A Rock and A Hard Place

What a debacle this had turned out to be. He didn't know who had somehow managed to upset the delicate balance between the wizarding world and the muggle world, but it seemed like the thin fabric that had kept the muggles living in blissful ignorance had been ripped to shreds.  

The whole thing gave him a migraine of international proportions.  A million theories had run through his mind.  Could this have been some more of Potter's ineptness when he'd broken the mirror and set those damnable pixies loose? Unlikely.  If so, then they were ridiculously overpowered pixies.  More of Gideon Pierce? Possible, but if it were, then Robert had made up his mind to eliminate Pierce himself.

How did one actually make a nonmagical being magical? The only thing that made sense to Robert was that someone or something had altered the physiology of some of the muggles somehow. He wasn't sure how.  

Ah, well, that didn't take care of things in the order it needed to be done.  First things needed to happen first. There were people--men, women, and children--that suddenly had powers they knew nothing about.  They were very capable of hurting themselves and others.  They needed help. Robert had no choice. He had to bring these muggles into their very sheltered world or risk worldwide disaster.


But these muggles might as well have been entering a completely foreign world. No place to live, no income, no money, no friends, no food, no training, no protection, no nothing.  He had to provide for them.

He'd found a generous benefactor in, unexpectedly, Lorcan D'Eath.  He hadn't expected a visit from the Death Eater, but the visit had proven profitable. Lorcan had invested in a hotel that was towards the southern end of Diagon Alley, which made it a relatively easy walk from the Ministry if necessary.  For some reason, though, the hotel had not been successful for D'Eath, and it seemed it was costing D'Eath more than it was worth. D'Eath was looking to unload the old hotel, in exchange for the tax write off, and Robert was in need of housing for muggles, someplace central and easy to protect and to provide supplies to.  It seemed to resolve a multitude of problems.  

So, now, the Ministry had the hotel, and D'Eath had a favorable tax write off.  Refurbishing the hotel would not be difficult, but he needed help to do a multitude of tasks.  He had decided it was time to provide the wizarding world with the information they needed, and, hopefully, in turn, someone would step up and help with the muggles.

He had contacted the Daily Prophet and had requested a reporter capable of covering such a massive task.  He didn't know who was coming. He only knew that they were.

As in every civilized meeting, he had had his secretary prepare a fresh pot of tea for this meeting.  In the past, he had largely ignored the press, but perhaps it was time to turn the page and start cultivating a better relationship with them.

Muggles had magic. Those three words, three simple words, were turning out to be anything but simple. The past month all the Daily Prophet had been reporting was about disasters involving muggles emitting sparks, muggles transforming teapots into frogs, muggles breaking objects they were no where near. Not only were muggles acquiring magic but wizards and witches were losing magic. Pansy had been having problems herself with even the most basic of charms, something that wasn't resting peacefully with her.

Pansy had been raised in a pure blood house to follow pure blood traditions and values and one of those values was that those of purer blood were more superior. She despised muggle borns but there was something Pansy disliked more than a muggle born at that was muggles acquiring magic themselves, or stealing it as the death eater liked to think and, after her having Dolores Umbridge as a Professor and death eaters for parents, it was easy to understand why.

It had been a while since Pansy had managed to find a big story. Thanks to the failings of magic her invisibility cloak wasn't working, meaning that she couldn't get any 'juice' on people and she hadn't been too keen on reporting about the muggles because it meant she couldn't really voice her opinion. The Daily Prophet was also headed in a new direction. They were told that they needed to be more neutral, to side with the perspective of the Ministry, which wasn't a surprise given the fact that the ministry had offered the newspaper exclusivity. Hopefully, like times before, Minister Lupin would share a similar perspective to Madame Parkinson-Nott.

'Sorry I'm early.' Pansy called to the secretary who sat at a desk outside of the Minister's office. 'Is he ready?' She asked rhetorically, strutting right past the desk and pausing outside of the Ministers door and knocking a little enthusiastically. Pansy may not have been interested in reporting other stories regarding the muggle situation but turning down an interview with the Minister for Magic wasn't something the death eater was going to do. She always had a sweet tooth for big stories and an interview with the minister himself was bound to be big.

"Is he ready?" Robert had been refilling his mug of tea, his mind racing about a million things, but he'd picked up on a woman's voice in the outer office.  Fortunately for him, the reporter hadn't paused to get a response. The question had been rhetorical. He heard the knock come quickly on the door. 

Good, he thought. Saves me from having to explain the ditz at the desk. Robert didn't usually have disdain for anyone that wasn't at the sharp end of the pencil, but for his new secretary, he found himself making an exception. The woman was a menace. Ms. Flora Bloom. What sort of upstanding Bloom actually saw fit to name their daughter Flora?  Flora Bloom? No wonder she was socially awkward. 


He hadn't hired her. Personnel had done that, and now it seemed like someone's personal vendetta against Robert's considerable patience.  In short, she wasn't Millie Hayes. 


Everyone had thought Millie was a ditz, but Robert had seen far more. Millie was another he'd gotten firmly parental about, and as glad as he was that she had advanced in the world, he sorely missed her efficiency. He was secretly very glad that the reporter hadn't had any opportunity to find out that the secretary for the Minister for Britain's magical world was an idiot.

Robert had every intention of honoring the agreement he'd made with James Roland.  He'd rather have the man as an ally than an enemy.  Besides that, Pansy had treated Khaat well in a situation that would have been easy to spin differently.  He intended to give the reporter a rather wide berth to ask questions unless she proved incapable of handling it, which her reputation did not suggest.  She was known as a capable reporter.


He set the mug down and went to the door, opening it, casting Flora a glance that told her he had this under control himself. She could relax. 


"Ms. Parkinson-Nott, I presume," he smiled.  "Perfect timing.  Do come in.  They just brought some fresh Earl Grey.  Would you like some, before we get started?" 


Okay, so 'they' hadn't brought anything. 'They' made stinky tea, and ruining a perfectly lovely blend of Earl Grey was just about tantamount to a national crime.  Robert was a reasonably frugal man on most things, but buying chintzy tea was not something he was willing to do.  Nor was he likely to trust The Ditz to make his tea anymore until she learned his dislike of over-steeped, cheap orange pekoe. So, he made his own tea because he had a very well trained, meticulous palate when it came to brewing tea right.