There were four rows of checks at the Ministry of Magic. Each was coordinated by three agents, so that the pace was relatively fast. Groups of ten employees were checked each time, so no one with a fraudulent identity entered. Netunus Black came to the ministry hall with a different expression on his face. Before entering the line, he apparated in a place where it was supposedly impossible. And he disappeared just after the checkpoint. A movement so quick, so discreet, it wasn't even noticed by anyone else. After all: who would pay attention on Netunus Black? A guy who came to declare in the past that he sympathized with Santana Lopez "for her being a good teammate."
Netunus Black entered the office in the Department of Public Information Services, the second level of the Ministry of Magic, and soon found Mary Greenward wagging and looking shocked. Normally, he would have rolled his eyes and walked right past her. She had no patience with the forced drama that the middle-aged lady did whenever she had a gossip to tell. Even so, Mary always told the gossip of the day. On that occasion, exceptionally, Nenutus paid no attention. He frowned and moved closer.
"Are you all right?"
Mary was surprised at his colleague's sudden attention, but until she didn't think the gesture was bad. She smiled half-abused, revealing the certain lack she felt. Mary folded her posture and made a serious face.
"Clarice was fired."
"Clarice? Why?"
"She was spotted in social activities with a muggle! It looks like he was her lover."
"That's... disturbing." Netunus seemed to calculate every word, every gesture.
"These girls act as if there are no good wizards available. What stupidity to spend time with mere muggles."
"I agree. It was a fair dismissal. "
"Glad you see it that way, Black. I thought you'd be upset about being forced to do double duty now that Clarice was fired."
"I don't care. I can stay late for today if I have to."
Mary was surprised the second time around. She was astonished by a lazy employee like Netunus Black had not complained.
"Are you sure?"
"I do." Netunus blinked and gave a small smile to his colleague.
He lingered a little between the desks of the study and even sat down at the table he occupied. He glanced at the volume of work that had accumulated. Netunus began to check the protocols and crafts that came flying to his desk. He checked the mail. Nothing but bureaucracy that came to an average employee of the Ministry of Magic. It all seemed like an incredible waste of time. He was annoyed and left the office under the indignant look of Mary Greenward.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"I need to solve a problem in the personal department."
"Now? Why don't you send a flying lettler? We're stuck!"
"I'm sure inserting a lot of approved and revised propaganda into the Daily Prophet can be done perfectly by someone of your ability and dedication, Mary. See you later."
Upon entering the elevator, he met Priscila Lestrange. The young woman wore a dress just enough to reveal the curvaceous body and fanciful imagery. These mysteries unraveled by Netunus still as a student at Hogwarts.
"Looking good today, Lestrange."
"Thank you, Black."
"Would you like some tea?"
"Of course not."
"But we used to have tea together."
"That was before." Lestrange responded with arrogance and without the slightest sign of embarrassment over the involvement they had at Hogwarts.
"No chance to revive our good days?"
"Why would I give shot to a loser like you?" Lestrange let out a shriek as Netunus pulled her hair and pulled her back in a possessive manner. "What are you doing, idiot?"
"Making you remember my touch."
"Never had a touch, Black. You're not like your cousin."
What cousin was she talking about? Aramis Black?
"I can make you change your mind. I improved."
Priscilla led Netunus to her office as co-ordinator at Floo Network Authority. The room on level six was nicely decorated, although it was small. Priscilla asked her secretary not to be disturbed and got in with Netunus. Yes, he showed her how much he had "improved." It wasn't a mere "quickie." Netunus showed Priscila a trick or two, for free.
"So?" He asked with a cynical smile on his face after intercourse.
"I don't know... maybe we need to repeat it so I can be sure." She said with an equally cynical smile, but body language denounced that the sex had been fully satisfactory.
"Of course! Maybe tomorrow!" Netunus wore his pants and left Priscila Lestrange's office without looking back.
Netunus passed by the cafeteria and entered the bathroom. Inside the toilet box, he opened his hand, took the strands of Priscilla's black hair, and carefully placed them in a jar. He felt his hands tingling, which reminded him that it was time to take the booster dose. He picked up the bottle he had in his inner coat pocket and took a swallow. The body calmed down. He decided to visit the newsroom, a department next to where he worked.
He saw the typewriters working with the touch of magic foolishly, which was an interesting image, although some of them wrote letters of censure and warning.
"Are you lost, Black?"
Netunus was surprised by Amber Nox, Santana Lopez's former stepmother, who was currently coordinating the entire Department of Public Information Services. He forced a smile on the woman, when, in fact, he was almost annoyed to be in her presence.
"I came after the newspapers to check the publication of our report."
"They're in the Backup and Archive room, not here."
"Yes, ma'am." Netunus smiled and headed for the file room followed by suspicious looks.
The Backup and Archive room was interesting. It gathered the editions of the main newspapers of the world. It was the only place in the whole of the United Kingdom where the newspapers came to be censored. Headlines like "American Government studies sanctions Europe" would never be taken to the pews. Netunus gave a quick read through the headlines and beginning of some stories and noticed that Santana, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger have been taking the international news with some frequency in recent days. The foreign press treated the cause of the refugees sympathetically, though they were wary of the political intentions of Potter and Granger.
"Black?" Netunus was surprised by Mary. "What is with you today? You know what the policy is, do not force me to report you."
"Sorry, Mary." Netunus nodded. "It is that yesterday I received bad news about my health and I am still very shaken. I'll have to extract a piece of my liver."
"Oh, that's a misfortune, Black. No wonder you're so distracted."
"Yeah, I'm a bit tense. But, of course, this is no excuse to leave it in hand. Let's go to work, shall we?"
Netunus resumed the bureaucratic work that consisted in reviewing and despatching reports and advertisements already approved for publication in the newspapers, in the printing of pamphlets and posters, and the dispatch of internal reports to officials of the Ministry of Magic. No confidential information came to the hands of those officials. At the end of the day, he said goodbye to his co-workers and used the floo network to reach Vila de Salazar, which was a completely wizard-like housing complex newly created to house the traditional families who lived in Muggle districts. He went to the apartment on the fourth floor and kicked the door before opening it with the key. He found the apartment with two men who would be allies, but not necessarily friends. Netunus greeted them both. He felt the tingling again through his body, and this time he let the process of change happen. In two minutes, Netunus took the form of Juan Lopez.
"How did it go?" Terry Boot asked.
"The ring works." Juan gave a small smile. "In a short time, we will be able to gather enough information and samples to make our final move."
"Direct attack," Michael Corner reinforced, excited that the plans were going according to plan.
"This was just a small sample." Juan showed the bottle to his companions. "It's from Priscila Lestrange."
"The new generation slut. She's only 23 and they say her pussy is already wide." Terry Boot said without fear of revealing the macho side.
"It's not tight, but it's still a good cunt," Juan said with a half-smile on his face.
"Oh, you don't..." Boot laughed.
