Right, so. Here's the deal, guys. Both of us have sort of moved on from this fic in the past...year and a half (christ...time is weird) getting bogged down in the First Task and all. This chapter and the next few have been written for a while, since we were trying to build up a buffer again and then got distracted by and invested in other fics. (I may start posting new shit relatively soon, but I also have chapters of New Avalon and the Buffy fic ready to go up, so look forward to those.) I recently circled back around to it and I'm going to try to get it moving again, but for the moment Sandra's going to keep focusing on other stuff. This means that we're probably not going to have any more scenes from Sarah and Michael's POVs, since they're not really my characters, and much less emphasis on the large scale politics from here on out, especially the details of what's going on in the muggle world, because I just don't have the interest in researching that stuff and making it realistic that she does, or the time to do it well. There may be a bit of a tone-shift, both because I tend to be less serious and more minimalist than Sandra, and also because it's been a while. And you'll have to forgive me if I've forgotten details here and there. Again, it's been a while.
Of course we'll still be throwing worldbuilding stuff around together, but sadly, you're going to be stuck with just me from now on.
You can thank Asterix the not-Gaul and Jamie_Roberts for forcibly dragging my attention back here.
Since it's been...well over a year since we started writing the first task, a recap seems in order before we continue.
The House of Black is re-establishing itself as a political entity. The Black Elves have returned and are busy restoring various properties to habitable states. The Family Magic is still a shambles, though Lyra insists that she hasn't forgotten about it, it's still on her list of problems to address. Emma became the House's Wizengamot Representative in early October and promptly eviscerated the entire body. The House of Black's political positions are pro-Gaelic Independence, pro-Democratic Expansion, anti-Statutarian, and they're generally making a habit of taking whichever side of a given issue will shock and appal their peers more.
The Blacks have formed a political alliance with the Allied Dark, Ars Publica, and Common Fate, though it's unclear as of yet whether they're more strongly aligned with Ars Publica or Common Fate in their positions on various issues. (Probably the latter.) House Potter's seat is being voted by Holly...something impronouncibly Welsh, more or less aligned with Common Fate.
Winky, inspired by Cherri, chose her boy over his father. Barty sent her to Hogwarts to spy while he searched for and summoned the undead Voldemort and embodied him in a golem. (Mentioned in Nothing to Do with the Plan.) Voldie possessed Crouch Senior briefly, to get him away from his monitoring wards and put him under the Imperius. (Also in Nothing to Do with the Plan.) Barty is currently at Hogwarts masquerading as a Graphic Arts professor from Durmstrang.
Dobby has been relocated to Dora's apartment, which works out well because she's hardly ever home and when she is, she's completely incapable of keeping house for herself. Lyra suspects that Dobby will be trouble in the future, but so far, he hasn't done anything remarkable enough to be mentioned in-story beyond his initial appearance.
Lyra has acquired (and promptly broken) the locket horcrux. The ring, the cup, and the diadem are still at large. Frustrated by having broken the locket, she drags Sev out to destroy that fucking death trap cave with her. Narcissa effectively removed all of the marked Death Eaters from all positions of power, cutting Voldemort's (non-existent) legs out from under him before he could get back on his feet. At Samhain, Persephone un-does the soul-magic ritual binding the fragment of Voldemort's soul to Harry's. Angel takes the soul-fragment, but is waiting patiently rather than integrating it right away because if she waits she gets a second marshmallow.
Dumbledore, after some political manoeuvring, has been expelled from his position as Chief Warlock. He was removed as Britain's representative to the ICW as well. Poor Dumbles, down to just one title... Having finally realised that Harry wants to be treated like an adult, he has explained the prophecy and begun showing Harry memories of Riddle.
Kyrah Shirazi, AKA Dumbledore's one-time mentor Nicolas (and Perenelle) Flamel, is Very Concerned about him, given the state into which he has allowed Hogwarts to fall over his tenure as Headmaster, not to mention his staffing choices, his treatment of Severus, and the fact that he seems convinced that there is a conspiracy to destroy him and his power, somehow involving Lyra Black. She desperately wants to help him find his way back to the man she knows he once was, which goal is substantially hindered by the fact that she lied to him about faking her own death and has thereby damaged his relationship with her, perhaps irreparably.
The World Cup riot still happened, but with the added fun of a delegation from the Republic of Ireland (and their friends from Saoirse Ghaelach), Cassie Lovegood being...Cassie Lovegood, and Lyra capturing a load of Death Eaters by doing completely inadvisable runic casting to take over the Death Eaters' anti-disapparation palings. Lyra has inexplicably been inducted into the Order of Merlin over this stupidly dangerous stunt, rather than punished. Then again, the Order did also try to induct Síomha Ní Ailbhe, so maybe the people in charge have just lost their goddamn minds.
Síomha rather dramatically turned them down, burning her medal in the middle of the induction ceremony. They didn't really think one of the leaders of a seperatist militia was going to appreciate the honour, did they? The movement for Gaelic independence has been gathering support and making a bid for legitimacy by publicly associating themselves with the Republic of Ireland.
Hogwarts has far too many students for its professors to handle, so (after some political manoeuvering) most of the professors have taken on apprentices to act as junior staff. Flamel (pretending to be a peri pretending poorly to be an Iranian witch) is teaching Divination; Cassie Lovegood, badass light battlemage, is teaching Defence; Hagrid is still teaching Care of Magical Creatures, with a co-instructor to handle the actual exam requirements.
Gabbie Delacour has made her way to Hogwarts and refuses to leave. As such, Severus has decided that her safety (and dealing with any incidents that her presence may cause) is Lyra's responsibility. Lyra is delighted and fully anticipates that Gabbie will cause all sorts of problems with interesting consequences. This has yet to be the case. She, Harry, and Blaise have known each other for two weeks, have been shagging for one, and are sickeningly adorable.
Lyra has also adopted a muggleborn firstie and convinced her to ask the Hat for Slytherin with an eye toward upsetting the social order within the House and/or provoking the arseholes who attacked her at the end of last term into giving her an excuse to retaliate without admitting she remembers everything. Unfortunately, Lyra has become scary enough over the summer that none of her targets are taking the bait.
And of course, she also has to make sure that Snape's youngest apprentice doesn't decide that Hogwarts is too horribly overwhelming and he wants to go back to Éire, on pain of being held to that stupid deal about the marking. That's definitely the only reason she's hanging out with him and helping him...well, not fit in, but at least find a place for himself at Hogwarts. Not because Snape asked her to, or because she actually enjoys his company, or anything. He is also teaching her Gaelic, so there's that, and she really doesn't know that much about alchemy, so there are worse people to hang out with. And her moving into his office is only like a three on the scale of annoying shite she could be doing to him.
Harry has learned that Lyra is (was) in contact with Bella, that there's a Conspiracy to Kill Not-Professor Riddle, and that Lyra is AU!Bella. He also saved Lyra from a lethifold, has been practising mind-magic, has a boyfriend (and a girlfriend), at least has some idea that there are politics going on around him, has disowned the Dursleys, met the spirits of his parents, and has been told about the prophecy. He's learning to defend himself, though not with the same single-minded fervour as Gin. (What's the point of living if you don't ever get to enjoy it?) All in all, being entered in this stupid tournament and Dark Lord dragonshite aside, Harry is in a pretty good place in his life. He is also still terribly distracting to Draco's snake.
Gin begins her journey toward becoming a badass light battlemage by doing something really stupid at the World Cup and later becoming Sirius's unofficial apprentice. Sirius thinks this is a terrible idea, but he can't not follow through on his attempt to apologise to Snape (because they're sort of, in a certain light, incredibly fucked-up, disfunctional co-parents to Harry), and that bastard practically dared him to be an adult and help the Weasley girl work through her own issues as restitution for being an immature little shite to Snape back in the day.
Hermione has begun her journey toward becoming a Dark Lady, though she doesn't realise it yet, and in fact thinks the idea of her being a better Dark Lord than Riddle is absurd. She's now aware of exactly who Lyra is and where she came from, but she's beginning to (accurately) suspect that Lyra's not entirely human. (Again.) In fairness to Lyra, she's not entirely accustomed to the idea of not being human, either.
Also in fairness to Lyra, she's not always trying to change the subject, using 'sleeping with' as a euphemism for having sex with someone when one has literally just been sleeping in the company of that person is ambiguous at best, and her having sex with Sylvie really doesn't have anything to do with Hermione.
