Power Plays Chapter 74 (Patreon)

Daphne stood before a mirror that dazzled from the various candles hovering in the air around her. She wanted to ensure that she’d look her best, and with all of the photographers taking pictures of her, she had to make sure her outfit worked in this bright light.

While most senior officials within the Ministry wore drab black, dark-violet, or dark-blue robes, Daphne chose a spring green with pale-yellow accents. It was the type of colour that starkly broke from tradition but would prove popular with the younger generations.

It was a folly to think that all of the elderly witches and wizards were staunchly conservative in their views, but it was also clear that those who’d suffered most from the war were willing to entertain significant changes to the Ministry. Daphne’s campaign was built upon the back of change; a deconstruction of the power held by the elite in society combined with the enrichment of those traditionally held down by pure-blood fanatics was incredibly complicated and unbelievably divisive, but the ideas remained sound in her mind.

The only trick was finding a way to communicate this to the public without Amelia Bones shutting her down.

For weeks now, barring the days they took off for Harry’s funeral, Hermione and Draco had been helping Daphne prepare for this debate. They’d come to her with countless questions, hypothetical scenarios, and blatantly inflammatory rebuttals to make sure that she was ready to handle anything that came her way.

While she wasn’t entirely certain that things would go as smoothly as they had when she’d worked with them, she felt confident in her ability to adapt to whatever was thrown her way.

A few last minute charms dealt with any of her hair’s frizziness and smoothed out her robes so that they looked their very best. Appearances were deceptively important, and any minute flaw could be picked out by some random publication as a sign of unpreparedness. And if even just a handful of voters read that and took it to heart, it could mean the difference between being elected and ending up as a second-place loser.

A sharp knock rang out at her door, but Daphne triple checked her appearance before she flicked her wand to open the door.

Hermione stood there, her face terribly unreadable ever since Harry’s supposed demise. Daphne desperately wished that she could reassure her that Harry was alive and well, but her fiancé’s plan remained sound. He needed to be believed to be dead if he were to stop whatever Rhys Orpington had planned.

Daphne shook the thought from her mind. She needed to trust in Harry to deal with that issue. Her focus had to be entirely upon the impending election.

“Everyone’s ready for us,” Hermione told Daphne.

Daphne gave a slow spin, letting the skirt of her robes fan out gently around her legs. “How do I look?”

Hermione took a lengthy moment to truly scrutinise her before answering. “Perfect,” she finally said. “Ministerial and relatable at the same time. I wouldn’t be surprised if Witch Weekly does an article on your look.”

“Good,” Daphne replied, smoothing out her robes again. It was a nervous tick of hers, but it was a much better one to have than what some others showed.

They walked out through the Courtroom level of the Ministry. It was unusually quiet for this time of day. Undoubtedly, the majority of the Wizengamot would be with all the others in the grand ballroom where Harry’s funeral had taken place. It was the only space large enough to host the Wizengamot members and the number of citizens who wished to come watch the first debate live instead of over the wireless.

The lift carried them up to the respective level, and once the doors opened, flashes of camera light rang out constantly one after the other. It took everything in Daphne’s willpower to not cringe or close her eyes as the constant flashes practically blinded her. She raised a hand up and waved as she stepped out with Hermione following her close behind.

Dozens of reporters shouted her name, demanding answers to questions that they had, but Daphne merely smiled and bypassed all of them. Her answers would be given during the debate, and anything delivered earlier than that would merely scream of desperation.

The ballroom was packed with hundreds upon hundreds of witches and wizards, all seated tightly together. Daphne could still imagine Harry’s coffin upon the stage at the far end of the room.

He’s not dead, she had to remind herself. Even though he’d revealed to her that he was still alive, it didn’t completely undo the trauma that came from believing him to be dead for several days.

Daphne closed her eyes tightly, giving herself that moment to process her grief and relief all over again, before she exhaled deeply and climbed the steps up onto the stage.