"Fame suits you." Juan went back to analyzing the biological samples of Priscila Lestrange. "We're going to need a bigger team."
"But who? I know few people who would encounter a suicide attack. The best ones are in France and couldn't easily enter London. Besides, not everyone is willing to break the orders of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger."
"I know some people who would take a chance." Juan told his companions.
He pointed his wand at the pen and the parchment, and began to write a list of names. Among them: Quinn Fabray.
...
Santana raised her hand to her face, still not believing in the lack of control that happened after the existence of the refugee camp was announced. What was to receive only ten more members, suddenly, there she was making the first contact with 223 new residents, and a good part had a beaten appearance. Santana also noticed that in the small crowd just arrived there was a greater incidence of people of different blood origins. The progressive increase of residents was difficult but manageable. But to receive such a quantity in the space of only two weeks was to ask for the installation of chaos, especially since the donations remained the same and it was no longer possible to administer the resources and maintain the distribution in a dignified manner.
"We can't get so many people." Marley said in a terrified, even soft voice.
"We can't send them back," Albus mused.
Santana pulled the two friends out for a brief private conversation.
"Marley, take a broom and go to the camp. Tell the situation and set up five tables to get these people's data. Tell Lily she's in because there's no better interviewer than she is. I want Drimi to mobilize some volunteers to search the newbies. Ask Padma to mobilize all volunteers to screen people for injuries. Albus and Charles, you will lead the newcomers to the field and, Albus, send an urgent message to the old men. I'm going to stay here to try to set an appointment with the chancellor, because we're going to need resources urgently. I want everything for yesterday."
"Do you think all this is necessary?" Albus questioned.
"Think. Your brother is an asshole, but he knows how to do a well-done screening. You told me yourself that you never had any problems so far. If so many people arrived at once, it's because the old scheme went into space."
"Or because they know you're here," Charles Danvers commented, glaring at the crowd. "You have to admit, Lopez. These people aren't here to take refuge. They want an answer and action."
"I didn't come here to turn this into a guerrilla training camp," Santana snarled.
"No. You came because it's about time you took over this situation. As you did right now as you divided the tasks. And you did it naturally." Charles insisted.
"Just do what I told you to do." Santana flinched, uncomfortable with the expectations people put into her.
Santana closed the small meeting with her companions and turned to the newcomers. She climbed onto the platform bench to serve as a platform, and touched the tip of her wand around her neck to amplify her own voice.
"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. My name is Santana..."
"We know who you are!" Interrupted a middle-aged black man with a heavy French accent who had his jacket torn and no luggage bag in his hands.
"That saves a performance phrase." Santana nodded. "I know you came from far away and faced horrible things until you got here..."
"Why aren't you there?" The same man continued to interrupt. Santana thought to ignore, but couldn't.
"Sorry sir. Why am I not where?"
"Why aren't you fighting at home? Why are you here when you should be there? You left and they took over, drove us out of our homes, took our possessions, took away our citizenship because we didn't have pure blood. Now they are hunting down anyone they don't like or who simply outlines the slightest sympathy for the cause. And you're not there to fight it."
"Did you by any chance fight?" Albus asked harshly.
"We are of the blue armada." Another man with a strong French accent took the floor. "We tried to take the parliament and we lost. They killed our comrades, but at least we tried."
"Fighting doesn't mean dueling," Santana argued. "We try to do it in a way that minimizes the loss of life."
"Tell this to the werewolves, the centaurs, and the giants. They're almost gone now." Another shouted.
"The cause tried to protect them," Santana countered.
"How, if you're here? You are destined to fight for us. You are our champion! But here, you are champion of nothing! She's just a crooked and scared child."
The words from the newcomers were like knives that hit Santana and paralyzed her. She knew about the situation in Europe, knew about the massacres because the news arrived by the advanced team led by Teddy Lupin. But what could she do? Facing Evans and the army of supporters promoting a bloodbath? Would there be no other solution than the direct clash? Could there be no other revolution there Gandhi in the world?
On the other hand, Santana felt that politics and diplomacy didn't help change the situation. On the contrary. It was as if the current European leaders didn't give a damn about the bad foreign publicity. Why would they? All the press was controlled and censored. There was no way the population in Europe could follow the discussions. And with so much propaganda and fear, who would have the opposite opinion?
Santana knew the time was coming when she would have to get out of relative African protection, and this distressed her. Especially because she would be a mother soon, and all she wanted was to be able to meet her daughter.
"All in time," Santana said robotically before getting off the bench. "Albus Potter and Charles Danvers will accompany you to the camp."
She turned her back and had to hear the sound of protests from men clamoring for a decision. They cried out for direct war, for they saw no other way. Maybe there was no other way. Santana walked quickly to the central square and stopped in front of the government palace. The idea was to talk about the precariousness of the countryside, but how to negotiate an important political and humanitarian issue if she herself was so upset? Santana took two steps back, ran across the square and jumped. The people who were there, including many of the newcomers, witnessed something that hadn't been seen for a long time. More precisely, since Voldemort and Severus Snape: a wizard who flew without being animagus and without a broom.
It wasn't the first time Santana had flown. It was something she started training at Bomdeling. Her first attempts were at the feet of the Himalayan mountains, under the guidance of the monk and Professor Nangyel Ungyen. She hadn't tried to fly since arriving in Africa, but the frustration and pressure made her do so after months. It wasn't a complex flight. It was more for really big jumps and high but straight. Even Santana, still discovering such ability, was still impressive of what she could do.
Like everyone else, she had heard of the deeds of the great wizards of history, such as the unmatched ability of the late master of death, Albus Dumbledore, of Grindewald's ability to remain invisible without a cape, from Voldemort and Snape to fly without broom, or Slughorn's in being a master in legilimence and occlumence without having gifts of telepathy. Santana had a desire to go beyond being a formidable duelist, so she started to try to fly. Having a spiritual connection with a hippogriff also helped. Nangyel Ungyen, who had the ability to bend the mind, that is, he could visit places with the power of thought while his body is in a situation of deep meditation. Nangyel Ungyen could be the perfect spy, but his philosophy of life put him away from any war. Still, he taught Santana to develop a special ability.
Santana started with jumps worthy of an Olympic athlete and, little by little, was managing to improve the feat. But until that time of confusion, she had never risked doing something so blatant. She flew more or less like a hippogriff.
Santana landed near the field, before the limits of the protection barriers. she walked among the stalls and found a newly arrived Marley beginning her mobilization. Santana went straight into Lily, under the questioning looks of the others.
"Can we talk privately?" Santana asked softly, almost crying.
"Of course."
Lily took her girlfriend's hand and led her away from the small group to the room they shared. She hugged her girlfriend and let her feel the comfort of her arms for a few minutes. Lily kissed Santana on the lips and stared at her.
"What happened?"
"Marley does not ..."
"Marley said a larger group than expected was coming."
"I don't know what to do, Lil. I don't know what I'm doing here."
"You're doing your best."
