A/N - Written for Round 10 of the QLFC. My prompt was to write something involving the Department of International Magical Cooperation.
This was also written for the Guess the Name of the Dragon Stall in the Hogwarts Fair using the OC Britta Sides.
International Games
"She's a nightmare," Terry said shaking his head. He took another sip of his Firewhiskey. "We've been working on this same point for nearly three weeks now. She won't budge at all."
"You would think after the catastrophe that was the last Triwizard tournament, no one would even want to do this," Anthony replied. Terry rolled his eyes.
"How many times do I have to tell you Goldstein, it's not the Triwizard tournament, it's the International Games," Terry said with a huff. "It's more like…like the Muggle Olympics. All the schools are invited and there isn't just one champion from each school."
"I know, Boot," Anthony snapped back. "I'm just saying, the last time we tried to do any kind of competition between wizarding schools, look what happened."
"Considering that this time there's no dark wizard trying to regain his body, I don't think we really have to worry about it," Terry said dryly. Anthony shook his head and took another drink of his mead.
"But this whole thing is sort of mad, you've got to agree," Anthony said. "I mean, trying to get the Departments for International Magical Cooperation in eight countries to agree? You'll be lucky if you get this thing off the ground in ten years, let alone the one you've got."
"Honestly, if it weren't for Britta Sides, we'd probably be finished already," Terry said tiredly. "Or near to." He drained the rest of his drink. Anthony clapped him on the shoulder and ordered him another.
"Cheer up mate," Anthony said. "It could be worse." Terry raised an eyebrow in question.
"We could be trying to escape the Carrows again," Anthony said with a grin. Terry snorted.
"You have the worst sense of humor Goldstein."
XxXxXxXxXxX
Terry finished reading the latest letter from his Scandinavian counterpart and began to lightly bang his forehead against his desk. She was at it again. Only this time she was contesting points they had already agreed upon. Terry was starting to think that Anthony was right. They might not ever get this thing off the ground.
"Boot," a harsh voice barked. Terry sat up quickly and looked at his boss.
"Yes, sir?" he said. Roland Davis hadn't been head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation for long, but it had only taken Terry a few days to figure out the man was going to run the place more like an army regiment than a Ministry Office.
"What the hell is going on with the Scandinavian Ministry?" Mr. Davis demanded.
"I'm sorry, sir," Terry replied quickly. "I'm having a few issues with their representative."
"Well figure them out, Boot," Mr. Davis insisted. "The Minister wanted this progress report yesterday. And he doesn't expect to see that we've lost ground."
"Yes, sir," Terry agreed. His boss nodded once and then marched off into his own office. Terry sighed. He supposed letters and reports weren't going to cut it anymore. He needed to make an international Floo call and get this settled once and for all.
XxXxXxXxXxX
"You're being unreasonable," Terry said, trying to maintain his composure. They had been arguing for the last ten minutes.
"I am being unreasonable?" the face in the Floo repeated. This was their third Floo call in as many days. Terry was regretting calling her in the first place. "You are trying to put undue restrictions on my competitors." Terry closed his eyes and mentally counted to ten.
"We've all agreed that certain spells should not be used in the dueling tournament," Terry said through gritted teeth. "No one else has any problem with this except you."
"Oh, so I am getting all the blame now?" Britta spat back at him.
'If the shoe fits,' Terry thought to himself.
"No, that's not what I'm saying," Terry said with a sigh. "But if the majority of the countries agree, then I'm not sure why you expect me to try and convince all of them that they're wrong."
"Oh, so I in the wrong then?" she retorted.
"Yes, in this case you are!" Terry snapped. His patience with this woman was at its limit.
"Well, then perhaps Durmstrang will not be participating in these games!" Britta fumed.
"Then perhaps they shouldn't!" Terry yelled back. Glaring at him, she abruptly pulled her face from the Floo and the connection severed. Terry picked up the glass on the desk next to him and hurled it into the now cold fireplace. Merlin, she was infuriating!
Once he had calmed his temper enough, he groaned and put his head in his hands. Mr. Davis was going to kill him.
XxXxXxXxXxX
"What the hell is wrong with you Boot?" Mr. Davis demanded a few minutes later.
