"You-Know-Who can't actually take away someone's magic, can he?"
Korra glanced at Bolin.
He was standing in the doorway of the compartment, the Evening Prophet clutched in a trembling fist. His eyes were even wider than usual, shining with concern and partially obscured by a dark curl. The image before Korra was both endearing and anomalous: a broad-shouldered, square-jawed young man quivering like a rabbit facing slaughter.
The extent of Bolin's innocence never ceased to surprise Korra. While others attempted to conceal departed innocence under the guise of ignorance, ingenuousness seemed to cling to Bolin.
Korra smiled and shook her head.
It was nothing more than a reassuring gesture. She possessed little certainty when it came to Amon; there was little known about the masked insurgent apart from his deep resentment of pure-bloods and half-bloods.
Amon was currently peering up at Korra from between Bolin's fingers. If it weren't for an occasional blink, she would think it was a muggle photo. Unmoving, unyielding, hooded, sinister–
Korra shivered.
She didn't know what was more frightening–the threat or the mask.
The mask was a product of bamboo, mostly pallid, save for beige patterns along each side with a disturbing resemblance to facial features. Two beige strokes curling down above the eyeholes and an upturned line where his mouth would be left the impression of a permanent smirk. The scarlet circle emblazoned on his forehead represented a new era, Korra had been told–an era without magical blood.
"Of course he can't, you berk," a lanky newcomer sneered, gliding past Bolin with surprising elegance for a boy.
Korra's lip curled.
How Tahno, a snarky seventh-year with a reputation for cheating on virtually everything, became a prefect was beyond her.
He sauntered across the compartment to where Korra was sitting and smirked down at her. Korra's hand closed around the wand in her pocket–it was with every bit of self-control that she resisted the urge to shove it up Tahno's long nose.
"Haven't changed yet, love?" he snickered.
Tahno was already clad in long black robes; his prefect badge–Slytherin green, much stronger than the soft emerald of Bolin's eyes–was pinned to the breast pocket.
Korra scowled. "Shove off, pretty boy. We still have an hour."
Tahno grinned at this and flipped a wavy lock of hair out of his eyes for effect. "All right, all right. I'll leave you to flex your lady muscles for another hour, then."
Korra rolled her eyes.
In the same way that Tahno was slender for a male, Korra was rather stocky for a female. Years of Quidditch practice had lent her a sinewy build she was quite proud to boast.
Tahno glanced around the compartment. "Where's your playmate? I came to report my rounds to him," he drawled, looking unimpressed.
While it took a great deal to upset the otherwise good-natured Bolin, Tahno always knew which chords to strike.
Bolin turned on the Slytherin faster than a bullet. "You mean the ones Mako and I had to do while you and the other Slytherins were pissing around?"
Korra gritted her teeth. She wasn't exactly unsurprised, but having her expectations met was–for once–disappointing. "You lot are more work than help."
Tahno sighed dramatically, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. "Oh, do tell!" He straightened up and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, I can see that this is getting nowhere. 'Twas lovely chatting with you folks, but I must be getting back to the…ah, privileged end of this train."
Korra leapt out of her seat and hurled Bolin's copy of the newspaper as the compartment door slid shut.
It was no secret that Bolin and his elder brother, Mako, were of the few pure-blood descendants that boasted little to no wealth. While most would treat the subject delicately, Slytherins seemed to take delight in picking at the brothers' wounds.
Korra glanced at Bolin, whose shoulders had gone slack.
"Ugh! How did that arse become a prefect?" she grumbled, dropping back down onto her seat with a huff.
"Dunno," Bolin muttered. "Probably 'cause Raiko takes bribes?"
Korra grunted in agreement as Bolin scooped up the discarded paper and sat down beside her.
"So what'd Amon do this time?" Korra inquired, nodding at the paper.
It was on rare occasions that a copy of the Evening Prophet was published–usually only when some great calamity struck the wizarding world.
Bolin's face darkened. "Apparently he used the Cruciatus Curse on the aurors guarding Azkaban and stole all the dementors."
Korra's stomach sank. Aurors were easily the best of the magical community when it came to Defense Against the Dark Arts. The thought of faceless dementors prowling about London, causing havoc at Amon's command…
"I thought dementors weren't used to guard Azkaban anymore?" Korra frowned.
"Well, where'd you think the Ministry kept them?"
Silence enveloped the pair.
"…He must be pretty powerful to take down all those aurors single-handedly, yeah?" Bolin piped up after a while.