"I'm not... I'm not sure what I need to do here... I don't think I'm making difference... and now you're pregnant... and all I want to do is travel the world with you and our baby far away from any war."
Those words squeezed Lily's heart. She knew better than anyone that Santana, no matter how powerful, was just a girl who had frailties like any other. It was someone who, like Lily herself, needed a lap now and again.
"Listen here!" Lily gripped her girlfriend's's face. "Do you think the work we do here is easy?"
"Not at all."
"Great! Now wipe those tears away and show these people that we aren't playing camping here."
Santana nodded. She wiped her tears and kissed her girlfriend. Lily had become her main foundation over the years, to the point of no longer knowing what she would do without her future wife. Besides, younger Potter was right: there was hard work to do. They both had.
...
The hawk crossed the city of London with its light and fast flight. It wasn't easy to get to the great metropolis. It had to take a ride on a ship from Dunkirk, France, to Dover, England. It can be said that the animal's heart struck when it flew over the homeland for the first time after three years of exile. It flew cautiously until it reached old London. In human form, the hawk would surely trigger alarms installed in parts of the city, especially those that concentrated wizards. But the traffic was free as an animal. It needed only to watch out for predators and occasional hunters who could hit it with a shotgun.
The hawk landed in the proper window after five days of travel and searching. A man in his early-fifties, dark skin and Latin features approached. He smiled, patted the animal's neck briefly, and raised his arm so that the hawk would land there and lead him inside. The man took the animal to a room and indicated that there were clothes on the chair. He left the room.
The hawk turned into Quinn Fabray in a few seconds. The beautiful woman was exhausted but happy to be "at home". She took the clothes on offer to hide her nakedness. It was a dress below knee length, brown, two larger numbers of the mannequin she wore. It wasn't handsome either, as if it had been made for "Grandmas". But who cared? She certainly didn't.
Quinn left the room and ran into seven people. Seven freaks with an absurd plan. But just for that, it could work. There were also seven people who had full interest in making the plan work. Juan Lopez wanted to save his daughter who would soon be a mother. Terry Boot wanted revenge for his government-murdered son. Michael Corner needed to make peace with himself after numerous failures. Linda Kress had lost everything, including her family. Roger Davies had debts to pay with his own conscience. Heidi Macavoy had private affairs to deal with Zabini. Quinn stared at a familiar but ill-treated face that she had not seen for more than three years.
"Hummel?" Quinn went to the old Hogwarts colleague. They never talked at Hogwarts, but Quinn remembered that Kurt Hummel and Mercedes Jones were like nails and flesh, and that they were her Hipogriff's Order fellows. As far as she knew, Kurt Hummel was in Azkaban and hadn't been part of the cause for a long time.
"Hi, Fabray, it's been a while."
"Yes. Since..."
"Since the fall of Hogwarts," Kurt said in his harsh voice, pure reflection of what he himself had become. "How have you been?"
"Serving the cause since the fall of Hogwarts. I thought you were dead."
"The news of my death was exaggerated. I was trapped most of the time."
"Oh... and what happened to your friend?"
"Mercedes Jones?"
"Yes."
"She died in Azkaban. My boyfriend died at Hogwarts. My parents are in exile. And Juan said my step-brother married Rachel Berry."
"That's odd, isn't it? Finn and Rachel together."
"There are stranger things in this world." Quinn frowned, still not understanding the real motives for Kurt to be right there.
"I found Hummel roaming the city. He was completely lost", Heidi Macavoy explained. "I... we gave him something to live."
Quinn raised an eyebrow. She wasn't so convinced, but accepted the explanation. It could be a lot of coincidence. On the other hand, the community was too small for there to be any. Juan thanked her for accepting the call that she herself couldn't say no anymore, because she accepted something she had already declined in the first place. But she could never admit it out loud to not sound so pathetic. The team gathered around the table, and Juan took the lead, explaining in detail the plan.
"How can You make sure this will work?" Quinn questioned after listening carefully to what Juan had to say.
"I can't", Juan said sincerely. "But it can work, because we've spent the last few weeks getting them all out of circulation." Juan nodded to Quinn to follow. They went down the stairs and Quinn's eyes widened with what she had come across.
...
Quinn always listened to stories about the meetings with Voldemort. There was a dome of death eaters leaders formed by people like Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, Antonin Dolohov, Dolores Umbridge and Severus Snape (who was a double agent). Each of this elite group commanded smaller groups with specific functions. Russell Fabray was 21 years old when the war took place. He didn't get involved directly with the duels, but he and his father were funders and provided the death eaters with part of the logistics they needed. Russell used to say that the encounters were always tense, in the muted way. Meetings with Voldemort used to happen in places with sparse lighting, even if they were mansions. There was a rumour that Voldemort had become photosensitive after his return, so he only walked in the open at dusk and at night.
Samuel and Zabini's government seemed to be very different. Starting with the light. The party was very well lit, the magic effect that decorated the ceiling of the palace even gave an optimistic atmosphere to the event. It was a meeting of some of the European leaders, and the ball was the social occasion of the meeting to keep up appearances, or rather, the press to announce the climate of optimism. Everything the European newspapers published were headlines about false progress and promises, how society was so much better off without half-bloods and mudbloods. Ever since the foreign press reported the refugee camp, local governments began to rewrite the news to give the impression that Santana Lopez ruled a place of miserable mestizos and mudbloods because they were just those kind of people who brought misery and violence.
What was more ironic was that a good part of the gala guests knew about the manipulation and censorship of what was reported: that Europe was going through a socioeconomic crisis due to isolation, and that there would come a point that would be unlikely to maintain appearances, especially when products made and imported from other countries start missing on the shelves.
Netunus Black, or rather, Juan Lopez, walked arm in arm with an imposing Priscila Lestrange, or rather Quinn Fabray. 'Priscilla' was the guest of the event. Usually Netunus Black, no matter how old the Black family might be, would never have gone beyond the gates if Lestrange wasn't with him. She had a reputation for only getting involved with high-ranking or wealthy wizards. Hence the general surprise when she appeared accompanied by a low-echelon bureaucrat official.
"I hate it here," Quinn whispered in Juan's ear.
"There are two of us." He looked at the sides of the room and saw one of the waiters eyeing the unusual couple. It was Roger Davies infiltrated under the effect of a wizard's polyjuice potion. She walked to him and smiled.
"Canapes?" Davies asked the so-called couple.
Quinn took one and tried it. It was divine. Juan did the same while passing the wand that belonged to his ally.
"Nervous, babe?" Juan teased Quinn, trying to bring a little humour to the girl who was also anxious.
"My parents are here," Quinn whispered, pointing the direction of the pair of hair almost as blond as a veela. She hadn't seen her parents for years, ever since testifying against Russell on the day of the trial that brought him to Azkaban. She didn't want to feel somehow intimidated by the presence of the man she hated, but who was still her father.
