A frothing, tumultuous sea, icy water sharp against her skin. The moon's reflection ruffled by waves, the low rumble of thunder in the distance.
Calla tried to sink down, but the sea spilled her out again. She lurched sideways, thinking of clearer water, a calm lake, somewhere she could lie below the rippling surface and be content in the cool water. Something rugged at the edge of her mind, a flash of a sandy beach, leading her down a dark coastal path, at the end of which glinted a golden chalice, but she shrank back from it into herself, into the place she wanted to go, a warm pool, where laughter danced over the surface of the water.
She slipped beneath, so that there was nothing in her mind except that one feeling of impenetrable warmth and comfort. Nothing could reach her here, no one could know her thoughts. She simply existed, at one with the world. Safe..
She opened her eyes to see Snape glaring at her.
"Good," he snapped, and Calla grinned. "But you are too attached to one image."
He could never just give her a compliment.
"It's an improvement, though, right?" she asked hopefully.
His mouth thinned into a straight line. "Yes, Potter, it is an improvement. It seems Black was correct in saying that you are connecting more to your magic."
She beamed at him, which of course, only served to infuriate Snape further. "Do not look so pleased with yourself, Potter."
"I'm not," she said, shrugging. "Should we try again, or is it almost time for the meeting? Molly let me make soup for the starter."
He grimaced. "I am sure I would be better off drinking a second year's attempt at a Draught of Living Death."
At that, Calla just laughed. She had started to feel differently in the past week or so. A certain weight or burden had lifted from her shoulders, and though she was still haunted, and she still felt her weaknesses in the face of Voldemort, she was starting to get better at pushing past it. At taking what was hers, and always would be. Her magic. Even Snape didn't bother her, though she would have preferred not to have someone poking about in her head. Unexpectedly, she trusted him. He was harsh, and often strayed to memories and thoughts she didn't want anyone to see, but he wasn't so bad. Though in fairness, she didn't exactly have many good options to compare him to. Nicer than Voldemort wasn't saying much.
During the meeting though, Snape did resign himself to having the chicken soup Calla had made — which she personally thought was the best soup in the world, apart from Molly Weasley's — and she counted this as a silent triumph. It was really strange to see Professor Snape eating dinner in the kitchen, and Calla knew that herself of a year ago would have laughed and laughed if someone had told her this.
The meeting this week, thankfully, did not touch on Calla giving any sort of statement, to her relief. She'd already spoken to Kingsley about it, saying that she understood where he was coming from but really couldn't face the thought of having to open up, and he had been more respectful of that than she had thought. But she supposed many of the Aurors had seen things that they didn't particularly want to talk about either.
No, this week was all about the Aurors. And about their plans for a sly leak to Draoidhean na h-Alba, the 'alternative' wizarding newspaper of Scotland, which generally disagreed with the concept of a centralised Ministry of Magic that governed all of Britain, and had apparently jumped at the opportunity to expose its corruption and shortcomings. The article would run on Monday morning. The paper had already been at odds with the Ministry, who had equally come into criticism for its attempts to stop their writing about the imbalance of power within wizarding Britain. While they had something of a throttle on the Daily Prophet, attempts to stop the circulation of the article would rouse anger not only from those on the side of Dumbledore and the Order but also the many Scots who had a bone to pick with the Ministry anyway. That made it too much of a risk.
Calla thought it was pretty smart of the Order, actually.
"Course," Tonks was saying, from between Kingsley and Moody, "we couldn't say much in the way of specifics. We need to keep our cover, and most of our colleagues weren't really fans of speaking out publicly, which is why we have to have all the secrecy. Fudge'd have the heads of whoever he found out did it, but if this goes the way we want it to, maybe we don't have to worry about that for long." Calla rather liked the smile she gave. "We'd have Scrimgeour if we could — not that he wants to make a move, he's never been all that in favour of political fighting or anything, he's a strategist more than anything — but he's a million times more competent than Fudge, and actually willing to fight. Plus, he's one of the most experienced from the last war, as far as the Ministry alone goes."
Calla kept in her tentative smile. It felt like too much to imagine that the Ministry might actually be competent. "The Ministry's issues run deep," Kingsley said, looking around the room, "quite apart from Fudge. We will never be able to change them all overnight, but for now, and for our cause, we hope that this may be a start."