"Don't be stupid–he has an army of muggle-borns." Korra wasn't sure who she was trying to convince.
"I heard a lot of them are under the Imperius Curse, though. That's definitely him on his own," Bolin pointed out.
Korra turned to gaze out the window. "Where's Mako? Weren't you two doing your rounds together?" she changed the subject.
It was fortunate that Tahno wasn't in the compartment; Bolin was too clueless to pick up on the fact that Korra was–that Korra was–regrettably, inexplicably–afraid.
Bolin shook his head. "We were, but we had to split up after a while to cover the Slytherins' rounds. Blokes," he added. "Anyway, I saw him helping some girl with her bags on my way back."
Korra's head snapped away from the window. "What? What girl?"
It was foolish, really, the infatuation she had with Bolin's elder brother. Mako was decidedly good-looking, with intense amber eyes, a defined jawline, and a chiseled physique. His half-Japanese, half-British heritage had lent him features both velvet and ruggedly defined.
But Korra was more invested in Mako for what he was capable of. The seventh year was unfeasibly talented–Head Boy, Quidditch Captain, O.W.L.s in every subject he had taken in his fifth year–
Of course, he hadn't batted an eye at Korra for the past six years.
"Dunno, some new girl. Never seen her before," Bolin answered.
Korra relaxed. "Oh. A first year?"
"No, she was older–a sixth or seventh year, I think."
She stiffened again. "What? How can we have a new student in her sixth or seventh year?"
Bolin shrugged. "Maybe she's a transfer."
"Transfer? Do we even do that?"
"I reckon we do now." Bolin snorted. "Bet Raiko took a few bribes from her family, too–"
But Korra wasn't listening.
"Was she pretty?"
Bolin's face lit up at this inquiry. "Yeah, she was. Bloody gorgeous." His grin widened and his eyes glazed over. "Tall, dark hair, bright eyes, red lips–the whole deal. Merlin, that lucky git."
"I suppose I'm a troll, then?" a petite newcomer demanded.
The term hardly suited her. With a sunlit complexion and shortly-cropped raven hair framing delicate features and Kelly green eyes, she was stunning.
All the dreaminess evaporated from Bolin's expression. He leapt out of his seat, very pale in the face. "Opal!"
Opal Beifong was Bolin's girlfriend, who possessed at least thrice the intellectual capacity. It was endearing how the two complemented each other–though their squabbles could be rather unbecoming.
Opal was standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips, glaring expectantly at her boyfriend.
"No, no–you're beautiful, too!" Bolin cried. He rushed to her and took her hands in his; it looked something like a bear coaxing a gazelle. "Dear, your beauty is as intense as Pabu's metabolism!"
As if on cue, the fire ferret peeked out of Bolin's trunk, blinking rapidly.
Opal rolled her eyes, though it was evident her jealousy had subsided. "You are quite the romantic, love," she sighed, dragging an evidently relieved Bolin to a seat. "All right, Korra?"
Although Korra had greeted Opal briefly at the prefect meeting several hours prior, she hadn't had an opportunity to really catch up with the younger girl. Like Bolin, Opal was also a first-time prefect, and a close family-friend.
"Brilliant," Korra beamed. "And you? How's the family?"
"All right, I suppose," Opal replied with another sigh. "Huan and Wei and Wing are all having a fit because they got passed over to be prefect. Mum reckons the twins would've blown up the prefects' bathroom, given the chance."
Korra grinned widely at this, but before she could respond another student entered the compartment.
"Really? You're all lounging around when we only have thirty minutes left?"
Korra didn't need to look to confirm; the suave voice alone made her stomach somersault.
"Oh, shut up and have a seat," Bolin grinned. "No need to get your Head Boy panties in a knot."
Mako did not look amused. "Bolin, you're in charge of the first years."
Ignoring Bolin's wail of protest, Korra sprung out of her seat and pranced over to Mako. "Tahno was here looking for you," she reported, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. Korra was by no means short, but Mako towered above her, and gazing down at her like this, he was rather intimidating.
He appraised her wearily.
Korra was bubbling with questions–how were his rounds? Was he hungry? Could she do anything to help? She especially wanted to ask about the bloody gorgeous girl with dark hair, bright eyes, and red lips–
"That's wonderful." Mako brushed past her and began rummaging through his trunk. After a moment, he paused and glanced back. "We need to come up with new strategies this year. Slytherin has held the Quidditch Cup for too long, don't you think?" Mako added, noticing how Korra's face had fallen. When she nodded brightly, he barked, "Now get dressed. All of you."