Amelia Bones was stood further back on the stage, hidden from the audience by a thick curtain. She had several others surrounding her: Tiberius Ogden, a former candidate who’d ended his campaign in exchange for some position within Amelia’s government; Cecilia Macmillan, an elderly witch who’d been a part of the Wizengamot for nearly five decades now; and Griselda Marchbanks, the Governor of the Wizarding Examinations Authority, who conducted the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. examinations.

As Daphne stepped onto the stage, Amelia didn’t spare a single glance towards her. That was fine enough. Daphne didn’t need any distractions.

In their own private corner, Morwen Tremblay and Raphael Avery, her long-term political allies, were awaiting her arrival. As she stepped over towards them, a third figure emerged from the darkness.

“Tracey?” Daphne exclaimed in surprise.

Her best friend rushed forward with a tremendous hug. “You look brilliant,” she said, even as she wrinkled Daphne’s robes. The moment that they broke apart, Tracey quickly cast a couple charms to smooth Daphne’s robes out again. “You’d better not ruin this chance tonight.”

“I won’t,” Daphne assured her.

“Good, because if you do, I don’t think that Harry’s ghost would ever let you forget it.”

It was meant to be a light-hearted joke sobered with the reminder of the expectations those closest to her had, and while Daphne took it as Tracey intended, she could see Hermione pulling back and hiding away whatever comment she’d impulsively intended to make a couple of seconds ago.

“He knows that I’ll do what’s best for our people,” Daphne assured her. “All that he ever wanted was for everyone to have a fair shot at life with their abilities being recognised for what they were without any pure-bloods denying them just because they had muggle relatives. He hated the dark arts and those who continued to harbour illegal artefacts that could cause harm in the future. He wanted a better and more just tomorrow for everyone, and I’m here to see it through.”

Tears welled up in Hermione’s eyes. She pulled back to wipe them away, clearly hoping that no one would notice her distress.

Raphael trembled as a cold breeze ran through the ballroom. “Harry Potter’s plight will be remembered by us all. And the public won’t forget what he’s done.”

“Neither will the pure-bloods,” Morwen pointed out. Clutching her gnarled cane, she slammed the tip down on the floor. “You can’t rely on his legacy forever. Now that he’s dead, people will question him and his decisions, and he won’t be around to defend himself.”

He could be, once Rhys Orpington had been dealt with, but Daphne kept her tongue to herself.

“Be kind,” Raphael told Morwen.

“I will when we’re not dealing with a mess like this,” she rebuked him sharply. “Don’t forget that Director Bones still leads in the polls, even after the boost that Daphne got after Potter’s death. The race has gotten closer, I’ll give you that, but it’s not close enough. We need a significant shift in voters to have a chance at winning.”

“Great morale booster there,” Hermione muttered.

Morwen turned on her and narrowed her eyes. “I’m only being honest. If you wish to live in a fairytale land then—”

“Alright,” Daphne interjected sharply. “Let’s not have any fighting. Not today. We need to stay unified and focus on how we can win this election.”

“If that’s what you want, then I implore you to give in to what the pure-bloods want,” Morwen told Daphne.

Hermione and Tracey were already shaking their heads, but Daphne hadn’t gotten here by ignoring opinions that didn’t seem popular.

“Explain,” she prompted her.

Stamping her cane down on the floor again, Morwen cleared her throat. “Between you and Amelia, you have the support of most of the muggleborns and half-bloods. But what remains are the pure-bloods, and they’re far more likely to vote than any other demographic out there. If you appeal to their sensibilities, you’ll at least get a fraction of their votes. The rest of your voting base isn’t likely to switch just because you try to support the pure-bloods.”

“They might,” Hermione argued. “If they think that she’s supporting an institutional group that doesn’t support them. Amelia’s campaign is based around moderation in all aspects. It’s a wide-ranging platform that anyone can feel like they can attach themselves to. Anyone that we alienate can jump onto her bandwagon and then we’ll be losing in categories that we should win.”

Raphael jumped into the conversation just as Morwen began her rebuttal. Tracey tried to calm things down, but the second that Hermione interjected, no one could truly take control of the conversation.

Daphne buried her face in her hands. “Stop this,” she muttered. When no one reacted, she raised her voice. “Stop!”