Around the table, the Order lifted glasses in hopeful toast and Calla leaned back in her chair, clasping her hands together and wondering if this really would be a start, or if it would just make everything much worse. Optimism hadn't worked in a long while.
Xx
Isobel McDougal had never willingly read a newspaper before she came to Hogwarts. She got her dose of stories from her dad's complaining about the state of things, her mum decrying Margaret Thatcher, which formed their daily routine at home. She'd always been quite comfortable in her world, knowing where her future should be headed, knowing she wouldn't stray far from her hometown in a Scottish mining town. She had never been to England, let alone London, before she received her Hogwarts letter and the Deputy Headmistress had turned up on her doorstep and thrown her entire world on its axis.
When she learned of the wizarding world, Isobel felt this was one new world. When she visited Diagon Alley, in a country that was technically connected to her own and yet sounded and felt and looked so very different, she thought maybe there were two. And when she met her new peers, from girls like Daphne Greengrass to boys like Justin Finch-Fletchley, she realised there was another world, where her new school was the stamping ground of the rich that she had been simply dropped into, with her harsh accent and rough edges, where she could never match the haughty tones of the other students. She could count on her right hand the amount of students she felt she was actually properly similar to. She had needed desperately to cling to any other Muggleborn she could find, any Scot, and anyone who wasn't so posh as all the girls in her dorm seemed to be.
She'd had a new world to learn about, so she'd started subscribing to the Daily Prophet back in the second year, when everything started getting scary and she was afraid to walk the halls of this new world alone. A year later, on the suggestion of Cho Chang, she had switched her subscription to Draoidhean na h-Alba in the hopes that it might reconcile something in her head, the stupid worry that she didn't quite fit in with any of the groups of people here. It certainly gave her a different view of the Ministry — she had never heard any criticism of the government, barely even been aware of anything it did, until third year, listening to Calla Potter mention how backwards she felt their anti-werewolf stance was — and it started to become in her mind something more akin to her view of the Muggle government. Incompetent, uncaring, stuffed with priviledged toffs.
Wizards liked to talk about how the formation of the Ministry in 1707 had kept their community safe — never mind the fact that witch hunts in Britain had reached their peak half a century earlier — and not so much about the way Magical Scotland had been dragged into Muggle Scotland's stupid deal for a union with England, for the supposed 'security' of secrecy regarding Hogwarts. Professor Binns certainly didn't lecture about that part, or the wizards and witches involved with the Jacobites, or the promises that Scotland would be integrated into the Ministry alongside Wales that had never really transpired. Apparently the whole thing was supposed to unite the isles like King Arthur had wanted, but Isobel wasn't sure what followed could really be called unity. Even if Muggle Britain was somewhat united in identity, at some points, the Magical community was marked all over by conflict. And Isobel had looked into it, and before the union there had been loads of popular spells and more ritual based magic in the Gaelic language, as well as in Scots, but these had been replaced by the Latin, Greek and Germanic root spells, starting roughly a generation or two after the central Ministry had taken control of the education system. She was sure such spells did still exist, among families and smaller communities — but they certainly weren't taught at Hogwarts. She wasn't sure unity was quite the right word for that.
Everything about the Ministry and wizarding history made Isobel angry, just as angry as she was at the Muggle world. The Prophet never discussed that anger, and it felt like the Prophet never discussed anything of importance anymore. It was obvious to everyone. But she knew she at least wasn't the only one angry, at either world. She wanted to meet change whenever it presented itself. She wanted to know everything she hadn't been allowed to about the world - any world - and she wanted to use it to make things right.
Monday the twentieth of November, 1995, began like any other Monday: shite. Padma spiced up breakfast by bemoaning her perfecting duties to Lisa and Sue, namely that she had discovered that some students had been stealing Luna Lovegood's shoes, and other belongings, for weeks now, and had apparently been up to similar bullying the year before.
"Luna doesn't want me to say anything to Flitwick," she explained in a hushed voice in case any fourth years were eavesdropping, "because she thinks it'll make it worse, and I can't help think she might be right. She says she doesn't know who's doing it, but it must be a dormmate or one of the third year girls, because the boys can't get in, I know it isn't any of us, the sixth and seventh years are too preoccupied, and first or second years wouldn't dare go into an older students' dormitory." She groaned at her porridge. "For now I can't do much, and I'll have her sit near me at meals and stuff because she's my friend anyway and if they see an older student has her back they might lay off. But I just can't help think that if it were me, I would want someone to do something, just so I know they cared about it. But if it makes it worse and she doesn't want me to say anything..." Padma scowled. "Times like this I really wish Calla was still here, then Dumbledore and Flitwick could've made her prefect and she'd know what to do."