Theo and Luna made their (re-)dedications; Theo to Thoth and Luna to Truth. Theo is delighted to realise that he can now read ALL OF THE THINGS. Luna is having a harder time of it, because Gelach put her talents as an empath and a seer back to sleep, and Alethia gave her the "gift" of seeing through glamours and lies, which seems like a good thing, until you realise you're at school with an eldritch abomination pretending to be a five-hundred-year-old teenager.
Lyra magnanimously decided to share "her" spiders with Cassie (as a gesture of gratitude for saving her arse in the World Cup riot), which means the acromantula colony's days are numbered. The Queen recently found out about the situation because Lyra Black Should Not Talk to the Press (and Harry's not much better). She's doing her part for the extermination effort by surrounding Hogsmeade Valley with well-armed muggle soldiers, ensuring none of those creepy motherfuckers escape to colonise the rest of the island as they're driven to desperation by Cassie's (and Lyra's) assault.
Harry's name was entered into the Tournament as a fourth Champion, so two additional Champions (Arte and Ingrid) were chosen for the other schools. The seven judges include: Dumbledore, Maxime, Karkaroff, Cassie, Slytherin (Flamel/Shirazi), Delacour, and Angelos Black. Sarah Selwyn (Slytherin) is here to be diplomatic on behalf of Miskatonic. Michael Cavan and Queen Victoria II are both in residence for the major events of the tournament, along with their security details. British Ministry officials including Mira, Crouch, and Fudge also make Tournament-related appearances at various points. The entire situation is a powder-keg waiting to blow, but so far all the more level-headed people have been AS DIPLOMATIC AS POSSIBLE to navigate the incredibly delicate political situation caused by far less level-headed people attacking each other in the Great Hall or the bloody stands and avoid sparking off a bloody war.
Severus does not get paid enough for this shite.
The day of the First Task started with Chapter 48 (A Simple Matter), and the First Task itself with Chapter 53 (Bloodsport for Kids...part 1 of...30? Christ, we're wordy bitches...)
Updates will be on Sundays until I run out of buffer (currently six chapters after the one I'm posting tonight), then...you know the drill.
So, without further ado...
Political Fallout
This will not end well, Sarah mused, fingers idly tapping at the stem of her wine glass.
A couple hours had passed, evening not having yet approached. Gathered in a sizeable room in the lower floors of the castle — what Sarah suspected was a meeting room for staff of some kind, and a rather modern one, floor tile and walls polished wood panels (she'd made a mental note to come back and replace all this with conjuration later) — were a crowd of officials and dignitaries, displaying various degrees of officiousness and dignity. Government representatives and foreign ambassadors and headteachers, enough the room felt somewhat crowded, discussing between them the events of the day, and what was to be done about them.
At the center of the discussion, for the moment, were the new Chief Warlock, Dumbledore, Crouch, Mirabella, Régis, and Clíodhna Ní Chaoimhe. Those whose involvement in this debacle was primarily with the Tournament itself — Igor and Olympe, young Cassie Lovegood, and "Salazar Slytherin" — were hanging back for the moment, allowing the politicians to get to their business without interruption before addressing less pressing matters.
Thankfully, Angel had taken it upon herself to be elsewhere at the moment. Sarah had her suspicions as to why, but she was hardly complaining, or at least not just now. It appeared the mages of Britain and Ireland were already teetering on the edge of a knife — they didn't need an adolescent deity waltzing up to give them a(nother) good push.
"I cannot speak to the plans of our friends, especially as they do not yet exist," Clíodhna was saying, her voice sounding smooth and confident and eminently reasonable, holding just the barest traces of a Gaelic accent. The woman — middle-aged, pale and dark-haired, duelist-style uniform still darkened with ash in a couple places — was the eldest of Saoirse's fighters (or at least of the ones posted to guard the Irish Republic's delegation). She had lingered in the Valley to speak for them after the rest had evacuated. A much more...politic choice than Síomha, to be certain — Clíodhna had an air of vaguely maternal nobility about her, and was much less confrontational than the younger sorceress. "An Tánaiste merely wished for me to express his displeasure—"
Régis's mind shivered with amusement, though it didn't show on his face — he was guessing "displeasure" was something of an understatement. Blindly bigoted mages had just attempted to murder him. Again.
(Honestly, Sarah suspected Michael was more exasperated with it all than anything. Peculiar man.)
"—and his concerns for the safety of his people. Once he has had time to confer with his peers in the Republic, I assume they'll concur with the demand you've already received from the Crown." The UK didn't have a representative here at the moment, Sarah assumed they'd be bringing their complaints directly to the Ministry in London, but they had sent a letter — reading it, Scrimgeour had wavered between anxiety, amusement, and exhaustion. "If our relationship is to continue, there must be assurances that our friends will be safe here." The use of the word "relationship", the subtle stress on it, was telling. Clíodhna didn't explicitly state that she suspected their sister governments were strongly considering a renegotiation of the terms of the treaties between their peoples — nor that Saoirse, and likely a large number of other Gaelic mages, would side with the Republic in such a dispute — but the implication was clear enough she didn't need to.
Crouch obviously caught the hint himself, springing in to assure Clíodhna such drastic measures wouldn't be necessary, eyes flicking to Scrimgeour, who floated the idea of providing security during the events in the form of Aurors and/or Hit Wizards — carefully screened for pureblood supremacist sentiments, of course — which Dumbledore pointed out (tentatively, not as though he truly objected) couldn't be done without the school's (meaning his) explicit consent, but Mirabella immediately cut his legs out from under him, agreeing that sounded like an excellent idea — the Ministry's Department of Education couldn't directly order him around, but they held leverage in the form of funding and certification mandates, and they both knew it — and also that perhaps for the next Task they should attempt to screen the spectators at the wardline, which Scrimgeour, Crouch, and Régis clearly had reservations about...
And around and around it went, the politicians attempting to smooth over the disaster they'd hardly managed to avoid, their butting personalities and ideological differences not making that task any easier. Distracting herself from the urge to sigh, Sarah took another sip of her wine.
This would end badly. In fact, while Sarah was hardly an accomplished Seer, she had the nasty feeling it would end very badly.
The tensions between the isolated magical community and the rest of the peoples of the islands had been ratcheting up for some time, she knew — not that that should be any surprise to anybody. Sarah had thought Secrecy was a supremely foolish idea from the instant it'd first been suggested. Laying aside the practical considerations of just how such a thing would work — most of which had been resolved or at least clumsily patched over, but only most — it had created new problems for society to deal with generations down the line. Isolation bred difference, and difference bred fear, and fear bred hatred — and there was much hatred for their non-magical kin among the modern mages of Britain, as there was in many lands all around the world.
Perhaps if their worlds were entirely separate from each other this would not be an issue, but they weren't and could never be, those points of contact serving as sparks that threatened to catch all the world alight. That certain particularly zealous citizens might object to Michael and Victoria's presence so much as to attempt to murder them should not have come as a shock. That the Ministry would fail to take the proper precautions to prevent such from happening was also no surprise.
Even among the mages of these islands, things had been becoming strained. Sarah had, perhaps, paid less attention to the land of her birth than she should have, but it'd been impossible to not notice the worrying trends, catching up on recent history ahead of their arrival. If she had to summarize the problem, it seemed the mages had not adapted well to becoming a single, united country — which, just as Sarah had predicted the issues Secrecy would inevitably bring about, shouldn't have been a surprise to anyone.
Looking through some of the modern British history books Sarah had picked up out of curiosity, she had noticed a very important misunderstanding mages today seemed to be operating under: the Wizengamot had not been, nor was it ever intended to be, a governing institution. It had been a forum through which certain influential parties had aired and mediated their grievances with each other and attempted to police the worst abuses of magic in their lands, and nothing more. The different delegates had always held loyalty to separate (and even warring) kingdoms, and sometimes were themselves kings — in fact, the Wizengamot had served a useful diplomatic function, acting as envoys between the scattered kingdoms of the isles. While this had obviously gotten contentious at times, on several notable occasions duels even breaking out on the floor, it had served its purpose for over a thousand years.
The Wizengamot wasn't supposed to be a government, but the war with the Cromwells and then Secrecy not long later had essentially forced them to become one. It appeared in the centuries since that the peculiarities of the institution's history had come back to bite them. The Wizengamot had come to be in the aftermath of the dissolution of the Empire, as an alliance between, mostly, prominent Romano–British mages — while a small number of Gaels had been admitted to the council over the centuries, and on the rare occasion a Dane or two, the institution remained primarily British, focused primarily on British concerns.