"Will be all right. Stay within the plan. Don't drink alcohol and no suspect substance, okay?" Davies reinforced the recommendation, as the polyjuice potion wasted time with the ingestion of alcohol and other drugs.
Quinn picked up a glass of champagne. She would need to pretend to drink, after all, Priscila Lestrange drank considerably in social events, as found in the preliminary research before hitting her own on the way to the Ministry of Magic. He looked at the watch on Juan's wrist. They had about another half an hour before they needed to booster the potion. Quinn could reproduce Priscila Lestrange's little tricks thanks to what she remembered from fellow Slytherin from the time they were both at Hogwarts.
"Let's move a little," Juan suggested. "Try to look casual. He should come up soon."
"It's easy for you to say, since you've been living like Netunus Black for weeks."
"Believe me, that's the worst part."
As they circled, they found allies: Heidi Macavoy, Terry Boot, Michael Corner and Linda Kress. Kurt Hummel had lagged behind, watching the ones whose identities had been stolen: all were kidnapped and locked in a basement.
Juan felt on the skin the lack of importance given to Netunus Black. Even in the company of the illustrious "Priscila Lestrange" he seemed to have the strength to change that idea. On the other hand, the contempt of the others seemed to give him some freedom to move and observe without being disturbed.
The false couple passed next to the parents of Quinn Fabray. Judy did the usual role of wife engaged in marriage while her husband smiled and drank with future business partners. Russell was supported to recover the Tutshill Tornadoes. He had already managed to recover the mansion in the small town and was close to being able to cancel the process of buying the team. The movement made no sense in the Muggle laws, but it had to be borne in mind that the wizarding society of the United Kingdom had its own laws, even though there was an administrative tie to the British choir. Quinn had mixed feelings about it. She loved the staff that a century ago was managed by the Fabrays. There was a certain tradition there. On the other hand, Russell Fabray was a corrupt and a rapist paedophile.
Walking a little more, the false couple came across Samuel Evans' favourite group of thugs. It was a good sign that the main guest would appear. Quinn set the cup she held on a table and walked casually toward Heidi Macavoy, who laughed in an affected way, in a very poor representation of Lohanne Stone: the young woman was more impetuous, determined and less affected.
"Drop the tone, be more petulant and less dazzled," Juan whispered casually in the ally's ear, but the women who witnessed the interaction got the impression that it was a gesture of seduction. A bold move for someone who would be accompanied by haughty Priscila Lestrange.
"Someone is lucky." One of the women commented wickedly. Netunus could be a low bureaucrat, but he had beautiful physical attributes. If 'he' was with 'Lestrange', it should be because such attributes extended into sexual abilities. Let them think that way.
"That someone was Priscilla." He smiled, lavishing discreet charm that wasn't even typical of the real Netunus. It was pure Juan Lopez the way he himself faced the game of seduction.
Juan remained in a position where she seemed to accompany the most important lover on the social circuit, but who could pay attention to the conversation of Evans's friends. There were Noah Puckerman, the Goyle brothers, Gail Travis, and two older men who were foreigners. The conversation was low-key, and it wasn't long before Juan realized that joining would mean being angry. He came a little closer, then made a petulant little discreet gesture, catching Noah Puckeman's attention. The wizard turned to the supposed Netunus Black.
"Is there a problem, Black?"
"You mean you fucked three girls who were begging to suck you? Please!" Juan chuckled mockingly. "Knowing who you are, it's easier to have used imperius for the girls to do it."
"And what do you know about girls, Black? Do you think Lestrange is a feat? We've all been there."
"It's not about who's been there, Puckerman. It's about who mattered. You didn't have any."
Puckerman held "Netunus" by the collar, ready to punch him. Juan knew he should make friends with these people and not provoke them. He waited for the aggression, but his eyes wide, staring, not to be cheap. That was when he felt a magic push.
"Darling!" Quinn gripped Juan's arm. "I allowed you to accompany me because you would never have the ability to steal my attention." She smirked at Puckerman. "It's not good to piss off the henchman."
"Great joke, Lestrange," Puckerman said without humour. He was vain enough to reject at all costs the sting of Samuel Evans's henchman. But the reality was that Puck was no more than a gorilla who did dirty work under the orders of both Zabini and Samuel.
Although the little commotion had drawn the attention of the people who were near the reception, the people soon turned around the hall, when Samuel Evans entered with Kitty Wilde, he's almost recurring company. The leader came in smiling and squandering the youthful charisma. Unlike Voldemort, who led by fear, it was clear that Samuel wasn't even leading the way. He was like a head of state, as if he were royalty who left the job of government to Blaise Zabini. Samuel was there for the fun show, to enjoy the prestige of being the most important person in the hall. Juan, Quinn and the allies knew that none of this meant they should underestimate Samuel.
There were many doubts and myths about his wand, but it was a matter of peace that the dark wizard was extremely dangerous and deadly with it. There were many reports that he won all the duels he faced except one: at Hogwarts, when Santana disarmed him, cornered him, but couldn't kill him. At that time, he hadn't yet built the wand, so there was always the expectation if the result would be the same. This was the great Achilles heel of Samuel.
Samuel Evans began to circulate among those present, speaking only to those who were interested. Even some diplomats and foreign chiefs were ignored. He went to Puckerman and greeted him with enthusiasm, showing that, despite all these important people, he remained faithful to his friends.
"What do we see here?" Samuel approached Juan. "Here is a face I haven't seen for some time."
"How's it going, Commander?"
"It's odd to see a supporter of the rebels at my party."
"I was never sympathizing with Santana Lopez. We just played Quidditch together. "
Samuel's face was hard to read. Juan began to grow restless, fearing that the dark wizard might be wary of something. Everyone knew what a mere mistrust was capable of doing at that time. Azkaban was filled with people arrested for making it a mere joke or criticism of the times.
"Forgive me, my lord." Quinn interfered and stood beside Juan. "I invited Black to join me at this reception. I thought it would be fun." She tried to smile suggestively, but the tension set in.
"Really, Lestrange? We're used to seeing you with your occasional lovers", Samuel insisted. "But I didn't imagine you could have sex with someone like Netunus."
"I lost a bet."
"Oh!" Samuel softened his expression. "It must have been a good bet."
"Things post-orgasm can do."
Samuel smiled, lifted his champagne, and turned his back to the fake couple. Juan took Quinn's hand and discreetly pulled her away.
"We need to act now," Juan whispered in Quinn's ear. "Now or never."
Quinn began to feel the typical tingling and stopped in the middle of the hall. She took the bottle in her bag and took a sip. With the transfiguration stabilized, she looked around and saw no abnormalities in the behaviour of those present, after all, Priscila Lestrange was known for her great fondness for an alcoholic beverage.
"If we go after Samuel, we'll call attention," Quinn warned.
"Let's get attention anyway." Juan signaled to the allies who were scattered around the party. It was time to strike.