Lisa snorted. "Padma, even if Calla was here I doubt she'd be prefect. You've seen the girl. She shakes like a leaf in her sleep, still hardly speaks above a whisper to anyone but us or whoever's she's particularly pissed off at, and she commands the same respect as a kitten."
Now, Isobel didn't think that was really a fair assessment of Calla. From some people, Calla hadn't even gotten as much respect as a kitten might, but Isobel had respected her from the moment she'd yelled at Gilderoy Lockhart that he was spreading inaccuracies about werewolves and wasn't worth her listening to him. And even though it was now the Prophet spreading inaccuracies about the Potter twins, Isobel did kind of feel like, if Calla Potter told some fourth year bitches to stop being bullies, they'd listen.
A Hogwarts student didn't just face a Basilisk, free a convicted mass murderer, get past a dragon and mermaids and God-knows-what-else, face Death Eaters at the best and Lord bloody Voldemort at worst and blow up a house in the process and not get at least a bit of respect from their peers, no matter how quiet or timid they could make themselves appear. She thought it was just a shame that Calla hadn't yet worked up the guts to come back and realise that for herself.
Still, she didn't say that to Padma, who would probably have been prefect whether Calla was there or not — a Hogwarts student also didn't do all of the above without forfeiting most of their chance at prefect, and honestly Isobel thought that in any case, Calla would have had many bigger things to worry about than nightly patrols and petty theft. Instead she told Padma that she really ought to speak to the Head Girl or one of the seventh year prefects and get their opinion, and try to solve the matter discreetly. Lisa said she hadn't been aware that Isobel knew discreet was a word, Isobel had asked — without much bite, because all that was less fun now — if Lisa was aware that Isobel was going to kick her ass in that week's DA meeting, and then the Draoidhean na h-Alba had dropped down on the table in front of her.
As such, Isobel was the first of her classmates at the Ravenclaw Table to read the headline: LEAK FROM THE AUROR OFFICE — MINISTRY COVER-UP AND CORRUPTION.
The Draoidhean discussed that last part quite a lot; it was mention of the Auror office that got her staring.
"Bloody hell."
Draoidhean na h-Alba can today exclusively reveal a leak from the Auror Department at the central British Ministry of Magic. Following the events of the past two and a half years — the escape of accused murderer Sirius Black and the subsequent discovery of his innocence, twelve years too late to save him from Azkaban; the following escape of Peter Pettigrew, who had gone undetected by the Ministry for those twelve years; an attack at the Quidditch Cup orchestrated by the militant Death Eaters whom the Ministry has consistently claimed to have been dealt with, and the hijacking of the Triwizard Tournament which resulted in two extra Hogwarts champions and the death of a student — some question how Fudge's Ministry can hold any claims to authority over the peoples of this island. In the wake of the tragedy at the end of the Triwizard Tournament this Summer, questions were asked about both the security and the competency of Fudge's regime. Very few questions were answered.
For months, Draoidhean na h-Alba and its readers have been asking why the Ministry is so silent about the allegations that He-Who-Must-Not-Named has returned to this island. Sources from the Auror office point to not only incompetency but blatant corruption, and lies on the part of Cornelius Fudge and his regime.
"Umbridge is going to flip her shit," Isobel said with relish. Terry, who had only just joined them - Isobel couldn't even bring herself to tease if he looked so tired because of Marietta Edgecombe - looked over her shoulder and let out a low whistle.
"Merlin's balls."
"Language," Anthony and Padma said in unison. Anthony blushed like he had been doing all the time recently, as if he was ever going to get anywhere with Padma - he was even more oblivious than Daphne - but at the look on Izzy's face, most of her friends moved in closer.
Daphne Greengrass, always quick with a charm, multiplied the front page and handed it along to Lisa so it wasn't so obvious as everyone read along to the article. Isobel tried not to think that Michael had been trying to get together a newspaper reading club - yes, really, he got more boring by the day and Isobel didn't know how poor Ginny Weasley didn't see it - among the Ravenclaws to keep their brains open, and she had started it for him.