Now, Sarah personally thought nationalism was a peculiar concept — people in her time had had their own cultural affiliations and owed loyalty to their lord or king, of course, but that these two categories should be one and the same was still strange to her — but in a world where the idea of a people ruling themselves (whatever that meant) was commonplace, that the Gaels would object to the present state of affairs was predictable. That the British, accustomed to centuries of domination over their neighbours, might object to the Gaels' desire for independence was also predictable.
Sarah had thought civil war was possible, though not inevitable. But now that she'd become familiar with their leadership, she feared she'd given them too much credit.
Partially through research in the months leading up to her departure, and partially by subtly drawing from the minds around her, Sarah knew a fair bit about everyone in the room — and this knowledge was not in any way reassuring. Of those involved in the debate before her, only two were not significant players in the coming conflict between the mages of these isles: Régis and Clíodhna.
Sarah had actually heard of Régis Delacour né Duguay before — the Americans kept a close eye on political developments within their former (and possible future) enemies, so when one of the ICW's more visible diplomats started displaying clear anti-Statutarian sentiments, well, that was the sort of thing they noticed. Upon meeting Régis herself, Sarah had only been surprised in how very ordinary he was. For all the controversy he'd managed to (unintentionally) stir in the ICW's diplomatic corp she'd expected someone much more...well, controversial. He seemed a perfectly normal family man to her. He did have some minor influence internationally, especially where relations between the mages of western Europe and the People of the Song were concerned, but had no standing in the conflict within the Isles.
Anti-Statutarians in the vein of Régis were perhaps somewhat naïve when it came to the immediate aftermath of the end of Secrecy, but they weren't wrong that it was inevitable — if for no other reason, the swift advancement of technology over the last centuries had formed a sword of Damocles hanging over all their throats — and that measures to soften the blow should be taken immediately. Unfortunately, few European mages in positions of influence seemed willing to do what was necessary, as the controversy Régis had stirred simply pointing that reality out demonstrated.
(It was going to be messy.)
Clíodhna Ní Chaoimhe, despite her membership in Saoirse Ghaelach's militia, wasn't truly a figure of any importance. She did hold a position within their leadership as well, but she was only one voice among them. However, for all that her temperament made her seem more moderate than certain others, her loyalty to the nationalist cause was absolute, which was only rational, given her family's close ties to the Gaelic priesthoods. Such personal relationships with Magic were illegal under British law — priests and prophets, or black and white mages as the British called them these days, could in fact be sentenced to death if they were caught — so they had every reason to seek independence from the Wizengamot.
So, while Clíodhna was composed enough to be diplomatic with the opposition, she was unlikely to compromise — her family's literal lives were on the line.
Bartemius Crouch and Mirabella Zabini were familiar from her review of recent history. Crouch was from a well-connected family — not nobility themselves, but closely tied to multiple noble families through blood and business — which he had managed to leverage into influence in the Ministry relatively early in life. Public opinion of his time as Director of Law Enforcement during the conflict with the Death Eaters was mixed — he had used certain legal loopholes to enable his people to take the fight to the insurrectionists and their supporters more effectively, but some felt his tactics too harsh, and more thought he'd caught too many innocents in the crossfire. Sarah personally thought the first criticism was absurd — the Death Eaters were a genocidal militia rebelling against the rightful government and murdering people indiscriminately, the Ministry had had every right to employ lethal force against them — though the second was legitimate.
It was common knowledge now that Sirius Black had been wrongfully imprisoned due to Crouch's policies. How many innocent men and women had wasted away in Azkaban without the public even knowing about it?
Regardless, Sarah thought he was ill-suited to his current position. After the scandal that led to his being removed from the head of the DLE, he'd shortly later become the Director of International Cooperation — presumably due to his omniglottalism alone, Sarah certainly couldn't think of another reason to put him there. He was a gruff, blunt, impatient man, and set in his beliefs. Beliefs which would only create problems in his current position — while not precisely a pureblood supremacist, he certainly did believe in the inherent superiority of those gifted with magic (though he was at least marginally polite about it); similarly, he held certain views about other beings that were...patronising at best; and his confidence and faith in the institutions of the Wizengamot and the Ministry as they currently existed made him inflexible, and particularly ill-equipped to deal with the issues this country was facing now and would face in the near future.
Crouch would do his best to prevent tensions from escalating with the United Kingdom and the Irish Republic — whether his best would be enough remained to be seen. The Gaelic mages, on the other hand? That was going to be a problem. He'd already managed to offend them several times in recent months, and his belligerently dismissive response to their demands for self-government was only going to inflame greater opposition. He wouldn't spark off the conflict himself, Sarah didn't think, but he certainly wasn't helping.
Mirabella was peculiar, and less predictable. Presumably related somehow to Adara Zabini, a young metamorph Sarah had only met once or twice, Mirabella was from a middle-class Venetian family, but had attended the Academy and had since managed to fully integrate into the upper echelons of magical British society. This was in part due to her association with the youngest Bellatrix — Sarah'd heard they'd been lovers in their youth — though Mirabella hadn't followed her into the Dark Lord's organization. The only influence she'd seemingly had in that conflict was to help negotiate the end of it. Instead, if the rumors were to be believed, she'd taken to seducing wealthy and powerful men, marrying them, and then murdering them, acquiring their properties and alliances for her own. There wasn't any proof of this, of course, but Sarah couldn't imagine there was any other reasonable explanation.
(Sarah vacillated between being disgusted and impressed with Mirabella — breaking one's oaths in such a manner was detestable to her, but on the other hand, that she'd managed to pull it off six times beggared belief. Sometimes it was hard not to respect that kind of talent and skill, even when employed to such vile ends.)
And in the modern day, her contacts with the Blacks and a number of other noble families, her influence in the Ministry, her influence in the Republic of Ireland and the United Kingdom (in that order) through her position in a key modern industry... She was an influential person, there was no doubt about that, but she was such a mess of contrasts that Sarah couldn't predict what she would do in this current discussion, much less in the wider context of the impending conflicts. Sarah suspected she was at least somewhat anti-Statutarian, and held hidden sympathies for the Gaels, but she didn't know for certain.
Mirabella would be one to watch in the coming months, that much Sarah didn't doubt.
The new Chief Warlock Sarah was vaguely aware of, though only from her preparatory research. The Scrimgeours were a minor noble family which hadn't existed in Sarah's time — they were descended from a knight sworn to the King of Alba, who simply hadn't had knights until after Sarah had left the Isles — who had a long history in the military, or the DLE in recent centuries. (Perhaps appropriately, given their origins.) Erin Scrimgeour herself was a former Auror, Chief Auror, and Director of Law Enforcement; the current Chief Auror was another Scrimgeour, her grandson.
Erin Scrimgeour's renown mostly derived from her brief return to the Directorship in the immediate aftermath of Crouch being ousted from it. The Ministry had been a mess at the time, many killed in the fighting against the Death Eaters and many more corrupted or suborned, and Scrimgeour had been instrumental in Minister Bagnold's efforts to right the ship. Bagnold and Scrimgeour had essentially dismantled the Ministry and rebuilt it from the ground up, so thorough were their reforms — though more effective in their replacement of personnel and implementation of internal policies, they hadn't approval from the Wizengamot to do anything too drastic. Scrimgeour was credited with preventing the country's ruling institutions from falling apart around their ears in the early 80s, rather more than Bagnold, who'd been buried in personal scandal and forced out of office late in the process.
As competent as the woman was, she had been perhaps a poor choice for Chief Warlock, however much Sarah might understand their reasoning. The alliance between certain factions within the Wizengamot was fragile, so they'd chosen a widely beloved but generally impartial, apolitical figure — and one of already advanced age, who wasn't expected to serve long. Their thinking was understandable, if timed badly. One of the more important factors in their reasoning was one of the very reasons Scrimgeour had been a bad choice: she wasn't a politician. She was a warrior, and a retired one — she should be at home, preserving her acquired wisdom for future generations and educating her great-grandchildren, not rubbing elbows with dignitaries and participating in tense negotiations with officials domestic and foreign.
