“Papa Sev! Papa Sev!”

The squeal reached their ears as soon as they arrived home, and Severus braced himself as Harrison flung himself at the man.

“Whoa, Imp!” Severus warned, laughing, as Harrison gripped him so tightly around the knees he almost fell over. “I’m here; I’m okay.” He swung the boy up to sit on his hip, and Harrison immediately flung his little arms around Severus’ neck, squeezing as tightly as he was able.

“Papa Sev inju’ed!” he said, emphatically, as though Severus might have somehow missed it.

“Not really,” Severus assured him. “See? I’m perfectly fine.”

Harrison did not look convinced, but instead of arguing, he just sighed and laid his head down on Severus’ shoulder. Smiling, Severus patted him gently on the back and moved into the living room, where Lily and Bellatrix were already sitting down.

“So,” Lily began as Severus seated himself. Harrison clung to him like a limpet when he tried to move the boy, so he settled for twisting Harrison around to sit in his lap. “An American in the family. That should be . . . interesting.”

Severus pulled a face at her as she giggled. “How in Merlin’s name am I supposed to explain about magic to a muggle?” he complained.

“You’ll find a way, Sev,” Bellatrix assured him, smiling wickedly. “Obviously.”

“Don’t suppose you’ve seen how?” he asked.

She smiled and shook her head at him. “Nope!” she said, cheerfully. Severus grumbled under his breath, knowing full well she had seen, but preferred to laugh at him as he stumbled his own way through it.

Anything else he might have said out loud was interrupted by the whoosh of their fireplace, as the flames turned green.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” said the head in the Floo, “but you’re needed here, Bella. The Indian Ambassador has arrived.”

“Already?” Bellatrix asked, even as she was getting to her feet. “I thought he wasn’t arriving until next Monday.”

“He’s apparently very eager to get started,” the young witch said, and her head moved in a way that suggested she had shrugged.

“Fine, tell Unspeakable Alcott I’ll be right there,” sighed Bellatrix, and the young witch nodded once before the flames winked out. “Goodness knows why I need to be there,” Bellatrix complained, looking at Lily and Severus. “Not like we have much to do with the Ambassadors.”

“Perhaps they want your winning personality, Trix,” Lily managed to say, before she burst into giggles.

“Oi!” Bellatrix stuck her tongue out, as Severus laughed at them both. Stepping forward, Bellatrix ruffled Harrison’s hair, earning a sleepy glower from the youngster. “Don’t wait up for me,” she suggested, and disappeared with a short crack!

When Bellatrix emerged from the Department of Mysteries, where she’d apparated to, she found the corridor in chaos. Clerks were running here, there and everywhere, and so many patronuses were milling around that they cast an eerie silver glow over everything. Apparently the Indian delegation had really not been expected.

“Bella! That office, there,” one of the clerks told her, pointing at the Ambassador’s office.

Still confused as to why they’d need her there, Bellatrix stepped into the office, and was almost bowled over by two clerks rushing out. Hastily sidestepping, she leant her back against the wall beside the door and scanned the room – which was just as chaotic as the corridor outside – and tried to figure out who she should be reporting to.

“Ah, Madam Black,” a voice purred to her left, and Bellatrix’s head turned that way so sharply her neck gave an audible crack. “Namaste.”

“S-Soreen,” she gasped, feeling her mouth go dry. No wonder I didn’t See . . . “I-I mean, Mr Virtu,” she corrected herself.

“Please, Soreen is fine,” the new Indian Ambassador said, smiling at Bellatrix. “After all, if I have my way, we shall be working closely together.” He reached for her hand and lifted it to his mouth.

“We . . . we will?” Bellatrix squeaked. She tried not to think too hard about what they would be working together on, even as her heart began to beat just that little bit faster. Bellatrix silently cursed the fair Black skin – she could feel the blush forming already.

