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The link is also in the synopsis.
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When the West party and the Ministry escort reached the designated meeting room, they were greeted by Amelia Bones. The Minister rose from the black chesterfield sofa in greeting. "How are you doing today, Mr. West?" she smiled.
"Not well," George said bluntly as he directly sat on the sofa opposite without exchanging the customary polite greeting. "I do not like what is happening in this country, my country. A madman is running freely in the country, blowing up Auror's Office, barging into Ministry and taking hostages. . . and who knows what he's doing now." He peered at Amelia, who was still standing, "And when I ask anyone or read the paper, all I hear and see is that your government is a strong one, or at least is supposed to be."
Amelia sighed deeply and sat back in her spot, and Scrimgeour sat by her side, with Elliot taking a seat beside George. Orrin Bach placed himself on one breadth of the table alone while Robards and Secretary sat opposite him. The bodyguard walked straight to the bar in the room while Kingsley stood next to the wall near everyone.
"We are trying to keep him down," said Amelia; gone was the polite smile, and back was the woman who had reigned over the DMLE, "but with the current situation, it has been getting difficult to properly deal with with the Dark Lord and his minions."
"And what are these problems?"
"How can I truly focus on the threat when I'm shackled down by internal problems."
"What, the blood supremacist? Minister, you're making me doubt if you're truly committed to dealing with the threat as quickly as possible. You can't use them as an excuse when you have been handling them just fine during your time in DMLE."
"My ranks were clean when I was the Head of DMLE. All I get to deal with now is a building full of people who wouldn't move a finger if it's not doing them some personal good," the Minister's one grey hair looked whiter than ever.
"Give them a boot; you're their boss."
"If it could be that easy, politics gets in the way."
"It isn't that difficult," George said unperturbed.
The Ministry officials all showed some form of reaction to the words. It wasn't a secret to them that George had dug his claws into the Ministry. But the way he had done so made them twitch— the speed at which the reach of his influence had grown was astounding, to say the least. George West had never been directly involved with the Ministry; there were always systems in place that would facilitate him when required— but never directly. It was as if West always knew that something like would happen and had cast the net when needed. And all of it had been done out of spite and just because he could do it.
"The Dark Faction have been clogging up Wizengamot for months. Whenever I try to bring something of real consequence up, they just make a f-" Amelia held her tongue, "mess of things. The other factions try to intervene, but eventually, everything turns into a pissing contest between men."
"Why do you need Wizengamot's approval for anything? You're the Minister of Magic with a background in DMLE of whom I suppose you have the support," George pointed to Scrimgeour. "What is the problem; because I can't see any."
"Resources are the problem, Mr. West. DMLE doesn't have enough resources to deal with the current situation. Even with the lethality law in place, the force can't make a difference if they don't have the means for it."
"DMLE's budget hasn't dipped since you assumed the big office. The Aurors Office and the Hit Wizard Bureau never had a shortage of funds during your time. You lobbied the budget to be highest after war times."
"After the war times, that's the crux. . . the wartime budgets were much higher than anything I saw coming in. We are at war, Mr. West— houses are being broken into, families are being threatened, and just last week, I had cases of six Muggleborn deaths done with Death Eater work all over it— DMLE can't fight this without a war chest." Amelia sighed as she gazed at George, "But you already know this, or else you wouldn't have arranged this meeting. . ."
"That is true," said George, "and I'm here to help, so how can I help?"
"I need your help in clearing up the Wizengamot clog so that I can redirect the budget to DMLE. The Grey Faction needs to participate in the hearings more proactively; what they're doing is not supportive enough. . . . I also know that you have ties to some in the Dark Faction; the Ministry would appreciate it if you could have them soften up."
If George had been any other rich man, Amelia would've never bothered to meet him like this— she would've lobbied him differently. But the Wests were entrenched in the country more deeply than most people could imagine. A request like this would usually require her to reach out to various people who would reach out to various other people— but there sat a single person who could handle all that for her and could do it much smoother, quicker, and discreetly than she could with all the eyes upon her right now.
George turned to Scrimgeour and posed a question, "Can you assure me that you can show some results with an influx of resources?"
"I assure you we can," said Scrimgeour, steely certainty in his tone. "My people have been working hard with what they have; they will work harder if they get the right means for their job."
George peered at Amelia, Scrimgeour, and Robards. He nodded, "I will help you clear up the mess at Wizengamot; start preparing for the motions you want to present, and I guarantee they will be properly discussed." Everyone from the Ministry smiled as they exchanged looks of happiness.
"Thank you, Mr. West; this would truly be of great help," Amelia said.
