The first thing people notice about her is her beauty. She is tall and slender, with aristocratic, sculpted features. Her beauty is a convenience to her, nothing more. The second thing people notice is her eyes. They are a silvery grey, and can change from warm to ice as fast as her moods, like mercury. People fear her, the way she knows them, the way she understands their inner workings and uses them shamelessly.
Nevertheless, master manipulator that she is, she was elected, two weeks ago, to the post of Minister of Magic. It was a close vote, and she resents that she only just got the post. But she is almost happy. She has finally achieved her life’s ambition. She has finally achieved what she studied for as a girl, and later strove for in the Department of Magical Cooperation. She has finally achieved her ultimate ambition. Or has she? Her aim was to be the most powerful person in Wizarding Britain, the Minister of Magic. But she has found that being Minister does not make her the most powerful person in the country, as she anticipated. It makes her second most powerful. She hates that. She hates being second. Because someone else already holds the title of most powerful, and is unlikely to give it up any time soon. She knows he will probably hold that title until he dies. She knows that he will probably hold that title after his death. She brushes it off. She knows there is nothing more she can do, and resolves to be happy with where she is now. She immerses herself in her work. She does not remember her former discontent until later in the day, around noon.
The reminder comes in the form of a man passing her in the corridor, green robes billowing behind him. The badge on his shoulder that says he is the head of the Auror department. He is striking to look at, with jet-black hair and brilliant emerald eyes. They are eyes that see into you, eyes that show wisdom, eyes that don’t really fit in such a young face. If the eyes are the window to the soul, his eyes show that he has the confidence achieved only by those who have carried the weight of the world on their shoulders and find they have done well by it; the confidence acquired only by those who take up what they love the most and discover that they are more than very, very, good; they are the best of the best. There is kindness in his eyes, too. A kindness that speaks for him. A kindness that says he is unmarred by a belief of infallibility, an air of superiority; a kindness that says he is capable of loving deeply, beyond the normal capacity. These are eyes that draw eyes; they are eyes people can get lost in, and frequently do, consumed by the flood of information available to those who can recognize it. This man has carried the weight of the world and survived, they proclaim. He has done more than that; he succeeded. He soared. He triumphed. This man is extraordinary, he is one-in-a-million, and he has been prepared to give up everything for a world that did nothing for him, only to discover his sacrifice is not required. This man is the man responsible for the peace the world has enjoyed for five years now; he began it, and he has maintained it. The confidence he radiates is the confidence that commands. It is the type of surety people will follow without question.
And they do not question him. They have no need to. He has proven himself, time and time again, to be above and beyond all standards. His immense capability for compassion lends him the ability to understand any who are foolish enough to pit themselves against him, understand them enough to find their weaknesses and exploit them to return the world to peace once more. People no longer make the mistake of underestimating him. They know Tom Riddle underestimated him. They also know Tom Riddle no longer walks this Earth.
The people would fear him if they didn’t know he is just. They know he may be the greatest Auror to ever live, but they also know he is merciful. They know he has made mistakes, and he is a more forgiving, better person for it.
More than anything, the people love him. They love him because he, a seventeen-year-old, found with his friends and mentors the courage and knowledge to do what no one else could; he ended the war when all seemed lost. He is their savior, their legend. They love him because he still treats all as his equals, and his pride has not swollen with his fame. His legacy has encompassed that of Albus Dumbledore, he who was said to be the greatest wizard ever to live.
The Minister knows that while she may have the people’s respect, he has their love, their awe, and their loyalty. She hates him for it. She hates that she worked all her life to be the most powerful person in Wizarding Britain, only to discover the post had been filled and she would have to settle for second best. She hates the knowledge that if he had run for Minister, he would be in her place now, but with a unanimous vote. She hates that he holds more sway in a single word than she does in a speech. She hates the knowledge that if he were to denounce her, she would lose her post. She hates that he holds everything she’s ever wanted and makes no use of it. She hates that he is only twenty-two. She hates that while she might be Minister of Magic, he, Harry Potter, head of the Auror department, legendary hero of the Great War, renowned celebrity, holds exponentially more power.
But somewhere, deep inside her, she knows that while she has worked for that title all her life, he has put in just as much, probably more. And she knows that while she may want the title, and he may not, the fact remains that he deserves it much more than she does.
To Be Second by msk8
Chapter Endnotes: My first fanfic! I like reveiws, so please make use of the white box down there.