Soreen smiled at her. “Yes, we will,” he said, and then indicated his desk with a wave of his hand. “So many applications from my countrymen have built up while there has been no Ambassador here,” he continued, as he strolled towards the desk, piled high with paperwork. Feeling unaccountably foolish – and also somewhat disappointed – Bellatrix followed him. The people rushing around the office naturally gave them a wide berth. “These,” Soreen said, placing a hand on top of the tallest stack of files, “should cause no problem. These, on the other hand . . .” He gently touched a fingertip to a smaller pile.

“Are from people you suspect may be supporters of Voldemort,” Bellatrix finished.

“Precisely,” Soreen agreed. “I asked for the most powerful Seer, to help me see which ones can be accepted, and which ones should be thrown from the borders.”

“Most powerful one not available then?” Bellatrix quipped, then immediately flushed bright red. “Sorry,” she murmured.

“It is fine,” said Soreen. He glanced over as an airplane memo came winging towards him. “I will leave you to your work. If you will excuse me?”

“Of course,” murmured Bellatrix, and hastened to seat herself behind the desk. She reached for the first of the questionable files, closing her eyes to concentrate better on the visions playing out in her head.

She therefore missed the tiny smile that Soreen Virtu wore as he exited the office.

“Goodness, this is ridiculous,” Lily complained to Severus two days later. They were attempting to wander down Diagon Alley to reach the Leaky Cauldron, but the Alley was unusually busy with Cornelius Fudge’s election campaign. Every few feet they saw yet another animated image of Cornelius, either smiling or looking pompous or waving regally.

“At this rate, Fudge will win on sheer visibility alone,” Severus commented. A young girl skipped across their path, a ‘Fudge for Minister’ balloon bobbing along behind her. Lily giggled as a stray gust of wind caused the balloon to smack Severus in the face. Harrison – perched on Lily’s hip to avoid the crush of the crowd – giggled as well as Severus gave a mock-growl and batted it away.

“Think that’s funny, do you?” Severus demanded of Harrison. “You just wait; I’ll buy a balloon and then laugh at you when it smacks you in the face.” He darted his fingers towards the toddler’s sides and began tickling him mercilessly. Harrison shrieked with glee.

“Hey,” Lily protested, laughing, tightening her grip on the boy as he squirmed. “If I end up dropping Harrison, we’ll be taking a trip to St Mungo’s, rather than the toy shop.”

With an alarmed sound, Harrison fell as still as he was able, his body twitching periodically as his system calmed. Severus laughed at the sight, but kept his hands to himself this time. “Looks like nothing beats the lure of the toy shop,” he said to Lily.

“To be fair, I can’t blame him,” she said as they approached Sherlott’s Toys. Stepping inside garnered an assault on the senses. Things bleeped, pinged, rang, hummed, shrilled and banged, while lights were flashing in various colours and at various speeds all around. Harrison let out a squeal of pure delight, and the only reason he didn’t lunge from his mother’s arms was that Lily had anticipated him, and was already lowering him towards the floor. She barely had time to place a tag charm on him before the toddler was running as fast as he could go towards the brightest flashing light.

The two adults retreated to a relatively calmer area of the shop, just to the side of the large front window, where several other parents, with the glazed over eyes of those bombarded into sensory overload, were mingling.

“Lily?” A woman with short blonde hair blinked at them. “Lily Evans?”

“Uh—” Lily began, startled, but it was Severus who recognised the woman first.

“Alice Murphy!” he exclaimed. He smiled at the witch. They hadn’t been the greatest of friends at school, but he’d taken her into Hogsmeade a time or two, and they’d had enough fun together to not come to blows. “What are you doing here?”

The pretty Ravenclaw beamed at him. “Severus! Actually, it’s Alice Longbottom now,” she admitted. “I married Frank last year. He’s somewhere over there—” she waved a vague hand indicating somewhere deeper in the shop “—with our son, buying toys for his nephews.”

“You have a son?” Lily asked. “Me, too! What’s his name? How old is he?”

“His name is Neville, and he’s just coming up to six months,” Alice said.

At that point, Severus found himself tuning their conversation out. Much as he loved his pseudo-son and family, he had no interest in any other children. Or at least, he thought, remembering Madison, not yet, anyway.

