Before the Ballots
The Road to Power
In the quiet before the election, every whisper had a purpose.
Mid April 1922
Harper Campbell, the heroine that had unveiled Wylder Merrow’s darkest secrets, and saved the Wizarding World of evil.
It was the picture the papers had been painting for weeks now, the narrative led by no other than her own husband — using one of his aliases of course — and quickly picked up by various other reporters and papers.
Soon blown up into a propaganda machine that fed itself.
One article after the other, requests for interviews and pictures and comments, reporters crowding her in public spaces to the point of harassment. Even within the ministry itself the whispers and stares followed her around the third floor corridors, some wary, some awed.
Harper played the part gracefully.
Merely the humble patriot that saw the wrongdoing of a man and called it out, the nation’s wellbeing at heart and the good of the people in mind. After all, these fanatics’ actions had almost led to exposure of their proud magical society to the one that for centuries had hunted the likes of wizards and witches for being different, burned and hung and lynched.
Everything about that was to be condemned and left in the past, calling for a clean break. A new direction to follow.
A change of pace and a change of priorities.
And thanks to her dear husband Beaumont, who carefully continued to pull the strings of media and opinion, Harper Campbell’s profile never slipped away into meek, feminine subordination, but strengthened to one of the leading voices in political discourse.
Appreciated by some, and frowned upon by others.
There nonetheless, and determined to stay.
June 19, 1922
Noon
Whitehall
Noon
Whitehall
The gossip was beginning to make its rounds.
Beaumont Campbell, silver quill that he was, had begun the arduous task of putting a buzz in the ear of Britain’s wizarding world.
Following the conviction and incarceration of Wylder Merrow - and the rehoming of his dog to the Barlowes, ironically enough - the magical people of Britain were panicking, distrustful and questioning their government and the future to where they were being led.
James intended to take them firmly by the leash.
Harper’s husband, brilliant propagandist as he was, was churning out article after article, think piece after think piece, all behind the ghost name of Arthur Turney. His words were meant to sway the greater public, twisting their minds and opinions towards the idea that their world and society could be far more powerful than it had ever been before.
James’s name had been dropped here and there amongst the pieces, quietly. A suggestion that perhaps new blood wasn’t what Britain needed, but old, established, successful, evidenced in the longevity of the family name that had withstood centuries of bloodshed and intrigue.
Who better to progress the country forward than a traditionalist with power in his smile?
“Your Grace! Mister Laurence!”
“Is it true you’ll be running for Minister of Magic come the fall?”
“Any comments sir?”
“What about your agenda sir? What policies would you be running on? The wizarding world is desperate for answers.”
James stepped out of the phone booth into the swarm of reporters, hoisting his hood up over his head and conjuring an invisible umbrella to keep the rain off him. He moved quickly down the road, as the reporters followed, their questions coming faster and more urgent with every step he took.
“Please sir! Arthur Turney says you intend to throw everything you have into this upcoming election. Who will be your running mate?”
James sighed, for the optics, rather than true exasperation.
“No comment, thank you.”
August 20, 1922
1:15 PM
The Ministry of Magic
1:15 PM
The Ministry of Magic
By mid-August, the Ministry had begun whispering to itself.
The whispers lingered behind half-drunk cups of tea and cigarette breaks. Their nervous chatter echoed along the stone walls and drifted along the fountain that splayed its beauty in the center foyer. In lifts, outside the fireplaces and behind closed doors, James Laurence’s name had started slipping from one mouth to the next.
“They say he’ll abolish the wand registry.”
“I heard he wants loyalty reviews.”
“...For the entire ministry?!”
“For anyone who matters.”
The words moved faster than paper ever could. Bloodline incentives. Muggleborn oversight. Separation from muggle government. No one knew what was true, which made it all feel more exciting…and admittedly, terrifying.
James heard it all as he wandered the upper corridors of the third floor, taking meetings and reviewing upcoming court proceedings as necessary. His pace was always unhurried, his expression always calm and unreadable. Occasionally a pair of clerks would fall silent at his passing, staring, wondering if this was really to become their future.
James offered them a pleasant smile.
Behind him, he heard the whispers.
“Do you really think he’ll run? An old aristo like him?”
“Do men like him ever do anything by accident? There’s a reason for all this talk.”
“I heard he’s considering Harper Campbell as his Senior Undersecretary. A woman.”
“Well, she was the one who testified against the Minister, having found all his correspondence with that cult. Can you believe he’d choose her?!”
“After Merrow, I think I can believe anything.”
James continued quietly on his way.
Saturday, 23 September 1922
High Society Halfblood Function
11:27pm
High Society Halfblood Function
11:27pm
“He’s a pureblood aristocrat, a duke.” The man standing across from her cast a sceptical glance through the group gathered around Harper. “Why should we endorse him? The purebloods have always only looked out for themselves, Laurence will hardly be any different.”
Harper continued to smile evenly. “Because he will be running with me. And I have our interests at heart.”
More mumbles and uncertain glances. Harper wasn’t deterred.
“Don’t you want more influence?”, she asked calmly. “More status? What if I tell you that by this time next year, all of you could be purebloods as well?” A ripple of confusion went around the circle.
“Purebloods? What do you mean?”
“Four generations of magical blood through all branches and the title will be yours.” A palpable spark of interest zapped to life, energy that suddenly felt exciting and intrigued instead of doubtful and hesitant.
