No Honor Amongst Thieves | Invite

Friday, August 24, 1923
The Office of the Minister of Magic
♫

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"Thank you Moira. That'll be all for now."

With a polite wave of his hand, the secretary nodded her head and dipped back out through the entry-way, closing the office door behind her. The man clutched the parchment in his hand, light brown eyes hovering over the words again, a slight scowl crossing his features as he finally shook his head and slid it across the desk to Nordstrom. His gaze flicked to Harper, sharing a look with her that would tell her everything he was already thinking.

The British Prime Minister was requesting, for the umpteenth time a direct meeting between himself and James, insisting that without cooperation between muggle and magic folk, relations were sure to dwindle into something more contemptuous than they had been in decades. They didn't want to rock the boat, the memo had warned - threatened - indicating that should James Laurence and his cabinet not be open to collaboration as they had been doing for years, the magical world would suffer for it.

James didn't hold or nurse such worries. From his perspective, friendly relations with the muggles had only ever served them and not those that were forced to hide their innate abilities from the greater world. Should they wish to, certainly the wizarding world could expand, forcing its place into the open where muggles could do nothing but tremble beneath the power they wielded, but the man wasn't so short-sighted to resolve straight to conquering.

Rather, he preferred his kind be left alone to govern themselves, without muggle interference where it certainly didn't belong. What value did the muggles bring to his table, or to any wizarding family's table that they couldn't provide for themselves? Since the beginning of organized religion, magic-wielders had been persecuted, tortured and murdered for existing. Muggles were the brutish sort, and he simple saw no use in allowing them the little power previous ministers had.

"He's demanding now," James said with a scoff, leaning back in his chair as he folded his hands across his chest.

"Seems to think a written tantrum will coax us into his perspective." He grinned a bit, eyebrow raising as he moved his gaze from Harper to Bertram. "Well old man? What say you about it?"

Bertram accepted the parchment without comment, reading it once from beginning to end before folding it neatly and placing it back on the Minister's desk. His face remained unchanged, though one brow lifted ever so slightly at the Prime Minister's choice of wording.

"Demanding is an interesting strategy," he observed, settling back into his chair. "Particularly when they are asking for our cooperation. "

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before fading. His fingers laced together thoughtfully.

"For decades now, the Ministry has continued these meetings out of courtesy and tradition. Not an obligation. Courtesy should not be mistaken for dependence. We have never been and never will be dependent on the muggle government.”

Bertram glanced briefly toward Harper before returning his attention back to James.

"Our government has every right to reevaluate its relationship with the Muggle administration. That, after all, is the definition of sovereignty."

He paused, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers in thought.

"That said..." There was the solicitor making an appearance. "...I would advise against an emotional response. His language is inflammatory by design. If we respond in kind, we will prove him right. If we answer with thoughtful confidence, we demonstrate exactly why Britain's magical government is capable of governing itself."

Another pause, running over the words in the letter, Bram tried to figure out why the Prime Minister would chose to instigate in such a way.

"I see no reason for a meeting simply because he has demanded your attendance.”

Shaking his head, Bram looked up to meet James’ eyes. He was happy with his vote and who sat in the chair across from him, even if his face was lacked the wrinkles of age and wisdom.

"However, If we decline, I would do so respectfully and with a clear explanation of our objective moving forward. The international community will be watching how this administration conducts itself. We should ensure they see confidence..."

A small smile crossed his face, old man indeed.

"...not the petulance of a child."

Ankles crossed, Harper lightly rested her forearm onto one of the chair’s arms, watching James’ face as he read over the letter in his hands. She didn’t need to see to know its contents. The scowl on his face said enough, and the look in his eyes the rest.

The Muggle Minister wasn’t letting up.

"He's demanding now.” James slid the parchment across the desk and towards Nordstrom. The Head of Magical Affairs accepted without comment. Harper gave the slightest shake of her head, amusement curling imperceptibly at the corners of her lips. Apparently he was growing bolder as well. Or perhaps merely more accustomed to the Ministry yielding whenever he pressed hard enough.