Both thoughts and conversations were abruptly interrupted, as there came a flash of bright light from further inside the shop and a joyful shriek, and then a deep roar that was loud enough to rattle the windows. It was swiftly followed by terrified shrieks and the stampede of small feet. The area around the shop doorway became utter pandemonium, as children tried to get to their parents or outside, and the parents and other caretakers frantically sought their charges.

With a sinking feeling, Lily and Severus exchanged glances, and then turned to face the interior of the shop, where loud, gleeful calls of “KITTY!!” were drifting towards them.

“Harrison!” they bellowed as one.

Lily apparated into their front hallway with a sharp crack, and stalked through into the living room as Severus arrived as well. With a sharp gesture, the little stool that Harrison sometimes used slid quickly towards her, and within seconds it – and Harrison, too – were placed firmly in the corner.

“You will stay right there, young man!” she told her son, sternly. “And if you so much as twitch a toe off of that stool, I will stick you to it for the rest of the afternoon! Do I make myself clear?”

Sulkily, Harrison folded his arms and stuck his lower lip out into a pout. He’d been having such fun playing with his new Kitty – although he couldn’t understand why nobody else had appeared to want to play with it – until his Mama and Papa Sev had come and scolded him harshly and taken the Kitty away.

They were mean! Spoiling his game like that, and then sticking him here in this horrible, boring corner. Harrison kicked his heels backwards into one of the stool legs. The Kitty in the shop had looked a little like his Kitty, and he’d wished it was, and then the Kitty in the shop had suddenly stretched, and purred at him, and then roared! Harrison laughed to himself at the memory, but then his face fell again. Now he couldn’t even play with his Kitty until Mama decided to let him off of this stool.

Glaring hatefully at the plain wall in front of him, Harrison aimed his next kick at it. To his surprised glee, the stool suddenly wobbled slightly into the air and shot backwards across the room – with him still attached to it. Harrison gave a squeal of joy. He was out of that corner, and he hadn’t even moved from his stool!

Stretching his arms out, the toddler pretended he was swooping around on his broom. Obligingly, the little stool darted this way and that.

Harrison had moved on to imagining he was a bird and was in the middle of a dive for food when he was interrupted by a shocked, and stern, voice.

“Harrison Orion Evans!”

Oops. Unnoticed, his Mama had entered the living room, and was now scowling fiercely at him, her hands placed on her hips. Under her glare, the stool slowly floated back down to the ground, landing with a slight wobble at her feet. Guiltily, Harrison bit his lip and peeked up at his mother from under his eyelashes.

“What did I tell you about moving from where I put you?” Lily demanded, folding her arms.

“I didn’ move!” Harrison protested. He pointed an emphatic finger downwards at the stool underneath him. “See! I’s still sittin’ on da stool!”

“But is the stool still where I put it?” asked Lily, knowingly. Biting his lip again, Harrison cast glances to either side of him, before sighing and hanging his head in defeat. In no way, shape or form could the stool be counted as still sitting in the corner. “Just for that, young man,” Lily said, sternly, “you’re getting a time-out for the rest of the day. You’re not allowed to have your broom for the next week, and no playing with Kitty for two days.”

Too shocked and horrified to even cry in protest, Harrison was silent as she plucked him from the stool and carted him off to his bedroom.

Bellatrix arrived home looking tired and frustrated.

“Dumbledore was poking around at the Ministry,” she said once the three of them were sat down to dinner.

“What was he doing there?” Lily asked, curiously. “Shouldn’t he have been at Hogwarts?”

Bellatrix poured herself a very large glass of wine. “He should have been,” she agreed. “And presumably, if he’s using a Time-Turner like we think, he was. And what he was doing was fishing for information.”

“On what?” asked Severus.

“His campaign rivals.” Bellatrix shook her head. “He obviously thinks he’ll win the election by a landslide, but he also wants to know what sort of problems Bagnold or Fudge could cause him if the unthinkable – for him – happens, and one of them becomes Minister instead.”

Severus chewed for a moment, thinking of what he knew of both candidates. “Bagnold will cause him no end of problems,” he finally said, cheerfully. “She’ll fight to adjust some of the Wizengamot laws that he so loves to be fair to those who aren’t Gryffindors.”

