Power Plays Chapter 56

In the bowels of the Ministry of Magic sat the courtrooms and the official Wizengamot Chambers where all sessions were held. While the official administrative headquarters of the Wizengamot was up on Level 2 with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, almost every member chose to have their office down below here on Level 10. It made it much easier to quickly pop in and change into their official Wizengamot robes, but Daphne had long suspected that the real reason everyone had their offices here was so that any backroom dealings that may or may not be strictly legal wouldn’t be overheard by a plucky young Auror hoping to make a name for themselves.

Playing by the rules is fine in theory, but reality often made rigidity impractical. Daphne accepted the need for extrajudicial politicking to support what actually went on inside of the Wizengamot Chambers. Without it, she’d be at a sharp disadvantage against those who did so.

“You’ve always been overly suspicious of Orpington,” Morwen Tremblay commented tiredly. She was an old woman, even by magical standards, and took to dozing on and off throughout the day. Despite that though, she had a breadth of knowledge of pure-blood society that proved time and time again to be invaluable, especially when it came to rooting out dark secrets that families would prefer to keep quiet. “That man isn’t half as clever as he thinks he is. Shock value and bluster is all he has going for him.”

“And yet it's that exact shock value that’s kept the Wizengamot divided for over a year,” Daphne pointed out as she reclined back in her chair behind her desk. Her office was nicer than most others, but that was because she’d put in the effort to deal with all of the paperwork that’d allow for magical renovations to be done. That led to her getting a cosy fireplace instead of warming charms and a large mahogany desk instead of those dusty, cheap ones they pulled out of storage.

“I’d put the blame on Shacklebolt’s ineffectual leadership personally,” Raphael Avery chimed in, choosing to sit as close to the warm fire as possible. He was a younger member of the Avery family who hadn’t gone along with Voldemort’s pure-blood mania. He’d suffered for it by being locked in a cell for a few months near the end of the war with occasional visits from a Dementor whenever his relatives were feeling particularly cruel. “He never did quite know what to do with us pure-bloods.”

“We whined and bucked at the minimal chains being put upon us, and the Minister always tried to compromise,” Morwen snorted. “He was weak. Once he bloodied our noses by helping to end the war, he should’ve followed up with a swift kick to the gut. Maybe then we would’ve learnt our place.”

“Forget about Shacklebolt,” Daphne said firmly, trying her damnedest not to sigh at this tired argument that’d plague pure-blood circles for years now. Even the moderate and progressive pure-bloods within her faction believed that Shacklebolt hadn’t done enough to fix Britain and promote unity after the war. “He’s leaving soon, and we need to look to the future.”

“Yes, yes,” Morwen waved her off. Her dismissive attitude came from decades of seeing tumultuous changes within the Wizarding World. Nothing ever seemed grave or dire to her, and she was keen on making that known to everyone she interacted with. “But shouldn’t you be focused on Amelia Bones? She seems to be commanding the attention of the public at the moment.”

“For now,” Daphne conceded. “But Rhys Orpington will make a move that will put his name into everyone’s mouths.”

“So remind everyone of his criminal record,” Morwen said. “He tortured muggles. Play up his similarities to He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named. That’s bound to knock out plenty of his support.”

Raphael nodded his head in agreement. “Besides, his niece is still on the run too, is she not? What was her name again? Niamh? Nelly?”

“Nerys,” Daphne informed him. The young woman who’d worked with Cyrus, Daphne’s father, to help support Bellatrix Lestrange and Euphemia Rowle. She’d disappeared from a Ministry cell at the same time as Cyrus, but there’d been no sign of her since.

“Right, Nerys,” Raphael clapped his hands together. “Given his past indiscretions, it won’t be hard to convince the public that he’s helping her evade the authorities in some way.”

“She’s probably in their family’s manor right now,” Morwen sighed. “Can’t we move on to working on our strategy against Amelia? Once you announce that you’re running, she’ll go after you right away.”

Daphne slammed her palms down onto her desk. Raphael jumped in fright but Morwen simply seemed bored with Daphne’s display.

“I am telling you that we need to get ahead of whatever Rhys is planning,” Daphne stated firmly. “The two of you will be making contact with members of his faction to try to suss out what his plans are. Afterwards, we can discuss integrating you two into my strategy to deal with Amelia.”