It didn't help that Scrimgeour simply did not have the patience for this kind of work — just today she'd run Ainsley out of the Valley, viciously deriding him for prioritizing the slight against his Order's honor while the conflict between the Brits and Gaels simmered around them. True, Ainsley wasn't important himself, but that she'd snapped at him in public as she had hinted at certain...peculiarities of character that made her ill-suited for her current role, especially in such a fragile time.
That Scrimgeour's personal sympathies seemed to lean toward the Gaels did not simplify matters.
And then there was Dumbledore.
Sarah was, to put it mildly, not a fan.
The first she had heard the name had been back in the...early 30s? Maybe late 20s, she couldn't remember when precisely Gellert's book had been printed. Gellert's politics were firmly anti-Statutarian and zealously populist — Sarah wasn't certain she would call his communitarianism properly leftist, as scholars of Marxism would measure such things, but it was perhaps as close as political movements among European mages got — and he'd credited Dumbledore (a former lover) with helping to refine his anger at the state of European society into a coherent ideology. In those early days Gellert had been the heart, he would later say, and Dumbledore had been the brain.
But, of course, Dumbledore had left the movement before it'd even properly begun. During the Revolution, the story of Gellert and Dumbledore's split had been taken as an example of how some people can be turned away from acting as they know they must, out of fear, or more practical everyday concerns, or any number of things. After all, upsetting the very foundations of a society is a frightening thing to contemplate, and it's only natural for people to have reservations. Revolutionaries should attempt to sway potential allies whenever possible, but if for whatever reason they are unwilling to commit themselves, well, that's just the way things went sometimes. But even so, these more reluctant people could still contribute — after all, if Gellert and Dumbledore hadn't met, the Revolution might never have come to be.
The impression of Dumbledore among communitarians, back when he'd been but a character in a story, had been in a way bittersweet, sympathetic, but when he raised his wand against Gellert that had changed abruptly. To this day, there were still communitarians and anti-Statutarians who considered Dumbledore a traitor to the cause — a man who, like too many others over the years, had abandoned the values he'd once held sacred, and stabbed his former comrades in the back. Within European magical society, Dumbledore was an extremely controversial figure, to some a hero and others a villain.
Which should come as no surprise — such was often the case for prominent figures in war.
Sarah had actually met Gellert, briefly. He'd made two visits to the Americas, the first not long after the communitarians successfully took over Saxony and again a couple years into the war — in part in an attempt to begin to heal the generations-long enmity between Europe and the Americas, and in part to shore up support (diplomatic and material) for their struggle against counter-revolutionary forces in his region of the world. Several American governments had openly supported the Revolutionaries — but of course they had, anti-Staturianism was official policy back home — which might not have happened if Gellert hadn't personally come across the ocean with apologies for past crimes and offers of future friendship.
Their conversation had been focused on what the Revolutionaries' relationship with the Statute should be at that time — in particular, what Gellert should do about a certain government he happened to share territory with. After the Nazis took over the country, Revolutionary Saxony had continued to work with the German state to preserve Secrecy, as international law demanded of them, which Gellert had been extremely uncomfortable with. Their exterminationist campaigns hadn't truly started yet when Sarah and Gellert had spoken, but it had already been clear what the Nazi leadership ultimately intended — even if it hadn't been, once when Gellert met with them he'd bluntly asked, and they hadn't denied it.
Sarah had recommended Gellert kill (or capture) the German leadership and outright take over the country, begin the process of reforming the state. Gellert had been concerned the consequences of so flagrantly violating the Statute would be catastrophic: pro-Statute magical governments who hadn't joined the fight already almost certainly would, such an extreme violation likely enough to pull the Asians and sympathetic Africans in as well; and, obviously, mages appearing and executing a coup d'êtat on a non-magical state meant Secrecy would have ended, in a time of war, and nobody could predict the consequences of that. Personally, Sarah thought he should have done it anyway — she certainly would have in his place — but she supposed it was too late to quibble about it now.
But she wondered: what might Dumbledore have done? Except she didn't have to wonder, because he'd already answered that question for her.
Sarah realised the world of today was different than the one she'd grown up in. Modern medicine and sanitation and states powerful enough to enforce rule of law had gradually transformed society into one where death was much less present, that was far more stable. And while she understood that, intellectually, she still found the thinking of modern people alien at times. That common people's lives on a day to day level were more peaceful than they'd once been was indisputably a good thing, but this modern peace was, often, a false one — to paraphrase a recent American figure, this peacefulness was characterized by order, one that often covered grave injustice. And so, accustomed to this enforced stability, modern people were less willing to resort to violence when it was called for.
Dumbledore was, Sarah suspected, the sort of man who would accept this false peace, no matter the injustice that might come with it. How else was she to interpret his abandonment of the politics he'd helped formulate? His role in the conflict with the "Death Eaters" (ridiculous name) was not quite the same thing, but it did hint at similar issues. He'd opposed Crouch's more aggressive stance, his own efforts seemingly focused on the diplomatic, attempting to interfere with his opponent's recruitment, and the non-lethal, his followers appearing at raids in progress to meet the Dark Lord's deadly and battle-hardened militia with stunners and disarming jinxes. It would be laughable if he hadn't been getting innocent people needlessly killed.
When facing an opponent using lethal magics, refusing to do the same set oneself at a marked disadvantage. The Order of Aurora learned this lesson centuries ago; Dumbledore, it seemed, had not.
And then there was the state of the Academy to consider — Dumbledore, as the long-time headmaster, was in part responsible for that. Though she was admittedly uncertain how much of it was his fault, and how much was the inheritance of poor decisions made generations ago. She hadn't spent more than a season at the Academy since the 11th Century, when she'd finally left after the death of Gormlaith. (Her first wife, after over a century of marriage, she hadn't wanted to stick around long enough for their children to start dying of old age as well.) She hadn't stepped foot in the Valley at all since 1598 — for a Triwizard Tournament, in fact, her son had been the Champion for Durmstrang that year (he'd come in second behind the local Champion). While the contours of the surrounding valley were mostly familiar, the Academy itself was not at all how Sarah remembered it. If not for the wards instantly accepting her, she might not have recognized it at all.
That in itself was not unexpected, as she'd explained to Ashe a few weeks ago, and she wouldn't want the Academy to remain exactly as it had been when they'd taken their first students. The world had changed in the millennium that had passed, dramatically, and it was only appropriate that an institution like the Academy should change to match. All the same, Sarah couldn't say she was pleased with how the Academy had changed — it seemed the deleterious developments she'd noticed at the twilight of the 16th Century had been retained, and only worsened over time.
Where Dumbledore himself was concerned, it was the division engendered by the house system that Sarah had the greatest concern for. This had been a new feature of the Academy when Sarah had returned in the autumn of 1597 — she didn't know for certain when they'd first come to be, she suspected the 14th or 15th Century. As she understood it, students were segregated according to which of the 'Founders' their values most aligned with. Sarah had personal issues with how these categories were defined, mostly born from apparent misunderstandings of the events leading to the Academy's creation and the personalities involved. It was difficult to narrow these things down for certain, especially when Sarah didn't have the time to invest in such a project, but she suspected the popular depiction of the 'Founders' was drawn from the stories spread by Ignatius Gaunt (a close descendant of Sarah's, unfortunately) in the 13th Century — so, the commonly-accepted history of the Academy used as a basis for traditions like the houses was based primarily on the propaganda of a Dark Lord.
Sarah had needed a break after she'd learned that, had fled her office to go get drinks with a couple friends — after all, accidental magic and books tended not to mix.
(It had helped somewhat to remind herself that another of her close descendants — Gwenffrewi of Aberdyfi, perhaps the most accomplished in the House of Black's long tradition of women warriors — had been instrumental in Ignatius Gaunt's demise. Living so long could be peculiar like that.)
Back during her last visit, while she'd found the house system baffling, and how the 'Founders' were spoken of vaguely irritating, it hadn't been so bad then. It had been a more practical, logistical matter, organizing students between the different living spaces and dividing them into smaller groups for instruction. So long as that was all it came down to, it hadn't seemed so large an issue then — strange, yes, and rather annoying for personal reasons, but nothing worth spending too much time thinking about.
But it seemed, after having operated for centuries, their houses had been integrated into the culture of certain segments of society in a manner Sarah thought destructive. The different houses had become more and more isolated over time — and, as history had demonstrated repeatedly, isolation had a nasty habit of fostering the worst impulses of humanity. The houses had developed their own internal cultures, ways of speaking and relating not shared by the three others, myths about themselves and the others, themselves elevated and the others disparaged, their house affiliation assimilated into the students' very identity. Perhaps this wouldn't be a problem if this were limited to school-age feuds, but the indoctrination lingered, following people beyond these wards and through their lives.
