Real Opportunities

[Walter Murdoch]

Walter peered at the great stone board with meticulous eyes. As to be expected, there was not a spot of ink or unsanitary substances to be found. He may constantly be receiving reports of the board being vandalised (why anyone would bother was beyond him), but he had never had the misfortune of seeing it in anything but a pristine state. Not one notice was even close to hanging crookedly, their revered words still legible and shining (but never dripping), and even the light dust which would usually settle was nonexistent. The house elves were doing their job.

Keeping to his ever present routine, he gave a satisfied—if somewhat smug—smile and proceeded to charm the next announcement, plus a little something extra, onto the panel. For most it would have been a long and tedious process, but for Walter it was an obscure opportunity to show the Ministry could not be stopped. The announcements had yet to be detached permanently from their place, and he took great pride in knowing his spell work was such a vital tool.

When it was clear the objects were secure, he took a step back and examined the board once more. With a firm nod he turned away and disappeared through the corridors.

The beginning of February brings us firmly into this year and the passing of the Christmas holidays. I certainly hope each and every one of you spent the last month thinking about your choices and which path is the right one. I, myself, have been very busy at work maintaining the impeccable security at this school. There have been traitors and vandals—but do you see them anywhere, my friends? The Ministry has been relentless in protecting your lives, and it is with great regard that I assure you this February will be yet another safe month for you all.

As such, we at the Ministry have been thinking of some of the concerns you might have and are sensitive to your opinions. While, of course, there is to be no negative remarks made towards us, we heartily accept that some of you may wish to confer with us more frequently. Therefore I am presenting the opportunity to you. Is there something here that you would like to see? A place to submit written feedback of our actions, or suggest another security measure? Are you intimidated by some of the students, and would like to give feedback anonymously? Or even, if you feel you are up to the responsibility, the chance to vote on new regulations and decide what would make your school the safest?

I can only imagination what it is you would wish, and wait with anticipation for your responses. Located beside this notice is a secure box in which I implore you to submit what you think should be employed here amongst our presence. Don’t take this opportunity lightly, my dear citizens! How often would such a grand and prospering government offer to hear your say?

[Rhett Asherbrough]

Rhett had been assigned to the early evening shift for prefect patrols for the second time that week. Accordingly, he finished up his dinner in due speed and ran up to the Ravenclaw common room to fetch his silver badge. He also needed sufficient time to make it back down to his starting post before the dinner crowds piled out of the Great Hall. Four or more prefects were always posted in the entrance hall when meals let out, in order to oversee the Ministry boards, of course. That chaotic mass of students, plus everyone crowding around to see the latest decrees... well, some students apparently thought it was the best time to defile the boards without being caught. And Rhett and his cohorts were there to prevent such juvenile behavior. It was a routine that he had definitely not forgotten over the long winter break.

Rhett, slightly out of breath, descended the last few steps and was thankful he could still hear the gentle rumble of voices and the clinking of cutlery from within the Great Hall’s doors. He nodded in greeting to a fellow prefect.

“Anything new?” Rhett asked in passing.

The other fifth year nodded, prompting Rhett to turn his attention to the latest word from the government. He might as well get a good read of it now while he had the elbow room. He skimmed swiftly and efficiently, standing there with both of his hands stuffed his back pockets. When he arrived at that part of the message, he took another glance at the brand new-looking suggestion box fixed alongside of the boards. Ha, he would love to read whatever these kids came up with, somehow knowing that most responses wouldn’t be a brief “Jolly good job – keep it up!”

Rhett grabbed a small square of parchment and made quick work of his contribution, already hearing the sounds of that evening’s dinner coming to a close.

As an extension of the Ministry’s
influence, might the organization
of Hogwarts’ prefects and head
students into more of a student
government – a mock Ministry of
sorts – be a good idea?

Signed, Raring-To-Go

[Dreme Li]

Dreme knew what was coming even before she read through the Ministry's latest restrictive decree. Judging by the blasphemous remarks graffitied across the page, this hadn't been taken too kindly to by the students - she grinned. At least some had the sense not to cuddle up too much to the Ministry. She frowned as she read on, however; it seemed some actually approved of the Ministry's dubbed 'safekeeping;' here was one who wanted the prefects to be granted more power! A horrid shame, that was. Well, she'd just have to do something about it.

She reached into her pocket for a quil, thoroughly intending to write a self-righteous little snippet across the page, but her fingers closed around something better. Grinning, she pulled out her spare, and delicately clonked it on the rim of the great stone board, propping it up against the wall and muttering a quick Unstickable Charm. Granted, she was only a student, so the charm wouldn't last forever - but it should be up there for at least a week, enough to attract attention with its constant flashing.

She turned and left it there. The Ministry could try and puzzle it out; but since it had no clue as to the location or purpose of the instrument, she was confident that no harm would befall her open act of defiance. There it stuck, a sign to all who were fighting with her that Dumbledore's Army wasn't stopping without a fight.