Juan walked resolutely to the side where Samuel was. His eyes were fixed on the prey. He knew He had a small single chance. He needed to be quick, precise, and pray that other colleagues would give him cover for the escape. Of course, he was nervous, after all, he had planned a suicide mission that could end a war right there. At least, that was what he faithfully believed.
Juan approached Samuel, who had his back to him, conversing amicably with Zabini and another man he didn't recognize. That was the chance of a lifetime. He was nervous, his hands were sweating, but he moved on. Theoretically, no guest carried a wand at the party. It was a measure of security so that all the guests left their respective wands in the doorway. But Juan wore the royal ring of centaurs that Quinn could barely get through to him. The object gave him some special powers, such as apparating in protected places. That was how Juan teased the security and got in with the wands.
Juan wasn't naive. He knew that such rules would never apply to Samuel himself, or to Zabini or the guard. There would be retaliation. So he had to be perfect. He signaled to the allies, withdrew his wand from his suit jacket when he cut the distance to Samuel and said the words his daughter had never dared to utter.
"Avada Kedrava!"
The blow struck Samuel from behind, but not as expected. The unforgivable curse of green hue circled Samuel's body without actually touching him, and dispersed.
"Avada Kedrava!" Quinn and the others tried equally unlucky. The effect was exactly the same. The unforgivable curse circled the dark wizard's body and dissipated.
Samuel was protected all the time by the very wand he built at the expense of the life of Brittany Pierce, among other processes of the dark arts. Juan didn't expect this. No one expected that. How could they? Samuel quickly turned to the man he thought was Netunus Black.
Quinn screamed and pushed people close, and began to run, as did everyone else, causing the confusion and hysteria that was supposed to allow the group to flee. But it would not be easy. As expected, Samuel's security men began to chase them around the room. Quinn was a skilled duelist, but she ended up losing her wand due to a bumbling of a guest trying desperately to escape.
Yes, the story happened, but not all pandemonium caused Samuel and Zabini to take their eyes off the fake Netunus Black. Samuel drew the dreaded wand built with the force of darkness. Juan attacked again with the fatal unforgivable curse, this time aimed at Zabini.
And he did it.
He killed right before he was disarmed.
Zabini was dead.
Blaise Zabini was dead!
Samuel Evans' mentor and chief man was dead.
While Puck and the other henchmen immobilized the supposed Netunus Black, Samuel looked horrified at the fallen mentor. He took the powerful wand, only to find that even he would not be able to bring someone back from the dead.
Samuel shouted.
"Get out of the way!"
When the henchmen left the supposed Netunus Black, Samuel stepped back.
The potion had ended the effect and Samuel was before Juan Lopez.
He took a deep breath. He was a leader. He has been trained since he was 15 to be a leader. He needed to think. Especially that the mentor was dead.
"Arrest him! I'll deal with this junk later." And turned to Puck. "Get Lestrange as if your life depended on it, because it depends."
Without his own wand, Quinn ran to the exit. She thought of nothing else, no one but escape. Juan failed. All failed. There was nothing to do but run away. She had to reach for a wand. Any of them. People ran aimlessly, more desperate to get out of there than to recover their belongings. Quinn was in the crowd as she was being chased. She needed a wand. One touch would be enough for her to channel the transformation into a hawk. Experienced and powerful animagus could transfigure their own wand and change anywhere. She had no such control and power yet. She needed a wand. Any of them. The exit was close, but there were people running after her. All she needed was a wand, or maybe even the ring of centaurs.
Quinn tried to run through the confusion, the bumps that made some people fall to the ground. She was determined. She saw the counter with the cabinet in which the attendant kept the wands of the guests. There was a lot of shouting, a lot of confusion. Juan was left behind. He failed. Quinn couldn't have the same fate. She was almost, almost...
…
The room was cold and dank and very reminiscent of the Hogwarts dungeons. But she wasn't in the legendary school of witchcraft in the UK. She wished. At least she would know where to go if she had a chance to escape. She was sitting on a wooden chair with her hands and feet tied. She still wore the party dress, which now tightened, since Priscila Lestrange was smaller and thinner. Probably already had been searched and would have no chance of reaching the wand or even become the hawk. In fact, it would not be good if the enemy knew that she was an Animagus.
"Quinn Fabray!" She heard the familiar voice. It was Samuel Evans himself. "You have no idea of my happiness in being in front of you. Finally."
Quinn was aware of Samuel's obsession with her. She knew all the risks involved in her staying there. But what could she do? All she could do was hold out until the cavalry arrived. That is, if it ever comes. There was, therefore, the great possibility that she would die at the hands of the enemy. This was a risk everyone had been running for years.
"Look at that face. So gorgeous." Samuel gently touched Quinn's face, which turned abruptly. The gesture only seemed to excite the dark wizard.
"Better than a guy with half ear."
"One day you will learn to appreciate these scars."
"Never."
"You must really love that bitch to risk a suicide mission with that idiot."
"Well, Juan killed your bitch, so…"
Samuel silenced her with a violent slap in the face. Quinn grinned cynically and spat some blood on Samuel. He gave her another slap and retreated two steps.
"Tell me one thing: is Santana Lopez here to reciprocate kindness? Or was she a coward enough to sacrifice her own father?"
Quinn remained silent, staring at Samuel and taking care of the movement of others around, including Puckerman and Aramis Black, to her disgust.
"Lopez is not here." Samuel remained disguised. "She's in Africa, too busy fucking Harry Potter's daughter to care about you." He played with the blonde bunch of Quinn's hair. The touch made her angry, and she began to gasp. "Aren't you going to say anything about that?" He continued stroking the prisoner hair with light touches, not yet so invasive. Quinn knew he wouldn't stay this way for long.
"You can torture me as you wish, Evans. I have nothing to say."
"Not even to save your own skin? You changed, Fabray. Where is your Slytherin's sense of self-preservation?"
"I'm a Slytherin, a snake, not a rat."
Samuel laughed loudly, making Quinn even more tense. It was his stage, the whole situation favourable to him.
"Tell me one thing: what do you think about the brave Santana Lopez playing house hiding in a refugee camp in Angola while you're here?"
"Santana is not playing house. And if I were you, I would encourage her to stay as long as possible in Africa. Because when she comes, she will be to put an end to you once and for all."
"That is, if she can get out of there alive." Samuel turned to Aramis Black. "Tell Dolohov to continue the plan." Then he turned to Quinn, resting both hands on her thighs, his face approaching in a truly invasive manner. "And you're going to watch the fall of your cabinmate's cottage. Santana Lopez dies tomorrow and there's nothing you can do."
"You're bluffing."
"Why would I bluff you?" Samuel laughed. "You're bound and completely at my mercy. Santana Lopez is going to die tomorrow and I'm going to celebrate doing what I've always dreamed of." He forced one of his hands between Quinn's legs, though over her clothes.
Quinn tried to fight, she moved her body so much that the chair fell to the side. The shoulder suffered the greatest impact, followed by the side of the head. From the floor, she saw Samuel in her peripheral vision.