Senseless.

She had never understood the purpose of maintaining such a relationship in the first place. A bilateral relationship with a government that had nothing to offer beyond demands and arrogance, a people so wholly beneath them. The relationship between Magical and Muggle Britain was advantageous to only one side, leaving the other with more work than gain.

The war had been the most egregious example.

Shameless exploitation, frivolous participation. The Ministry had foolishly offered cooperation, resources, and the lives of their own, only to be met afterwards with more demands and more expectations. More insistence that Magical Britain ought to answer the moment Muggle Britain called, granting wishes and meeting needs, using the skills they had once been hunted for.

Bowing down so willingly, forsaking their superiority. As though they had forgotten why secrecy had existed in the first place. Wizardkind should never have revealed themselves to muggle governments, and they should have broken ties a long time ago. Muggles to muggles, wizards to wizards.

Harper was glad to see Nordstrom seemed to understand that much. Mellow as he may appear, the man held the right values. Once he finished speaking, Harper’s gaze travelled back to James.

“I believe we have already explained our objective quite clearly”, she said evenly, linking her fingers atop the armrest. “Repeatedly. They are simply choosing not to accept it.”

Her eyes briefly dropped to the parchment between them, before flicking to Nordstrom.

“I see little sense in doing so again. Clearly they are unable to respect our position, or our decision. A meeting will not change that. Neither will another polite decline.”

She paused, sliding her gaze to James.

“Perhaps quiet will make the message get through at last.”

James was not an unreasonable man. Young as he was for his position, he innately understood the precarious position his cabinet teetered on. Their people were waiting for its government to prove itself, and if moves weren't executed in precisely the right way, the optics would be less-than-impressive.

The wizarding world deserved confidence in their leaders, and James had every intention of instilling it so deeply it'd never waver.

He listened quietly, nodding here and there with Bertram's assessment and remaining still when he didn't. Bertram Nordstrom was a diplomat, and a competent one, which sealed his value in James's circle of advisors. But the man led with politeness and propriety, things that worked well when maneuvering through one's own circles of influence, but came across weak and limp-wristed when dealing with opponents. James was charming, but he was calculated first, and he knew when to wield his name but more importantly, when to bare his teeth.

"However, If we decline, I would do so respectfully and with a clear explanation of our objective moving forward. The international community will be watching how this administration conducts itself. We should ensure they see confidence...not the petulance of a child."

"Is that what you think of me?" James laughed, leaning back in his chair, "Come now, Nordstrom. I only throw my toys out of the pram in front of my wife." His grin grew momentarily, before he sighed, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. Diplomacy was good and well, when it served both parties. Nothing about the relations between muggle and wizard had ever served their kind. It was an imbalance and always had been, the scales never tipping in their favor only because the leadership that had come before had been too cowardly to throw their weight in.

“I believe we have already explained our objective quite clearly. Repeatedly. They are simply choosing not to accept it. I see little sense in doing so again. Clearly they are unable to respect our position, or our decision. A meeting will not change that. Neither will another polite decline.”

"Correct," James agreed, but he lingered on the word a moment, the wheels turning behind his eyes as his gaze drifted between them. "Another decline will simply see more postage piling at our door, and I'm not of the mind to meet simply because he demands it." What was the solution then? If their polite messages weren't getting through, if the Prime Minister was so adamant that they should meet despite the Laurence Administration's refusal, what came next?

“Perhaps quiet will make the message get through at last.”

"I've never been quiet a day in my life," he said, his voice lowering slightly as he finally looked down at his desk in thought. Quiet wasn't the answer either.

"We'll have the meeting," James said finally, his hand slapping loosely on the desk, and he pointed to Nordstrom. "You'll come with me," his eyes flicked to Harper, "as will you. We'll give the Prime Minister what he wants, but only so far as showing up. It's time for the muggles to understand their place."

