Pain . . . oh. Harry suddenly felt sick. He recognised this sort of pain. Not a werewolf matter, after all; anybody could suffer Cruciatus.
Harry frowned, hating the thought of Remus being punished like that. And if it was happening a lot, maybe Remus really didn't have what it took to carry on as a spy . . .
"The Wizengamot has met in emergency session," announced the headmaster as soon as he had everyone's full attention. "Following a little-used precedent, they have determined the individual best suited to become the next Minister of Magic. Rufus Scrimgeour, who these past few years has worked as Head of Magical Law Enforcement, is their choice for the post. I do not know the man well, but Kingsley has briefed me on his character. Scrimgeour is no fool, as Minister Fudge was. He is a hard pragmatist who will not hide from the truth."
"He won't arrange for Ministry personnel to work all hours without proper security?" asked Mrs Weasley in the silence that followed. Her tone was awful, Harry thought. Scathing and furious, but beneath all that was so much pain that it hurt Harry just to listen.
"No, Molly, he won't," said Dumbledore, very softly. "In fact, Rufus Scrimgeour had several times filed complaints about that very practice."
Molly made a huffing noise and turned her face away, as if to say, Too little, too late.
"What's this precedent you mentioned?" asked Moody, his face taut with suspicion. "Never have heard of a Minister being selected by the Wizengamot, bunch of fools that they are. What happened to good old-fashioned standing for election, eh? What happened to letting ordinary witches and wizards be the ones to select their leader?"
"The Department of Magical Elections has been utterly annihilated," said Albus quietly. Molly bit her lip, all the same. "The Wizengamot decided that an emergency measure was appropriate, in the circumstances."
"Didn't answer my question, though, did you now? What precedent did they dig up to push this through?"
"Selection by Divination."
Snape's nostrils flared, his eyes flashing with obvious scorn. "Our fearless leaders don't want the blame if their emergency measure makes things even worse. This way, they can fault the Tarot or the winds or some other such nonsense."
"I expect they will, yes," said Albus mildly, his thin shoulders lifting for a moment. "Assuming that matters become worse. Perhaps they won't."
"But, Albus . . . Divination?" That was Arthur, his brow deeply creased. Harry wondered how he could care how the new Minister had been selected, just a day after his son had been killed, but perhaps this was one more instance of something to keep his mind occupied with other matters. "You know as well as any of us how few true practitioners there are of that art. Most seers are charlatans, and in any case, people usually see what they wish to see, when they read the signs."
"True, true," murmured Dumbledore, stroking his beard. "Though in this case, that may work to advantage. Just think of the man chosen to take on the duties of Minister. Head Auror, an experienced fighter, in this, a time of war. Most apt. Suspiciously so, one might even say. The witches and wizards of the Wizengamot have indeed seen what they wished to see, but by calling it Divination, they are ready to shift the blame in case their judgement is proven faulty."
"Slytherin," said Draco, nodding slightly.
"Why, yes, Draco." The headmaster beamed, though the expression was far less radiant than usual. Too much sorrow in the air. "Rufus Scrimgeour was in fact sorted Slytherin when he attended Hogwarts."
Draco visibly jerked. "No, I meant the Wizengamot-- never mind."
Harry raised an eyebrow. A Slytherin Minister of Magic? That might prove interesting.
Either that, or it would turn out to be a very, very bad thing.
But Slytherin doesn't mean evil, he reminded himself. Strange that he would have to. He'd known it for a long time, now.
But still, the first thing he'd thought of when he'd heard that the new Minister had been a Slytherin was whether Scrimgeour might agree with Voldemort when it came to blood purity. Daft thought, really. He couldn't have risen through MLE if he was a blatant racist.
Unless he hid that part of himself. Slytherins are good at misdirection--
Harry sternly told himself to stop it. Until he had a reason to distrust Rufus Scrimgeour, he'd . . . well, he wouldn't actually trust him. He couldn't, not after the way Fudge had behaved. But, Harry decided, he would give Scrimgeour the benefit of the doubt.
"An announcement will have been made over the Wireless, by now," Dumbledore was continuing, his glance seeking out the clock on the far wall. "Rufus Scrimgeour assumed the post of Minister a few moments ago. He will hold it for six months, at which point a regular election will either confirm or end his appointment. Lists of those killed in the attack on the Ministry will be released to the newspapers tomorrow. Oh, and one more thing. Kingsley has been promoted to head the Auror Office."
"That could turn out useful," said Moody, nodding. His eye rolled about in his skull, like he was checking for hidden spells every which way.
"Indeed." Dumbledore glanced around the crowded kitchen. "If there are no questions, then, I will ask Remus to speak next. As all of you know, he has been impersonating Lucius Malfoy in all walks of life for some time now. As such, he has managed to gain Voldemort's ear, as it were. Remus was present during the attack on the Ministry."
A shocked silence descended, though beneath it, Harry thought he could almost hear undercurrents of the thoughts swimming through everybody's mind. Present? Present during the attack?
Meanwhile, Snape was scowling deeply, his black eyes shining with what could only be resentment. Harry wanted to gnash his teeth. Snape should be delighted that the Order had some inside information! But no, he couldn't be, because in this case, it meant that Remus was the one responsible.
Well, Harry didn't care what Snape thought. For his part, he was happy that Remus was doing so well as a spy. It meant he had what it took to succeed in the position; it meant he would manage to survive the dangerous work he was doing.
"Albus rather overstates the case, I'm afraid," said Remus, looking a little shaky as he rose to his feet, his fingers twitching. "I wasn't present when the attack was planned, or the Order would have been forewarned. I wouldn't say that I have the Dark Lord's ear."
"Now, now, Remus," chided Dumbledore. "You know you were the only one he summoned back to join him from abroad. The only one of his followers he decided to trust."
Snape looked more sour than ever, hearing that. Harry had to bite his lip, in case he remarked on his father's expression.
Nobody else noticed Snape, though, because what Remus had said was too shocking.
"The Dark Lord, is it?" growled Moody. "Are you sure that mark's not doing something to you?"
"A slip of the tongue could end my spying before it's properly begun," said Remus wearily. "Keeping to that here is just another form of vigilance."
"Quite right, quite right."
Albus' quiet approval silenced the murmurings.
Drawing in a breath, Remus went on. "As the Order knows, the Dark Lord sent his all of his Death Eaters away from Britain yesterday. All save me have remained abroad. I, however, was summoned to his side just as the Ministry attack was about to commence."
"Why you?"
That was Snape, his voice perfectly level, his features neutral again. Harry personally thought he shouldn't have asked at all, and certainly he shouldn't have interrupted Remus' report to ask. He was doing what he'd cautioned Draco against: letting his personal feelings influence his conduct at the meeting.
But then, perhaps after all he'd done for the Order, he was entitled.