“You already have one?” Raphael raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I imagine that’s why Hermione Granger has been visiting your office so frequently then.”

That was one reason. The other, of course, was a little midday stress relief from time to time.

“Of course you keep us in the dark on this,” Morwen snorted noisily again. “I have to wonder why we’re being sent to waste our time when there’s a clear threat we could be focusing on instead.”

Daphne narrowed her eyes at the old woman, who seemed entirely unbothered by her stern gaze. This wasn’t the first time that one of her political allies had tried to test her will. It was inevitable given how new she was to the Wizengamot, and that’s why she had to make it perfectly clear as to who was in charge and who was not.

“And I have to wonder at the patience and grace I’ve shown when I could’ve sent your two grandsons and your nephew to Azkaban for their dimwitted attempt to coerce my family’s business to import illegal herbs and other potion ingredients that are used to make a potion so vile that it makes Amortentia seem harmless,” Daphne said coldly.

If Morwen was upset that Daphne chose to reveal such a powerful secret in front of Raphael, she didn’t show it. The knowledge alone wouldn’t be especially threatening; it was the signed documents that Daphne had that proved what Morwen’s family had tried to do.

Morwen smiled at Daphne as she turned her palms so that they faced the ceiling in a sign of surrender. “You certainly seem committed to your plan. If this is the course of action you think is best, then I won’t try and talk you out of it. We’ll try our best to uncover whatever plans Rhys and his ilk have planned.”

“We will uncover it,” Raphael corrected her quickly.

“Then see what you can get done before the Wizengamot session today,” Daphne told them, effectively calling a close to the meeting. “Time is of the essence.”

Once her allies had left her office, Daphne finally allowed herself to release the breath she’d been holding in. It was always a danger threatening her allies like that. You never knew when they’d decide that protecting their family was no longer worth going along with what Daphne decided. She always preferred to lead her faction with honey rather than vinegar, but sometimes there was no choice but to fall back on the latter. Shows of strength could also garner respect rather than fear, and Morwen was more the type to be motivated by a strong leader with a clear vision.

Daphne waited until the last possible moment before she left her office, spending those precious minutes rereading the speech she, Harry, and Hermione had spent hours crafting together. She already had every word memorised, but there was something comforting about reading through it again. It left her with a feeling of certainty, that this was the correct path forward.

The corridor outside her office was filled with Wizengamot members and their attendants slowly making their way towards the Wizengamot Chambers. Reporters were clustered outside the large doors to the private Wizengamot seating.

“Have any of the candidates reached out to you for support in the upcoming election?” One reporter shouted at a passing Wizengamot member.

“How will Amelia Bones’ candidacy affect her working relationship with all of you going forward?” Another one shouted.

It was funny how things often moved so quickly everywhere else in the Wizarding World. The uptight pure-blood society, namely those who comprised the majority of the Wizengamot, were loath to comment on matters prematurely and without the guidance of whoever led their faction.

Daphne was pleased to see that Raphael and Morwen had cornered Julian Oakes, one of Rhys’ underlings who’d been on the outs with the majority of his colleagues after his blundering attack on Archie Selwyn some months ago, something that Daphne herself had helped to orchestrate. He might not know much about Rhys’ plans, but he certainly would know who was involved in it all. Perhaps Daphne should make some overtures towards him to have him join her political faction. A thought for another day.

The reporters clamoured for her attention as she drew closer to the chamber doors. Most of the questions were about Harry, however. Asking if he was planning to run for Minister, if he would back Amelia, or if the latest rumour of him getting her name tattooed across his chest was real or not. Daphne ignored them all and swiftly made her way inside of the chambers to her seat.

With all of the clamour outside, the session didn’t start until a little over fifteen minutes late. Everything began normally with the usual roundup of the previous sessions' events, wrapping up any outstanding issues, and performing a head count to ensure that all members, or their chosen representatives, were accounted for.

Daphne had little to bring forth to this meeting. Her allies in the Wizengamot already understood her position on a number of key issues and were prepared to make her will known without requiring her input beyond a supportive cheer and a vote. She tried to relax in her seat in order to prepare for what was set to come after the session, but she simply couldn’t… not when Rhys Orpington was conspiratorially whispering with his cronies across the chamber.