He leaned forward, folding his hands on his desk, and knowing that Harper already understood his meaning, he fixed his eyes on Bertram. "We'll make it plain that this meeting will be the last time they'll hear from us, if they understand what's good for them. We'll explain we have no intention of continuing this 'diplomatic relationship' and effective immediately we will govern our own and expect them to do the same, without interference on either side." Knowing where this could go, and how unpredictable muggles could be, he continued.

"We'll bring two aurors. Talk to the MLE Head and get his best. I want us all on the same page here. We're to simply lay out our terms and intentions and roadblock any attempts at dissuading us. If things take a turn, we'll leave and regroup with our next steps."

He looked at Harper pointedly and then back to Bertram. "Are we all in agreement?"

Bertram remained silent for a moment after James spoke, considering the decision that had just been made. It was certainly bolder than he would have recommended. Then again, James Laurence had never promised to govern timidly.

A slow nod followed. "Very well." He folded his hands neatly in his lap.

"If the purpose of the meeting is to establish the conclusion of our working relationship, then that is exactly what we need to accomplish."

His gaze drifted to the parchment before returning to Harper and then the Minister. They shared the same destination, even if their preferred routes were different. James had made his decision. Bertram's responsibility now was to make sure it succeeded. "I would suggest we control the meeting in every way possible."

Leaning forward, Bram rested his arms on his knees, counting off the details with his fingers.

"The meeting should take place on neutral ground, with a written agenda delivered beforehand. We determine its purpose, its scope, and its duration. There should be no misunderstanding that this is not a negotiation. This is not an invitation to revisit previous decisions."

Looking toward Harper, then James, Bram's expression remained thoughtful.

"If the Prime Minister tries to change the topic of discussion, we politely decline and return to the matter at hand. The fewer opportunities we provide for distraction, the less opportunity there is for misunderstanding."

Or manipulation.

"As for security..." He nodded once. While he didn’t anticipate any issues, walking in with security would send a clear message.

"I agree. I will speak with the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Two Aurors should be more than sufficient, as long as they understand their role is one of protection rather than intimidation." Granted, intimidation would come regardless.

Another pause. Thinking over the meeting to come and what would be expected. His fingers tapped lightly against the arm of the chair.

"I would also recommend that we keep an official record of the meeting. History has a habit of being rewritten by people not in the room. I would rather there be no question as to what was said, by whom, and under what circumstances."

Finally, he met James' eyes. There was no hesitation. "You have my full support, Minister." A faint smile found its way onto his face. Happy with what the future would bring.

"I've never been quiet a day in my life."

Harper clicked her tongue, arching a brow in subtle amusement.

She supposed she should have anticipated an answer like that. Not like James Laurence to not have the last word, was it? If it were her decision, she would have simply ignored the Muggle tantrum until it dissolved on its own, left the letters and demands unanswered like a child’s willful frenzy. What could they do? Throw themselves to the ground and scream?

But confidence through passivity wasn’t the sort of power James wanted to portray, and Harper understood that. Either way, agreeing to meet might open up the opportunity they needed to better sell their decision to the public, judging by how deteriorated things with the muggle government already were. Not everyone was convinced yet, but Harper was sure they could make it so.

The muggles might just do it all by themselves. In fact, they already were. Petulant and doltish as they behaved.

Upon James’ decision, Harper smiled, a sly curl, softly inclining her head.

A meeting it was then.

A show of force rather than a negotiation, although she doubted the muggles would be intelligent enough to recognise the distinction. They were rather dull creatures. But she supposed time would be the judge. If they knew what was good for them, they’d finally relent.

Harper’s gaze shifted to Nordstrom as he outlined the practicalities of the meeting, listening in silence.

Neutral ground. A written agenda. Predetermined control.

Sensible. The less room they gave the Prime Minister to make demands, the easier it would be to strengthen their own position. After all, this would not be a discussion, but a declaration. If the muggles needed to hear it in person, so be it.

Once Nordstrom finished, Harper nodded. “I agree. A written response to arrange the meeting—we chose the time, place and attendees and make the purpose clear from the outset. A formal in-person break of ties. No negotiations, no hints of reconsideration, no concessions.”

