew," Shacklebolt said.
"Yes, I could always blame Tony," the Prime Minister mused, and chuckled without mirth at his own joke. "Can I take a couple of days to think about this?"
"Sure," the Minister for Magic said. "Just don't take too long. The polls suggest you don't have much longer."
"Thank you," the Prime Minister said with ice-cold annoyance in his voice. The meeting was over. The wizards got up, the flames in the fireplace turned green again, and they were gone.
Two days later, and against his better judgement, he called in one of the people on the list and assigned her the role of Wizarding World Liaison. Five days after that, as the polls predicted, he left his office, never to return.
Ten years later
The United Nations Special Envoy for Global Education was sitting with his wife and a couple of friends in a fancy, just re-opened restaurant in Edinburgh, when a commotion at the door caught his attention. He raised his eyes and saw the group of people, definitely under-dressed for the high-end restaurant, walking in. He could see one of them shaking his head when the hostess asked whether they had a reservation. Good luck, lads, he thoughts as he went back to his pasta. There was a three-month waiting list for this restaurant. The only reason he had succeeded in getting a table with a two-week notice was because he used to be, ten years ago, the Prime-bloody-Minister.
To his utter surprise, the hostess soon took four menus and showed the four into a table. "Must be some YouTube celebrities," his friend said.
"Must be," the former Prime Minister agreed - after all, one of them looked familiar, didn't he, with his shock of black hair and bright green eyes and a scar, a scar like a bolt of lightning.... And then it hit him - that day in Number 10, a week or so before the elections. The men who came out of the fire. The Head Auror. "Excuse me," he muttered to his company and got up from his seat.
"See?" Said one of his companions to the other. "Even former Prime Ministers can't stand the temptation of a dime-a-dozen YouTube celebrities. The world is doomed, I'm telling you."
"Mr Potter?" he asked, standing above the Auror. The man raised his head and they looked at each other for a moment. The former Prime Minister remembered now how young he looked back then, ten years ago. Not anymore. We both got older, he thought. And both our worlds got darker.
"Prime Minister," Potter said. "I didn't think you would remember me."
"Well," the former Prime Minister didn't quite know what to say. It was hard to forget people who came out of your fireplace? "I wanted to say - thank you."
"What for?" the man was puzzled.
"Ten years ago, I thought you and Shacklebolt were paranoid. Delusional," he said, his mind travelling to the newest Prime Minister of his country, the one who, everyone agreed, had only one thing that allowed him to keep the job for this long, and that was the identity of his rival. He imagined any one of these men learning the secret of the wizarding world, what it would have meant to the country in this time, what it would have meant to the wizards, what it would have meant for everyone else. "Turns out you were right. The world is changing. The country would have probably been even worse off - " if that's even possible - "had you not come to me that night with that plan. Thank you. You may have saved the country."
Potter nodded. "Honestly, Prime Minister, I just hope we won't live to regret it."