It was still the early hours of the morning when Gabrielle arrived at Azkaban. She promptly met with Commander Savage and had Harry pulled from the rotation. He didn’t so much as get a chance to say goodbye to Fawley or Kempston before he was back on a boat alongside her.
As they pulled away from the shore and were surrounded by the rushing seas, Gabrielle asked him about what had happened.
And so he told her all of it: from Amelia pressing Savage to Proudfoot and Dawlish being put in cells right next to each other so that they could talk and plan how they were going to lie about Daphne. Amelia would be back soon, likely before the last public debate before the election so that she could confirm what her and Proudfoot’s plans were.
“There’s trouble back at the Ministry too,” Gabrielle said with a dark look on her face. “I’ve been keeping a lookout for more of those fake workers that Rhys Orpington sent just like you said. There was another batch that came through the Department of Magical Law Enforcement last night, conveniently while Amelia was away.”
“It doesn’t surprise me that Rhys has people inside the Department to inform him of the goings on,” Harry replied. “There are always going to be those who believe that they're doing the right thing even as they try to set this country onto a backwards path. Do you think that you could get Hermione to make a fake work order for me? As one of Kingsley’s senior advisers, she should be able to slip it through without anyone noticing.”
“I’ll have new identity papers ready for you by five tonight then,” Gabrielle confirmed.
It was a shame that Hermione didn’t know he was still alive. Between her and Tonks, they were two he most regretted not telling the truth. But there were only a few days left to go, and then everything could be revealed.
It was all about to come to a close, and with Rhys’ plan being handled, he now needed to consider what to do with Amelia’s.
“I just can’t imagine that Amelia will go along with Proudfoot’s lies,” Harry eventually told Gabrielle.
She cocked her head to the side. “Why not?”
“Because I know her.”
Even from the very beginning when he was working against Dawlish, Amelia had been hesitant about Harry’s behaviour. His unorthodox ways of getting things done had ruffled plenty of feathers within the Ministry, and although he never got her opinion on him directly, it seemed quite evident that she would’ve preferred him to stick to a more by-the-book protocol. It was how she operated; a rule follower down to the letter of the law. The Amelia Bones he knew would never for an instant consider going along with a blatant lie in order to support her own ambitions.
And yet, wasn’t that exactly what she’d done? Her arrival at Azkaban had been unorthodox to say the least, and even just entertaining Proudfoot’s plot was enough to make Harry judge his measure of her.
Maybe it was because he wanted to believe that Amelia Bones wasn’t the type of woman to do things like this. Her niece, Susan, had been a great partner to Harry, in both senses of the word. Susan had gone along with his schemes, knowing that they were for the best, and she’d died in the process. Death could change people, and maybe it was a tipping point in Amelia’s life that led her to consider a more unorthodox way of doing things.
But even still…
“Proudfoot feels like I’m the one who got away,” Harry explained. “He suspected me of deliberately sabotaging the former Head Auror’s public image in order to get myself promoted. He’s never stopped believing that, and even though he thinks I’m dead, he never got the satisfaction of putting an end to that case. I think he’s going after Daphne now as a way of getting one over on me, and to help out Amelia too, of course.”
Gabrielle paused, her eyes searching his. “Did you sabotage Dawlish?”
“Yes, I did.” Harry answered without hesitation, regret, or shame. “He was a terrible man who was helping Britain backslide into—”
Gabrielle’s hands came up to stop him. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I trust you, Harry, and your judgement. If you think doing this was best, whether for your own selfish reasons or for Britain at large, then I believe that you did the right thing.”
A quiet breath left Harry’s mouth. “I’m glad to have you here,” he told her sincerely.
“So am I,” she smiled at him, reaching out to take his hand into hers. “Though, you could do well by showing your appreciation in a different way.”
Harry laughed and gestured at the rough, choppy waters around them. The waters around Azkaban made it feel like they were in the middle of a storm, and the wooden boat they were in was barely large enough for the two of them to sit in together.
“This isn’t exactly the best place for the type of thanks you’re hoping for.”
“And what do you think I’m hoping for?” Gabrielle asked innocently.
“Something that we’ll have to save for another time. Trust me, I plan on being very, very thankful to you and everyone else who has helped me along my way,” Harry grinned.
“I’ll keep you to that,” Gabrielle promised him.
PAGE BREAK
The door to Daphne’s office slammed open as Raphael Avery came bustling in with armfuls of parchment. He dropped it atop the long table that’d been set up, making the office more cramped than it had been in a long time.
“Our aides have finished compiling the last polls they’ve been able to find,” he announced. “Even the Quibbler put one out and showed off their results. We had to ignore the popular vote that suggested that Dugald McPhail was going to rise from the grave and become Minister for Magic again and create a new-and-improved fleet of Knight Buses and a few other ludicrous suggestions of secret candidates that’ll appear on voting day. But I think we’ve finally gotten together a decent projection.”
Daphne was sitting behind her desk, a broken quill still in her hand. She’d lost focus earlier and let her mind drift. There’d been too many long days away from home. She was thankful that Astoria, Draco, and her mum were around to look after Delphini, especially with Astoria and Draco’s baby boy, Scorpius, taking up so much of their time.
Everything was coming in so quickly now. Between the public appearances at magical communities across Britain to the endless stream of reporters who wanted to either ask her a question or try to trip her up to make her look bad, she was being pushed to her limits. But this was what being the Minister for Magic would be like. She wouldn’t be one of those ministers who pushed off all of their work onto their subordinates and instead spent their days trying to enjoy a high-class lifestyle. She was here to do the work to make Britain better, just as she and Harry dreamed.
“Get on with it,” Morwen Tremblay sighed from the corner of the room. “What are the results and how much more do we need to do?”