Harper leaned back in her seat.

“As for the Aurors, two should be sufficient. Enough to provide security in the unlikely case we need it; subtle enough not to intimidate. I would rather they not provoke the muggles into doing something foolish.”

Her gaze settled on James, brows lifting faintly. The smallest smile appeared.

“We wouldn’t want them to feel threatened.”

A beat, and her gaze returned to Nordstrom. “I also agree on keeping a record. Preferably someone impartial, removed enough from the politics to leave no reasonable questions as to its accuracy or legitimacy.”

Wednesday, September 5, 1923
The British Cabinet War Rooms
Whitehall, London
11:00 AM
♫

---

Leather shoes sounded softly on the stone steps that led beneath the British treasury building.

James led the way, followed closely by Harper, Bertram, an intern from Bertram's department for record-keeping purposes, and the aurors they'd commandeered for the occasion. The man's gait was confident, perhaps arrogant, his head held high as he straightened his coat around his shoulders. The Prime Minister - Joseph Bellamy - was waiting with his cabinet in the historical war rooms. Not particularly the neutral place Harper had demanded, but James wasn't entirely fussed. This meeting would be brief and to the point. He had no intention of entertaining what would otherwise be a long meeting full of negotiations and the obligatory lunch. The Minister of Magic was a busy man, as were the people that worked alongside him, and they wouldn't give the impression otherwise.

Especially not for muggles.

At the bottom of the stairs stood two guards, one on each side of the ornate double doors that led into the war rooms. James nodded solemnly as the guards swung open the doors, bowing to the three magical leaders as they crossed the threshold. Inside, several men sat, talking animatedly amongst themselves, quieting instantly at the new arrivals.

James's eyes immediately locked on the Prime Minister. An older man of fifty-seven, his gaze as hard as his opponent's as he crossed the room, hand outstretched.

"Minister Laurence."

"Prime Minister." The men shook hands as James beckoned to his company. "Senior Undersecretary, Harper Campbell and Head of Magical Affairs, Bertram Nordstrom." The Prime Minister greeted both, casually eyeing the muscle that accompanied them.

"Bodyguards? Is it that sort of meeting?" The man's voice attempted ease and humor, but James saw right through it to the nerves that swam beneath. James merely offered a polite smile, "Considering our people's long bloody history with muggles, surely you understand." A hush fell over the room again as the Prime Minister studied the three carefully before opting to say nothing else, and beckoned them to their seats.

James cast his gaze sideways to both Bertram and Harper as he indicated they should sit first on either side of him.

Along the opposite side of the wall sat various cabinet members. The Secretaries of State of Foreign Affairs, Home Department and War. The Lords Chancellor, President of the Council and Privy Seal. All very 'important' men with very 'important' titles. None of which meant a thing to the man who intended to lead his own government without interference.

"Thank you Minister for agreeing to meet with us today. My cabinet and I are eager to acquaint ourselves with this new administration, and ensure that relations between our kind remain cooperative."

Bellamy folded his hands on the table, leaning forward a bit. James didn't move, his gaze square on Bellamy, never shifting or trailing.

"Your predecessor maintained regular communication with this office, particularly where magical affairs risked affecting the non-magical population. We would like assurance that arrangement will continue."

The Prime Minister's eyes flicked towards Bertram and then to Harper briefly.

"There are also several matters of jurisdiction and security we hope to clarify while we have the opportunity."

James's eyebrows raised slightly, a ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. He leaned back in his seat, turning first toward Bertram, silent amusement passing between the two men. "You'll forgive us, Bellamy," James began, slowly returning his attention to the man opposite him. Contrary to his words, there was no apology in his tone. "But the arrangement you enjoyed with my predecessors is exactly that. An arrangement with my predecessors."

Confusion instantly crossed the Prime Minister's features, his eyebrows knitting as his cabinet murmured amongst themselves for a moment. They quieted again when James continued, "For centuries, your kind has answered what it could not understand with fear. When fear proved insufficient, you turned to coercion. Imprisonment. Torture. Execution." His tone remained almost conversational, which somehow made the words land harder. "You hunted us, burned us, hung us, drowned us. You murdered women and children whose only crime was being born beyond your comprehension."

