Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them or the Twilight series. So please don't sue.
Agents at Hand
For a long moment, there was a deafening silence. The lights glittered on the Queensboro Bridge, the sounds of traffic; cars honking, drivers cursing, brakes and tires screeching could be heard.
A stray cat sniffed a pile of soda cans and fast-food wrappings from an overturned trash can. Suddenly a faint popping noise resounded through the air, and then another.
Two figures draped in black, hooded cloaks raised their wands simultaneously at one another before freezing as they recognised each other.
"I take it your mission went well," one voice- a man's- said.
"I always deliver the results," the other person- a female said- stowing away her wand.
"Will they come?"
"Oh indeed they will," there was the faintest hint of satisfaction in the woman's voice.
"And DOMASIA?"
"The Head of Magical Operations will be a problem," if he didn't know better there was a hint of annoyance in her voice. "But not by much. They will go north."
"North?" He asked. "To Forks?"
"Yes. As per our agreement." She stated.
"Huh." He looked away. "And you are sure America is the right place?" He asked.
"The United States of America is the best place for this, you know this," she said. "We have our orders, Michel." Her dark eyes glittered at him beneath the hood.
Beneath his hood, Michel frowned. "Why because this is the most powerful nation for these Moldu-" he frowned.
"No-Majes," she answered, "they call them that in America- no-Maj, for the singular form, short for 'No Magic'. And the answer is, only partly. These No-Majes have sworn in a new president. His rhetoric and attitude to those he deems undesirables have, no doubt, alarmed the entire non-magical world. Imagine what he will do when he uncovers the existence of magic and those who practice it."
"This," Michel took one step closer to her, "is bordering dangerously close to suicide. If we cannot win-"
"I have nothing left to lose, Michel," she said quietly, looking up at him in the eye. "But for those of you who do, you have everything to fight for. Besides, we are simply the ones to flick our fingers over the head of the man, who, by his own stupidity, already teeters over the edge of a cliff. Did we push him? Maybe. Did we tell him to go to the cliff? Never. Let them pay for their own mistakes. It only adds to the list of deeds they are accountable for."
She turned around, glancing briefly at him.
"No, what concerns me is that the Chosen One-" she scoffed when saying those words. "Will be coming. We all know Harry Potter is a Quidditch fan, having played as the youngest Seeker in a century. He won't miss this. And neither will the others."
Manhattan, New York City, USA…
2nd of March, 2014…
The lady stared up at the gigantic building.
Her eyes narrowed, as she ignored the countless admiring stares and gaping she received from onlookers, as she strode forwards, black heels clicking on the flagstones as she approached her very important- and secret- meeting.
The tall Woolworth Building loomed like an ominous shadow ahead of her, but she paid it no heed as she approached.
Gripping her wand beneath her sleeve, she glided past No-Majes and disguised wizards and witches, dressed in an impeccably tailored, black pinstripe skirt-suit, patent-leather black pumps, and a tasteful but modest handbag, her hair pulled in a sleek ponytail.
She showed her ID at the revolving door and without even stopping to glance towards them (this meeting was urgent, no time for pleasantries, they knew who she was anyway), she stepped through.
Through the glass of the revolving doors, the scenery of the No-Maj building and its inhabitants changed, spinning with the door, blurring and shifting into another scene; a brilliantly-lit, cavernous foyer with a seven-hundred-and-fifty foot high arched ceiling, more suited for a Gothic cathedral than anything, accented in black and gold and filled with space, light and colour. Gilded phoenix statues coated in gold leaf, rippled their metallic feathers standing at the pinkish stone pillars of a canopy, beneath which lay stone statues, a monument of the innocents killed at the notorious Salem Witch Trials.
High above, the Magical Exposure Threat Level Measurer (which measured the level of the threat of the exposure of magic to the non-magical world), hung. It looked slightly like a No-Maj barometer, only with four faces and black hands. Right now, it pointed at green- the threat of magical exposure was rather low. So far, so good- but for how long?
Adsila's mood darkened as she reflected upon that thought. She did not need to have the Sight to know that dark times or at least an enormous deal of tension was ahead.
