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Chapter 4: Unintended consequences

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Part 7

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ICW Headquarters

Geneva

Switzerland

The International Confederacy of Wizards possessed large properties on each continent. Despite what some of the organization's detractors often and loudly claimed, there actually was a proper purpose for that fact, beyond the admitted hubris and need to show off that some members were guilty of. Each regular session was usually held at a different place – in order not to offend too much any single magical government, which while true enough, wasn't the primary reason. Each of the seven large complexes held by the ICW was a verifiable fortress, meant not only to keep safe representatives from every notable magical country on the face of the Earth but also a battalion of War Wizards, their support staff as well as all the departments that ensured that the ICW could actually function.

In theory the Confederacy was a grand idea. It was meant to reshape the Wizarding World for the better; unfortunately, reality fell rather short from that ambitious goal. That fact was never more painfully apparent to Albus Dumbledore than the times when another Dark Lord was suspected to be on the rise. Fifty years ago, when he was still in his prime, the ICW for once did live up to its lofty mandate during the war against Grindelwald. Then, just a few short decades later, during Voldemort's rise, that same organization, this time with him technically in charge, suffered one of the greatest failures in its history... Albus saw it coming from afar, did his best to prevent it, yet it was all for naught. He was afraid that history would repeat itself.

It was with those grim thoughts that he arrived at one of the secure protkey locations in the Geneva ICW HQ. Moments before he appeared within a featureless black room, the old wizard felt magic latching on the portkey's signature, probing and testing him. The formidable defences did recognize him and merely deposited him on his feet with a sensation similar to a brief splash through ice-cold water, which was ironically appropriate considering the building's location – right beneath lake Geneva.

The obsidian wall facing Dumbledore drained away as if made by black ink and revealed a long corridor guarded by a pair of War Wizards kitted in their official green battle-robes, which made them with golden light when looked through Albus' enchanted spectacles. The pair of soldiers saluted, but only after scanning him in order to confirm that the defences built into the corridor told them – he wasn't an imposter.

"Investigator Loren is waiting for you, sir." The younger War Wizard said.

Dumbledore merely nodded to the soldiers and strode past them with a determined gait. He hoped to reach the people he came to meet without any complications, but that soon proved to be a forlorn hope. Albus wasn't the only one to arrive, summoned by news of a possible Dark Lord on the rise and some of the company he could have done without.

A wizard even older than Dumbledore came from a nearby portkey point and the man offered a mirthless smile that displayed two rows of shining teeth. The tanned Italian practically radiated dark magic – Albus didn't need his mage sight, nor the charms attached to his spectacles to see the taint left by excessive use of the Dark Arts.

"Albus." The man greeted in an amiable tone, that once upon a time was enough to fool Dumbledore.

"Duc Albertini." He responded frostily.

The Milanese man preened at Albus' tone. Duc Jonas Albertini always relished when he was able to get under Mugwump's skin and given their history, that was an easy feat for the Italian.

"Here to persecute another man for practising magic you personally find offensive?" The Italian sneered and let his jovial mask fall to show the cunning Dark Wizard it hid from the unwary.

"I'm here to prevent another monster from burning most of Europe." Dumbledore shot back even though he knew it was a bad idea. His years of had earned experience did little to keep his temper in check when dealing with the likes of Albertini. That was just another proof that he was way over his head... it had been that way since he defeated Gellert all those years ago and suddenly found himself forced to either take the positions that people fell over each other to offer him or see them reach in the hands of monsters that in one way or another could be as bad or worse than Grindelwald. At least his friend did what he did with the best of intentions as a motivation. Many of the powerful people Dumbledore had to deal with in the ICW meetings didn't have such an excuse.

The Duc was a perfect example – in a better world he would be rotting in a much nastier cell than the one Albus consigned Gellert to. He knew that the man staring at him was almost as rotten as Voldemort at his worst, unfortunately he couldn't do a thing to him. At least not in a legally.

That was the ICW's dirty little secret, perhaps the dirtiest – when the organization was formed, almost half of the countries that joined were ruled by Dark Wizards, with two confirmed Dark Lords in their own right. When you knew that truth, it was easy to explain why most of the time the organization was less than effective when battling the dark in its many pervasive forms. After all, many of the people who were needed to vote against various excesses and approve action were guilty of the same, sometimes even worse than the cases presented in open ICW sessions. It was usually only when someone proved themselves to be too much of a threat and didn't want to play ball with the ICW assembly when there was overt action. Ironically enough, Gellert's actions made things both better and worse, for everyone. It was because of Dumbledore's old friend that no one was in a hurry to unleash the War Wizards against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. There were too many representatives on the ICW Council who were sympathetic with that despicable agenda and the worst thing was that Albus could see where they were coming from.

Gellert was a Wizarding supremacist. He didn't give a damn about the purity of blood flowing in anyone's veins. Only magic mattered and with that mindset it was easy to see why Muggleborns and Half-Bloods from across the world flowed behind his banner like a tidal wave. The resulting decades of war shattered most of the Magical Governments in Europe and polarized the rest, something that was most obvious in MACUSA and the Italian Confederation. Both had states where Muggleborn were legally second hand citizens at best and their governments had to tread very carefully to avoid their internal troubles erupting in an outright civil war.