Dumbledore had graduated nearly a hundred years ago, and to this day he held on to his preference for Gryffindor, his suspicion for Slytherin (and Ravenclaw, to a lesser extent). It was subtle, enough many of the students (particularly Gryffindors) didn't notice, Dumbledore himself might not even be aware of it, but however unconscious they might be his biases were undeniably present.
His occlumency was truly rather decent, but there was only so much he could do against someone with a millennium of experience over him — so far, he hadn't even noticed Sarah's careful glimpses into his mind.
Dumbledore, like many people, believed beings all had an essential nature, one that might be obscured by circumstance or choice but given time would always shine through. This was the core of Dumbledore's prejudices against certain beings, in fact: as they were a class apart from humans, they had their own distinct essential nature, one which was, in certain cases, an inherent threat to humans. Vampires, for example, had a fundamentally predatory, corruptive essential nature, goblins were essentially violent and duplicitous, and so forth. Dumbledore himself would claim that there might well be "good" examples of these peoples, but this was due to their own choice, acting against their essential nature — while this behavior should be encouraged, it was inherently fragile, these individuals could regress at any moment.
Humans, Dumbledore believed, had an essential nature that was fundamentally "good" as he defined it, given toward compassion and altruism and an abhorrence of violence. And so his promotion of non-lethal measures against this Voldemort and his Death Eaters: they might have been led astray, through circumstances and personal choice, but they could yet be returned to their "good" nature through the proper interventions — violence was, in fact, counter-productive, as it would only reinforce this divergence from their natural state. In the same manner, Dumbledore didn't think Slytherins (and Ravenclaws) were essentially "bad" people, but that the house's internal culture led its members to make bad choices.
The use of dark magic in particular — to Dumbledore, dark magic was inherently corruptive, its use caused spiritual damage that obscured a person's essential nature. This could be reversed, but it required active effort from the user, they must choose to "repent". It was Dumbledore's role, his and the rest of the "Light", to attempt to reach these lost souls, to offer them compassion and support, inspiration, to guide them on the difficult path out of the "Dark".
This was all ludicrous, of course, but Dumbledore honestly, deeply believed it. It informed his politics, but also his administration of the school. His every decision here, in hiring staff and his attempts to manage the environment, was made with the intention of saving the students' souls — he wouldn't use that particular language, but that was precisely what he was attempting to do. Not in a religious sense... Or, it was almost religious, Sarah supposed, though not any particular faith anyone else would recognize. He believed the corruption of dark magic had deleterious effects on society, yes, but also that it was harmful for the users themselves, exacted psychological damage, gradually stripped from them any capacity for love or joy. As a compassionate man himself, Dumbledore was horrified by the thought of these children being consumed with hatred and suffering, and so he wished to "save" them.
Even if this meant insulting the students' families, the very fundamentals of the culture they'd been born into, in the end only forcing the schisms in British society ever wider.
And since Dumbledore was such an influential figure, his attitudes filtered down through society...but were often misunderstood. It was a common belief among major "Light" figures that the "Dark" were corrupted by their practices both cultural and magical — and permanently so, that they couldn't be redeemed, which was very much not what Dumbledore truly believed (with, perhaps, the exception of those who had proven to him beyond any shadow of a doubt that they would never choose to repent). The same misunderstanding was present within the school, yes, many of the children in Gryffindor, and also some "Hufflepuffs" (that bloody name...), convinced there was something fundamentally wrong with the children Sorted into Slytherin (and sometimes Ravenclaw), but it wasn't only a problem here. No, it extended through the highest reaches of society and into the halls of power, poisoning the politics of this nation irreparably.
The "Light" were convinced that the beliefs and practices of the "Dark" — their cultural traditions, magics passed down master to apprentice for untold generations, their personal morality, the manner in which they managed their relationships, their religion for those who had any — were all evil, that they were corruptive and destructive in themselves, did direct damage to society and if unchecked would only spread and inflict ever more. The political mission of the "Light" was, in a certain light, an evangelising one, attempting to convert large segments of the populace to their own belief system, and purge all others. In turn, the "Dark" saw the "Light" as at best paternalistic, self-righteous and condescending, and at worst tyrants determined to force them into subjugation — and even, to those who still clung to ancient beliefs, an existential threat calling for their extermination.
And Sarah found she couldn't even blame the "Dark" for feeling this way — the "Light" truly did wish to extirpate their traditions and way of life from the face of the earth. Whether the "Light" could ever do so successfully was immaterial, it was their ultimate goal, and they frequently said as much openly. In circumstances such as these, what possible space could there be for compromise?
This intractable schism that had developed over the last few centuries would tear the country apart, Sarah was certain. They'd already been balancing on the knife's edge of civil war for generations, but a pair of issues were being drawn into the forefront that, in the current political climate, were unresolvable. One was, of course, Gaelic independence. The "Light" considered this to be a "Dark" position, for reasons Sarah considered irrational. The "Light" thought the core of the problem with the "Dark" was the use of dark magic, but magic and culture and politics had gotten so mixed up they could hardly separate them anymore. Some of the most prominent Gaelic nationalist families, such as the House of Ingham and an Chlann Caoimhe, used light magic almost exclusively — those two were both closely involved with the priesthood of Brigit, one of the faces of Venus Victrix (or Aphrodite Areia or Ishtar or whatever one decided to call her) who, while somewhat volatile, was indisputably a light goddess. But then, the "Light" considered the old religious practices to be inherently "Dark"...
...but at the same time tolerated Christianity, which seemed to be contradictory — what was the God of Israel if not another light deity? He could be successfully invoked in ritual magic and everything...
The nationalist issue would come to a head, and likely soon. Things might have gone on as they were for another generation or two but, since Saoirse Ghaelach had formed such close ties with the Irish Republic as an indirect consequence of the invitation to observe the Tournament, the course of events had been sharply accelerated. The attempts on Michael Cavan's life didn't help. From what she could tell, the country's leadership — Scrimgeour, Dumbledore, Fudge, Crouch — seemed to view these attacks as being a reaction to non-magical folk entering magical spaces, but Sarah didn't think that was it. The Republic's people, from the beginning, had been protected by Gaelic warriors, openly — while they were in public, as they had been at the World Cup and this event, an attack on the Irish delegation was an attack on Saoirse Ghaelach. There was some magical supremacist sentiment among the attackers, certainly, but who could say for certain whether the Gaelic nationalists weren't the true target?
Also, Sarah suspected there was deep manipulation going on unseen. The nomination of Síomha Ní Ailbhe to the Order of Merlin had seemed suspicious at first glance, but the more she'd looked into it the worse it seemed. Síomha was, obviously, a Gaelic nationalist, and had absolutely no interest in accepting British honors — there was no world in which she would ever have accepted. The British lords weren't idiots, they must have known that...but they'd done it anyway. Curiously, the leadership of the Order of Merlin was dominated by a small collection of especially conservative "Light" families, and had originally been founded not long after the Statute by Ars Brittania, who still had outsized influence in the organization...and happened to be fervent British nationalists.
The whole thing stank of a set-up. She couldn't help the suspicion that certain British figures had orchestrated the near-disaster that had occurred earlier today. Saoirse Ghaelach had been a tiny group not so long ago, but were now growing rapidly — if Ars Brittania could spark a war now, before the Gaels were prepared, the Ministry, supported by British nationalist forces, could crush Saoirse Ghaelach easily, and the nationalist movement could be smothered in the cradle.
Or so Sarah suspected their thinking was, but she doubted it would go quite so smoothly — whoever it was acting behind the scenes was perhaps unaware how widespread support for the nationalist cause was among the Gaelic population. Saoirse Ghaelach might suffer in the opening exchanges, but it could easily devolve into an intractable guerrilla conflict the Ministry couldn't possibly win. If war broke out now, it would be awful, and bloody, and long, there would be no quick and easy end to it.