"I'm sorry, sir," Terry said.
"You have to fix this," Mr. Davis said vehemently. "If Durmstrang pulls out this whole thing is going to collapse."
"Yes, sir," Terry said with a sigh. "But you have to admit, she is being unreasonable."
"Listen to me Boot," his boss said lowly. "I don't care if she tells you to get up on her desk and tap dance naked. Get this thing figured out." Terry gaped at the man for a moment before he snapped his mouth closed and tightened his jaw.
"Yes sir," he replied.
XxXxXxXxXxX
Grumbling under his breath, Terry made his way to the Department of Magical Transportation to arrange for an International Portkey. He highly doubted that dealing with Britta face-to-face would make any difference, but he had to do something or he was probably going to lose his job.
He stepped into the Portkey office and sat down to wait for the wizard at the counter to finish. If there was one thing he'd learned about the Portkey office, it was that people didn't like to be crowded when they were making their requests.
Bored as he sat and waited, he turned towards the Portkey arrival station. Most International Portkeys left and arrived from here, unless it was for an event like the Quidditch World Cup and the sheer amount of people would have overwhelmed the small station. But families going on holiday or those travelling on business and the like normally came through here. Terry thought that maybe he should request a Portkey to some tropical island somewhere instead of the Scandinavian Ministry and just forget about the International Games all together.
The wizard at the counter finally finished and Terry stood to make his own request. There was a bit of a commotion and raised voices from behind the door to the arrival station. Probably a family coming in from somewhere, he thought. Then the door burst open and a tall, gorgeous blonde strode through.
Her bright blue eyes swept over the occupants of the office, even as she continued to argue something with the Portkey arrival worker, but Terry didn't hear a word she said. His mouth had gone dry when she looked at him. Her eyes narrowed and it was then that he realized there was something familiar about her, but he couldn't quite place it.
"You!" she exclaimed stabbing a finger in his direction. Realization dawned and Terry groaned.
XxXxXxXxXxX
"It is the intention that makes the spells dark," she was insisting once they were back in his office. "Not the spell itself."
"I know that!" Terry snapped. "I'm not arguing that point with you. But you have to admit that those spells do fall into the questionable range and the rest of us felt it better to just ban them all together."
"And in doing so you have put my competitors at a distinct disadvantage!" Britta retorted.
"What, Durmstrang isn't teaching light magic anymore?" Terry quipped. What he really wanted to do was shake her until her teeth rattled. She was the most infuriating person he had ever met. And he had fought Death Eaters.
"You British," Britta said with a snort, hands on her hips. "You are always so worried about your precious black and white. There is a wide world of grey out there, you know." Terry's jaw clenched and his hands fisted at his sides. He took a few steps closer to her.
"You listen to me," he hissed. "Not very many years ago this country fought the worst Dark Wizard of all time and won. Many people lost their lives, some of them my friends. I am well aware of that 'wide world of grey' as you so eloquently put it. I swam in it myself quite a bit and it wasn't a game that was being played for prizes or honor. We were fighting for our very survival. So don't stand here and insult me as if I have no idea what you are talking about."
He was now merely inches from her face. She stared at him in horrified fascination for a few seconds before he recovered himself and stepped away from her.
"I'm sorry," he said as he turned and attempted to get his emotions under control. There was silence behind him for a few moments.
"No, I am sorry," Britta said quietly. He looked at her over his shoulder. She pulled in a deep breath and let it out. "I have been known to let my emotions get the best of me." He snorted and she smiled slightly. It made her even more beautiful. He shook his head to clear it of that thought and raked a hand through his hair.
"Look, my boss is insistent that we get this figured out," he said.
"Mine as well," she admitted.
"And as much as a pain the arse as it has been, if we can get it to happen I think it could be a really great thing," he paused and looked at her. "And then maybe, when there is another Grindelwald or Voldemort, because you know there will be, maybe we can all work together. And other kids won't have to watch their friends die in front of them." Britta looked away for a minute and when she looked back her eyes were a bit brighter than they had been seconds before. Terry chose not to comment on it.
"All right," she agreed. He smiled at her and she smiled back. Perhaps Britta Sides wouldn't be so bad to work with after all.