“How disrespectful,” Tiberius Ogden commented nearby, shaking his head in frustration at them.

“Elphias really ought to bang his gavel and bring order to the session,” Gaspard Shingleton commented in agreement.

It took another five minutes before Elphias Doge did as Shingleton suggested and restored a proper amount of decorum.

“Lord Orpington,” Doge snapped once Lady Creaseworthy finished her speech on the necessity for an overhaul on enchanted book regulations. “Contain yourself from speaking while others have the floor.”

Rhys leaned back in his seat with a smug smile and brushed his long black hair behind his shoulders. “My apologies,” he said in a sarcastic tone.

Doge starred the man down for a few moments before gesturing for the next speaker to rise.

Daphne expected Rhys to go back to his whispers the moment that the next speaker began, but to her surprise, he managed to keep himself dignified and composed—at least as composed as a slimy man like him could manage. He sat patiently, listening attentively as each speaker took their turns bringing up important issues or debating existing ones. Never once did he interrupt again.

When was he going to make his move? Orpington wasn’t the type to play coy, and everyone knew that he was bound to throw his name into the election process. Yet, he and those closest to him did absolutely nothing of note. Even Archie Selwyn, seen as Orpington’s second in command, was noticeably on his best behaviour.

Paranoia began to creep into the back of Daphne’s mind. This felt wrong. This wasn’t how Orpington and his ilk acted. This was something new, something uncomfortable, something dangerous.

But what? Where was the danger? Was it lurking in the distant shadows in the corners of these chambers or was it out in the open, blending and letting everyone’s eyes pass over it without a second thought?

What was happening?

The session came to a close hours later with none of Daphne’s worries being assuaged. She left the Wizengamot chambers in a daze, still unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Mechanically, she retreated to her office where she changed into the robes that she’d picked out for her announcement that she was running for the position of Minister for Magic. They were a majestic pale purple colour, almost to the point of appearing silvery depending on the light. It hugged her figure without being especially sexual, and the long sleeves and cape-like back completed the look perfectly. It was exactly what she wanted but it felt so wrong.

“Are you decent?” Harry’s joking voice sounded from the other side of the door.

Daphne opened her mouth but hesitated. Something inside of her was screaming at her to stay locked in here the entire night, to stop her announcement speech and leave it for another time.

“Daphne?”

“C-come in!” Daphne quickly replied.

Harry stepped inside with a frown on his face. “Is everything alright… Merlin, you look gorgeous.”

She tried to muster a smile, but it came out all crooked and wrong. “Thanks…”

Harry swept up behind her and wrapped his arms comfortingly around her waist. “Are you having nervous jitters?”

“Something like that,” Daphne admitted. “I…”

Why couldn’t she find the words?

“Let me get you a cup of tea,” Harry said, planting a kiss on her cheek before he left her side.

The kettle came to a boil within moments, and Harry popped a tea bag in a mug for her before pouring over the water. He pressed the mug into her hands. Daphne forced herself to take a sip before the tea had finished steeping.

“I’ve had an interesting day,” Harry commented as he sat down on the corner of her desk.

Daphne hummed for him to continue as she kept drinking down the tea. Harry was right, of course; it was exactly what she needed to help settle her nerves. The knot in her stomach came undone and her shoulders finally relaxed.

“Someone’s spying on me in my office,” Harry chuckled.

Spying? Within the Ministry? Anyone caught doing that was always harshly punished, but who would dare do such a thing to the Head Auror of all people?

That bad feeling wormed its way back up into her stomach.

“I’ve left their plan in place, so be careful what you say in my office for now,” Harry told her. “I’ll find out who’s doing this. Maybe Amelia was even stupid enough to do it. If we can trace it back to her, then that’ll give you a massive boost in popular support in the election.”

Suddenly, everything that she wanted to say came out all at once.

“I think Rhys Orpington is behind it,” Daphne blurted out. “He was acting very odd in the Wizengamot today, and I just have this feeling. I can’t really describe it, but it’s bad. Something in my gut is telling me that there’s something wrong going on with him.”