And there would be war — the only questions now were when it would begin and which event would start it off. It was still possible to come to a diplomatic settlement, theoretically, but given current leadership Sarah thought it unlikely. Dumbledore believed the influential segments of Gaelic society, who would likely end up at the head of any independent government, were "Dark" and would therefore mislead the Gaels. Similar to the Death Eaters should they have won, if not quite so extreme. And his trust in people's aversion to violence meant he was constitutionally incapable of predicting the tactics people might consider acceptable, had proven himself incapable of anticipating the attacks here at his school, that the Gaels might tolerate Ministry interference in their affairs for only so long before striking back. (Was seemingly unaware that, due to the British prohibition of high magic, for many the matter was one of life and death.) No, Dumbledore was useless here — he might try to push for minor reforms, but nothing that would actually resolve the dispute.
And the others were hardly any better. Fudge, being the Minister, would naturally oppose the secession of the Gaels, as it would directly weaken his own power. (And he was British himself in any case.) Crouch was dismissive, refused to take the Gaels' concerns seriously — being another "Light" ideologue, was perhaps incapable of doing so — and fiercely opposed the splitting of the country, feared it would weaken the British on the world stage. Scrimgeour was perhaps the only figure among the country's political leadership who would be willing to negotiate a settlement, even should that mean dividing the country in half, but, so long as the Wizengamot remained overwhelmingly opposed, her hands were tied.
Sarah saw no possibility for a peaceful resolution of the matter, not as things currently stood. Throw representatives from the United Kingdom and the Irish Republic into the mix, further elevating tensions, and it was only a matter of time.
And the politicians debating in this room right now were seemingly unaware of the dire challenges they faced. They were discussing the Tournament, arrangements to ensure the security of their guests, but the heart of the matter was ignored entirely. Some among them, Mirabella and Clíodhna in particular, saw what the true conflict was, but it remained unvoiced, simmering at the back of their minds. Because there could be no settlement between the Brits and Gaels here, now, while repairing their contentious relations with their "muggle" neighbors was something they could at least attempt to do something about. To buy themselves some time, at the least.
No, this conversation before her was accomplishing nothing. This country's leadership were blindly stumbling forward, heedless of the chasm yawning below them. And watching them bicker on, Sarah found herself struck with a creeping dread — this would not end well, she was certain of it.
But there was nothing Sarah could do about any of that. She had no standing in this dispute — even if they knew who she was, they wouldn't listen to her. But the other discussion going on around her, perhaps...
Igor, Olympe, Cassie, and "Salazar" were gathered together, sitting apart from the other delegates, debating an entirely separate concern: whether the Tournament should continue at all. Or, more to the point, whether it should continue to be hosted in Britain.
"Arrangements for the Tasks could be made without too much trouble," Igor muttered in faintly-accented French. His voice was somewhat clipped, his shoulders stiff with tension — being in Britain made Igor rather nervous, had from his first day here, the violence in the stands seemingly just making it worse. (His unease was perfectly rational, given what had happened to him the last time he'd been in the country.) "Housing guests may be difficult. Durmstrangr is yet smaller than Hogwarts — traditionally, for the old Tournaments we would build new housing for guests, but I don't know if that would be possible on such short notice. Unless you all stay in town instead..."
Olympe let out a low, rumbling hum. "We would have the opposite problem, I think. We already have facilities set aside for international events such as this one, but we haven't any body of water nearby that would suit for the eighth Task. Also, the third would be difficult to manage — there are very few dragons remaining in our country, and I'm not certain I could convince the Republic to let us bring any in. We could travel for these Tasks — to one of the lakes in the mountains for the eighth, and perhaps across the border into Genoa for the third — but it can't be done on site."
Among the three school headmasters present at the moment, Dumbledore was unique in having taught professionally before coming into his current position — while he wasn't blatant about it, he privately thought this made him more qualified for the role than his foreign colleagues. Sarah suspected the opposite was actually true. Igor had been an aspiring politician once, before being approached by the Death Eaters and subsequently tapped by his government as a spy in the organization. Due to the trauma he'd undergone first observing the war and then being sent to Azkaban, he hadn't been suited to politics anymore, and had ended up at the head of Durmstrang instead.
Olympe had spent a few decades as the resident manager for one of the on-site dormitories for Competency students — making sure the facilities were clean and in well-repair, keeping the students well-supplied with anything and everything they needed, and being available at all hours to help mediate conflicts or talk through homework or even just chat — and one of the more popular ones. It was difficult to miss a half-giant, especially one so...striking and elegant as Olympe, so over the years she'd developed a certain renown, had been a shoe-in when it'd come time to select a new administrator for the school.
And that's what Igor and Olympe were, when it came down to it: administrators. That was where their skills lay, in managing the logistics of operating such a complex beast as a modern educational institution, negotiating with the local government and wealthy or influential patrons to their advantage, arbitrating the interacting and conflicting interpersonal relationships that could develop in any organization of such size. Dumbledore, on the other hand, was primarily an academic — while there was nothing inherently wrong with that, it was a separate skillset. And he was distracted, dealing with politics national and international — or had been, before he'd been removed from both positions within the last year — delegating significant fractions of his work to his subordinates, mostly Filius and McGonagall, both of whom were supposed to be actively teaching, eating into time that should rightly be focused on their students. If things fell through the cracks now and then, well, Sarah wasn't surprised.
The point being, Sarah wasn't at all surprised Igor and Olympe could speak so confidently of how feasible it would be to move the Tournament to their own schools on such short notice — off the top of their heads, without having to confirm. There were far more details flicking through their minds than what they said aloud, evaluating the resources they had and what cooperation they could expect from their governments, they were clearly both very well-informed.
Igor grimaced at Olympe's suggestion. Genoa had no stake in the Tournament, and had tense diplomatic relations with Aquitania and Daneland — negotiating such an arrangement as Olympe suggested would be very, very difficult, especially on such short notice. Of course, Olympe was aware of that, she just didn't have a better idea. "Perhaps it would be easier to alter the Tasks. Expecting a child to face a dragon was absurd to begin with, we could come up with something else, shuffle the Tasks around to give us more time to plan the replacement."
"Yes, that may be best. In that case, it would be feasible for us to host the rest of the Tournament, even on such short notice. I would need to return as soon as possible to begin making arrangements, but I'm confident we can manage it, yes."
"One problem with that," Cassie said, setting aside a gently steaming mug. (Cassie, Sarah, and Kyrah were the only ones with drinks, the others had hardly even noticed the elves come and go.) Leaning a little closer to them, her voice edged with nerves, "The Tasks were all arranged before the Champions' names were put in the Goblet. If the Goblet expects them to face a dragon, and then they don't, how do we know it won't penalise them for backing out?"
Olympe paled. "That possibility didn't occur to me."
The response from Igor was much less dignified. "Son of a bitch." Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, he rubbed at his face with both hands. "If I could go back in time, I would strangle that jævla hestkuk who thought using that thing was a good idea..."
Sarah frowned at the Northern cursing — apparently the language had shifted while she hadn't been paying attention, she wasn't certain what that meant...
"It may not be only the students you need be concerned for," said Kyrah, still in her "Slytherin" guise. "I don't know about any of you, but I was incapable of turning away from the Task so long as it continued, even with a riot going on around us. Have you considered the implications of that?"
While Igor cursed some more, Cassie turned to Kyrah, both pale eyebrows arching. "You mean we're bound too?"
"It did seem so. Which is fascinating, I don't think this has ever happened at a Tournament before — it wasn't unusual for a judge to be swapped out now and again, for personal reasons or whatever else. I wonder what changed."
"Nothing need have changed, Uncle." They all, "Slytherin" and Cassie and Olympe and Igor, turned to Sarah with various expressions, from Kyrah's curiosity to Cassie's wariness. (Cassie distrusted Miskatonites by default — and was fully aware that in a fight with Sarah or Angel she would lose. Badly.) Sarah ignored them all, taking a last sip of her wine before setting it aside. "Before the Champions can submit their tokens to the Goblet, the terms are explained to it by someone, are they not? Magical consciousnesses such as that attached to the Goblet can be quite literal at times, interpret intent in ways we might not expect, and perceive just as much the content of one's mind as one's words — after all, it isn't as though it has ears to hear with. If the person who communicated with the Goblet, whoever that was, perceived the terms of the Tournament as including the judges, that might have been all that was required to bind you as well."
She suspected otherwise, but it might have been, and it was altogether better for diplomatic purposes if the judges did not hold Angel — and by extension, Sarah and the University as a whole — responsible for their inability to more quickly intervene in the fighting. If they somehow acquired proof of Angel's involvement at some later date, so be it, but Sarah would at least have a degree of plausible deniability. Clearly she hadn't known of her colleague's involvement, she'd thought it just as likely that the Goblet was to blame as anyone.