Suddenly, everyone around Daphne fell silent. She could even feel the gazes of Amelia and her followers on her back. They must think that she was an utter fool to have such discord in her faction.

Taking a deep breath, Daphne looked everyone in the eyes before speaking.

“I will not tolerate any of you behaving like this again,” she told them bluntly. “We’re a team, and if you can’t wait to discuss philosophical differences behind closed doors, then I won’t have you on my team. Is that clear?”

“Yes; I’m sorry,” Hermione replied quickly.

The rest of the apologies came in seconds later. Daphne stared each of them deeply into their eyes as they spoke, and once they’d all spoken, she finally spoke herself.

“Thank you,” she told them all sincerely. “I appreciate all of your perspectives on this, and I promise you that we’ll talk about your opinions today on another day. But I need to focus on this debate. And all of you should as well. I need you to listen to what Amelia says and come up with ways that I can later counter her arguments without alienating my voter base. Can you all do that?”

There was a round of nods from everyone, which brought a smile to Daphne’s lips.

“Good,” she said. “Let’s take a moment and breathe.”

As those around her calmed down and took a moment to breathe, Daphne found that she too could relax in a way that would’ve been far more difficult were she alone. Sensing the relaxation of those around her allowed her stress to shed off of her shoulders and fall to the wayside.

“Lady Greengrass?” A young Ministerial worker came forward.

Everyone turned to him, and the poor young man shirked underneath everyone’s gazes.

“Yes?” Daphne replied with a gentle smile.

The young man tried to match her smile, but it turned into an awkward grimace. “We’re about to begin,” he told her.

“Thank you,” Daphne replied quickly. As he disappeared, she looked around the rest of her compatriots. “Be careful. I don’t want any fights to erupt with Amelia’s supporters. Let me handle things on stage, and then we can deal with the fallout afterwards.”

“Good luck,” Tracey said.

The others repeated or gave their own signs of support before Daphne walked back out onto the stage. Two large stands had been set up before them with microphones upon each one. Their words would be spread upon the wireless and to all those in attendance today. An enormous crowd sat before them with a long table placed just past the stage. Three individuals sat there: Elphias Doge, Oscar Abbott, and Louis Gage.

The three wizards all attempted to appear as neutral as possible as Daphne and Amelia took their place behind their podiums, but Daphne knew the truth. Elphias was a devout follower of Dumbledore and, despite his attempted neutrality, was bound to be a supporter of Harry and his will. Oscar was a traditionalist who didn’t follow any pure-blood dogma; Amelia would find support from him. Louis Gage was the trick one. His family was French but intertwined with many pure-blood families in Britain. He and his brother had come to Britain some three decades ago, and he’d joined the Wizengamot a little over fifteen years ago. Whilst he seemed more progressive than most Wizengamot members, he tended to vote conservatively along the lines of his faction, which currently supported Amelia.

Daphne did her best to avoid narrowing her eyes at any of them. The constant flashes of the cameras in the background ensured that every look she gave would be recorded. Regardless of how much Rita Skeeter was helping her with the campaign, she couldn’t completely subdue all of the reporters in the world. Rita would ensure that most of the British reporters would at least be somewhat sympathetic to Daphne or offer opinions that supported her, but the rest of the world was a different issue. While they might not seem like the biggest complication, the fact remained that many pure-blooded families read papers that came from nearby neighbours like France, Germany, Russia, and America.

The crowd quickly settled once they saw Daphne and Amelia take their places. Ushers ensured that the rowdy remained quiet, and once a quiet dim fell over the ballroom, Elphias Doge spoke up.

“Welcome, candidates,” he nodded at both Daphne and Amelia. “We are here today to perform the first debate between the candidates who could become the next Minister for Magic.”

It was this first debate that mattered the most. This was the largest and most significant; the others would be smaller, often including only one of the candidates. Whoever made a better showing today would see a significant boost in the polls before the election.

“Thank you for having us,” Daphne said before Amelia could reply. The older woman glanced at Daphne out of the corner of her eye, but Daphne didn’t give her a single glance back.