And so the girls pushed the boys out of the compartment and the quartet changed into their robes. The last of the sun had dipped out of sight, and the gold of twilight was snuffed out by darkness. As the quartet gathered their things, lanterns along the panels blazed to life, and the compartment was filled with warm chatter.
"You look cute," Korra commented only half-jokingly as Mako fiddled with his pointed black hat.
His quiff had been squashed under the headwear, and he had been silently obsessing over it for the past twenty minutes.
Mako rewarded Korra with a scowl. "I'm taking this ruddy thing off as soon as we get to the common room."
"It's only for tonight," Korra reminded him.
Mako conceded with a grunt.
The pair was making their way to the Great Hall unaccompanied. Although it wasn't out of the ordinary for Mako to be arriving late to the entrance ceremony as Head Boy, Korra had had to step in on her cousin's part, as Eska didn't believe overseeing the carriages was important enough to require her attention.
Mako and Korra slipped in through the grand doors unnoticed over the commotion in the Great Hall.
The hall was as vast as Korra remembered it, with walls stretching up infinitely to meet what appeared to be an open sky. However, she knew it was only enchanted to resemble the sky above–which was currently clear and speckled with stars. Thousands of candles floated above the inhabitants, and although Korra knew they were enchanted as well, she couldn't help but entertain the idea of one plummeting and setting fire to Tahno's robes.
Four long tables–all covered with golden plates and goblets–filled the length of the hall, each belonging to one of the four Houses. On the far left was Gryffindor, boasting a scarlet-and-gold banner emblazoned with a lion; second from the left was Ravenclaw, with a blue-and-bronze banner adorned with an eagle; second from the right was Slytherin, flaunting a green-and-silver banner embellished with a serpent; on the far right was Hufflepuff, with a yellow-and-black banner emblazoned with a badger. All four tables were rumbling with conversation, and Korra could pick up snippets such as "tortured aurors" and "stolen dementors."
Bolin and Opal were already sitting at the Hufflepuff table, while Huan, Eska, and Desna, Eska's twin brother, were at the Ravenclaw table. Tahno caught Korra's eye from the Slytherin table, and she returned his smirk with a glower.
Tu, Mako's cousin, waved them over to the Gryffindor table.
"You two would've missed the Sorting at this rate," he chastised as they took their seats across from him.
Tu was the same age as Mako, and like his cousin, seemed to take delight in exerting (nonexistent) authority over others.
"Put a sock in it," Mako advised.
"When's the first practice, Captain?" Wei and Wing chorused from Tu's left.
Korra was amused–all three boys were muscular, green eyed, and dark-haired, and all three seemed to have nothing but Quidditch on their minds.
Mako was no exception.
"As soon as possible," he declared. "I've been thinking of strategies over the summer–just have to make sure Kai doesn't screw things up–"
Their discussion was cut short when Headmaster Raiko, a broad, gaunt-faced, bespectacled wizard in his fifties, stood from the throne-like gold chair in the center of the High Table.
"I would like to draw everyone's attention to the front of the hall–the Sorting ceremony is about to begin," he announced in a booming voice that carried out over the hall. Everyone immediately fell silent. Raiko drew his wand and–in one sweeping motion–summoned a stool before the High Table. "Professor Bumi, if you would please fetch the Sorting Hat."
Bumi, a wild-haired, big-bellied wizard in his sixties, leapt from the High Table–and tripped over the edge. Raiko pinched the bridge of his nose as the hall burst into laughter. After a struggle to regain his balance, Bumi placed a filthy, frayed wizarding hat on the stool and returned to his seat (in a less ostentatious fashion).
A rip near the brim of the Sorting Hat–a mouth, of sorts–opened and began to sing:
"Slytherin.
Hufflepuff.
Gryffindor.
Ravenclaw.
Long ago, the four founders lived together in harmony–
Then, everything changed when Slytherin declared
Only those of pure-blood were permitted at Hogwarts.
Chaos ensued, rifts arose–
Only when Gryffindor parried was the feud settled.
Slytherin absconded, balance was restored,
And for centuries, witches and wizards of all heritages have coexisted in peace.
A thousand years have passed,
And it appears that peace is about to come to an end,
For we see the rise of Slytherin's rival:
A man whose goal is not equality for all
But rather, an end to magic, once and for all."
For once, no applause followed the song.
Nobody spoke. The professors exchanged concerned glances. Raiko looked scandalized.