The Duc stared at Dumbledore for long moments before shaking his head. His aristocratic features stretched in a condescending smirk. "We won't let another Grindelwald rise to power, that much you can count on, Supreme Mugwump."

That much Dumbledore didn't doubt. Albertini was one of the many ICW representative who were blood purists. He would love to see another Voldemort come to power, though if he ever sensed a sniff of someone with an agenda similar to Gellert's, then the Duc would be opposing that person with everything he was, which was a problem, considering that he was one of the biggest movers and shakers in the Italian Confederacy.

Just to rum salt in the wound, Albertini was on the committee overseeing dealing with Dark Lords. His vote was needed before the War Wizards could be unleashed unless someone was insane enough to directly attack the ICW's interests, which meant one of their facilities or representatives when said wizard and witch was operating on official ICW business.

Albus swallowed a frustrated sigh. It was men like this that had run him ragged ever since the early fifties. There were days when he regretted not standing by Gellert of all things, because he despaired for the future of the Wizarding world.

"I'm sure." Dumbledore eventually bit off and walked past his hated colleague. He had a potential Dark Lord to deal with and magic willing, he might be able to do something about that. Merlin knew, he couldn't do much more than merely inconvenience Albertini. If he was still in his prime, if he wasn't haunted by his conscience and the horrors he had to commit during Gellert's war... but then Albus would have been another man and for all he knew, the world could be in an even worse shape.

Dumbledore didn't even notice when his feet brought him to the Investigators' offices, which were currently a madhouse of flying papers and soothingly glowing patroni, that darted every which way. Witches and wizards were busy gathering and compiling information from all across the continent, trying to confirm the existence of a new powerful Dark Lord and figure out where the man came from if he actually existed, something that was a given, considering that the Investigators summoned both him and the Italian bastard.

Investigator Helga Loren, the witch in charge of this particular madhouse noticed Albus' arrival and smiled briefly, before she saw who walked right behind him and promptly scowled. The ageing woman was just past her prime and few years out of active field, which was one of the things that made her ideal for the job – she intimately knew how the real world worked. She carried her brown curls in a short professional cut, just as she did as an active agent when a longer hair could have proven a distraction at best and a weakness to be exploited at worst. Her large expressive eyes now glared balefully at Albertini – a legacy from her multiple attempts to pin something on the man, attempts that on three notable occasions nearly ended her career thanks to the man's various patrons and partners in crime.

"Investigator Loren." Dumbledore gave the witch a pointed look.

Helga didn't show any sign that she noticed it and just continued to glare. Hopefully she did and would keep anything truly sensitive as far away from Albertini for as long as legally possible.

"Sir. Please follow me. I have a preliminary briefing ready." Loren spoke in a clipped, frosty tone and waved the wizards to follow her.

Fifteen minutes later, Dumbledore knew for a fact that there was a new powerful player in Europe, one that apparently wasn't particularly concerned by the Statutes of Secrecy if his latest stunt in Bulgaria was anything to go by. What no one knew was the motivation of the man; there wasn't even a hit of his agenda besides potentially working with or for certain Veelas in Bulgaria. That by itself was the only silver lining that came to light during the briefing – most blood purists certainly wouldn't be going out of their way to help any Veela, they saw them as creatures to use at best. At worst, well, after what Dumbledore saw during both wars he had to fight with, that didn't really bare thinking about.

Well, that wasn't really the only bright spot. Albertini appeared less than pleased by the report.

"Inform me the moment we have any more information about that man!" The Duc ordered. For a couple of seconds, Dumbledore saw unease in the Italian's eyes before the man could lock down his emotions. Curiously enough, it was the speculation that the new Dark Lord managed to spirit away his last target along with possibly some of the vampire's records that upset Albertini. It was most curious and something that Albus was sure Helga noted too.

In the end, something good might just come from this new mess, especially if Albertini found it prudent to vote for ICW intervention. Who knew what the Investigators might run into while investigating the Dark Lord haunting Bulgaria. With the man going after that vampire, looking close into his dealings might just be the best way to proceed with the investigation...

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Part 8

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15 January 1986

Varshenski Manor

Location Unplottable

Bulgaria

A large glass dome surrounded the gardens at the back of the ancestral seat of the Varshenski family. Muggle engineering, charms and careful rune-work made it so that the hot house was both invisible for anyone standing outside the protections covering the manor and the temperature inside comfortable no matter the time of the year. Those convenient facts made the gardens Sylvia's favourite place when she was home. For years now she had a small personal retreat in one corner, which was hidden by dutifully maintained hedges, right behind the colourful section with tropical plants – both mundane and magical. It was a place where she could often relax and work at peace, away from nosy family members and the many people vying for her time. A stack of parchment sitting at the left side of her table was proof of that – half of it were invitations to attend one function or another, with most of the others requests of advise or business proposals, including outlines of marriage contracts.

While Sylvia was no spring chicken, her Veela ancestry made it so that even in her late fifties she locked as if she could be her own daughter, though most of those who sent the proposals were more interested in her political power and family assets. Her looks were a mere bonus.