“We will begin with a question from our audience,” Doge began. He held up a scroll of parchment and began to read from it. “Our Ministry has suffered from a brutal attack by the Death Eaters just over a year ago. How will you see that our Ministry is protected from future attacks?”

Daphne opened her mouth to respond, but Amelia beat her to it.

“The Ministry must always have a strong standing force of Aurors and Hit Witches and Wizards who are ready to respond to any attack upon our government or our people,” Amelia stated strongly. “I will insist upon creating a new division of Aurors who are specifically dedicated to ensuring the safety of our Ministry rather than having their focuses divided between the Ministry and the public.”

A round of applause went up at that. Claps and cheers from those too ignorant to know that what Amelia was suggesting was a division of already beleaguered forces. It wasn’t a terrible idea in truth, but it’d require significant recruitment, and it would be at least a decade before Britain’s population numbers truly began to recover from what happened during the war.

Daphne waited until the applause died down and everyone’s eyes fell upon her before speaking. “The creation of a new division of Aurors is folly. We’re already struggling with the numbers we have. My former fiancé tried his hardest to keep Britain safe with the numbers he had, but the truth is that no amount of Aurors will be able to truly keep us safe so long as dark forces are tacitly allowed to operate in the shadows. We must continue to seek out those who harbour ill intent or the capability of it and deal with them in accordance with the Ministry’s laws.”

“That sounds like a police state,” Amelia interjected sharply before the audience could make a sound. “Our citizens deserve to know peace and prosperity without the worry of their government spying upon their every move or breaking into their private homes.”

“Fearmongering isn’t the type of tactic I expected you to take, Madam Bones,” Daphne replied as respectfully as she could. “Out citizens won’t be at risk of their civil liberties being taken advantage of; my proposal is that we harshen the punishments for those who continue to own illicit artefacts or plot treason against our government. We will keep our brave Aurors and Hit Witches and Wizards ready for any attacks that come our way. I believe this to be an effective course of action. Since my late fiancé was put into place as Head Auror, have there been any attacks upon our government?”

The answer was obvious, and a murmur went up through the audience.

“As Head Auror Tonks was personally selected by him as his successor, I trust that she will be able to maintain the same civility and calm that Harry managed,” Daphne continued. “No government can truly plan for any potential attack thrown our way, but we can work to mitigate any damage done by having the proper people in place. And I will see to it that devoted Aurors like Head Auror Tonks maintain strong positions that allow them to react quickly and effectively to any threats thrown our way.”

Doge sent up sparks into the air as the audience burst into applause. “Quiet! Quiet!” He shouted. It still took several seconds before calm was restored, and Amelia looked unusually peeved as she straightened her back and stared out into the audience again. “The next question we have for you has been a popular one among the public. Both of you have been known to have close ties to Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt. With the way that his government has become fragments and public trust in him has eroded, how can any of our voters know that your leadership will not fall under the same failings.”

Daphne had been ready for this question, and she answered immediately.

“My ties to Minister Shacklebolt only come from a few brief meetings and the passing of a couple of bills within the Wizengamot. To suggest that I have close ties to him is ludicrous. While I would be the first to thank the Minister for what he has done in guiding us after the war, my own politics are quite different from his. My leadership would focus on rebuilding trust and effective communication within the Ministry and with the public as well, and I know that I have the support to succeed in my goals. By—”

Amelia cut in, speaking loudly above Daphne. “Your former fiancé was one of the Minister’s closest confidants. How can you possibly suggest that you have no close ties to the Minister?”

“Because Harry and I only became involved less than two years ago now,” Daphne argued back.

“And doesn’t that timeline happen to line up when you first became involved in politics?”

“Yes,” Daphne was forced to admit.

Triumph lit up in Amelia’s eyes. “Then it seems quite clear to me that it was solely through the Minister’s aid that you ended up in the Wizengamot in the first place.”

“Is that meant to suggest close ties?” Daphne bit back acidly. “Have I worked with him since? Even when Harry was still working closely with Minister Shacklebolt? I would suggest that we instead look at your record and how long you, as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, worked with the Minister.”