A murmur passed through the students, and another, and soon, everybody was talking all at once. Confused Hufflepuffs, skeptical Ravenclaws, outraged Gryffindors, disgruntled Slytherins, bewildered ghosts, uncertain professors–
In the midst of the commotion, Korra glanced at Mako. His face was grim and a little incredulous.
"You don't reckon it was talking about–about Amon, do you?" Korra whispered.
She didn't know why she was whispering–it was so loud that she could've shouted and nobody would've heard her.
Evidently Mako had, because he muttered, "Who else?" He shook his head in disbelief. "But how–why–?"
Before Korra could reply, a strident crack reverberated through the hall, effectively silencing the crowd. Raiko lowered his wand and cleared his throat.
"Rather than worrying ourselves over a cryptic message from an enchanted hat, I say we continue with the Sorting ceremony."
"Don't say I didn't warn you," the Sorting Hat murmured.
"Professor Tenzin!" Raiko spluttered, very red in the face.
On cue, an incredibly tall man with piercing blue eyes and no hair (but plenty of facial hair) strode into the hall, a long line of first years stumbling in behind him.
Tenzin was the Deputy Headmaster, Head of Ravenclaw, and Charms professor. He also served as Korra's guide in remedial Charms, as she had failed to earn an O.W.L. in the subject the year prior, and her temporary legal guardian while she attended Hogwarts.
In fact, it was thanks to Tenzin that Korra was even able to attend Hogwarts. Tonraq and Senna had initially been reluctant to let their daughter travel to London alone to study magic for seven years (Korra hadn't really understood the fuss, since Tonraq had done the same during his time at Hogwarts). However, at Tenzin's assurance that he and his wife, Pema, would look after Korra for the time period, her parents had conceded.
Nonetheless, to everyone else in the hall, Tenzin was known chiefly as the son of Aang–the legendary wizard who had ended the reign of the Dark Lord, Ozai.
"When I call your name, you will wear the Sorting Hat and wait to be sorted. Once you have been sorted into a House, you will sit at the respective table and the next pupil will be sorted," Tenzin announced in his heavy, bass voice.
The first years fidgeted nervously.
Korra beamed at them, though she knew they couldn't see her. While Korra had never experienced that sort of anxiety herself–having had full confidence that she would be sorted into Gryffindor–she recognized the pressure of judgment.
The first new student was sorted into Slytherin, and the table second from the right cheered. As the Sorting continued, Korra scanned the High Table.
The Beifong Professors–sisters–were engaged in a heated discussion, no doubt about the Sorting Hat's warning. After apparently reaching an agreement, they returned their attention to the Sorting ceremony. The elder Beifong looked as cross as ever while the younger Beifong looked relatively appeased.
Lin, the elder sister, Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and Head of Gryffindor, was a pale witch in her early fifties with malachite eyes and graying hair, cropped in a fashion similar to Opal's. Time as an auror had resulted in her hardened persona–as well as two faded scars running down the right side of her face. Lin was both fond of and fed up with Korra.
Suyin, the younger sister, Transfiguration professor, and mother of Opal, Wei, Wing, and Huan, was a witch in her mid-forties bearing a striking resemblance to her sister, save for darker skin, sharper features, and an edgier haircut. It was rumored that she was responsible for the scars on her sister's face, but Korra had never really taken the time to delve into the Beifong's family history. Unlike her sister, Suyin's affection for Korra was unconditional.
Korra's eyes traveled farther down the table.
On Raiko's left was Professor Tarrlock, the Herbology Professor and Head of Slytherin, a tan wizard with long dark hair and defined features. He was, without doubt, the youngest professor at Hogwarts. Like Korra, Tarrlock was of Inuit descent; however, he was a native of the North Pole, while Korra hailed from the South Pole. He was a curious man, one Korra that knew little of–other than the warnings passed onto her from Tenzin.
On Tarrlock's left was–
"Hey," Korra muttered, nudging Mako, "who's that?"
A beefy man with parted graying hair and golden spectacles was surveying the students. He was wearing a broad smile, but that appeared to be the smile's only purpose–to be worn. The gesture didn't quite reach his eyes, which were russet and glinting unfathomably.
"Dunno," Mako answered once he realized who Korra was referring to. "New professor, I reckon." Mako didn't seem as perturbed by the man as Korra did. "Anyway, isn't that Ikki?"
Korra reluctantly averted her attention to confirm that it was, indeed, Ikki, Tenzin's youngest daughter, being sorted.
"Oh!"