However, a few days ago she received a missive from an unexpected source. Irina was an old acquaintance – while not exactly a friend, the old Veela was someone you listened to when she decided to give you an advice or make a suggestion. It seemed that the ancient bird decided to finally do something about the people bothering her sanctuary and charges. At first, Sylvia believed that Irina merely hired a group of talented mercenaries, however what happened lately in Sofia, told a different story. Who knew that she had a genuine Dark Lord owning her a favour or two?

What Sylvia didn't know was the why of said man's actions. Was he this pissed off at someone bothering Irina or did he simply decide that this was a good time to make a public debute? What was his agenda? She needed to know where she stood with the Dark Lord. That's why she considered following Irina's suggestion and granting him an audience, though she naturally wouldn't word it that way. It was known that Dark Lords were short tempered creatures, easy and quick to take offence.

Varshenska summoned a fresh piece of parchment along with her writing supplies and began writing – to Irina and certain family members she had to consult both before and after speaking with the Dark Lord. Her family barely survived Grindelwald – she would be damned if she didn't do her best to keep them out of the line of fire this time.

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Veela sanctuary

Pirin Mountains

location Unplottable

Once again, Irina met the man who she hired in her office. While her friends and acquaintances in Sofia relied the rumours of him being a Dark Lord of all things, it wasn't until his latests stunt that she actually believed it. The way he apparently procured Ivanov to interrogate him was proof enough. There were a lot of pictures of the aftermath of Veil's last visit to the capital in the paper and rampant speculation about who he was and what he wanted.

The latter she wanted to know as well. As a rule, Dark Lords didn't work as common mercenaries, which in turn begged the question why did he accept her offer. The money wasn't enough to entice one of his kind. What else would he demand and would she dare decline it? The fact was that Irina did make a deal with him and those who crossed Dark Lords tended to up in a gruesome manner. It wasn't like she could turn to the Ministry for help – considering whose toes Veil was kicking with steel tipped boots, they were the last people who would help her if she called.

She had to tread very carefully now. If Irina was lucky, Veil might turn out to be a useful ally to know or the doom of her and her charges.

Speaking of the devil, the door of her office opened and Maria showed the Dark Lord in.

"Delkatar!" Irina exclaimed cheerfully and regally got up to greet him.

"Irina. I come bringing welcome news." Possibly a gift too – he had a small bag in his left hand. "Ivanov won't darken your doorstep again. I picked up a few interesting documents while retrieving him too." He levitated the bag and gently placed it on her desk.

"That's splendid!" Irina gushed and loosened the restrains of her allure.

The signs were subtle, however it was obvious Veil was affected, though he managed to control himself just as he did during their previous meetings. The man briefly scanned the room and saw the paper on her desk, thus proving that if she had to really influence him, Irina might have to really let lose.

"Have they already proclaimed me a Dark Lord?" He inquired.

"That they did. Are they wrong?" She licked her lips putting up a show that she found the very idea simply arousing instead of equally disturbing and enticing as expected. As a Veela she was drawn to power.

"Not at all. Is that a problem?" The man smirked.

"Being a Dark Lord? Not necessary." Irina purred. "What are your views and intentions towards my people?" She released her hold over her allure even further.

Veil's pupils dilated and he flushed for a moment before an unexpected burst of cold wind exploded from him.

"A most curious ability, your allure. To think it can affect the likes of me..." His irises turned yellow, not dissimilar of a werewolf and Dark Magic flooded the room.

It was dangerous, wicked and enticing, it sent a surge of heat and desire through the Veela's body.

"To answer your question, I have no particular designs upon your people, though in time I might require your services as spies and agents. Well paid ones at that." He paused and his shining eyes roamed up and down her frame. "That's as a Dark Lord. As a straight, red blooded male, well, my desires should be obvious, should the lady be willing." He wigged his eyebrows suggestively. "I'm curious to see what your unrestrained allure can do to me."

Was he leading her on? He did ask for it though... Besides, one had to keep his friends close and his potential enemies – perhaps even closer.

Irina smiled. "I find myself curious too." Her own eyes shone with silver light as her magic demanded to claim the source of power who willingly walked in her sanctum. Irina let go of her restrain and the full power of her allure exploded from her frame. Her skin glowed softly, making it softer and more sensitive. Magic sparkled through her hair making it wave as if brushed by invisible light. She waked around her desk to come closer to the Dark Lord – slowly, enticingly all the while she stared in his eyes.

By now most people would have turned into blubbering, drooling mess or jumped her. The Dark Lord did neither. The aura of Dark Magic surrounding him became tangible and delicious. The amount of power at display, it strokes Irina's own desire higher.

"I wondered, you know." Veil spoke in a strained voice. Shadows and what looked like black smoke that had a mind of his own rose from all corners of the room and swirled around him. "A most curious ability indeed." He added in a more controlled voice.

Irina grinned. Someone this powerful who could actually resist the full power of her allure – it both scared her and made him all the more desirable a target. "Isn't it, mi-lord? I can assure you, the whole package is much better."

"A bold claim." Veil smiled too. "Shall we put it to the test?"