[Amelia Dearborn]

Amelia usually tried her best to not pass the board on which the ministries decree’s hung. Hung like a prison sentence over them all throughout the whole school. However she was often forced to pass it on the way to transfiguration classes because the only other route went past the girls bathrooms where Moaning Myrtle lived, and the moaning complaining ghost had always deeply unsettled Amelia, even more then the other ghosts.

It had actually been a while since she’d passed by here, choosing Moaning Myrtle over the ministry board. She reasoned with herself that if she never read their decrees, she would be able to truthfully say that she knew nothing about the rules if ever she was interrogated with Veritaserum. However today Moaning Myrtle had flooded the bathroom, as well as the corridor right outside, and Amelia did not feel like wading through it.

The suggestion box caught her eye as she passed, and though she scowled, she grew curious. She read the notice.

"I implore you to submit what you think should be employed here amongst our presence. Don’t take this opportunity lightly, my dear citizens! How often would such a grand and prospering government offer to hear your say?"

Goodness that should offer to hear their say all the time, this was supposed to be a democratic country! They’d defiantly hear her say!

Angrily Amelia pulled a sheet of parchment and her quill out of her bag. For a moment she hesitated. By writing what she was planning to write what was in her head she’d actually be breaking one of the Ministries decrees. One of which the result was being charged with treason. Amelia smiled smugly. And here was where her diplomatic training was supposed to come in. She dipped her quill in her dark blue ink.

Dear sir, madam, or whomever it may concern,

I believed that there are many things in life that are important to people as citizens of the wizarding community which could be improved upon. There always is within every government, and it is the ministries difficult task to decide which of these to focus on. Improvement is key, as a community we must move forward towards becoming a more correct society, faithful to the hegemonic values which the citizens so cherish in their hearts.

For many years the Ministry have protected us, and shown their loyalty. I am grateful that our society has a free press that allows such newspapers and magazines such as The Daily Prophet. I am however quite upset at the recent dwindling in the choice of excellent reading material, and satisfying reading experiences. Many quite exceptional niche market papers have ceased to exist. As a person who believes in freedom of speech and enjoys hearing other people’s opinions this saddens me. I am wondering whether this may be due to the daily Prophet gaining too much of a monopoly on the market.

I hope that my plea will not be in vain, I do understand that t is not the fault of the ministry, indeed I am quite sure that my advice will be taken seriously by the relevant politicians and ministry officials.

Thank you.

Amelia checked it through. No name, no age, no year, not even a hint at what gender she was. Handwriting not her own adorned the page in elegant cursive writing. She had done so by writing from a different angle. Also she had made sure that she ad not blamed the ministry, but rather the Daily Prophet. Blaming someone wasn’t always how you got them to change something. Actually in parts she’d quite flattered them, and several times assured that she trusted them to listen to her. Trust. She didn’t trust the ministry at all; they’d probably burn the letter. Oh well, now she’d tried the diplomatic way. She folded the parchment neatly, and shoved it through the slot. Now she felt free to do it the rebellious way.

[Terry Boot]

Terry was passing by when he saw that there was a new notice up on the Ministry board. No matter how many times Terry defaced the self-important eyesore, it was always pristine the next day. Something that intensely annoyed him. Despite himself, he couldn't help but gravitate towards the sign. What were they banning now? he thought wryly. Perhaps they've decided that smiling is now a crime against the state. Wouldn't put it past them. To Terry's considerable astonishment, it wasn't a decree banning anything. It was a chance to voice our opinions (so long as they didn't criticize the Ministry. That would just be stupid).

Terry looked around. He was completely alone. A wicked smile began to appear on his thin face. Diving into his satchel, his eyes twinkling with mischievous, he took out a piece of parchment and all the apparatus needed to write. Settling himself with his back against the cold stone wall, he began to write quickly, checking periodically for passers by.

Dear Ministry drone,
as much as I deeply appreciate your opportunity to let us sycophantically inflate your already dangerous large ego, I feel that to do would leave it in danger of exploding, killing yourself and all your colleagues. This would be a terrible shame for us. Instead I shall tell you truth, a concept you might not be familiar with. Don't worry if its your first time, I'll be gentle. The Ministry of Magic is a diseased bunch of bloated, self-righteous bores who were obviously bullied badly at Hogwarts. This is why you congregate to the Ministry. Because it gives meaning to your sad little existences. Unfortunately for you, everybody despises you, your policies, and pretty much everything about you. I personally would like to set fire to the Ministry and watch it burn to the ground. Preferably with you lot inside it.

Yours reluctantly,
The Durov Circle

Terry then got out his wand and performed a charm that caused the handwriting to change. He shoved it through the slot and tidied up, whistling as he did so. He practically skipped away from the board, grinning like a cat as he did so.