Ikki was a slight thing, with steel blue eyes and brunette hair pulled into double buns. She was ordinarily quite talkative and unabashed in demeanor, but looked paler than usual as she made her way to the stool; she seemed to be the only student left unsorted. Her face disappeared beneath the Sorting Hat, and it sat on her head for nearly a minute before bellowing, "HUFFLEPUFF!"
Although it appeared that Tenzin had been attempting to remain impartial, he looked relieved–as though he had been expecting Ikki to not be sorted at all. Ikki flitted down the hall to the applauding table on the far right, glancing at her elder sister, Jinora, a third-year Ravenclaw, for approval. Jinora responded with a shrug.
Assuming the Sorting ceremony had ended, the students resumed their conversations–only to be interrupted by another deafening crack. Raiko cleared his throat rather impatiently this time.
"Settle down," he ordered. Once the hall had fully quieted, he continued, "This year's ceremony is very special, as we will be welcoming our first transfer student to Hogwarts–" the hall exploded with whispers "–so please remain quiet," Raiko continued more forcefully, "until Miss Asami Sato is sorted."
Raiko's request went unheeded, as the hall was now rumbling with discussion.
"Transfer student, did he say?"
"Where'd she pop out of?"
"Asami Sato?"
"They can't mean the heiress to Future Industries?"
"Isn't she sixteen?"
"Late to the party, if you ask me…"
But everyone fell silent, once again, when an impossibly beautiful girl entered the hall. At once, Korra realized that Bolin hadn't been exaggerating.
Asami was tall, easily taller than most models, and slender; her robes seemed to flow around her. Her complexion was fair, delicate, with smooth features and a sharp jawline. Her hair–silky, wavy brunette and parted to the right–cascaded down her shoulders. As Bolin had described, her eyes were bright–a vivid celadon–and her lips were red–scarlet, velvety; thin eyebrows arched over the lavender of her eyelids, accentuating the luminosity of her eyes. Asami Sato was glowing.
She looked uneasy, and inched out from behind Tenzin hesitantly. Finally, after several moments, she seemed to muster the courage to cross the hall; the grace with which she moved with was unparalleled, as though she was gliding across the floor.
Korra glanced at Mako, whose face was soft, for once; he was gazing quite fondly at Asami. In fact, everyone seemed to be allured by Asami; boys and girls alike were craning their necks to get a better view of her. Students peered at their new peer in fascination, and even professors seemed to be curious.
Korra's stomach churned.
How on earth was she supposed to compete with this dazzling stranger?
Asami sat down on the stool with all the elegance of a lady and pulled the Sorting Hat on. It didn't cover her face, as it had with the first years–though Korra found herself wishing fervently that it would.
A hush had fallen over the hall, and it lasted for what seemed to be an eternity. It was almost as though the Sorting Hat was having difficulty picking a House for Asami.
Finally–
"RAVENCLAW!"
The table beside Gryffindor shook with applause. Korra could see Jinora–she looked rather pleased–so did Huan, and Desna and Eska–they didn't really seem interested–
But most curious of all was Asami, who Korra could've sworn had cast a remorseful glance at the Gryffindor table. It was fleeting–and then she was looking at–their eyes met–was she–she couldn't be–was she looking at Korra?
No, you idiot, of course she wasn't, Korra thought bitterly, realizing who she was sitting beside. Of course she'd want to be in the same House as Mako.
The idea of this incensed her more, and she scowled as Raiko rose again to formally welcome them.
"What's wrong?" Wing, the more perceptive of the twins, inquired.
"Nothing," Korra grumbled. "Pass the tea."
The dishes before them were now piled with various cuisines: roasted possum chicken, bison steak, roast duck, octopus fritters, dumplings, steamed buns, komodo sausages, mashed potatoes, gravy, peas, carrots, and even jook (though nobody touched this); the pitchers were filled with green tea, black tea, kalenutsco, lychee juice, and pumpkin juice. These dishes were then followed by dessert, which consisted of moon cakes, mochi, kale cookies, custard tarts, tart pie, fruit tarts, bean curd puffs…
But Korra found that her appetite, which had been unbearable on the train, was nonexistent. Her mind was cluttered with too many things–Amon torturing the aurors and stealing the dementors, the Sorting Hat's warning, the strange man at the table, and most of all, this strange new girl–
"Aren't you going to eat?" Mako asked after a while, noticing that Korra hadn't touched any food.
"Oh, now you care?" Korra demanded, suddenly furious with Mako's obtuseness.
"What are you talking about–?"
Just then, the desserts disappeared with a zip and Raiko got to his feet, gesturing for silence.