"And I can provide you with my contacts," said George, making everybody look at him. "I'm willing to provide you with my contacts, access to my trade routes, better prices on purchases. . . additionally, I can provide external funds— my gold— to the efforts in the war."
Orrin Bach, the lawyer, took out a sheet of paper from his briefcase and slid it over to Amelia. He smiled, "There's the number Mr. West is willing to provide to war efforts."
Amelia picked up the sheet and started to read what was a short description of what George was willing to provide, and as she reached the end of the page, her eyes widened at the string of digits printed on the bottom right corner. She looked up at George as she passed the page to Scrimgeour. "Are you sure? This is a sizeable amount," she said.
"That's something to say," Scrimgeour breathed out.
"I can get the talks going in Wizengamot," started George, "but do you think with the current divide, you'll be able to gather the amount you need? This isn't like last war, Madam Minister. Before the Dark Lord, the purebloods supremacists got what they wanted by exerting control from the shadows; they believed themselves superior to the others, but they talked about it behind doors. During his reign, they were enabled to display their views in the open and now could silence those who didn't think the same way— purebloods who didn't agree became blood traitors and either got killed or outcasted. . . Muggleborns who previously were at least welcomed into our world suddenly felt it to be cold, harsh, and unwelcoming. After his fall, the purebloods who had tasted power couldn't go back to the days of pulling strings from behind the curtain; they had tasted what it felt like to be in open power, and with a weak administration, they took the chance and cemented their position despite being in a disadvantageous situation. Some were pushed as scapegoats, while others got free by paying petty fines and using the Imperious excuse. Over the last ten years, the pureblood influence has risen instead of getting weaker— the Boy-Who-Lived might have been a Symbol of Hope, but the Dark Lord was a Mark of Fear that persisted even after his supposed death. Yes, some purebloods tried to fight for equality, but it didn't change the fact that all enjoyed the benefits."
Amelia knew that better than anyone. No matter what Faction, they all had used the opportunity to position themselves in prominent positions. It was why they had so few Muggleborns in prominent positions of power, and the entire Ministry's upper hierarchy was occupied with purebloods, the vacuum in the middle had been taken up by Halfbloods, leaving the scraps to the Muggleborns.
"You might not get what you're expecting," finished George.
". . . Even then, I can't accept this. If this was a donation to DMLE's support fund, I could've imagined it going through— but you're offering it as war support; I have no way of accepting this. I can still accept the other help, but not the direct gold."
"Oh, but you can," said Bach with his lawyer smile. He pulled out a thick stack of paper and placed it on the table. He placed his on the stack and said confidently, "This here details how the DMLE can accept the gold within the confines of the law. . . barely, but still within the law— and you get to use it for war purposes."
"Take it now," said George calmly, "or forget about it."
"I can't accept this now. I have to get this checked," Amelia pointed to the stack.
"You can get it all checked; we will forget about it if you find any illegality. But you have to decide now if you want it or not."
Amelia stared at the stack, then at Scrimgeour, the Secretary, and Robards. Scrimgeour slightly nodded while the other two didn't send any negative signals. Amelia took out her handkerchief and started cleaning the monocle she wasn't wearing; she looked up at George and nodded. "I accept. As long as there are no problems concerning the legality, I will appreciate the help," she said.
"Excellent choice." George got up with everyone following him. "I hope I won't come to regret today, Minister. I'm expecting some returns from this."
"You won't regret this, Mr. West; you won't."
. . .
This time around, Amelia accompanied George to see him off. After today, if she could get the entire Ministry, she would get them together to see George off.
"Who's the bodyguard," asked Amelia, glancing at the fedora-clad man walking ahead of everyone. "Is he from the Limax?"
"You know about Limax?" asked George, quirking his brow.
"I've seen their name plenty of time on documents when you bring them into the country."
"I see. No, he is not from Limax; they are busy with other. . . commitments. Laro is an independent contractor and a friend."
"Scrimgeour was giving him looks; Robards as well."
"He is good, that's why."
As they reached the end of the hall, nearing the floo, it burnt up green, and a figure stepped out, making everyone stop when they recognized the man. George's brows furrowed together when he saw the man, and Elliot was no different with his smile slipping away.
"Good day. . . everyone," said Dumbledore as he fixed the hat on his head.
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George West - GrandMC - Returns. . . those I will get.
Amelia Bones - Minister - She doesn't know it yet.
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If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
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If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @
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The link is also in the synopsis.
.
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"Good day. . . everyone," said Dumbledore, his eyes gazing at everyone, stopping on George and the fedora-wearing bodyguard more than anyone else.