Bellamy's expression tightened, but James continued, almost lighthearted in his explanation.

"And when you finally discovered that exterminating us was beyond your capabilities, you settled for something more civilised." A faint smile touched his mouth. "Supervision. Although your people prefer to call it 'cooperation'. I understand. Polite company and all that."

A long silence passed between the two parties, the Prime Minister's cabinet shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

"That is an extraordinarily false characterization of relations between our governments."

"No, Prime Minister." James leaned forward at last, resting his forearms against the table, his tone growing colder and more direct. "It is an extraordinarily polite characterization of relations between our people."

Bellamy's expression hardened, but James was unmoved. His government was finished with muggle intrusion. The British magical world had suffered for the past several years now due to an inept Ministry who refused to deal with the enemy at their doorstep. Wards had fallen from Hogwarts. A madman more concerned with muggle children than the safety of their own leading the school. Their children tortured, their people accused of heinous crimes. A lackluster do-nothing Minister.

James was tired of weak leadership, tired of diplomacy that never served them, and wasn't asking permission to declare sovereignty. His people would be free of the muggle government, one way or another.

"Then I would caution you against confusing the sins of history with the conduct of the government sitting before you now."

"And I would caution you against assuming history becomes irrelevant simply because your methods have grown more polite."

"Then what, precisely, are you proposing?"

"Nothing." James leaned back again, drumming his fingers along the arm of his chair. "The decision has already been made."

He nodded to his cohorts.

"Mr. Nordstrom and Mrs. Campbell can explain what that decision means in practice."

As Bertram followed James into the meeting, his expression gave away nothing.

Years spent in courtrooms had taught him that first impressions were often made before a single word was spoken. Walk calmly. Speak deliberately. Never lose your composure even if someone loses theirs.

The room was exactly what he had expected. Heavy oak furniture. Leather. Maps. Men who were convinced they ruled the world.

His eyes swept the table, recognizing several faces from years of diplomatic meetings.

Then he found Sir Reginald Ashcombe.

Of course.

The Lord Chancellor looked exactly as Bertram remembered him. Immaculate suit. Impossibly stiff collar. The sort of man who oozed superiority.

Their last meeting had been nearly three years ago. Ashcombe had spent the afternoon explaining to Bertram why the Ministry of Magic should submit quarterly financial reports "for the sake of accountability."

As if Britain's magical government was on the same level as the British Department of Education. Bertram had almost suggested the Chancellor submit his finances to the Goblin Liaison Office under the same principle.

Instead, he'd smiled politely and replied,

"An imaginative proposal, Sir Reginald. Entirely without reason, but imaginative nonetheless."

The man had not appreciated his comment. Bertram didn’t care.
Even now, years later, Ashcombe wore that same smug expression. The expression of a man who thought he was speaking to small town governors rather than representatives of another government entirely.

If arrogance produced electricity, Ashcombe could illuminate all of London. Bertram thought.

His gaze drifted to the Prime Minister. Assuming James would want to preserve the old arrangement had been foolish. The magical government cooperated with the Prime Minister for decades because, at the time, they chose harmony.

Somewhere along the way, they had mistaken civility for obligation.

A mistake. One they were about to correct.

"You'll forgive us, Bellamy. But the arrangement you enjoyed with my predecessors is exactly that. An arrangement with my predecessors." Betram sat in his chair assessing the group in front of them. Most interested in how the Prime Minister took the news, but also significantly amused at the color the Lord Chancelor’s face was turning with every declaration by James.

It was glorious.

"Then what, precisely, are you proposing?"

"Nothing." James leaned back in his chair, the picture of ease. "The decision has already been made. Mr. Nordstrom and Mrs. Campbell can explain what that decision means in practice."

"Prime Minister,” Bertram sat forward, hands clasped on the table in front of him. The picture of calm, cool and collected.