“No, he won’t have an easy time of it if Bagnold gets elected,” Bellatrix said, then tapped the end of her fork against the table, absent-mindedly. “Fudge, on the other hand . . .” She trailed off, and shook her head again.

“Fudge is led by money,” Lily observed. “Power, yes, but money is more likely to sway him than power alone. Dumbledore doesn’t have the amount that some of the more fanatical purebloods do.”

“But Fudge can also be swayed and intimidated,” said Bellatrix. “Things would never get done because he would keep yo-yo-ing between factions.”

“Do you know who will win, yet?” Severus asked, curiously.

Bellatrix shook her head. “I know that Dumbledore won’t be Minister,” she replied, “but the others are just too close at the moment. It could be either of them.”

At that moment, there was an almighty bang from upstairs that caused all of them to jump. Startled, they leapt to their feet, wands instantly drawn.

“What was that?” Lily demanded. “Is someone attacking?”

Another bang sounded. “Mama!” Harrison’s strident tones followed it down the stairs. “Mama! Wanna come out now!” The three let out sighs of relief and sank down into their chairs again. “MAMA!!” bellowed Harrison.

Lily frowned upwards. “I think someone needs a reminder on what the words time and out mean,” she said. “Excuse me a moment.” And she rose to her feet again and stalked in the direction of the stairs.

Three days later, Severus was getting Harrison ready for a trip to Diagon Alley, hopefully a much calmer one than their previous. The toddler was sulking fiercely over Severus’ refusal to contravene Lily’s punishment and let Harrison have his broom. He was sitting on the settee in the living room, watching Kitty the kneazle casually wash his face. Surprisingly, despite never seeming very fond of actually playing with Harrison, the kneazle now wouldn’t answer to anything other than Kitty.

“Come on, Imp,” Severus called once he was ready. He knelt in the living room doorway, holding out his arms, expecting Harrison to run pell-mell towards him as the boy usually did, but this time, the toddler just folded his arms and looked away from Severus, scowling. With a heartfelt sigh, Severus shook his head and stood up again. “Harry, we’re leaving now,” he said, firmly. Harrison just stuck his lower lip out further.

Groaning, Severus wondered if they’d finally reached the terrible twos. Admittedly, they were about six months early, but Lily had come back several times from her prenatal classes with horror stories from other mothers, whose children had put them through the terrible twos straight through the ages one to six.

“Harrison,” he said, with forced patience, “do you want me to tell your mother that you were naughty again?”

Harrison’s eyes widened in alarm, and, frantically shaking his head, he scooted himself off the settee and ran towards Severus, clutching at Severus’ leg for balance when he arrived there.

“I thought not,” chuckled Severus, as he reached down to swing the boy up into his arms. “Now then,” he continued, settling Harrison securely on his hip and using a hand to ensure the boy was looking at him. “No bringing big kitties to life this time, okay?”

“Okay,” Harrison agreed after a moment of thought.

Severus eyed the toddler warily. “Perhaps we should change that to no bringing big kitties to life ever,” he said. Harrison didn’t say anything this time, just sighed and rested his head in the crook of Severus’ neck. Sometimes Severus thought it was a good thing that Harrison wouldn’t be attending Hogwarts when he was old enough – the Sorting Hat would likely have conniptions trying to Sort him.

He tightened his grip on Harrison. “Hold on,” he started to say, then let out a pained yelp. Looking down, he glared at Kitty, who was firmly attached to his lower leg.

Harrison peered downwards, too, then giggled delightedly. “Kitty come too!” he shouted, enthusiastically.

Sighing, Severus mentally debated the pros and cons of trying to force Kitty to let go of him and stay behind. Then he debated the pros and cons of trying to apparate both himself and Harrison with Kitty firmly attached to his leg.

Finally, with a groan, he gave in. “Fine. But Kitty needs to be up here – and don’t you dare climb up me, kneazle!” he added, hastily and forcefully. He didn’t want Kitty digging sharp claws into sensitive parts of his anatomy, especially whilst he was holding Harrison.

