Shift Into Neutral

(ooc: no, I don't expect a massively long post. I just missed writing, that's all. lol)

Robert was glad to be out of the catacombs that lay under Whitehall. He had been glad for the friendship of the muggle prime minister and the generous use of the catacombs under the muggle government offices, but Robert was also glad to have the Ministry reconstructed.

The Ministry offices looked, at least to all but those who needed to know otherwise, as if nothing had changed.  As if it had been put back to its time honored state.  Robert never played all his cards until he had to, though, especially when it came to security.  He had good reason to do some "behind the scenes" redesigns that would hopefully keep unauthorized witches and wizards out of places they had no right to go.  Or that was the hope, anyway.

God, he missed Millie as his secretary. Millie looked the part of a loveable dingbat, but she was deceptively sharp and understood the daily workings of the Minister's office with clockwork precision.  The fact that his new secretary wasn't here now meant Robert was doing a bit of doubletime until the new staff fell into rhythm.  Apparently she was either late this morning or lost in the corridors again.  Ah, well.  He was far from helpless. He could be his own secretary for a few minutes.

This morning he had been pleasantly surprised by an energetic little clerk from the mailroom who had wanted to be noticed.  The young man had come upstairs, and while delivering the mail, he had also put on a pot of incredibly well made Earl Grey, and instead of depositing the fresh flowers on the secretary's desk, the young man had taken the time to put the flowers into the appropriate vases.  The fireplaces in both the reception area and in his office had been lit to ward off the winter chill, and they'd already started to draw and warm the offices.   Robert had not missed, either, that the lad apparently missed Millie too because there was a new turquoise colored betta on the secretary's desk.  

"Your mail, Minister," the young man said, waiting for Robert when he had arrived that morning. He handed Robert a bundle of envelopes and assorted papers.  

"You're early today, aren't you?" Robert smiled. "Well done. Are you the one I thank for putting on the tea?"

"Yes, Sir," he flashed a bright smile. "It is the fuel that gets things done, is it not?"

"Quite," Robert laughed.  "Thank you. Oh, wait.  Here.  These are outgoing items." He handed the young man paperwork and envelopes that were bundled with a rubber band. "Mind taking them with you?"

"My pleasure," he said.  

"You're the new lad, aren't you?  Howard, isn't it? Lewis Howard."

"Yes, Sir," the boy beamed as if Robert had issued him a raise.

"Your ambition is noted--and much appreciated.  Thank you," Robert said. The boy seemed to be a bit speechless and left quickly, smiling from ear to ear.  Robert watched him leave, drew out a silver cigarette case from his jacket pocket and lit a cigarette.  He didn't smoke often, but in the last year, he had returned a bit to his old habit.  Turning to the credenza, he poured a cup of tea into one of the stoneware mugs, added just a spot of milk to it and one sugar.  

Leaving the door open, he went through to his office, deposited the mail into his inbox, put the tea on the corner of the desk blotter, and exhaled a bit of smoke into the morning air, savoring the rich, smooth wine-like taste and aroma of these handmade cigarettes--a Christmas gift from Michael.  These cigarettes smelled more like an elegant pipe tobacco, and that made it a bit harder for Robert to resist them.  With a little luck, he'd get a puff or two off this one before today's unpleasantness, whatever it would be, reared its ugly head.

[That’s fine. I’ll keep things short though.]

James Roland had not been to the ministry since it had been brutally damaged several months ago. As he made his way now towards the Ministers Office, Roland had to grudgingly admit that he was quite impressed at how quickly they had rebuilt the entire structure after it had been nearly completely destroyed. It looked nearly exactly the same, down to the expressions on the statues in the atrium. It was almost as if someone had conjured up the place out of time, from before it was destroyed. A shame, Roland had been looking forward to reporting about possible problems with the rebuilding effort. That would evidently not be possible now.

But then again, he had something better to report on now. Which is why he was here.

The waiting area was empty, and the door to the Minister’s office was open. Roland frowned, wondering where the secretary was. He had not booked an appointment, as he was not quite sure that Robert would accept. After what seemed like ages of waiting, two minutes, Roland concluded that while the ministry had been rebuilt, some of the staff may not have returned yet. So he walked over to the door, knocked, and then poked his head in slightly. “Minister,” he announced, formally

Someone was hailing him, and while he hadn't expected anyone, it wasn't alarming. There was usually a fair amount of traffic at his office door. Robert had always resented any sort of pretense of an ivory tower in the Ministry, and he had tried to keep an open door policy anyway--at least as much as he could afford. He generally welcomed being available, as untraditional as that seemed. He deposited the cigarette in an ashtray, looking up.

"Mr. Roland," Robert said. "Good morning. This is an unexpected pleasure."

He and Roland weren't friends, but civilities still needed to be observed. Their differences had always seemed to revolve around differing political philosophies, but it had not been enough to come to any sorts of dueling for years. Still, Robert knew he still wanted to watch his step a bit with the man. Robert considered Roland to be brilliant, driven,--and very dedicated to his views, willing to fight for them. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but it was enough to not make the mistake of underestimating the man in front of him.