“I believe what our Minister has already explained is very clear, but allow me to explain the practical application. The British Ministry of Magic will continue to protect magical Britain, continue to uphold the International Statute of Secrecy, and continue to prevent magical incidents from spilling into the non-magical world. What will change is the chain of command. Matters concerning Britain's magical community will now be governed exclusively by Britain's magical government. Decisions affecting our citizens, our laws, and our institutions will be made by those entrusted to govern them."

Bertram made sure to hold eye contact with the Prime Minister as he spoke. Wanting to make sure it was received properly.

“Essentially, we are clarifying jurisdiction and in the case of all things magical… You have none.”

Striding after James through the echoing halls of the Treasury building, Harper felt a coil of irritation twist inside her chest. Agreeing to meet the muggles was one thing. Accepting the muggles’ own government building as meeting grounds—anything but neutral—and arriving as though they were the ones answering a summons was something else entirely. Wizardkind wasn’t ordered around. If the muggles wanted a meeting, they should have been the ones summoned.

Harper had argued against these conditions, but to no avail. Here they were. At the very least, it wouldn’t be a long meeting, and ending the conversation before it had a chance to begin carried enough leverage to establish themselves as the ones in charge once and for all, one way or another.

At last, their group of six was let into the war rooms, drawing the attention of every man inside. Harper hadn’t met any of them, but one look was enough to determine their dispositions.

Arrogance. The sort of men who mistook power for competence and otherness for inferiority. Fools.

“Mr Bellamy.” Harper greeted the man with a small professional smile when he turned his attention to her, shaking the Prime Minister’s hand and ignoring the glint of curiosity in his eyes. As far as she knew, muggle women weren’t nearly as politically active as witches were, and while she had dealt with the occasional comment or glance from her own kind, the muggles seemed outright dumbstruck, almost unsettled.

Just another piece of evidence against their make-believe supremacy over wizardkind.

Harper’s face remained unimpressed.

Taking her seat beside James, ankles crossed and hands linked atop the table, the woman regarded the men across from them with easy confidence, letting her eyes move from person to person before settling upon Bellamy last.

"Thank you Minister for agreeing to meet with us today. My cabinet and I are eager to acquaint ourselves with this new administration, and ensure that relations between our kind remain cooperative."

Were she not so in control of herself, Harper might have scoffed. She was quite sure their previous written correspondence had been clear enough on the matter.

"Your predecessor maintained regular communication with this office, particularly where magical affairs risked affecting the non-magical population. We would like assurance that arrangement will continue."

Well, their predecessors were quite the limp sort, but Harper kept that to herself—James was already demonstrating the difference between diplomacy and submission. Bellamy and his cohorts looked anything but pleased, faces hardening and words sharpening the longer James refused to bend, but they would soon find out that wouldn't help them either. At last, the Minister nodded to Nordstrom and herself. Harper let the Head of Magical Affairs begin.

His explanation was brief but precise, and Harper found herself quite entertained by the expressions across the table. Unable to help herself, a slight curl played at the corners of her mouth, her eyes twinkling with amusement. It still lingered as silence settled, and she let it hang for a moment before speaking, inclining her head towards Bellamy.

“And to avoid any confusion, Prime Minister, this extends beyond legislation.”

His gaze met hers, discontent barely veiled, but Harper wasn’t fazed.

“Your office will no longer be consulted on matters concerning magical citizens, nor will it be expected to approve, advise upon, or oversee decisions made by the Ministry. You will govern your people, and we will govern ours. Cooperation may occur where it is mutually beneficial, but cooperation is not oversight. The distinction should not be difficult to understand.”

She paused for a beat, staring at Bellamy with the placid condescension of a teacher instructing their student before giving a small, dismissive wave of her hand.

“Now, we would prefer the transition to be amicable.” Bellamy’s gaze shifted to the Aurors, then returned to her face. “There is no reason for it not to be. We expect your government to respect these boundaries and maintain a respectful distance, just as ours will do in return."

One brow lifted into a subtle arch.