One of her brows rose, almost a little mischievous. “And those that can prove a lineage as pure won’t have to share the same label as the ones with direct muggle heritage anymore. A clean cut. A clean distinction.”
Something Halfblood society had been grumbling about for decades. Always ignored, until now.
Glances were exchanged once more, this time however they shimmered with temptation.
Influence. Status. Power. A patriarch’s greatest motivator and Harper had just watered a seed each of them carried through birth. Now it only needed to bloom.
“And you believe you can convince him to do this?” one of the less persuaded listeners spoke up, face cool and unimpressed.
She might be well known and respected, no matter the fact she was a woman, within her own circles at the very least. However, some liked to cling to prejudices, but Harper had long stopped caring.
Her demeanor didn’t change. “I don’t need to. I already have.”
October 11, 1922
4:30 PM
Diagon Alley
4:30 PM
Diagon Alley
The press conference had just concluded outside of Gringott’s.
Gathered had been a swarm of reporters from wizarding news outlets all over the world. The Daily Prophet of course, El Heraldo Encantado from Spain, An Draíochtóir from Ireland, Der Schwarze Adler from Germany, Het Haagse Heksenblad from the Netherlands, Cherniyat Vestnik from Bulgaria, The Protea Quill from South Africa, and The Salem Sentinel from the U.S. to name a few.
Before them, at a podium draped in Britain’s flags and national colours, stood James Laurence with his wife, Amelia at his side. Next to him stood Harper Campbell, her husband Beaumont holding her hand.
The four of them offered polite, serene smiles and waves as cameras flashed and smoked all around them, their speeches having just made history, preparing to go into the next morning’s papers verbatim.
James glanced sideways at Harper, his smile dimming into something slightly more knowing, before he took his wife by the hand, and led her off the stage the press had set up for them.
The announcement had been made. Together, he and Harper would take wizarding Britain by storm, and rush their people forward into a new future that would see the very fabric of their society turned on its head.
There was no room for shirking from the details or denying what they were here to do.
“Your Grace! You just mentioned a complete break from muggle government! This would mean the end of cooperation between the United Kingdom parliament and our own. Don’t you think this is short-sighted and possibly reckless, considering the wizarding world as we know it has never stood alone?”
James stopped, his exit paused momentarily as he and Amelia exchanged a look. A smile graced her features and she nodded, agreement exchanging between their eyes in the briefest of seconds.
Turning back to the reporter, James’s expression hardened.
“The British wizarding world has been on its knees for far too long. I intend to drag it back to its feet, kicking and screaming if need be.”
An uproar of shouts and excited questions barraged the couple, but James simply took his wife by the hand and led her swiftly away, back towards the peace and safety of Arundel.
Tuesday, 5 December 1922
The Drifting Kettle
4:45pm
The Drifting Kettle
4:45pm
“Don’t you think it’s so amazing we might get a woman as Undersecretary?” Clara’s face beamed as she looked back and forth between Nellie and Dorothy, chin propped onto her clasped hands.
The latter shrugged uncertainly, stirring sugar into her tea. “I don’t know, Clara. Don’t you think it’s a bit…too progressive? Mother says a woman shouldn’t be doing such things as politics and father almost choked on his morning coffee when I told him about the announcement in the Prophet.”
Clara rolled her eyes, waving a hand in dismissal. “Fiddlesticks! This is the 20th century! There are so many things to do! Right, Nellie?”
“Yes,” the blonde immediately agreed, nodding once. “This will show stuck-up uncle Rupert! Told me a woman should marry and settle, be a good wife and socialite and be done with it.” A scoff as she shook her head. “If Harper Campbell can run to become Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, then I can start my own research project once my studies are done!”
Clara nodded fervently, looking back at Dorothy who seemed quite uncomfortable in her seat, casting nervous looks around. “Don’t you want to do something besides marrying and having children?” Clara added, head tilted with a smile. “I will definitely vote for Laurence and Campbell. And isn’t she so fashionable too?”
Nellie hummed in agreement, sipping her tea.
“I wish I could be like her! So elegant and graceful while being so clever and well-spoken!”
With a sigh, Dorothy sat down her cup, interrupting the others’ swooning.
“It’s not that,” she admitted, chewing her lip for a moment before voicing her true worry. “Have you not seen their agenda? It’s all against muggles, advocating for the control of muggleborns. I wouldn’t be able to find work anyway, even if I wanted to. Everything will be harder for people like me.”
Clara and Nellie exchanged a look. “Now, don’t be ridiculous,” Nellie chuckled. “That’s very dramatic, don’t you think? Besides, they want to help muggleborns!”
Clara enthusiastically nodded once more. “Exactly! It’s all over their posters. Stronger magical upbringing!”
Dorothy didn’t look convinced.
“I don’t know…I think I will vote for Nunn. Something about Laurence seems off, and Campbell too. I don’t trust them.”
Both her friends shook their heads, chuckling though. “Very well,” Clara snickered. “Don’t pout though when we’ll tell you ‘we told you so’, once all three of us are high up St. Mungo’s and the Ministry’s ranks! This will pave all our ways, I’m telling you!”
OOC: Welcome friends! Please find the candidates policies and campaign fliers here and here. Links to the polls will be at the bottom of each!
Credit for writing goes to Amber and Lena for this piece.