“Did your people talk to his?” Harry asked with a grim expression, taking her fears seriously.

“They did,” Daphne confirmed, sipping her tea again. “But they haven’t gotten back to me yet. I don’t know… maybe we should postpone this announcement.”

“If that’s what you want,” Harry said supportively. He stood up again and wrapped her arms around her. “We don’t need to rush into this today. If you feel like something is wrong, I believe you.”

“Maybe I’m just being silly,” Daphne said, letting another worry of hers come out. “I only started feeling weird during the Wizengamot session. Maybe my nerves were starting to play tricks on me then, knowing that I was going to announce that I’m running in the election right afterwards.”

“Maybe,” Harry conceded. “But don’t dismiss your feelings.”

“I just don’t know what they’re trying to point me to,” Daphne admitted. “I haven’t heard so much as a whisper about what Rhys has going on.”

“That’s enough to worry anyone,” Harry said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

Daphne barely heard him. “And I keep wracking my brain trying to think of what he could be doing? It’s not like the Death Eaters are still around and he can stage an insurrection on the Ministry. He’s a divisive figure, so he needs to boost his popularity more so than taking down anyone else’s. I can’t tell if his criminal past is clouding my judgement of him and what he’s capable of.”

“I don’t believe for one second that Rhys has reformed himself in any way since he tortured those muggles and Eloise’s brother,” Harry grimaced. “I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

“We have enough Aurors patrolling the atrium to make sure that nothing bad happens, and it’s mine and Hermione’s people who are setting up the stage,” Daphne continued. “Maybe he could attack Amelia or someone else, but I just can’t see what that gets him. He’s just acting so odd that I can’t predict what he’s planning.”

“Then let’s delay this,” Harry said again. “Even if your gut’s wrong and there’s nothing to worry about, your nerves are still playing tricks on you right now.”

Daphne was tempted to say yes and to delay everything, but the longer she thought about it, her mind simply couldn’t justify what her body was feeling. If she delayed her announcement today, then it’d be an extra day at least that Amelia had the chance to sway more of the public to her side.

“No, let’s do it today,” Daphne finally said.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked her.

No.

“Yes,” Daphne lied.

She knew that she hadn’t convinced him, but Harry also knew that she was past the point of listening to council. Her decision had been etched in stone, and she was set to go through with it.

Daphne set down her empty mug on her desk and gave Harry a quick peck on the lips. “Let’s get going to the atrium. I bet the stage is already set.”

“Okay,” Harry smiled lightly at her, sliding off the desk and following her to her office door.

The walk to the lifts was made in silence. Daphne’s nerves had settled, and her mind was trying desperately to shut down any lingering fears from creeping back in and taking control of her. This was the moment that she’d been building up to for months now, and she wasn’t going to let anything ruin it.

The atrium was filled with workers ready to head home for the day. A few loitered about, chatting with colleagues or simply waiting curiously to see what the stage near the fountain was about. Daphne was relieved to see floating ropes in place, providing a loose barrier around the stage and the dozens of chairs that’d been set up before it. Hermione was up on the stage getting the last finishing touches in place while a few Aurors carefully shepherded in some members of the press and various important members of the Ministry.

Everything was in its place, and a sense of calm settled around Daphne.

“Do you want me up on stage with you?” Harry asked her quietly as they got close.

“No,” Daphne shook her head. “Stick to the plan. I’ll give my speech alone today. We can announce your role in the government when Rita asks her questions afterwards.”

He left her at the base of the stage. As Daphne climbed up the short steps onto it, applause rang out from everyone. She put on her best smile and gave a gentle wave to the crowd in front of her and those further out within the atrium.

She scanned the crowd, seeing no sign of Rhys or any of his ilk.

Everything was going to go according to plan.

“Thank you,” Daphne said as the applause began to die down, applying the Amplifying Charm to her throat so that she could be heard throughout the atrium. “I am here today to formally announce that I am running for—”

The screams registered in Daphne's ears a moment before an explosion erupted beneath her stage. The floor that was once below her was no longer there, and suddenly she was staring up at the ceiling. Her body twisted in the air, screaming in pain.

The last thing she saw was the stone floor rushing up to meet her before she fell into unconsciousness.