With a rolling meow that almost sounded like laughter, Kitty retracted his claws and dropped to the ground. He glanced upwards, crouched down, wriggled his hind end, and then sprang up as though his legs contained springs, rather than bone. Severus hastily turned so that he neatly caught Kitty on the arm that Harrison wasn’t already perched on. Kitty gave him a small purr, then bounced up onto his shoulder, curling behind Severus’ neck so he could peek out at Harrison from under Severus’ hair.

“If we’re finally ready?” said Severus. He felt Kitty dig his claws into his shoulder. “Hold on tight,” he told Harrison, and then turned and apparated.

He landed in a dark and grungy alleyway just around the corner from the Leaky Cauldron. Puzzled – as that hadn’t been where he’d been aiming for – Severus hefted the toddler higher on his hip and ensured his wand was in easy reach. Muggle-repelling wards only stretched so far around the Leaky Cauldron, and he was fairly sure that unsavoury types wouldn’t be hustled that far away from their ‘patch’.

The inside of the pub was as crowded as outside was empty. Luckily, Harrison didn’t show any signs of wanting to get down and walk by himself. In fact, he appeared intimidated by the crowd, and buried his face into Severus’ shoulder. Kitty hissed at anybody who pressed too close, but there was only so far they could move away.

Severus planned to work his way to the bar and ask Old Tom what was going on, but there were so many people rushing through the pub that he was swept away with them, and found himself in Diagon Alley before he knew it. With a lot of elbow usage, and a few swipes from Kitty’s claws – plus a well-aimed poke in the eye to an overly enthusiastic witch, courtesy of Harrison – he finally tumbled out of the stream of people and into the relative safety of a shop’s doorway.

“Well,” he said to Harrison. “I wonder what’s going on?” Harrison made no response, but stared wide-eyed at the bustling crowd. Severus suddenly didn’t think this trip was a good idea. Bad enough with Harrison, but he also had to make sure Kitty didn’t get lost or injured. Granted, Lily probably wouldn’t be too heartbroken if Kitty didn’t return home, but Harrison would – and he’d make sure they all knew it.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that anti-apparation wards had apparently been put up, Severus would have taken them all home then and there. Unfortunately, to get out from under the wards, or even to use the public Floo in the Leaky Cauldron, would involve navigating the floods of excited people – in the opposite direction.

He was just about to enter the shop to see if someone there could help – or at least explain – when he caught sight of a large poster covering a quarter of the window. The picture in the middle of it was waving idly at passersby; then it saw Severus, and scowled. Ministerial candidate, Albus Dumbledore! the poster proclaimed above the image. Here to answer all of your needs! TODAY!!

“Oh, for—” Severus began, then remembered he was holding an impressionable eighteen month old toddler. Dumbledore here in Diagon Alley; that was all he needed. Although trust Dumbledore to make no bones about the fact that he was in possession of a Time-Turner – the man was all but throwing himself a parade when he should have been busy with the start of term at Hogwarts.

It also made this trip a really bad idea. Dumbledore might not have James Potter – still under house arrest for his public attack on the Abbott family – but no doubt other Gryffindors would have flocked to Dumbledore’s banner, and some of them might be just as dismissive of anyone who wasn’t one of their precious Gryffindors but less hot-headed about it than Potter.

Ordinarily, Severus would have risked it, as he desperately needed the ingredients for a potion he was brewing, but it wasn’t just his life at stake. No matter what that stupid prophecy said, or what Dumbledore thought about it, he would not put Harrison in harm’s way.

Almost as soon as the thought passed through his mind, Kitty stirred on his shoulder, gave a pleased chirrup, and then leapt towards the ground in front of them.

“Kitty!” Severus hissed as soon as the kneazle’s weight left him. “Get back up here!”

“Kitty,” Harrison crooned, looking down at his pet. The kneazle glanced upwards, meowed briefly, and then suddenly began to grow.