METLM wasn't aimed at level zero, but at low threat, hovering dangerously close to moderate-level threat. Beneath the device a picture of Samuel G. Quahog, current president of MACUSA, nodded calmly at employees and visitors alike. The forty-foot high phoenix statues turned their heads curiously towards her, surveying her curiously, then seemed to reassure her with slight nods of their heads. Walking past the employees and visitors, she approached an elevator and reception desk. "Adsila Sizemore, Head of Operations in DOMASIA, to see the president. He's expecting me." She said and the doors flew open.
President Samuel G. Quahog was known to be a fair man, respected by his colleagues, juniors and his superiors before he became president. He was also incredibly patient, unbiased, supportive, reasonable, respectful and unprejudiced. A brilliant tactician, a hard-worker and a highly skilled diplomat, after years of ups and downs, the terrifying threat of Voldemort and his armies invading, a fluctuating economy, No-Majes wreaking havoc and more, they needed peace. Peace and quiet, everyone was desperate for them. And somehow Samuel Quahog seemed to have the ability to reassure just about everyone.
However, he knew it was too good to last. Just a few months ago, they had crowded over to watch No-Maj television- an unusual occurrence perhaps, but Adsila Sizemore, the Head of Operations in DOMASIA (the Department of Magical and Secret Intelligence Agency), had found it necessary to inform some of the most powerful members of MACUSA and the various representatives of other magical creatures in the USA of the No-Maj president-elect. They had watched his campaign- which sounded like a huge load of nonsensical garbage to Samuel. He didn't understand why this guy had a thing against people of different countries of origin or religions. It was a whole load of wampus dung, especially to wizards and witches, partly because they themselves have never adhered that strictly to religion and in any part of history, never had they discriminated against anyone based on gender, ethnicity, or similar attitudes. No-Majes had never seemed as stupid as when they were doing that, someone pointed out, and everyone else had had to disagree. Not even Voldemort and Grindelwald had done that.
But as bamboozling and nonsensical this man's rhetoric and as vulgar as he was, Adsila pointed out that he presented a very real, genuine threat. "If he poses a threat towards his own kind, imagine how he will react should he ever uncover the existence of magic and those who practice it."
Just then, the doors flew open, interrupting the president's thoughts and revealing the person he had expected: Miss Sizemore herself.
Even at a distance (his office was quite large), the younger Sizemore sibling was a jaw-dropping, eye-popping sight:
An extremely beautiful young woman with flawless, silky amber-coloured skin, seemingly glowing with a rich sheen in shifting shades of amber, honey, copper, bronze and molten gold. Her black hair glistened like it was coated with dew-drops and at first everyone thought it glowed with the same sheen but simply realised that it captured and reflected light. Her eyes were the deepest, clearest, haunting shade of amber-gold and honey-brown; almond-shaped and fringed with thick, long and curling black lashes. Adsila's cheeks were rosy-hued, her lips were full, and her face and features delicately shaped and moulded. Even dressed in clothes that would not look out of place in a No-Maj office, he noticed the skirt suit was tailored perfectly to her beautiful form, and displayed her dismayingly attractive legs.
This is the reason there were so many complaints in DOMASIA's department amidst her superiors then, Samuel reflected dryly. Even though Adsila had been a founder, back then nearly all the agents had had a serious crush on her.
I'm amazed she overcame all that, Samuel thought to himself. Her superiors weren't giving her an easy time because of the attention she was receiving. Even as an agent, it would've been difficult to go undercover because of what she looked like. But now Adsila was Head of Operations- the most senior member of DOMASIA and one of the most powerful in MACUSA.
"You wanted to see me, Mr. President?" She spoke gliding through.
"Yes, Adsila, please sit down," he stood from behind his desk, and gestured towards the sofa. Samuel took the armchair opposite her.
"I'm sure you are aware that I have taken your advice and met with the previous No-Maj president beforehand," Samuel said, sitting down. "He seems to be of the same opinion: it wouldn't be the smartest course of action for us to make contact with him."
Two cups of steaming herbal tea on saucers appeared. Adsila and the president took one and after a cautious sip, she watched Samuel grimace.
"And we were just beginning to establish ties with the No-Maj community," she muttered. "That's a real shame." Unlike in many other countries, America in the past, did not have their heads of state keep frequent contact and cooperation with their No-Maj counterpart. They were only just beginning to, but not every No-Maj president was reasonable and trustworthy. Once again, they had had to pull out and isolate themselves.
