Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing except this story.
A/N: It's my first Harry Potter fanfic, and I'm super pumped! Enjoy :)
Prologue
AUGUST 7, 1998
The heels of her leather boots clanked against the stone floor as she walked briskly through the walls of the Ministry. Her fur-lined wizarding robes flowed behind her tall figure as she moved purposefully through the crowd of frantic people.
Though none of the wizards around her truly cared for her presence, or deliberately looked her way, ******* held her head up high. Those who happened to glance at her would immediately know that she commanded the air around her.
Incoherent chatter filled the atmosphere, but she easily blocked it out. The nonsense blathering of scrambling Ministry workers was none of her concern. She picked out a few random, incomplete sentences in various Northern European languages as she strode past the people around her.
Eventually reaching a lift, ******* pressed the button to take her up to the floor of the Minister's office. She barely flinched when the ground shifted to the side violently, moving the elevator car at an alarming speed.
A short, round man who had been standing beside her gasped at the sudden movement as the momentum pushed him to the elevator wall. He reached up to grasp a handle that dangled from the ceiling. But the attempt was useless, as it was far out of his reach. He fumbled around in panic, struggling to grasp the side railing to keep from falling (and to prevent further humiliation).
Crossing her arms, ******* scoffed, and rolled her eyes.
The elevator came to a hard stop with a 'ding'. "Sixth floor. Sjette etasje," an automated female voice said over the speakers.
The man, who had just caught his breath, cleared his throat awkwardly, straightened his robes out, and proceeded to take a step forward to walk out.
But ******* had already brushed past him in a single, graceful stride, without sparing him a second glance.
She arrived at the door of the minister's office, which was slightly ajar. She knocked anyway. "Come in," the voice of an old man called out.
A fake smile settled easily on her face, and she pushed the doors open. "Nice to see you, Minister," ******* said smoothly.
His old eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. "Please, the pleasure is all mine Miss—"
"Minister?" another male voice asked from the doorway, in a thick French accent.
The older man turned his attention away from her. "Ah, Monsieur Montel, good to see you again minister," he said, walking past her and shaking the foreign man's hand.
Turning around slowly, ******* had to resist the urge to curse under her breath. The French Minister of Magic was the fool in the elevator all along, apparently.
Her eyes glanced around the office. It was exceptionally ordinary, she observed — a medium sized desk with parchment and files stacked on it, various objects and trinkets adorning the side tables, and on the walls, a Durmstrang diploma and photos of loved ones. The two large flags of Norway and The Ministry of Magic stood on either side of the desk. Five chairs had been placed in front of it.
Choosing the one that looked the cleanest, she took a seat. *******'s gaze traveled to the grandfather clock on the wall. It was four past 10:30 — the other three guests were late. She frowned slightly in displeasure.
*******'s attention turned to the doorway at the sound of heavy footsteps in noisy heels. A very tall woman with short, black hair and olive skin walked in. Dressed in full black satin and opal jewelry, it was clear she had very — expensive taste.
A few moments later, another witch entered. She wore a stern expression, and her face was marked with deep lines from aging. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun, giving her a very intimidating look — to most people anyway.
The last one to enter was a middle-aged man with blue robes and dark skin. He apologized for his tardiness, and it was then that she could hear how profound his voice was.
The Norwegian Minister clapped his hands together. "Let's get started," he said, and took a seat. The rest followed suit.
"I'm sure you're all aware of what we have come here to discuss. Four years ago, something very… unexpected happened in the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. But four years have passed, and we must decide if the tournament is to continue this year or not."
"Absolutely not," the stern looking witch said immediately. "The tournament was a complete mess last time — a student died at the hands of Voldemort!"
The French minister flinched visibly at this, even letting out a small whimper of discomfort. The Norwegian one frowned.
"Oui," the tall woman agreed, "Ze tournament must be discontinued."
"Because of one death?" the older minister asked. "Hundreds have died before, and the tournament went on regardless. What difference does one death make?"
The deep-voiced man's eyebrows furrowed. "Difference? A boy was murdered in cold blood— by the darkest wizard in the world," his voice boomed.
"Clearly the darkest wizard has been defeated. I see no reason why the tournament should not resume," ******* finally spoke in a curt, sharp tone. All eyes flickered towards her. She did not falter under their intense stares.
"Your logic is flawed," the serious woman spoke again.
"Enlighten me then," ******* retorted, as if challenging the older witch.
Her eyes narrowed. "The tournament never should have continued four years ago to begin with! Horrible things have happened in the past, and too many risks have been taken. Will we never learn from these fatal mistakes?"
"Er, what about International Magical Cooperation?" the short French man piped up meekly. The tall woman sent him a harsh look, causing him to hang his head sheepishly. It was unclear where he truly stood on the issue.
"Monsieur Montel is right. The tournament is what brings the three schools together — why take it away?" the Norwegian minister asked.
"You are only saying zat because Durmstrang has not had a single win in ze last six centuries!" the tall woman accused, her voice becoming louder and more annoyed by the second.
The old man gaped at her.
******* straitened her posture (if it could even be straighter), rising to her full sitting height. Though not as tall as the other witch, she was equally as intimidating. "That's outrageous," she said assertively.
The dispute continued for quite a while. The six wizards and witches had tried to keep the conversation respectful, keeping a level head, but things escalated quickly.
Advisors and workers that needed to speak with the Minister during that time did not dare to interrupt the heated argument. As soon as they heard the combination of booming, austere, and angry voices, they headed in the opposite direction as quickly as they could.
The grandfather clock chimed loudly at noon, causing the group to fall silent for a moment.
The Norwegian minister sighed. "Since it is clear we won't be able to come to a unanimous decision, let's take a vote. Majority rules."
They all nodded.
******* grasped the handle of her wand that had been tucked discreetly in her sleeve. She pushed it down so that the slightest bit of the tip was sticking out.
"Those against the continuation of the Triwizard Tournament?"
Imperio, ******* thought, focusing her mind on the execution of the spell.
The short man's gaze turned blank instantly. His hand stayed rooted on his lap. She almost smirked at how easy it was to turn his own brain against him. Stupid fool.
"Monsieur," the tall woman hissed at him in disbelief, and began to raise her hand.
Imperio. The French woman's eyes flickered in and out of a daze, before staying empty permanently. The muscles in her hand loosened, and did not rise.
The other witch and wizard both raised their hands, and shared a look of skepticism and shock. But they said nothing.
"Those in favor of the continuation of the Triwizard Tournament?"
She pointed the tip of her wand at the French witch and wizard once again.
Imperio.
Their hands raised almost robotically. ******* and the Norwegian minister raised their hands as well.
A triumphant smirk settled on her lips.
"It's settled then," the oldest wizard stated. "The Triwizard Tournament shall be held once again this year."
A/N: All your questions shall be answered in time…