"See you soon enough, Fabray."
...
She was sitting on the couch with her hands on her face. Her eyes burned with frustration and anger. She felt guilty for not returning to her companions, and knew that this feeling would corrode her. While she was desolate, the movement in the apartment was almost dead. There was only Kurt left, who had lagged behind to watch the prisoners. He got up and touched the older woman's shoulder. They needed to leave, because it was only a matter of time before the agents invaded the place.
"Netunus is only a minor employee of the Ministry of Magic. It's completely disposable", Heidi speculated stammeringly. "But we can try to trade Priscilla for Quinn. She's a high employee, after all."
"It won't happen." Kurt tried to reason coolly. "We have an employee of the Ministry of Magic among many others. They have Santana Lopez's best friend and former lover."
"What are we going to do, then?"
"Get out of here."
"No way!" Heidi protested. "Juan and the others are in the hands of the enemy, and let's not keep it a secret? I can't agree to that sort of thing."
"Do as you wish. I'm leaving. Let the prisoners be found by the agents."
"Our plan should be to rescue them," Heidi insisted.
"I'm sorry." Kurt took his things and fled, leaving a devastated Heidi behind.
Deep down, Kurt felt like a coward. He really wanted the plan to work, that Samuel was dead and buried. But Kurt was also an ex-convict, and the thing he learned best to do in Azkaban was to survive.
...
Santana woke up next to her girlfriend. Lily looked as if she slept in peace after a night of love. She pulled Lily's blanket down a little to expose her belly. Santana smiled as she saw the belly growing so that it could no longer be hidden, except for the use of loose, heavy clothes.
"Hi Jyn," she whispered. "Is everything quiet in there? I hope you're warm and happy."
"Jyn?" Lily said without opening her eyes. "You're not going to call our daughter Jyn, and that obsession with Star Wars will have to stop."
"Jyn Potter-Lopez sounds great."
"It sounds like we've named our daughter after a drink!" Lily turned her face to face to her girlfriend and thus give more weight to criticism.
"It doesn't sound anything."
"No Star Wars names, Santana Lopez! No Padmé, Leia, Rey, Jyn, Shimi, Ahsoka or Sabini... or that orange being whose name I forgot."
"Maz Kanata?"
"That one."
"You're not funny."
"It is absurd to think that someone so strong, who has traveled the world, the great chosen of our generation, is a little bit of a nerd!"
"Arya then?"
"Santana!"
Santana laughed and kissed Lily. It was fun to simply piss off her girl in that tiny eight-square-foot world that served as home to them five months ago. But it was there, in the Spartan room, that Santana allowed herself to smile and cry, to show all the frailty she had to hide out the door. It was in those eight square meters that she allowed herself to be just a young woman. She began to tease Lily with pranksters, making her laugh and beg Santana to stop. She knew every sensitive spot in that body and knew that tweezers applied on the inner side of her thighs used to culminate in a quickie. Santana shifted her position to Lily, gauging the weight of her body so as not to hurt her girlfriend or the baby. She stroked Lily's breasts as they kissed passionately. The hand went down to the south, reaching for sex. Stimulating Lily, which quickly got wet, and penetrated her with two fingers.
"Katniss?"
"No..." Lily replied breathlessly.
"Buffy?"
"No way."
"Kara?"
"You won't convince me... while you're fucking me."
"What if I stop?"
"If you stop now... I'll kill you."
Santana smiled, kissed Lily quickly as she continued to work with both fingers in and out while her thumb did the providential pressure into the wet region of her clitoris. The rhythm was perfect, making Lily feel the waves of pleasure running through her body. She and Santana had sex on a regular basis and never spent more than a week without it, except when Lily was seriously ill in India. At that stage of her five-month-pregnancy, when her seasickness had passed and her sex appetite increased with hormones, Lily was much more receptive to the caresses, even the one who took the initiative most of the time. Not that Santana was complaining. Lily had an orgasm, then let her body relax as Santana slowed the pace.
"I need five minutes before I eat you," Lily said to Santana, who lay beside her.
"You don't need Lil. I am fine. Today was about you."
"I doubt you're not excited after that."
"I am, but it's morning and you have despised all my suggestions."
"Won't you let me touch you until I accept one of your nerdy suggestions?"
"No... I'm saying that my mission today has failed and that we have to go to work."
Santana kissed Lily's lips before getting up. She put on her clothes, being watched by the bride, took the towel and the toothbrush. Santana left the room and headed for the toilets. She mumbled that it was no longer possible to keep the bathrooms as clean as before. It was impossible for the cleaning staff to keep the twelve toilets and showers spotless for nearly 700 women out of the nearly 1,300 refugee camp. There were more wizards there than the total population of some countries. There were more wizards concentrated in the refugee camp than the population of Greece, for example, or of Portugal. Proportionally speaking, it was as if the refugee camp had hit the population of the Dadaab camp in Kenya, which had at its peak half a million Muggle Somalis until they were thrown off in unethical or human ways by the Kenyan government .
Santana returned to the room and found Lily already dressed and preparing herself for the morning routine. Suddenly her gaze was lost, thoughtful.
"What was it?" Lily asked.
"I was thinking about our old recurring conversation..."
"It's not time for me to leave, San. I'm pregnant, not unusable. I can still help with the work here."
"I know, babe. That's not what I meant. It's just that things have gone out of control these last few weeks and I feel that the weather is more tense than normal. I don't want you to take unnecessary risks."
"I will not argue with you. I have already said that when my gestation is near to over, I will go to the United States, although it is almost an offense that our daughter is not born on British soil."
"Lil..."
Lily didn't answer. She left the room and had the intention of repeating the routine made by her girlfriend minutes before, with the difference that she needed a shower. Lily greeted the women and girls who crossed the path and waited for a shower stall to vacate. Due to the number of people and limited water, the showers were programmed to run for only three minutes, controlled by a sort of magic timer and some additional incantations. The shower screamed insisted. Lily switched on the shower and lathered herself practically the instant the water fell on her body. Rinse well in time. She dried herself quickly and got dressed to vacate the boxing. She returned to the room already thinking about the routines of the day. She would check the scales of the cleaning staff and check the deposit, then think about flying broom to Bungu to buy some private supplies. She needed new clothes and bought some ingredients to make potions to moisturize the skin (it was cheaper to do than buy it). She was going to look for chocolate frogs at Bungu's only candy store. She wanted to eat them with a little lemon juice. Lily also thought about finding a bow for Santana's hair. The chosen one looked so handsome when she wore her long black hair loose instead of her usual ponytail.
Lily crossed with her cousin and then with her brother. She greeted both with a friendly pat on the back. She ate breakfast that was the same for everyone. Coffee was one of two meals offered in the field. Anyone who wanted more food would have to buy with their own resources in Bungu or some muggle town, like Luanda (there was a floo network from Bungu to get there). The point is that only the people who got jobs or marketed anything in the cities had such resources. Everything else (most of them) survived what the field was capable of offering. Lily had some money that was sent from time to time by her parents. She checked the scales of the cleaning teams made up of volunteers. It seemed that everything was in order that day. She herself had to work on picking up the organic garbage that day and took it to the fields of "Uncle" Neville, who would turn everything into fertilizer, in a process that took a few weeks with the magic acceleration. It wasn't such a painful job when performed at the magic touch of the wand.