But hey, it was a valid enough occasion.
The reason why the Auror Department has been silent about these allegations is because the Minister of Magic cares more about his own skin and enforcing his control over a free populace than he does about keeping people safe. Such allegations would destabilise Fudge, and his inability to cope certainly leads us to question whether his leadership — or any form of centralised, England-based leadership — is actually helpful. It did not keep us safe the first time, and the people of Scotland were caught in the crossfire of an incompetent English Ministry and a Dark Lord whom they failed to control.
Aurors of the Ministry have come forward that they have been threatened with job loss if they publicly challenge the Minister's position on the issue, which is why none of our sources are clarified. We hope that one day, such criticisms may be given freely, and that the people of the country can hold its leaders to account. Some Aurors gave statements that corroborate the full story of Harry and Calla Potter. All suggest that the Ministry is lying to cover its own failure in adequately tackling this issue, and leaving a fourteen year old to fend for herself against dozens of Dark wizards in a Muggle area.
The Aurors have been silenced on the greatest threat to face this country in thirteen years, as have the Potter siblings themselves. Some news sources fall into line with the Ministry, but the Draoidhean na h-Alba believes that freedom lies in truth.
We have to ask: if a central government not only fails but neglects to defend its country, to what end should that country defend such an institution?
They all sat in a stunned silence. Isobel had gone off her porridge. Not just because of what she'd read but because of what it meant. Rebellion gave her a giddy sense of excitement even when it was printed in black and white. Freedom lay in truth, and the Aurors — Isobel decided right then and there that if she couldn't be a Magizoologist, she was going to be an Auror — gave just enough truth to save themselves and plant seeds of liberation.
Lisa made her copy of the article burn at the table. Isobel said, "I can't wait for Defense class."
"Don't you know what this means, Izzy?" Daphne said sharply. Isobel raised her eyebrows in a challenge. "She's going to be worse! Everything's going to be worse!"
"People need to know the truth!"
"Is the truth that the Ministry needs to be abolished?"
"Yes," she said without hesitation, like any young idealist.
Daphne's cheeks went pink. "She'll be furious!"
"Good." Isobel folded her newspaper. Harry Potter would want to see this; everyone would. "I'll have a fight with her, then."
"You will not," Padma whispered, putting a hand on her arm. "She has a blood quill, remember?"
Isobel did remember. The words, I will not experiment with jinxes in corridors were still on the back of her hand after one night.
"Then I hope she's furious. I hope it hurts her to know not everyone sucks up to her stupid Ministry." No one else understood. Terry understood a little, Sue understood a little. Isobel caught Cho Chang's eye and couldn't help but grin, all of a flutter.
"The Ministry is more powerful here than it has been. Dumbledore's less powerful and you need to watch out for yourself. You're a Muggleborn, if this all goes belly-up-"
"Then I'll still fight her," Isobel said.
Padma's only argument was, weakly, "You can't fight the whole Ministry, Izzy."
Isobel didn't say anything; she just leaned back in her chair, surveying the beginnings of chaos as people started to share the pages from Faye Dunbar and Rachel Harris and Lily Moon. She watched an owl land with Professor Umbridge, whose face began to match the violent pink of her robes. She watched McGonagall, a loyal subscriber to the Draoidhean, take a sip of pumpkin juice to hide her smirk. She watched Harry Potter and his friends pore over the article, caught between delight and concern.
She grinned at the change around the hall.
"Fuck the Ministry."
Author's Note:
I'm so sorry it took me so long to update! This part of the plot gave me so many editing issues, and there's some personal shit going down and I just haven't been able to prioritise this because the world is still a complete and utter mess and so am I.
For anyone curious about the Draoidhean na h-Alba newspaper: I figured it would make sense that Scottish readers would want something different. In 1997, Scotland voted for a devolved parliament of its own, and the calls for Scottish independence continue to grow. I wanted to reflect that in the fic, because the Muggle world has its politics too, and in some cases I feel this would intersect with the Magical (plus, the dating of the Ministry to 1707 is pretty conspicuous) and through Izzy's character I figure I might as well dive in. I hope you all enjoyed even though I kept you waiting for a month, please leave your thoughts, as I would love to read them! I'll hopefully update again soon!