The unsmiling guards escorted me to my chambers, which happened to be underground. I was fairly sure the other ambassadors weren't put in what felt like the dungeon. I was also fairly sure that they were allowed to send owls to both their family and goverment. I wasn't.

As I stepped into the blinding white apartment— white walls, white carpet, white furtniture, two owls stared at me from their perch on one of the chairs. In their beaks were held two crimson letters. I rolled my eyes as I approached them. The last time I had received a Howler was when I had started dating Rose and her parents caught wind of it. Now, ten years later, I didn't want to be yelled at for things out of my control.

I glared at both of the owls. "Out."

Both dropped their letters and flew out the fake window I had. I stared after them momentarily, then assumed it was more magic I hadn't known about. My attention returned to the Howlers. The darker red, I knew, came from Rose. As I flicked my wand towards it, I felt especially bad for not receiving a letter from my wife, who was worried sick about me. But again, I didn't want to listen to her yelling.

"Reducto," I whispered. Soon Rose's Howler burst into ashes, leaving the smell of rotten eggs in the air. My wand was turned to the next, but this time the spell didn't work. Instead it rose into the air. Slits that acted as eyes turned a fierce grey, and I sighed. "Really, Hazel?" What could she want?

"Reducto, really?" My sister's voice wasn't magnified a thousand times her normal volume— instead it seemed quieter, tireder. "I'm the one who taught you that in our first year. Don't use it against my letter." The slits closed for a moment, then reopened, just as dark as before. "I'm assuming that the MACUSA— which sounds a lot like mucus if you read it— is not letting you send any letters, because Rose hasn't gotten any. Either that or they roasted you on their spit."

I rolled my eyes, too tired for jokes at the moment. "Very funny."

"I just wanted to say 'hi', and tell you that Albus is taking me to dinner tonight." There was a long pause. "And I'm pretty sure he's going to ask me to marry him."

I narrowed my eyes, feeling oddly protective of Hazel, even though she was twice the witch I was and very capable of taking care of herself.

"I'm going to say no, but I don't know how without hurting his feelings." She sighed. "If only we had a relationship like you and Rose. But don't worry— I'm not going to go throwing myself off a tower anytime soon." There was another pause. "Goodbye."

"Bye." The letter crumbled into ashes. I stared at them, just thinking.

If only my problems were about girls. Instead I have to deal with the insane President of the Magical Congress and preventing a war between the Muggle population, as well as the Wizarding ones.

Aloud I said, "If only one action could prevent all of the bloodshed to come."

"A perfect question, Mr. Malfoy. Luckily for you, we have the answer."

Spinning around, I reached for my wand but realized that it wasn't there. It was under lock and key somewhere else in the building. My eyes searched the room warily. Was the all-white interior driving me insane?

"Who are you? Show yourselves," I snarled. Not that I can do much if no one shows up.

"What happens if we don't?" said a woman. "Are you going to s-s-stutter at us?"

My eyes narrowed, then flew wide open as three people materialized in the middle of the room. The woman who had spoken was tall and haughty, having the appearance of a nose turned permanently upwards. Her skin was the blackest I had ever seen, and had a delicate gold nose ring. Guiltily I realized that she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

The other two were men— one was short and round with no hair, the other was tall and skinny with a beard, bushy eyebrows, and an afro.

I tried to repeat my original question. "Who—" but the short man held up a hand.

"As much as we love the nature of questions, Mr. Malfoy, that one will have to wait. In the meantime we would like to give you some other answers."

"Like what?"

The woman's perfectly sculpted eyebrows furrowed. "Like who killed President Harold."

"Who?" I hadn't believed President Lockwood's M.O.M employee theory for an instant.

She smiled sweetly at me for several moments, thinking. "Minister Granger."

"Hermione would never do something like that!"

"But would Rose?"

"Are you accusing my wife of murdering the President of the Magical Congress?" I growled, ready to leap on the woman, no matter how beautiful she might be.

"Answer the question!" barked the taller man.

I opened my mouth to say 'No' as any good husband was supposed to. But then I stopped as a memory came into my mind. It was in our first year, when I caught Rose crying in a corridor, and she attacked me. She might have killed me, if Hazel and Albus hadn't been there. And then in our fifth year, when she...

"No."

The woman tipped her head. "Really," she said blandly. "Don't worry, Rose didn't do it. Her mother did."

I shook my head. "Hermione wouldn't do that. Do you even have evidence?"

The short, fat man grinned like a shark. "We were the first people to see President Harold. He was still alive, and we managed to extract his last memory."

My heart began racing. "Show me," I said quietly.

The tall man flicked his wand in the corner of my room, and a small Pensieve appeared. Another flick, and a delicate bottle filled with the smokey substance of a memory appeared, tilted, and poured itself into the basin.

The woman sneered and pointed towards it. "Ladies first," she told me.

I was too astonished to get into a back-and-forth about the insult. I slowly crossed over and dunked my head inside the bowl. Almost immediately I was falling, an experience I would never forget almost killed me during a Quidditch game at Hogwarts. As I landed, I did a double take.

It was the same room I had just been in, but instead of covered in pictures of the American's defeats, as President Lockwood had done, President Harold had covered it in portraits of their triumphs.

The President I had never met stood peacefully in the middle of the room. As I walked closer to him, I saw that he was stocky and short, but with a glimmer in his eye that made anyone sure not to cross him. A bolt of fear shot through me as I saw his wand, and long black one, lying on his desk. No wonder whoever killed him stabbed him to death, instead of just striking him with their wand.

Several more moments of peace followed, with the President wandering around, looking and nodding at the paintings. Then the door swung open, and a figure cloaked in black burst in. My heart stopped as I recognized woman's face only too well.

The three Americans were right. Hermione Jean Granger had killed the President of the Magical Congress of the United states of America.

President Lockwood was also right.