A sense of surprise came from both parties. Dumbledore― to see George West meeting the Minister of Magic and the Head of DMLE. From Amelia and her party, they preferred someone from the outside― especially Dumbledore― to know about this arrangement before it was inked and the resources were flowing. They were sure that Dumbledore wasn't going to get the meeting details, but they preferred if he had no idea at all.
"Amelia, George. . . I'm surprised to see you two together; what brought this along, if I may ask?" asked Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling.
"Mr. West and I were discussing a Ministry contract."
"And we discussed a donation from me to the Ministry for the war efforts against the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters," said Geoge out of nowhere.
Amelia, Scrimgeour, Robards, and others from the Ministry turned to George with a shock that they hid after a split moment with all the politician's skills they possessed. "Mr. West, we shouldn't talk about this with outsiders," said Scrimgeour.
"Yes, we should not," said Geoge, staring at Dumbledore. "But this is Dumbledore, the one who the Dark Lord fears and the one who defeated Grindelwald. I'm sure he would be glad to know the Ministry would be getting the aid that would allow it to resume its proper working without getting into a lengthy yet needless political conflict. These are urgent times that need urgent actions. . . don't you think so too, Dumbledore?"
". . . Yes, I think so too," said Dumbledore.
"I was sure you would," George said. "The Order of Phoenix was of great help the last time around, and even though they weren't a legitimate authority. . . a vigilante outfit. . . and had no place doing somethings they did, those brave people stepped up in the time of need for the right thing, for the just thing― what do you think of their contribution in their last war, Minister Bones?"
"Of course, I am grateful for their bravery and courage to stand for their country against evil," said the Minister, keeping a positive yet diplomatic stance on the matter
"I, too, commend their valor," said George smiling. "My contribution today is in the similar vein, help my country in the time of need― it's just that my gold is much more valuable than my wand. I'm simply trying to help. . . like others have done before me."
Dumbledore smiled positively as ever, flashing the infectious charm, and nodded along; however, the man of words with something to speak on anything and everything said nothing and seemed like he was humbly not accepting the praise. How could he. . . all his ear could hear was the subtext lingering and hidden in George's words.
"And the Ministry appreciates your generous contribution, Mr. West," said Scrimgeour.
"I'm just doing my civic duty," George said with a slight head nod. He turned to Dumbledore and addressed the man for the second time, "Dumbledore, if I remember correctly, you wanted to meet me regarding something. I have time now; we can talk now. I'm sure the Ministry has a lounge that we can borrow for a while. The one in which we just sat down, perhaps."
"Of course, take all the time you need," said Amelia.
George gazed at Dumbledore, his stone-grey eyes studying him as he stood under everyone's attention.
"It is fine; we can meet at a later date at leisure; I also have official urgent Hogwarts that I need to take care of right now before the offices close," Dumbledore said in a good-hearted tone. "From the gist of it, the discussion you just had with Amelia was a significant one and enough for today― let's leave some other work for another day."
George twisted the ring on his finger. "I don't like to leave work for tomorrow; I'm a busy man, and I prefer to finish as quickly as possible so that I can return home. . . where my family awaits me. I'm sure any office will be more than happy to accommodate Albus Dumbledore even if he's a little late. . ."
"Oh no, I can't keep people at work more than what's warranted; I don't want them cursing me in their minds as they do my work," Dumbledore chuckled.
George looked to Elliot, who leaned in to listen to some whispers. Elliot nodded, took out his wand as George approached Dumbledore, and cast a privacy spell around them. He turned to the Ministry people and smiled, "So, I hear the executive lounge in the DMLE serves some great truffle."
Amelia glanced at the two men under the privacy dome, wondering what they were talking about. If she knew, she would want to scrub the information out of her mind because it would mean saying goodbye to the opportunity that had presented itself today. . . and she didn't want to get that slip away even if she had to pay the price later.
"What are you trying to do, Dumbledore?" said George, all the etiquette slipping away. "I have been waiting for you to approach for long, but I haven't even seen a glimpse of your shadow. Is this some play of yours to make me sweat?"
"I don't understand. . ."
"Don't handle me, Dumbledore. If you want to deal with me, then do it directly, don't go blackmailing my grandson. . . but maybe getting to my grandson is all you're capable of." George glared at Dumbledore before breathing out deeply. He set his shirt sleeves under his suit sleeves before saying, "No matter. I would make sure my grandson gets out scot-free even without you."
"Was that what today with Amelia was about?"