"Now then, I have a few start-of-term announcements to make," he began importantly. "All pupils must be aware that the forest on grounds is forbidden at all times. Also, magic is not to be used between classes in the corridors. Next, Quidditch trials will be held during the second week of term. Those interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Xu, though be sure to check with your Head of House for eligibility.
"Finally, I am pleased to welcome a new addition to our staff: Professor Hiroshi Sato, who will be filling the post of Potions master."
Once again, the hall was in an uproar.
"Hiroshi Sato? The founder of Future Industries?"
"Potions? Isn't he a broomstick manufacturer?"
"Why's he at Hogwarts?"
"Father and daughter at Hogwarts? Knowing Raiko, they must've bribed their way in…"
At the less-than-pleasant response, Raiko added, "Quidditch fans will be happy to hear that Professor Sato has generously donated new Satobrooms for the use of all House teams."
The response grew considerably warmer, and although Mako and Korra shared a knowing look, Korra knew he was just as pleased by the news as she was.
Hiroshi rose to his feet, beaming widely at the students with his hands clasped behind his back.
"Thank you for welcoming me so graciously," Hiroshi said in a very professional voice. The manner in which he spoke was polite yet persuasive–no doubt, owing to his entrepreneur background. "I know you may all have your doubts, but I assure you that I take this post very seriously. I hope that you enjoy my classes as much as you enjoy my contribution to the school," he finished with a wink.
After the applause had died down, Raiko continued, "Before we go to bed, let us sing the school song–"
It was at that moment that all the candles in the Great Hall erupted into flames.
Korra was slow to react–she could make out students pushing and shoving each other–there was screaming–someone seized her by the forearm and drew her close–the flames were blazing now, embers flying in all directions–the air was heavy, searing–the tables were beginning to catch fire–
One of the professors–Tarrlock, Korra realized after a beat–leapt onto the High Table and bellowed, "Aguamenti!"
A powerful jet of water shot out of his wand and soon everything was dark. The screaming ceased. For a moment, all remained still, and Korra recognized the person holding her as Mako.
However, before she could say anything–
"Greetings, students of Hogwarts. This is Amon speaking."
Korra gasped. "No!"
"I am here to tell you a story, and to warn you."
The voice was gruff, chilling, and projected throughout the hall; it sounded like a cross between a growl and a rasp. Korra realized that she had never once heard Amon's voice and now every corner of her school was ringing with it.
Whatever mild tumult had started up again died at once.
The voice continued, "Let's begin with the story. My quest for equality began many years ago, when I was a boy. My family and I lived on a small farm in Scotland. We weren't rich, and none of us were pure-bloods–or even half-bloods, for that matter; my mother was a muggle-born and my father was a squib. This made us very easy targets for the pure-blood supremacist who extorted my father. One day, my father confronted this man, but when he did, that pure-blood took my family from me. Then, he took my face."
Gasps echoed throughout the hall.
"I've been forced to hide behind a mask ever since. Now, you Slytherins–" in the darkness, Korra couldn't see them, but she didn't need to; their fear was nearly tangible "–would tell me that pure-blood is magical–that magic brings balance to the world. But, you are wrong."
It was horrifying, how assertively Amon spoke, how compelling his words were–how clear and precise they were. Whether what he was saying held any validity, Korra couldn't judge, but she was transfixed all the same.
"The only thing magic has brought is suffering. It has caused irrational feelings of supremacy, and irrational feelings of hostility. It has been the cause of every war in every era. Now tell me, wouldn't a world without magic be much more reasonable?"
The question went unanswered, and Amon sounded almost as if he was smiling when he spoke again.
"I understand you all may be very frightened right now, and you should be. However, I am willing to give any muggle-borns a chance to escape–leave now, and you won't have to suffer any consequences. I realize that you, like me, never asked for this, and do not deserve this."
Very distantly, Korra could hear Raiko shouting orders to stop Amon's broadcast–to find the source and disable it–
"For those that choose to remain, especially you half-bloods and pure-bloods," Amon's tone had turned sour, "I will be visiting you for a personal demonstration on my conception of Equality. It is a demonstration of a power unique to me–a power that will make Equality a reality: the power to take a person's magic away. Permanently."
A flash of lightning shot across the enchanted ceiling (Korra no longer knew who was in control of it now) and earsplitting thunder followed.
Amon sighed, as though he had grown bored.
"That is all I wish to share with you at the moment. Good night, students. I wish you all pleasant dreams."