"Some people are considering a renewal of Rappaport's Law," Samuel stated. "But, with all due respect, sir, that would only serve to heighten the paranoia gripping our communities," Adsila said with narrowed eyes. "And do nothing to ease tensions."
"I know," he sighed. The warm, soothing sensation left by the tea evaporated. "But that's not the only problem we have."
Adsila's eyes narrowed further into honey-amber-coloured slits. She knew what he was referring to.
He looked her straight in the eye. "There are few people I can trust with this, what with the Salem Purists running around wild," he stated, referring to the fanatically anti-magic No-Maj group gaining a great deal of attention recently. "In two months the four-hundred-and-twenty-second Quidditch World Cup begins in Argentina, and the fans will go nuts if they can't travel to watch it live because it's too dangerous- or worse, if it gets cancelled because of heightened security. Right now, we're dealing with cleaning and clearing any magical accidents and messes, and due to the tensions, MACUSA's governing body have passed the bill to raise the penalties for any crime that threatens to expose us higher."
Adsila nodded. "To make things worse there are the reports about mysterious creatures, seen north in the state of Washington, near the whereabouts of the first attacks- mysterious creatures, unlike any previously known to North America, un-encountered by wizards and witches. Things which made the No-Majes who report them, sound like vampires and werewolves, only that they aren't like any vampires or werewolves that any wizard have ever encountered. Dementor sightings too, which is, of course, illogical, since wards surrounding the United States, as is in various countries, preventing the entry of dark creatures, ever since the fall of the Dark Lord."
She made a face. "Yes, Mr. President, I've seen the reports." She put the tea down. "None of which make sense. As far as we know there are no vampires in Washington. Or Maryland, or Virginia. Or werewolves. But these do not sound like werewolves. Lycanthropes only transform during the full moon. These were rumoured to have been seen in broad daylight, nighttime or twilight. Could they be Animagi? Perhaps, but it is not likely. Never have there ever been such a large crowd of only one kind of animagi: the type that transforms into wolves. Are they simply beasts? I do not know." She frowned. "I've consulted with my own tribal elders on this, in North Carolina and Rhode Island. We've found nothing."
Samuel grimaced.
"What about the tribes up north?" He asked.
"They do not contain magic," Adsila said softly. "As far as we know. There may be a basis in some of their legends, but we would need to send a few covert agents to find out."
"Please do," Samuel nodded. That was the approval she needed. "In the meantime, may I suggest placing all the other agents on alert?"
"Of course, Mr. President." She agreed. "A wise decision." She frowned. "The No-Majes are becoming increasingly hostile with their new president. Apparently people have been barred from entering the United States, even if they are residents here. There have been a lot of protests in the streets. If I may ask, will there be any form of alert for our citizens?"
Samuel paused. "Not yet. But most likely, soon." He gave a wry smile. "Keep an eye out for what the METLM says."
"Of course, Mr. President." Adsila replied. "I'll let them burn me alive before failing you all."
Like I've said, this is an improved version of the Fear of Something New.
For those who haven't read the original story, that's okay. But just so everyone knows, the OCs here are Native American (Adsila is a Cherokee name). Now, I've heard that J.K Rowling has- I'm certain accidentally- offended some Native Americans with her wording when she wrote about Ilvermorny, but as her books are about beating prejudice, I think we should cut her some slack, especially as she changed her wording: instead of using the word 'segregation' for example, or 'the refinement of wandwork' (she was referring how Native Americans eagerly learnt that from European settlers in exchange for their traditional practices). No, it's not the first time something this has happened, after all, Selkies are creatures from Scottish and Irish folklore that turn into exquisite maidens after they've shed their seal coats, but in her canon, they're another species of merpeople that aren't as attractive as their warm-water cousins, the Sirens (again, another country's mythology).
That's something that's VERY common with authors, not just Rowling. Stephanie Meyer has taken Quileute legends and changed it to suit her canon- even the native Quileutes don't seem to be too offended people think of them as big, buff werewolves. And witches and wizards from Rowling's canon don't have the same prejudices as muggles/No-Majes, like sexism and racism (based on ethnicity). So I'm putting vit that Native American witches and wizards definitely played as great a role within MACUSA as any witches and wizards of other ethnic backgrounds. Seraphina Picquery, was after all, an African-American and a woman who became president in 1920s America where women and African-Americans were second or third-class citizens.