"Come in," he motioned for Roland to come in and sit if he liked. "What can I do for you? You've caught me with my secretary away from her desk, I'm afraid. I was about to have a cup of tea. You're welcome to join me if you like."

Despite their long and complex rivalry, Roland did not hold any grudges towards Robert Lupin as a person, and believed that the feeling was rather mutual. In fact, Roland rather admired the man. In the past, Roland and Robert had been both friends and enemies. Sure, Roland had betrayed Robert and tried his very best to have his career destroyed, but whatever complications and disagreements they had were all business, not personal. And thus even Roland held no grudges against the man for not intervening on his behalf when he was sentenced to one year in Azkaban. He was quite sure that if had not been for Khaat, his term would have lasted longer. In the end they were both politicians above all else, and they both recognized the dirty game they were in. Even though Roland played it dirtier.

As it was, a year in Azkaban had made Roland much thinner, and slightly more paranoid, but otherwise he was remarkably sane. He had recovered well from the Grindelwald fiasco, resuming his position as reporter. “I’ll have a cup, thanks,” Roland said, as he took a seat. He was never a man to refuse tea, although otherwise his appetite was much less than it had been prior to his sentencing.  “Well, I heard about the accident in the Department of Mysteries… Terrible news.” Of course, it was not a tragedy for Roland. No journalist was ever very sad about any such event, as fiascos, accidents, tragedies and all were good for business. Obviously they couldn’t say that openly, so Roland had to put on a face. “Troubling,” he added, shaking his head for dramatic effect. Roland was mentioning it primarily as a threat, and he was sure that Robert would catch on to that.

"I think I remember how you take your tea," Robert said, remembering more than one occasion when they'd had discussions over tea. He picked up another stoneware mug, fixed the tea, and handed it to Roland. Robert had come to favor these mugs because, first, they held the heat of the tea much longer than porcelain, and they were straight forward and unpretentious.

So, this was a fishing expedition, was it? Robert expected someone to come sooner or later asking questions. There had been some articles in the Prophet that were largely speculative. Actually, Robert rather approved that someone had decided to come and ask him about it. He preferred facts to speculations.

"You know how it goes, I suppose," Robert shrugged, sitting at his desk, and picking up his own tea mug. "Rooms full of age old magical artifacts, and as time goes on, it's easy for things to get knocked off a shelf, particularly if the item in question looks so deceptively harmless as a ladies' antique dressing mirror.

"The employee meant no harm and reported the incident at once. The problem now, of course, is undoing the damage. I presume that the remedy to the situation lies somewhere within the history of the mirror itself."

Roland graciously took the tea and sipped. “Mhm, Good, very good. Thanks.” He took a few more sips while Robert talked before setting it down. “Of course, things like that happen,” he said understandingly. Of course, Roland didn’t think it was Robert’s fault or anything, the minister seldom had much to do with the research in the Department of Mysteries. And Roland doubted the whole thing would get much worse. “Though the public is a bit wary I guess, what with all that has happened recently. A small thing like this has got them very excited and nervous,” he informed. That much was honest, at least. Though Roland didn’t mention that the reason they were nervous was probably because of the exaggerations in the Daily Prophet’s report of the incident.

Roland didn’t actually care about the incident though. The truth was probably more boring than the rumors, so it was better to report on the latter. He needed something more important from Roland. He had only mentioned the accident as a bridge. “A shame really, the rebuilding of the ministry has gone very well. I would have much rather reported on that,” Roland lied. “My own rebuilding has not been going so well. While I was in Azkaban the Daily Prophet’s circulation dropped, and we actually have direct competitors now.” For Roland, as manager of the paper, this was a huge catastrophe. The Prophet’s circulation was at its lowest in nearly a century. People were reading from other papers like the Quibbler.

"I can't blame people for being a little edgy. It hasn't been easy the last year or so for them. More freedoms taken away than not," he said. "Loss of freedom, loss of control--it a powerful thing. And not something we British have ever taken kindly to."

He wasn't going to bring up Roland's stint in Azkaban. That was in the past, but if anyone understood what the loss of freedom and control did to the human mind, it was someone who had been in Azkaban.

"Its why I reversed Mr. Pierce's nonsense straight off," he said. "And, honestly, its why we placed the Ministry back exactly the way I was. Outwardly, anyway. Some things needed to be brought into the new millennium, of course." The safeguard spells and security systems had been tightened, updated, and done so deliberately.

The truth was that Ministry informants had reported that, after the destruction of the Ministry, Pierce had been seen purchasing a large amount of polyjuice in Spain. Robert had taken great pains to be sure Pierce, or anyone else will ill intent, could merely waltz in and access anything that would threaten the security of wizarding England.

"If you don't mind me saying it," he said, "while you were away from the Prophet, there seemed to be a fairly frequent turn over in the Prophet staff. From my own observation, what I think people were gravitating to was a familiar, reliable voice that were reporting at least a semblance of news, not speculation and opinionating. I think it will serve the Prophet well to have known journalists, like yourself, as the ones with the bylines. The voices people know."