Lily watched Santana preparing to give the defense training against art of the dark the first group of the four organized by age group. She moved into the warehouse building to begin weekly inventory control. Food was coming to an end before the deadline, which could mean a forced rationing for a day or two. It also meant that instead of two meals, only one could be provided and this would be fish or meat with bread. Lily has always heard the saying that Anarchy is one step away from a meal. As much as there was a policy of letting people try to move forward and regain independence, a sort of regulatory state had been created within the camp, a ministry of magic that managed a microcosm with a socio-tribal character that was becoming difficult to manage.
Lily made the list of what would be needed for the field and then sent to the African confederation and to the international agencies. As she noted, she heard a noise. Lily stopped and listened. Silence. She returned to work, this time picking up her wand and controlling the pen for an enchantment. Pen and paper floated as Lily dictated the list. Again, she heard an atypical noise and saw movement through peripheral vision.
"Protego horribilis." She conjured up just in time to defend herself from an attack.
The aggressor revealed himself and advanced against her, who did her best to defend herself and counterattack. But there were two of them. The second didn't hit her by very little. Lily had to defend herself from the shrapnel of seeds and the wooden shelves. She patted Protego once more as she tried to escape. She knocked one of the shelves over one of the attackers who gave her no respite and took time to face each other. Lily conjured expelliarmus without verbalizing, and then stunned him. One less. The other wizard had gotten off the shelf and hit her. Lily felt her body flutter against one of the bookshelves and thought earnestly that it might be the end.
"Stupefy." A third element conjured.
It was Marley and Finn who knocked out the second assailant.
"What happened here?" Finn was scared.
"They found us, of course," Lily said angrily, still on the floor.
"Tie them both up," Marley ordered Finn as she ran to help Lily. Marley tried to lift her arm, but Lily refused.
"Wait," She said, feeling the pain of the blow on her back. She immediately put her hand to her belly and moved slowly, to make sure nothing was wrong, despite the duel.
In the meantime Albus and Drimi also arrived.
"Lil!" Albus was frightened to see his pregnant sister sitting on the floor amid fallen shelves, scattered grain, smoke of flour and shrapnel.
"Calm down! I'm fine!" Lily gestured her brother not to go up to her. "Marley, now I want your help if you can."
Marley held out both hands and Lily finally got to her feet again. Lily approached one of the attackers already tied with conjured chains.
"I don't recognize any of these guys."
Meanwhile, Santana arrived accompanied by Charles Danvers. She looked pale and a little queasy when she saw the scenery.
"What happened?"
"The field was compromised," Lily replied. "They attacked me."
Santana felt even worse. She was even more nervous and apprehensive than her girlfriend, who had suffered the attack.
"You..."
"I'm fine, Lopez." Lily cut her off, preventing the drama from settling. She only called her girlfriend by her last name when she was really angry or nervous. "I can not recognize any of these guys. I'm a good physiognomist and I don't know who they are."
"They must be with Evans," Albus mused. "They must have arrived with the most recent refugees."
"Is it just these two?" Finn asked.
"I want a task force now," Santana ordered. "Albus, take Finn, Danvers and Drimi with you, get some more from the policing team. I want all those who arrived in the last cam together and isolated, to search all the belongings. Marley, please accompany Lily to Padma."
"No need!" Lily snapped.
"Marley, take Lily to Padma do a check on her. These two are... "
Everyone bowed their heads at the sound of a very close crash. They ran outside and were shocked to see that the dormitory building was on fire. Santana was astonished. She heard a third explosion that knocked over the observation tower. In the midst of widespread panic, among people running everywhere, Santana was also lost for a second. The cafeteria building was the next to explode.
"Stay here!" Santana ordered.
She made a move with the griffin core wand, and suddenly artifacts were detached from the walls of the warehouse building and toward the group. With another movement with the wand, Santana hurled the artifacts up, just in time to explode 40 meters above where they were. The impact brought them all to the ground.
"Lily!" Santana shouted.
"I'm fine!" The girlfriend answered.
"Go back to the warehouse!" Santana ordered when the toilets building and the infirmary also exploded. Everything went through the air. Between screams and chaos, smoke and fire resulting from the explosion of fixed field structures were modeled on the shape of the black mark, which had only been seen for decades during the second wizarding war. Almost immediately after the set black mark, death eaters took to the skies in flush flights with brooms, indiscriminately attacking the field, burning the tents.
Santana stood in the midst of dust and smoke. It was so much information that her mind began to work more by instinct and less by rationalization. She saw one of the death eaters approach quickly and didn't think twice. With a subtle twist of a wand, a broom that had been in the vault escaped into her hand. If she was the hippogriff, it was time to fly.
"Confringo!" Santana conjured with her wand before the death eater action and managed to knock him down.
There were two more brooms left, which were taken by Drimi and Danvers. The trio made the first resistance, using the differentiated ability acquired in Quidditch to fly better and attack efficiently. Meanwhile, the others on the ground were organized.
"You guys stay with Lily," Albus ordered Finn and Marley. As he saw everyone disorganized, he placed his wand at the tip of his throat to amplify his voice and ran camp inside. "Emergency Training! Emergency training!"
Refugees, especially the older ones, received little training and guidance in the event of an attack. The surprise attack made this population disoriented, but it was enough to hear Albus's well-known command voice for many to come back to reality. People who had a little leadership in that hierarchical sphere began to act as the one trained and to organize the others. Some people ran the children toward the forest, others controlled the fire magically, while another group aided the combat.
Santana and her comrades, already receiving ground aid, knocked Death eater down for death eater in acrobatic battles over brooms. Santana wasn't holding back. She didn't use the unforgivable curse of death, but she wasn't worried about mortally wounding her adversaries with the repertoire of dueling spells she knew. And the list was vast. Santana attacked either by destroying the brooms, sometimes by knocking down the opponent, or by hitting with a right-handed spell. Drimi and Danvers also did their best, and Danvers, seeing the fury with which Santana eliminated the death eaters, thought it would be more effective if he accompanied the leader and conspired to protect her from being hit.
One of the death eaters flew high-speed toward Marley, Finn and Lily. Finn held Lily and pulled her out of the way, while Marley took charge of the protective spell, forming a temporary barrier around them. The death eater insisted. Marley defended all three again. It was Lily, still in Finn's arms, who attacked.
"Confringo!"
The death eater flew off the broom and fell rolling on the floor next to where the trio was. Finn went to the fainted assailant and removed his mask. He was surprised to see that death eater was one of the refugees who arrived two weeks ago. Finn was assigned to set up and show the field to the group. He remembered being thrilled when he learned that this man was an Appleby Arrows fan, just like him.