Severus’ jaw dropped. Apparently, the reverse tiger striped colouring Kitty had wasn’t just a quirk of genetics, as the almost fully-grown tiger sat on its haunches in front of them and gave a pleased growl at their expressions, neatly curling its tail around its forepaws. Surprisingly, aside from a few shrieks from the people right next to Kitty when he’d changed, nobody in the crowd seemed to notice the sudden appearance of a large predator.

“Hmm.” Severus eyed Kitty, then Harrison. “Did you know Kitty could do that?” he asked the boy. Harrison just gave a pleased gurgle – which could have meant anything – and tried to stretch an arm down to touch Kitty. “Your mother is not going to be pleased,” Severus said with a sigh. He gestured with his head for Kitty to move. “Lead the way, then, if you please. To Mawry’s Rock.”

The tiger bounced to its feet, spun around, and roared.

The stream of people disintegrated, as witches and wizards panicked and began shoving in all directions trying to escape from what appeared to be an out of control, hungry animal. They all seemed to forget that they had magic, although Severus was rather relieved, even as he shook his head in disbelief and followed Kitty down the now-empty street.

Mawry’s Rock was a small, privately owned apothecary tucked away in a niche just before the entrance to Knockturn Alley. It didn’t offer much, but the ingredients it did offer were always of a better quality than the products Slug and Jiggers carried, and often at a cheaper price, too. Severus had learnt of the place from the Potions Master he’d studied his own mastery under, and had seen no reason not to continue patronising the shop once he’d gained it.

“Master Severus,” the owner greeted him with a small bow as he pushed into the shop. “It’s good to see you again. Uh, although we don’t accept tigers . . .” he added, as he caught sight of Kitty behind Severus.

Kitty let out a disgusting hacking noise, and then began to shrink back to his normal size. Once done, he leapt up onto the nearest counter and sat on his haunches, looking pleased with himself.

Severus rolled his eyes at the kneazle. “Master Jolone. This is Harrison’s new . . . pet,” he said. “He was helping us with crowd control.”

“I see,” Master Jolone said, although his raised eyebrows suggested he didn’t see anything. “It is a pleasure to see you, too, Mister Harry. Unfortunately, the local shopkeepers were ignored when we suggested measures would be necessary for Dumbledore’s meeting today. Apparently people trying to get anywhere other than to his meeting do not count.” The apothecary owner waved a hand as he moved behind the main counter. “But we could be here all day if I get started on that, so let us talk of more pleasant things, shall we?”

Wizarding Wireless Network broadcast, 8th September 1980, 10:30am

“—and the amount of people who have turned out to see the great Albus Dumbledore is just phenomenal! I haven’t seen this many witches and wizards together since the 1978 Quidditch World Cup that was held on what the muggles now call Easter Island just off of Chile. A fabulous game, between the Toyohashi Tengu from Japan and the Moose Jaw Meteorites from Canada, although they nearly didn’t make the final, as one too many muggles complained of seeing people on brooms that were on fire passing overhead—”

The bouncy, enthusiastic voice is drowned out by an ear-splitting metallic squeal, as someone obviously grabs the microphone away from the presenter.

“Ah-HEM!” A throat is cleared, before a calmer, more sophisticated voice starts to speak. “As my . . . dear colleague was saying, this is a rare turnout. Of course, Albus Dumbledore has always been a popular speaker in the Wizengamot, so it’s unsurprising that so many witches and wizards have turned out today to hear what his plans are when he becomes Minister for Magic, once the election is held. Just as a gentle reminder to our dear listeners, the election will be held on the 25th October, so make sure you cast your votes.”

“Considering he’s been involved in politics since he was made Chief Mugwump of the Wizengamot in his sixties, after his grandiose defeat of Grindelwald in 1945, then I don’t think he’ll find the duties of Minister for Magic too taxing,” the enthusiastic voice chimes in again. “It’s a position that’s been offered to Albus before, of course, but up until now, he’s been too humble to accept the adoration the wizarding public is trying to bestow on him. But now that there’s a new pretender to Grindelwald’s throne in sight, then he’s obviously decided now is the time for him to step up and help us all. He—”

“Oh, it looks as though Dumbledore is approaching the podium,” the sophisticated voice interrupts, as the sound of wild cheering echoes through the wireless set. The speaker has to raise his voice to be heard over it. “Hopefully all those here to support him today will be supporting him in the polls on the 25th October; that’s the 25th October this year, folks, just to remind you . . .”