"Was this comprehensible?”

Silence.

James said nothing as Nordstrom’s and Harper’s explanations settled over the room. He didn’t need to. His expression spoke well enough for him.

The tension sharpened by the second, but rather than recoil from it, James seemed almost to settle into it. His eyes remained fixed on the Prime Minister, meeting the man’s derision with an unwavering calm that bordered on satisfaction.

Politics had always been a dirty game, conducted through backroom deals, carefully worded promises and favors exchanged beneath tables no one admitted existed. James Laurence had been raised around it. He had watched his father play it, watched Edward inherit it, and for most of his life had been perfectly content to let the burden of their family’s power rest on someone else’s shoulders.

He had never wanted the ducal seat. He had never wanted to lead the Laurence family. Edward had simply made both unavoidable.

But this? This, James had wanted. The authority.

The ability to stand before Britain’s political elite, look them directly in the eye and tell them, without apology or negotiation, that their reach ended here.

For too long, the magical world had allowed itself to be tangled in muggle politics, subject to intervention from men who neither understood their society nor had any right to govern it. James wanted something cleaner than cooperation dressed up as oversight. He wanted separation. Autonomy. A magical Britain accountable to itself and no one else.

And now, at last, he possessed the power to make it so.

Bellamy cleared his throat, as the men on either side of him began to voice their displeasure and disapproval.

"What you and your conspirators," Bellamy lingered on the word, as though they were merely a trio of thugs, "are suggesting is simply impossible, Minister."

Impossible. James allowed a smile to curl at the corner of his mouth, but he allowed Bellamy to continue.

"What you seem to misunderstand, is that we are the ones who hold the key to your world's secrecy. Without cooperation between our two governments, we will have little choice but to assume ill intent. And as I'm sure you'd understand, the safety of the normal world is of my upmost concern."

One of the men beside him shifted uncomfortably, but Bellamy continued without looking away from James.

"You may govern your people however you please. You may withdraw your representatives, close your offices, refuse our inquiries and declare yourselves entirely independent of this government. But you cannot demand that we continue protecting a secret you intend to use as a shield against us."

He paused, folding his hands neatly over the table, while James quickly flickered his gaze to Harper, holding it for only a moment, a silent conversation passing between the two of them. It wasn't an unexpected reaction, and they'd spoken at length about what their move would be if such a threat was levied.

"If His Majesty's Government is expected to regard your world as a foreign power operating within British territory, then perhaps the British public deserves to know that power exists."

The room went deathly still. Slowly, light brown eyes found their way back to Bellamy as James straightened in his chair. How presumptuous. How audacious. The confidence of a rat in a viper's nest lay behind the muggle's words, not realizing all power in this instance had already been stripped from him.

Calm and cool, James simply waved his hand. "What you fail to understand, Prime Minister, is we are not our ancestors." The curl of a smile grew into a wider grin, as the lights overhead flickered. The muggles stirred in their chairs, glancing upwards and murmuring amongst themselves. The aurors behind the trio straightened, their wands slowly dropping to their hands from their sleeves.

"If threats are the means by which your government intends to maintain its influence over mine," James continued, rising from his chair, "then you have demonstrated precisely why that influence can no longer exist." His wand settled comfortably into his hand. Bellamy shot to his feet, his chair scraping violently backward across the floor. The sudden movement sent alarm rippling through the men surrounding him.

"YOU DARE RAISE A WEAPON AGAINST HIS MAJESTY'S GOVERNMENT?!"

"Hardly." His eyes moved briefly to Nordstrom, then Harper. "We’re simply relieving it of information it can no longer be trusted to possess."

Bellamy shouted for the guards still waiting outside the door as spells began to fly. They burst through the door, wielding their guns but were quickly petrified by the aurors. "Obliviate them." James never raised his voice, snapping his wand in the direction of Bellamy. "All of them."

The meeting had stopped being a discussion several minutes ago. Now it was theatre, posturing, and threats.