“We’re in the lead,” Raphael said plainly. “Things were close before the passing of your fiancé, but since then, and with each subsequent debate, your numbers have steadily climbed up. Across all polls from decided voters, we have you expecting to earn sixty-seven percent of the votes. We’ve tried a few different models to account for varying weights of the polls we’ve gathered, and none of them place you lower than getting fifty-two percent of the votes.”
“That’s lower than is comfortable,” Daphne said as she leaned back in her chair.
“We only see things like that in the most unfavourable situations,” Raphael said quickly, trying to assuage her concern. “There are many voters who still believe that you lack the experience necessary to run the country, which is exactly what Amelia Bones has going in her favour. Try as we might, there are a lot of witches and wizards who simply won’t be convinced that this isn’t the single-most important quality in a leader.”
“Fools,” Morwen scoffed. “Where does that leave our strategy for the last few days of the campaign?”
Raphael scrambled through the piles of parchment until he found one bound up as a scroll with a red ribbon. He untied it and unfurled the parchment before passing it over to Morwen.
“We believe that we should ignore voters who are still undecided and instead target Bones’ tentative supporters,” Raphael explained. “There are many who are on her side simply because of her work in the Department of Magical Law enforcement or because their friends or family have suggested to them that they should vote for her. With a few targeted messages with help from our supporters in the press, we should be able to direct our remaining focus towards them, simultaneously eroding Bones’ support while bolstering our own.”
Daphne would have to call Rita again. Even after Harry’s ‘death’, the devilish reporter had been surprisingly helpful to Daphne, even going so far as to write wonderful articles exposing all of Daphne’s virtues.
“Why not spend our time focusing on the undecided crowd?” Daphne asked. “How many voters still fall into that category again?”
“Around fourteen percent,” Raphael cringed. “I know it’s a large number this close to the election, but with how much chaos has been present these past few weeks, many people are worried and uncertain. Our own pollsters have asked anyone who said they were undecided why they were, and the main reason came back was that they were really torn between the two candidates and planned on tunning into the last debate to hear what they had to say. Who knows how many will actually follow through with that, but even if Bones goes after the undecided candidates, we don’t believe that enough will turn to her side to make a difference.”
“And if we were to focus our efforts on the undecided crowd?” Daphne asked.
Raphael shrugged. “Mostly the same as if Bones were to do it. It could net us a few more points in the polls, but I believe it would be best to focus our efforts on trying to win over Bones’ supporters. We’ll still have the last debate to win over some of the undecided voters.”
“There’s too much left for Bones to take,” Daphne stewed. “Thirteen percent could carry her up to passing me in the polls once we account for those numbers.”
“You’re nervous,” Morwen told Daphne like it was a mark against her. “No one in the history of our elections has ever swept up the entirety of undecided voters. Even if Bones wins the majority of them and the rest of the numbers remain as they are, you’ll win. Unless she has something hidden up her sleeve, this election is as good as yours.”
It sounded too good to be true. Surely Amelia had to know that she was behind and be working on some plan to change things around. It was what Daphne would be doing were she in Amelia’s situation.
Besides, even beating Amelia wouldn’t guarantee the election. There was Rhys Orpington to worry about, and although Harry assured her that he had everything well in hand, Daphne wasn’t ever around to see much proof of that. Harry was gone far too often, and she simply had to trust in him to do what was necessary.
Daphne wanted Raphael and their team to run the numbers again, to confirm that everything was perfectly in place, but she knew that the outcome wouldn’t change.
“What do you need me to do?” She asked him.
“Rest,” he answered. “We can all see how tired you are, and you need to be ready for the final debate.”
“I don’t have time to rest,” Daphne argued back. “There are meetings and events and—”
“According to our schedule, you have a little over two hours until you have to be in Manchester,” Raphael pointed out. “That’s plenty of time for you to take a quick nap. Morwen and I can make ourselves sparse and give you the chance to get a bit of sleep.”
Sleep did sound nice. There wasn’t much of that these days. Even when she did get the chance to rest, her mind was always racing with the possibilities of what could happen. She only took Dreamless Sleep Potions when necessary; taking them too often would worsen her normal sleep.
“I’ll try,” Daphne finally agreed. It would do her well.
“Good, then I’ll—” Raphael was interrupted as the door to her office opened. A short, stocky wizard dressed in Auror robes stood in the doorway, clutching a letter.
“Good afternoon, Lady Greengrass,” the man said confidently. “I’ve been instructed to deliver a letter to your hands only post haste.”
“From who?” Daphne asked, frowning.
“I don’t know,” the Auror admitted. “The details are in the letter. I can promise you that it’s been checked over for any curses.”
“Then you won’t mind if we look it over ourselves,” Raphael said pointedly, subtly drawing his wand.
The Auror spotted the wand but didn’t seem bothered or threatened by it. “You may, but I will not hand it over to anyone but Lady Greengrass herself.”
“Check it,” Daphne ordered Raphael.
It took several seconds as Raphael ran through his tests before he deemed the letter to be safe. Only then did he give a nod of confirmation to Daphne, and with a wave of her hand, Raphael stood aside to let the man pass.
He walked right up to the far side of her desk and handed the letter over to her. The second it was out of his hands, he gave a slight bow of his head and turned around promptly.
“What was that about?” Morwen asked curiously.
Daphne broke the seal on the letter and pulled out the parchment from within. “Commander Savage,” she murmured, noting the name as being one of Harry’s Senior Aurors. “What could he want with me…?”
Her eyes scanned the parchment swiftly. When she reached the end of it, she reread it back from the top again. And again. Then, she folded up the letter and stowed it within her desk.
“There’s no time for sleep,” Daphne declared as she sat up straight. Everything snapped into sharp focus as she eyed her two supporters. “Amelia Bones is on the move against us, and we need to be ready.”