“Ladies and gentlemen—” a third voice, obviously that of Albus Dumbledore, booms out of the wireless, but it barely makes a dent over the noise of the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you please—”

Abruptly, there is a loud bang, which causes several people in the crowd – and the wireless – to scream.

Dumbledore clears his throat. “Ah, thank you, Auror Black,” he says. “Ladies and gentlemen, first of all, let me thank you for attending me here today. It’s good to know that so many of you are against the forces of evil that threaten our way of life and, indeed, our very lives. That is not to say, of course, that my . . .” a pause just long enough to imply all sorts of things that he couldn’t possibly say out loud, of course, “colleagues in this election are with the forces of evil . . .” another pause, to let it sink in that Cornelius Fudge is on his own side, and if one side happens to offer him more money, then, who knows, “but after defeating Grindelwald in 1945, then I feel it is my duty, no, my indubitable right, no, my obligation to root out evil wherever its tendrils may spread.

“Of course,” Dumbledore’s voice drops, turning deep and smooth, but with a vibrating undertone to it that his exuberant fans do not hear, “the tendrils may be small, oh so small, to start off with, and people may look at them and say, ‘Why, they’re so small! What possible harm could they do?’ I shall tell you!” A loud bang echoes through the wireless, as Dumbledore pounds a fist on the podium. “They can do a lot of harm! Those of you who are keen gardeners and Herbologists know exactly what I’m speaking of – at the slightest hint of weeds, the garden must be pruned, and tended ever more carefully, and watched ever more closely, to ensure that the insidious things do not return.

“Therefore, we must watch closely, and if the smallest seed of evil is detected, then TEAR IT OUT!” The wireless leaps as Dumbledore’s voice bellows out. “Cast it out, for we are good, and pure, and we will not let another dark lord gain a foothold on this Isle!”

Cheers erupt from the crowd.

“Once I am Minister,” Dumbledore continues, once the crowd has marginally quieted, “I intend to increase Auror numbers, and also instigate a review into types of spells. Currently, we only have three Unforgivables. Yet are there not spells that do worse damage than the Imperius, longer-lasting damage than the Killing Curse? Equally, there are times when we see someone suffering, when a life needs to be ended for the greater good, and yet a quick, merciful death leads to a long, not-so-merciful imprisonment. I believe our entire spell lexicon is due for an overhaul, and perhaps this will enable our Aurors, who serve and protect, to better serve and protect us against the filthy evil that is attempting to spread.”

Amongst the renewed cheers are vaguely heard shouts of protest. Slowly, the dissenters can be heard getting louder as they come closer to the podium.  

“Why would we want you?” someone shouts, apparently very close to the WWN microphone. “You, all smug and thinking you’re better than anyone else, just because of the House you were in at school . . . over fifty years ago! You’re stuck in the past, old man! Time to let the new blood take over, and run the wizarding world as it should be, rather than giving in to—” a squawk from the wireless blots out his word “—and muggles!”

Even louder, but more indistinct, shouts can now be heard in the background. Several people are shouting commands, but it appears nobody is listening. Dumbledore can be heard pounding on the podium again, demanding order.

“Muggle-lover!” someone shouts, and there is a thick, wet splat, as if something has been thrown. “Go live with them if you care about them so much! Filthy—” The end of the sentence is cut off by another squawk from the wireless.

Several more wet splats follow in short order, and the shouts and demands for order increase. All are summarily ignored.

“—become of all our traditions?!” a strident voice can be heard demanding, although it is rather breathless. “There’s a reason we keep the muggles away from us. We should not be inviting them closer!”

Abruptly, the wireless gives several sharp squeals, and then descends into a monotone whine that grates on the ears.

“We apologise,” a calm, female voice says. “This broadcast has been temporarily interrupted, due to unexpected technical difficulties. Please stay tuned.”