Most of them needed a moment to process that — unexpectedly finding oneself bound to fulfil a certain role under the threat of an unpredictable but certainly awful penalty was not a pleasant experience. Cassie, though, glared over at Sarah. "Or maybe your colleague thought it would be more amusing this way."
Sarah shrugged. "That's also possible, yes. Involving a god in one's affairs often has unpredictable consequences, which is precisely why her participation in the University is limited." Also, she was pretty sure Angel simply hadn't the patience to teach a course, or for politics, or even to work on the same project for longer than a week (unless it was her bloody ghosts). "It could be either, but at this point it's irrelevant which."
"A god?" Olympe hissed. "Magistra Black is..."
"—a Vessel, yes, but that's not important," Sarah said with a dismissive wave of her hand. At the skeptical looks she got from Olympe, Cassie, Igor, and Kyrah, Sarah sighed. "Of course I meant to say knowing the specifics will change nothing, and there are more pressing matters to discuss now. Even if you could reproduce the planned Tasks exactly, moving the Tournament would be unwise."
Scowling, Igor insisted, "Continuing on here after all that happened earlier today would be unwise. If Britain can't get their shit together..."
"The problem with allowing an object such as the Goblet to set the terms of a binding spell is that we don't know what the terms are — and we also can't ask. Miss Lovegood observed that altering the Tasks might be interpreted as a forfeit; how do we know the location of the Tasks isn't included in the terms?" That she actually did consider a concern — for the Champions, if not for the judges.
Silence lingered over the group for a long moment.
"Well," Kyrah said, fingers tapping at the table, a sort of wary smile on her face. (His? The "Slytherin" character was just for fun...) "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'd rather not find out what happens when a metamorph has his magic stripped from him." That...was an interesting question, actually... "As trying as the current political atmosphere in this country might be, we'll simply have to make it work. I've already made alterations to the wards to protect the students from lethal danger, but there isn't much I can do about people invited onto the grounds who might have ulterior motives."
That wasn't necessarily true — though that was something contributed by Helga years after the original wards had been raised, which Sarah had never entirely understood. The Northmen of that time had had extremely well-developed divinatory practices, including wards reactive to a person's intent that operated by different mechanics than modern ones. Most modern spells detected intent through mind magic, which was much more easily fooled than divination; if structured correctly, a divination-based ward could detect hostile intent the person didn't even hold yet, but would should they be granted entry, which was certainly something wards based in mind magic couldn't do. Unfortunately, divination was extremely sensitive to outside interference — as much strain as there was on the wards at the moment, Helga's additions simply couldn't function.
Gently, Sarah pressed this information into Kyrah's mind. (Portraying an historical character was much easier when one had the original person on hand to fill in the gaps.) Kyrah's eyes flicked in her direction for a second — impressed, Sarah thought, Kyrah had some talent in divination as well so she should understand how exceptional Helga's work was — but turned back to the others without hardly missing a beat. "Or, there is nothing I can do about that as things stand. When the castle was converted to a school we added certain protections that would be beneficial in our present circumstances, but those elements aren't functioning — the wards weren't properly maintained over the centuries, they're under too much strain for the more delicate aspects to form properly. I'm working on restoring the wards, but it will take time."
"How long?" Olympe asked.
"I don't know for certain, but probably years. Centuries of neglect can't be reversed so easily."
"Forget that, you're saying the wards are carrying enough interference certain elements can't resolve, but they're still standing? How?!"
Kyrah gave Igor a smug little smile. "What can I say? I'm very good."
Wynn had helped, of course, but yes, Sarah really was just that good. And back when she'd been Silvahárr she hadn't been too humble to engage in a little self-congratulatory posturing — honestly, mostly just because it irritated people, and she'd found that amusing — so, good character acting there, Kyrah.
Apparently she hadn't quite disengaged from Kyrah's mind, because the thought she pushed toward her came through clearly. That's the best part of being "Salazar Slytherin" — I can be a smug, snarky shite as much as I want and nobody questions it.
...Sarah wasn't certain whether she was being insulted.
"So you understand the dilemma we are in," she said, pulling the others' attention away from Kyrah's teasing with the gentlest compulsion on her voice. "We are constrained by a binding spell we don't know the precise terms of, arbitrated by a construct that cannot be interrogated or negotiated with. The only option is to conform to our best guess of what those terms may be, take as few risks as possible, and hope for the best."
Fixing her with a flat glare, Cassie said, "Not we — you're not one of the judges. And I doubt the Goblet could do much of anything to Angel."
Sarah sighed — Cassie's continued hostility really was quite irritating. Honestly, she hadn't even done anything. Maybe it would be worth it to evoke Artemis and ask her to tell Cassie to back off, but Sarah never did get on well with gods of the wilds... "Angel's is a young god, you might be surprised what an entity such as that attached to the Goblet might accomplish. In other circumstances—" Such as if she were certain that Angel was indeed bound by the thing. "—I might intentionally trigger the Goblet's punishment in hope of getting rid of her — you have no idea how difficult it is to live with that thing — but even if it were certain to work, which it isn't, I consider the sacrifice of four children to be too high a price to pay." Not that Sarah considered any of them to truly be children (young people, certainly, but not children), but she was familiar enough with modern sensibilities to play along when the situation called for it.
"I'm supposed to believe you're some great lover of children, then." Because Cassie was operating under the impression that she didn't give a damn about anybody other than herself, based entirely on the reputation of Miskatonic in the Old World and that she kept the company of a Vessel of a malevolent deity — one that she'd just openly admitted she would be rid of if she could.
She mirrored Cassie's flat stare right back at her. "Of course. I've had nearly a hundred of them myself — why else would I keep doing it?"
She couldn't give a precise number, because she wasn't certain what that number was, due to the paternity in several cases being uncertain and nobody caring enough to check. Sometimes it was obvious, but it wasn't always, and she also didn't give a damn whether the children of her lovers were biologically hers or not, and honestly couldn't understand why anyone should. That really wasn't the point.
In fact, she was certain more than a hundred people over the centuries had seen her as a parent of some sort, though she wasn't sure how many of the ones who definitely weren't hers by blood other people would consider legitimately 'her' children. So, no, she didn't have an exact number, but "nearly a hundred" seemed close enough to run with.
Cassie, Olympe, and Igor all gaped at her, seeing the dumbfounded looks on their faces Kyrah chuckled. "Oh, don't look so shocked. That's only an average of one every ten years — less than that, actually. Mortal people have that many children all the time. Living as long as we have can be peculiar like that sometimes."
"Why, how many children have you had?" Olympe asked, sounding almost wary.
Kyrah shrugged. "Oh, only fifteen — which I know sounds like a lot, but that really isn't very many for a person my age. I tired of outliving them early on."
You know I already had fifteen children by the age of fifty.
Doesn't matter, records from that time are fragmentary enough nobody will be able to call me on it. That was true enough, modern British history remembered the names of a total of three of "Salazar Slytherin"'s children. And, did you really have two mistresses?
No. Wynn and I were lovers since our youth, Gormlaith and—
Wynn was Ravenclaw?
Sarah shoved a burst of exasperation at Kyrah. Her name was Hroðwyn, I have no idea where "Ravenclaw" came from. Anyway, Gorlmlaith and Áedh knew when we met that Wynn and I had no intention of stopping. Some of her children were mine by blood, but I'm not certain how many — two were Parselmouths, so them at the very least. Dagný was part of our household, and our children were full members of the family. In fact, I think what ended up becoming the main line of the House of Slytheris following the violence of the 12th and 13th Centuries was actually descended from Dagný. The other families of the Wizengamot were scandalised, of course, but I didn't give a damn.
So, she was a woman you were screwing who wasn't your wife, who you were also providing for, and even kept in your house with you. And this is different from keeping a mistress how?
It was a different time then, Kyrah, you know that.
Yes, but I like teasing you.
Sarah was just going to ignore that. "To return to what I was saying before. You understand the dilemma we are in — we have no choice but to continue the Tournament exactly as planned, or else risk incurring the punishment of the Goblet. Measures must be taken to secure the events as well as possible, or else an interruption due to the present unrest in this country may be interpreted as desertion. The Task was delayed today, yes, but only by a few hours. The Goblet dates to an age before people had a modern concept of time — what would have happened should the Task have been postponed until a later date? how would that have appeared to the Goblet?"