Bertram remained seated, his hands folded in front of him as voices rose around the table. None of this surprised him. In all his years of negotiating treaties, legislation, and trials, anger was rarely sudden. It was a tactic. A last attempt to keep control of the discussion that had already ended.

The British Government had arrived expecting a negotiation. Instead, they had been given an ending. Accusations. Threats. Bringing up history that no longer applied. Nothing surprising.

Dealing with powerful people always fascinated Bram. Intimidation and threats always came quickly when they realized their status no longer worked. At some point, the British Government had convinced themselves that the Ministry of Magic was beneath them, not an equal.

An obvious misconception. One they were correcting.

James' voice remained steady, never rising to the threats, never letting emotions get the best of him. "What you fail to understand, Prime Minister, is we are not our ancestors."

Bram nodded his head in agreement.

"If threats are the means by which your government intends to maintain its influence over mine, then you have demonstrated precisely why that influence can no longer exist."

James rose from his chair. Bertram did not move. The Minister withdrew his wand. Predictably, panic ensued.

"YOU DARE RAISE A WEAPON AGAINST HIS MAJESTY'S GOVERNMENT?!"

Bertram almost sighed. If they thought the danger had only begun when James drew his wand, they had not been paying attention.

Their ignorance was showing.

Bertram found it almost amusing. If only they knew how many times their own government had left meetings with memories rearranged.

"Obliviate them. All of them."

There were no dramatics as he reached inside his coat. His wand rested comfortably in his hand as he walked to the head of the table, his shoes the only sound in the suddenly quiet room.

His blue eyes settled on the Prime Minister.

"Prime Minister," he said calmly, "The International Statute of Secrecy does not change simply because of who you are. The information we discussed during this meeting can no longer remain in your possession."

His expression never changed.

"This is not punishment, it’s procedure." He said simply. Almost in a clinical calm.

Bertram lifted his wand. The movement was small. Almost effortless.

"Obliviate."

"What you and your conspirators are suggesting is simply impossible, Minister."

Harper almost sighed.

Evidently, Mr Nordstrom’s and her own very comprehensible explanations had not been comprehensible to the Muggle Minister at all. It came as no surprise, considering the Muggles hadn’t been able to understand their written correspondence either, but wasn’t that precisely what she had argued before agreeing to this?

A meeting was just as pointless as every other attempt at communication. These men clearly lacked the necessary comprehension to realise who they were dealing with.

Otherwise, Bellamy wouldn’t have made the fatal mistake of threatening to expose Wizarding Britain.

Harper’s gaze met James’, no longer than a split second, but enough to exchange a silent conversation. Enough to bring the slightest curl back to the corners of her mouth.

How very convenient.

This entire theatre show was tiresome, unnecessary, and increasingly reminiscent of the squabbling Harper had to endure between her nieces and nephew at family gatherings—grown men behaving like children who had been told they could not have their way. Yet despite the flicker of irritation simmering beneath her skin, Harper couldn’t deny that the door the Muggles had just opened sparked something else entirely.

Excitement, she almost dared call it.

As with everything, the Muggles had no one but themselves to thank for what was to come.

Her expression still holding a faint trace of amusement, Harper returned her attention to Bellamy and watched with satisfaction as the men across the table slowly spiralled into panic. James’ words settled over the room with the quiet confidence of a Minister who knew how to wield his power, and who knew he had already won before the other side had realised they’d lost. When Bellamy shot to his feet, shouting like a hysterical woman, Harper actually sighed.

Chaos erupted.

The doors burst open, but the Muggle guards dropped like trees, their guns useless against an Auror’s wand. Panic spread through the room as the politicians scrambled from their seats.

Harper paid it little attention. She rose calmly, pushing her chair back into place as the Aurors began Obliviating. Even Mr Nordstrom had decided to lend a hand. Smoothing down her skirt, Harper joined James’ side.

Her gaze lingered on one of the Muggles, his eyes glazing over as the memories were stripped from his mind.

“They do make it quite easy.” She glanced sideways at James, a faint smile tugging at her lips as one brow gently arched. “I suppose meeting with them paid off after all.”