"What are we going to do with him?" Finn asked Marley and Lily, who approached.
"Conjure the chain to tie it up," Lily ordered. "Something tells me there will not be much left of them to ask questions later."
Lily looked up at the sky in time to witness the last death eaters being knocked over. Two on account of the action of the Santana attack and another that was overthrown by a ground attack. The sky was clear except for the black mark that still lingered between the fire and the smoke. Lily pointed her wand at the image of the skull and stuck it. Marley understood the gesture and reinforced. They worked together to remove the abominable symbol from the heavens.
Santana landed in the meantime. She dropped her broom and run to hug Lily.
"Are you all right?" She said referring to Lily and her daughter in the womb.
"We are. Are you alright?"
Santana just shook her head. They hugged each other.
...
Magical repair was possible when the object was broken by force of some impact. The bottle that fell to the floor was repairable. The wall destroyed by the impact of some magic could also be repaired with magic. But things destroyed by fire could not be recovered. The refugee camp was accounting for the damage hours after the attack. There were 68 deaths caused by the attack of 18 death eaters who infiltrated the field. Two were killed as a result of the injuries and the fall in the aerial combat with Santana. Fourteen were killed by popular rage. Two survived for questioning.
Among the dead, there was much pain and commotion when they discovered that the jovial and talented Hugo Granger-Weasley was among the fatalities. He was inside the dorms, the first building to explode, and perished beneath the debris. Marley, his girlfriend, was inconsolable, as were his cousins Albus and Lily, and his close friends, especially Lysander.
The number of wounded reached 240: the majority presented cuts, burns and intoxication by the smoke. Padma was in a hurry. The surviving building became an inadequate ward. She had the help of the healers who arrived from Bungu, but however much the population of the city was moved by the attack on the troublesome refugee camp, it still mattered that the city had no resources to attend to so many wounded people. Padma and the medibruxos moved the seven most seriously injured to the city hospital, others who deserved more care were improvised in the surviving building. The rest lay in tarps and sheets in the open, hoping that healers and volunteers could do the best job possible.
No building can be repaired with magic. They were detonated with muggle-made time bombs. Also, 27 tents were burned, making entire families lose all their memories and material possessions.
Santana was in one of the tents in a meeting with the chancellor of Angola and the president of South Africa. They were talking about moving the camp somewhere in South Africa, near the border with Lesotho. There was even the possibility of dividing it, and a second field would be installed in Namibia. She left the tent when she thought the meeting was over, without hearing from the leaders a definite answer to the immediate problem. Politics was frustrating. Even rising quietly and without fanfare, she drew the attention of the other leaders to the point of making them stop to greet her.
Santana walked among the refugees, passed quickly near the makeshift space where the wounded were being treated. It broke her heart.
"Lopez!" A male voice caught her eye. That was when Santana realized that almost all the remaining refugees surrounded her. "Lopez! What are you going to do now?"
Santana looked at the faces of those people. They were people who were dirty with dust and soot, and who, above all, had a fury in their eyes despite their mourning.
"I'm going back to Europe, I'm going to settle the bill with that son of a bitch and I'll take back what's ours. That's what I'm going to do. Enough of being stuck, accepting the monstrosities of these supremacists."
"That seems very irresponsible, San." Finn stepped forward and stood before her colleague.
"Let me guess: you tell me that I can't expose myself and all this bullshit."
"No... what I mean is that it seems very irresponsible, it's almost suicide. But I'm on your side and I'll follow you to the end. That's what I came for."
Adila Amandi conjured up an image of a hippogriff on the smoke that still left the field. It was pale, but full of symbolism. Santana looked up and saw the fragile image of the hippogriff. It wasn't right. An imposing and noble animal, whose symbolism was loyalty and bravery, could not seem so. Santana thought of Lily. She thought not of a happy memory, but imagined a desired future situation of her with her daughter in her arms beside her future wife. Her heart filled with love.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A very strong silver light came from the tip of the ebony wand. An immense hippogriff was formed and the patron began to fly majestically under the field, as if it were real.
Lily looked up at the sky. She saw the magnificent hippogriff riding through the clouds, but she wasn't impressed. She was sitting under an improvised stretcher, being watched closely by Padma, who was worried that stress had put Lily's pregnancy at risk. Lily couldn't be impressed with anything, she was empty. She watched Marley cry herself, mostly because of her boyfriend's death. Hugo was a light in the world, a talent destined for the general public, and that damn war interrupted his trajectory. Lily wondered what they were going to say to Hermione, Rose, and Uncle Ron?
Santana sat down beside Lily. She didn't say a word. The chosen one just stood by her girlfriend and allowed Lily to lean. Santana hugged her, still in silence, feeling the destruction, the deaths and the wounded.
"Lily needs to leave as soon as possible." The couple were surprised by Neville, who was accompanied by Albus and Ebo.
"Where to?" Lily asked.
"U.S. Harry will enter into an agreement of political exile and protection for Lily."
"It's the best thing to do. My mother and Rachel can stay with you", Santana agreed without hesitation.
"Aren't you going with me?" Lily asked tearfully.
"I can't. I need to end this war. Ebo, you need to help us bring people back to a new field. Call Adila for that. Albus and Neville, you're going to help me recruit those who want to come with me to fight."
"About this, Albus and I had an idea that could make it easier for you to enter Europe," Neville speculated.
"What?" Santana asked.
"Let's declare that you died in the attack."
"That lie can't go very far, Longbottom. There are a thousand witnesses here who can tell me I'm alive." Santana pondered.
"I know that, but this lie will allow us to make the first offensive move more easily. It's the loophole and opportunity we need."
"Well, I kind of like the idea." Santana approved of the plan. Then she turned to Lily and kissed her on the cheek.
"Everything's going to be all right, babe. You and our girl will be fine."
...
Quinn had lost track of time. She was in a cold cell that had nothing but a plastic plate of food and a plastic cup of water. She was feeling terribly alone, abandoned, failed. Samuel stepped in and stood before her with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. He smiled.
"As promised, I came to celebrate."
"You didn't kill her."
"See for yourself."
Samuel handed Quinn a moving picture of someone who looked a lot like Santana dead on the beaten dirt floor. She was standing next to a girl who looked like Marley, but she could not be sure. But pregnant Lily crying beside Santana's supposed body was recognizable. It was an "official" photo produced by the Angolan government especially to try to deceive the European organizations. After all: the African Confederation couldn't lie about such information or, indirectly, be declaring war on Europe.
"This is not true."
"Santana Lopez died in Africa, and her struggle lost ground. It's time to celebrate. You can come freely or we can do the way I hurt you. Either way, I'll have exactly what I want. "
Quinn closed her eyes and really pondered the options she had. Survive or brave, that's the point. She wanted to cry, but he swore he would never give the Lord of Darkness this pleasure. Quinn faced Samuel and made the choice.