Igor and Olympe both paled, horror reverberating in the air around them, Kyrah grimaced. Cassie, though, was taken over with a steely determination, cool and calm and focused — but Sarah wasn't surprised by that, she was the only warrior among them. "And you've already said," nodding at Kyrah, "that the wards can't be tightened, at least not any time soon, so we'll have to convince the Ministry," said with a dark glare at the politicians still debating, "to provide security, Hit Wizards and Aurors. Or, perhaps, maybe your governments would be willing to send some people over on the days of the Tasks to help lock down the Valley?"
The foreign Headmasters glanced at each other, clearly surprised by the question — after all, it wasn't very often someone floated the idea of inviting foreign militaries into their country. Olympe spoke first. "Ah, that may be possible. The Republic doesn't keep a standing force large enough to spare the wands, but we may be able to get volunteers from La Milicia Pòbla. But the Republic can't send anyone without permission from the Ministry — they may well see it as an invasion — and I don't know how likely that is."
...Probably not likely at all. Especially since the British nobility had an extremely low opinion of militia forces drawn from the populace at large — they always had, but the use of such strategies during communitarian revolutions in multiple countries in the first half of the century had shifted their opinion from one of disdain to one of distrust. Especially since Aquitania had been allied with the Revolutionaries, no, that suggestion would not be taken well.
"We don't have a standing army at all," Igor said, "or any armed forces of any kind, honestly. Except the Aurors, I suppose. But, since our militia isn't official the way it is in Aquitania, maybe we can be sneaky about it. I could ask around, see if I can get some people to attend the next Task. They wouldn't be able to act as proper security, since they wouldn't have sanction to operate, but there's no reason we can't stack the stands with enough capable wands to stop something like what happened today from going as far as it did."
Kyrah's lips twitched. "So, your solution to likely not being able to get militia in, is to get mercenaries instead."
"They wouldn't be mercenaries — they wouldn't be being paid, for one. Is it so unbelievable that some of our students' countrymen might want to come and watch them compete? And if they happen to be on hand to suppress a violent disturbance before it can explode into a full-on riot, well, that's just a fortunate happenstance."
Kyrah snorted, clearly amused, but didn't argue.
"I'm not really sure that's a good idea. Packing the stands with more people looking for a fight isn't exactly solving the—" Cassie gave a twitch, blinking and rearing back in her chair a little. "...solving the problem. We're worried something happening among the spectators might delay the Task so much the Goblet will take it as a forfeit. But that's only a problem if the Task and the spectators are at the same location."
There was silence for a moment as they all turned over that idea, a few bemused raised eyebrows traded back and forth.
"For example, the next Task is the scavenger hunt in the city, right? We were going to have elves follow the Champions and project the images they capture for the audience, just like we did this time. Couldn't we project the images in two places at the same time? Say, we have the judges, the muggle delegations, and the students in the Great Hall, and put up somewhere spectators can watch right outside Hogsmeade — out in the valley, but not on school grounds. The same thing would work for...pretty much all the Tasks, I think." Cassie paused, fingers tapping on her knees. "Can anyone think of a good reason we can't do that? Because I'm not thinking of any."
"I don't think there is one, that's a very good idea." In fact, Sarah thought she might be slightly annoyed she hadn't thought of it herself. Plucking her wine glass off the table and sweeping up to her feet, Sarah pushed a gentle compulsion into the background magic of the environment. Subtle, altering the character of the magic only slightly, but thorough, filling the room from one end to the other — like a gas released into the air, they couldn't help but inhale it. The bickering politicians abruptly went silent, as all their eyes — Kyrah, Olympe, Igor, Cassie, Régis, Mirabella, Scrimgeour, Dumbledore, Clíodhna, Crouch — were drawn to her all at once, unconsciously. There were tingles of confusion and unease in some of their minds, realizing this wasn't natural, something was being done to them, but the compulsion was so subtle none had even felt it happen — the only exception was Kyrah, but even she hadn't resisted it.
(There were advantages to being an eleven-hundred-year-old mind mage, after all.)
Sarah delayed for a moment, taking a casual sip of her wine, allowing the enthrallment to wear off a little bit — after all, it wouldn't do if any of them were so fascinated with her they failed to hear a word she said. "Please excuse me for the interruption, Your Excellency," she said with a nod to Scrimgeour, "but this discussion could go on all night without coming to a conclusion. You are not going to come to a settlement regarding your impending civil war tonight — if for no other reason, several figures whose involvement you would require to do such a thing are not present.
"However, we can come to an arrangement to settle this matter so far as the Tournament itself is concerned. Miss Lovegood," she said, turning to nod at Cassie behind her shoulder, "just now formulated an interesting solution. We divide the spectators into two groups: one consists of the judges, guests, and students, who will observe the Tasks directly when possible; spectators drawn from the public will be given accommodations separate from the first group, somewhere outside of the school's wards — Miss Lovegood suggested a site on the outskirts of Hogsmeade may do. Perhaps there will be a repeat of the chaos that occurred earlier today at future Tasks, but our friends from the United Kingdom and the Republic of Ireland will be well removed from danger, and whatever may happen it will not be able to interrupt the Tournament. Your Ministry may continue to attempt to provide security for the spectators, but should the worst happen this strategy will make it simply impossible for there to be any...catastrophic consequences for international diplomacy.
"Are there any objections?" Sarah waited only for a fraction of a second before slamming a delicately-constructed compulsion against the edge of Dumbledore's mind, hard enough the echo formed by the compulsion's collapse against the barrier shielding him carried straight through, preventing him from speaking before he could even open his mouth. (His occlumency truly was quite good, but compared to the god-given protection of Lyra Black's mind it might as well be tissue paper.) "Naturally, I meant to ask whether there are any objections to Miss Lovegood's plan, not to my use of perfectly harmless magics to gather your attention — given your own use of the much riskier legilimency charm, Mister Dumbledore, you have absolutely no right to cast judgement on the matter."
Dumbledore didn't quite flinch with guilt, but he did keep his mouth shut — which might have less to do with Sarah chastising him, and more to do with the wary glances he was getting from his neighbors.
Watching the famous sorcerer be so casually dismissed had Scrimgeour laughing on the inside, but she managed to keep it off her face and voice. "Yes, that's an excellent compromise, I can't imagine why we didn't think of it before. Barty, is that feasible?"
The man considered it for a moment, resources and laws and certain personalities at the Ministry flicking through his head, before he slowly nodded. "I don't see why not. I'll have to speak with Public Works immediately — they already had concerns with how...fragile the stands for this Task turned out to be, it might actually be easier for them to start from scratch. Though there will be complaints from the Lords if they're put out on the grounds with the other spectators."
"I imagine there will be. Unfortunately for them, I couldn't care less." The blunt dismissal of the concerns of this country's rulers had Crouch rather flustered, scoffing and grumbling to himself — as Sarah had said, Scrimgeour was not a politician. "The last matter we must deal with tonight before we can all finally go home is the scoring of today's Task. Half the Champions are still in hospital, so you're not going to be able to do it today at all. I was considering this earlier, and I think the judges should use this time to review recordings from the Task and discuss it amongst themselves, and get together to give out the scores once the Champions are all released. Gather representatives from the press and do it quickly in the Great Hall, there's no need to make a big production of it."
The subject efficiently changed, they broke into discussion on how to go about that precisely, where and when and how. This discussion was much less contentious, the issues of the unrest in Britain and the problem of securing the Tasks now dismissed. This was also a subject that didn't truly require Sarah's participation — she wasn't one of the judges, the particular details wouldn't have much effect on...anything, truly, and Kyrah wasn't likely to need advice on how to play her character. Sarah wasn't needed here any longer.
She wished she could feel she'd accomplished something meaningful, but she hadn't, truly. What they'd decided here wouldn't prevent the escalation of violence between the Brits and Gaels, merely delay it. With Cavan and the royals removed from the likely epicenter of future violence, the chances of the worst end result — the Wizengamot going to war with Ireland and the UK — were significantly lower, but the core of the conflict hadn't been addressed.
But there was nothing she could do about that. She could attempt to mitigate it, somewhat, but it would happen regardless.
Sighing, Sarah finished off her wine, set the glass down on the table — there was a flash of tingling elf-magic an instant later, the glass teleported away. Sarah turned from the conversation and walked off, silently dismissing herself from the proceedings.
There was no further contribution she could make here, but her work in the Valley was far from over.