The snipping back and forth between them broke up as Doge sent up sparks again. “Ladies, please,” he croaked out. “Wait for your turn to speak. Director Bones, would you care to respond to the initial question posed?”

And so it went back and forth. Questions were posed to them covering everything from their economic development plans to the support of grants for new magical developments in Britain. People from all across the socio-economic ladder had offered questions, and there were even a couple from goblin, centaur, and werewolf representatives.

Daphne did the best she could. This was only the first debate; there would be more after this, but this one mattered the most. It was first impressions that were so desperately important, and while Harry’s name and death had bought her a tremendous amount of sympathy and the knowledge of her campaign, getting out her platform was what mattered most.

She stuck to the important topics: political reform, cultural reform, and economic reform. They couldn’t backslide into what Britain had been like when Voldemort ruled or even the decades prior. Muggleborns and half-bloods who’d been pushed out of magical society should be welcomed back with open arms. It was time that Britain changed for the better.

This was the dream that Harry had carried in his chest every year since the war ended. It was the dream that Daphne had long-since pondered at but had only fully come to understand when she met Harry and understood his reasoning. She helped mold his dream into something reasonable, filling in the gaps he didn’t know were missing and adapting his vision to something that the entire world could better understand.

In this culmination of their view, they would reshape Britain for the better for decades to come. It wouldn’t be without resistance, but if they had to drag people kicking and screaming over the goal line, then they’d do it happily.

After nearly two hours of speaking, the crowd was beginning to wane, and Doge recognised that it was time to end things for the night.

“I would like to thank you both for the lively debate and discussion we’ve had tonight,” Doge began as cameras flashed over his shoulder, taking photos of Daphne and Amelia. “It is now time for closing statements, and I would like to begin with Lady Greengrass.”

Daphne cleared her throat and stared out at the crowd. She tried her hardest to make eye contact with everyone as she let her energy build in her. Suddenly, she slammed her fists down hard on the podium before her, jostling any in the crowd who weren’t quite paying attention.

“What I want is change for us all!” Daphne shouted, ensuring her passion would carry throughout the room. The reporters would report upon the impact her words had on the audience and hopefully translate the feeling that Daphne wanted to emit. “The government itself is fractured. The Wizengamot battles with itself day after day, unable to come to any conclusions. And what’s worse is that those who need to be punished aren’t.

“Many pure-blood families continue to shirk the laws placed upon them. My fiancé dedicated his life to dealing with those who wouldn’t abide by the laws and regulations placed upon them, and I promise that I’ll dedicate myself to the same ideal to ensure that we have a better tomorrow.

“Times have changed since Voldemort’s defeat,” Daphne declared, inwardly smiling at the shudders that ran through the audience. It was important that she could say the madman’s name. It was a sign of strength. “And all of us have changed with it. We want something better for our children than what we’ve suffered under our previous rulers. We want a country that won’t allow for discrimination of any of our citizens. We want a government that reflects our population rather than those elites whose families who’ve controlled everything for decades and centuries.”

She could see the crowd rising up in support, and a smile came to her lips.

“I am here to deliver you all the change that we so desperately need. I won’t allow war criminals to continue to live freely under our just rule. I won’t allow the privileged few to keep illegal artefacts that could one day hurt us all. I won’t allow a government to ignore its citizens any longer! I want all of you to rise up and show your voice at the polls! Change will only happen when the people want it, and I hear you all screaming out at night, begging for something different! Come now and vote for me! Show the world that you want change!”

For a moment, nothing happened. And then, like the eruption of a volcano, applause and cheers rang out all around the ballroom. Daphne did her best to still her features, but even her best couldn’t hide a small smile from appearing on her lips.

It didn’t matter what Amelia said. Britain had heard Daphne’s voice, and they resonated with her every word.

Glancing at her out of the corner of her eye, Daphne could see the angry look in Amelia’s eyes that she was trying so desperately to hide.

This was the first wave of change that would see Britain become the country it was always meant to be.