Robert knew that he'd seen more people actually buying the Quibbler, but it seemed rather faddish to him, bred out of insecurity of wanting to know what was going on, how to protect oneself and one's family.

"The British people have been filled full of a lot of balderdash in the last year from a lot of sources," Robert said. "And I'm sure you know that whichever newspaper has the inside track to the real news will be the paper that will win out, and, I think, the win will be significant because of how hungry people are for truth. I presume that's why you're here. You're looking for something to help the Prophet regain some ground. Correct?"

Roland nodded in agreement. Though in truth, Roland had himself led a hand to a different dictator a few years ago. Roland didn't think it was a good idea to mention that though, and was glad Robert wasn't mentioning it either. In fact, Roland found that he had difficulty remembering anything that he had done before going to Azkaban.

He sipped his tea while Robert talked about the Prophet. True, while Roland had been away, the Daily Prophet had actually recovered some sense of journalistic integrity. But according to Roland that was exactly why the circulation had dropped. Fad's, rumors and exaggerations sold a newspaper. Accuracy was important too, but journalistic integrity didn't get you nowhere. Robert though wouldn't know much about that.

"Somewhat correct," Roland said with a nod. "The problem is, most newspapers get the information one way or another.. So it isn't so much as our access to the information as it is the exclusivity of it." Roland paused, wondering whether he should be blunt or not. "What I really need is for the ministry to exclude all other newspapers, especially the Quibbler, from access to any information. Denying them interviews, and putting censorship and copyright laws and the like." This was actually how the Daily Prophet had become so widely read in the first place, vast Ministry support. In recent years the ministry had grown less corrupt, and the daily prophet had suffered. "And in return we'll paint only the best picture for the ministry and, of course, the minister." Roland tried to give a pleasant smile, but it came out as more of a sneer or a grin.

Robert picked up on Roland's game quickly. Exclusivity, censorship, "stretching" laws to toss the ball into the Prophet's proverbial court, with a promise of a positive light shed on the Ministry--and himself. Nor was Robert surprised that Roland believed there was truth and then there was journalism. It was a common belief, and he did understand he should have predicted what Roland's stance would be.  Robert was honestly a bit amused with himself that his own Gryffindor roots were showing.  

Robert couldn't suppress a bit of a dry smile.  He hadn't forgotten Roland's ambition, and he did appreciate the forward approach.  He nodded.

"I appreciate the candid approach," Robert said. "So I'll return it."  He reached to the credenza behind him, picked up a copy of the Prophet and tossed it smoothly across the desk towards Roland, the paper folded open to the recent article by Adrienne Poliakoff.

"I'm actually intending to file defamation and liable charges against the Prophet, so it is rather opportune that you show up here before I have to actually move forward with it without doing you the courtesy of notifying you.  That's probably not the scoop you were hoping for, though.  However, I'm betting that you and I can come to some sort of compromise--unless, of course, you prefer for both the Prophet and Ms. Poliakoff to be seen facing the crown prosecution service.  Her information about the muggle PM and myself is entirely false.  She cannot prove it because there is no investigation.  It doesn't exist. I don't answer to the muggle PM, and you know it.  The man happens to be a colleague and a friend."

The Prophet could say what it wanted--unless someone decided to take issue with it.  In this instance, it was Robert and the Ministry that was taking issue--officially. If Poliakoff, under the umbrella of the Daily Prophet, were going to make those claims, then Robert didn't need to prove his integrity or his innocence. She needed to be able to cough up proof to the contrary.  Irrefutable proof that would stand up in a court of law.

"You want exclusivity, and I can give it to you. It won't, however, be cost free," he said.  "But then,..." he gave Roland a relaxed smile, "you didn't expect it to be, did you?"

“Robert, my dear friend,” Roland started theatrically, to the man he had betrayed several times. “What would be the point? I would probably be able to deflect all the blame on Ms Poliakoff, as she was more or less running the Prophet at the time of that publication. You would only destroy a young girl’s career.” That was not entirely true, for Roland had returned from Azkaban at the time and had given the order for the story to be published. But at the time the editor in chief had been someone else.

“You know how these things work Minister!” Roland continued, a bit more defensively. “People want a reason to hate their government. They want to blame all their problems on you. Us printing these stories gives them a reason to do so, and they continue to buy copies. That said, there was some truth there…” The Muggle Prime Minister was investigating the happenings in the Wizarding World, though not on Robert personally.

Roland was afraid that it was all about to go downhill, but when Robert spoke next he seemed to be more relaxed, all business. Roland was rather impressed, he had not expected the minister to agree to the suggestion, even if it was the smart decision. “Of course I didn't expect that, that’s not how this game works,” Roland said, with a nod. He was a man who understood such things. “I want exclusivity, and in return I’ll make you the hero of the Wizarding World.”

He had done the same thing for Grindelwald, but Roland thought it was best not to mention that.