"Do you think I need to do this to get my way? I don't. This country owes me more than enough already. I'm doing this so the megalomaniac is erased from the face of the Earth, and I can have my grandson back home. He has idiotically left home because of that threat of yours and refuses to return home," George sighed, "the sooner this ends, the sooner I can have my grandson in front of me. . . . If anything to happens to my grandson, then pray to everything divine because I will make the lives of you and everyone you're involved a living hell. I don't care if the Order of Phoenix is made up of Aurors and Hit Wizard and think their fellow colleagues won't prosecute them because of some brotherhood code― I will become the Kingmaker in this country and put whoever can get me what I want on the Minister chair. Don't force my hand by going public with what you know, Dumbledore, because if you do, I will take away the one thing you love so much."
"And what that might be?"
"Many might not like you up there, but I don't mind you in the castle, Dumbledore― so don't make me change that, for I can make that happen. I know you love the Headmaster chair more than anything in this world, so consider yourself warned― cross me, and you'll never see the inside of the castle as Headmaster or Professor or anything."
For decades, Dumbledore had been up in the test polls for Minister of Magic during elections, but for decades, the candidate who could essentially hold the chair in perpetuity had refused to run in the election. It could've meant that Dumbledore wasn't interested in politics, but he was an active member of the Light Faction and the Chief Warlock of Wizengamot. After that, the most likely reason one could consider that was that he hadn't run for Minister of Magic because that would mean giving up his seat as the Headmaster of Hogwarts.
"I can see where he got that bite of his," muttered Dumbledore, staring at George.
"What?" asked George.
"Nothing. I noticed that you didn't pull out of our Hogwarts deal. I notice your people are still there in the village."
"Don't for one second think that's because of you," said George. "I have other reasons for my people in Hogsmeade."
"Is that reason called the Daphne Greengrass? You've people stalking the place in case Quinn comes to meet her."
George fixed Dumbledore a stoney look. It was true; he was hoping that Quinn would visit Daphne or he would visit Astoria Greengrass for treatment. The previous plan had been capturing him. . . but after the incident with Limax, George considered talking and persuasion the first choice before using force.
The conversation was over. George was done as he stepped out of the dome and towards the fireplace with his companions following him.
"What was that about?" asked Kingsley to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore's eyes followed George until he was gone, and the fire settled down in the fireplace. "That was when you get hasty and don't consider all the cards dealt," said Dumbledore. He looked to the Ministry company and muttered, "I suppose this is the best I can get out of this situation. What did George offer?"
"It makes me think if I had a wish, I would wish to be reborn as a West. We could really do something with what we're getting."
Dumbledore sighed. He wasn't sure how to feel about it. Even though George had said he didn't need to do this, it was clear that he was the reason it happened. And while he directly didn't get what he wanted, the DMLE got a war chest.
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- (Scene Break) -
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Quinn sat on a bench inside Bristol Temple Meads railway station. Hundreds of people walked past him every minute while he sat there with a newspaper in his hand, doing the crossword. "You're here," he said.
Lucius Malfoy, sitting behind him on the joined bench, turned his head towards Quinn and asked, "Do we have to do this here?" he asked, looking disgusted at his clothes. "We could've met anywhere, in a forest― why here?"
"Because no Death Eater would come looking in a non-magical railway station," said Quinn, though the real reason was that he wanted to hold a secret meeting in a busy railway station. "You got something for me?"
"Something big is coming up soon. We haven't done something this big since the last war."
"Oh, a big attack, tell me more."
"Not a big attack― big attacks. We are going to attack Ministry Officials who have been creating problems. . ."
"A series of assassinations; that's bold."
"Not a series of assassinations. . . they're going to be done on the same day," said Lucius, and Quinn's brows rose. "The aim is to create as much chaos as possible in the Ministry."
"How is this going to happen?"
". . . I don't know."
"What? You're Lucius Malfoy; how can you not know?"
"That's the problem; no one knows the entire operation except the operation lead," said Lucius. "We are assigned the targets, and two weeks from Thursday, we will go after them. I was able to get the names, but not how or when they are going to happen during the day. The different teams are not allowed to discuss their plans."
"Why is this happening?"
"Because of Rivers Lock, you know him," said Lucius, and he was right; Quinn knew him. "He made it so that no one other team knows. Novellus Accionites operated that way apparently."
Quinn closed his crossword and pursed his lips.
This was going to be a problem.
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Quinn West - MC - Okay, let's think about it; I can always clone myself. . . that's easy enough. . . yeah, super easy.
George West - GrandMC - I'm embedded in this country.
Albus Dumbledore - Headmaster - I should've just asked.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - Do you guys know how to insect-proof a room? The monsoon season is approaching in my college city, and I'm not from a place where we get a lot of insects during the rain.
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.
If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the synopsis!
Just like always,
Review, comment, add to the library, and share this fic.
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