Priya sits at the table of honour during the award ceremony, draped in finery and a mysterious air to keep the rabble away. She sips her drink out of a crystal glass and doesn't bother to pretend to applaud yet another mediocre prize.
There's only one reason she's here and it has to do with Berdine losing contact a month ago.
The next prize is for the contemporary and environmental design of the newest wizarding village -more of a city- that pulled itself from the ground in a gorgeous winter forest south of Argentina.
Already, houses there are going for ridiculous prices and half the value is it being a trading hub with instantaneous -and by some miracle not dizzying- travel through several international portals set up through the village.
Gellert Grindelwald rises gracefully to accept his prize with a smile that gets ever more charming as he grows and the applause is almost deafening. Tom Riddle slow claps looking bored but the creature next to him enthusiastically cheers.
As the table of honour is at the front of the room with the best view, Gellert passes close by. His smile widens when he looks at Priya.
Priya smiles back. Children are so cute. Give it a few more years and they'll realise it wasn't anything personal, then she can swoop in and kick that Unspeakable to the curb.
Honestly, minions are so hard to find, why does that Unspeakable get two just thrown into his lap?
Priya sees them again at a political conference where Tom stands in the centre of a large cluster and talks down to people while they lap it up and thank him for it.
Tom was a keynote speaker in the morning and has spent much of his time off the stage being followed by people wanting to collaborate with him or ask more about his recent foray into ward crafting.
A lot of his talk was related to how magical-kind caught up in the muggle war are currently faring and what needs to be done to protect them and other historically important magical districts. Like every good leader, he presented a problem and then immediately a solution in the form of data on how Tom's newly invented or redesigned wards -or rather the bomb shelters underneath- held up to muggle warfare.
One particular looping photo was of a green-eyed man grinning proudly at the camera, in the midst of buildings still standing tall and smoke rising in the distance. The man is not looking into the camera, he's looking above it at whoever is taking the picture. There was also no need to include the image; Tom just seemed to want to show people.
Priya doesn't bother to smother the smile that crosses her face.
Loyalty is a dime a dozen with the lesser. Pay enough, by nice enough, and you've earned it for life. It's a cheap trick and Priya doesn't often bother. She expects much from her business partners, and one thing is for them to know how to be professional. Personal feelings should not come into it.
But a strong person, cut down by loyalty, leashed by it, well that is tempting. The boys, teenagers now, they know what she can do for them. Much more than the Unspeakable restrained to western Europe.
Priya makes her way around the gathering of politicians and intellectuals alike, ready to meet Tom just as he manages to peel them off him.
"Ma'am," a servant greets as he steps up to her, a lower plant that she barely recognises. "There's a floo call for you."
Priya stops and purses her lips. "Is that so."
The servant bows his head. "I was told it was urgent."
Priya watches Tom go and frowns. Next time then.
"-working on it but half of the staff seem to have gone on holiday," the man says. "It's a small division in New Zealand, we-"
"This is the third time," Priya states, sitting at her desk, surrounded by neatly filed shelves full of her exploits. "You're lucky I even gave you a second chance."
The man bows his head, standing in front of Priya and clutching papers to his chest like they'll protect him. Behind him looms a floor to ceiling montage of newspaper clippings and thank you cards of all the people Priya is currently raising and their own little missions. This man used to be one, but he hasn't been on that board in a long time.
"These are lower-level staff," the man attempts. "They don't understand who they're working for."
"And who's mistake is that?" Priya grits out. She realises she's getting frustrated and lets out a sharp breath. "I pay you to keep them in line. You are not to tell me excuses. If something goes wrong, fix it. That's your only job."
"I…yes," the man admits, quiet enough the radio threatens to drown him out even on its lowest volume. "I'm working on it but since their division is slowed, the report you wanted isn't finished yet since we don't have the rest of the data. We won't have it in time to submit."
"So there's nothing," Priya summarises. "There will be no output whatsoever this quarter."
The man hesitates.
Priya waves him off with a laugh. "Get out. Get out!"
The door quietly, sheepishly clicks shut behind him and Priya falls back into her seat with a gusty sigh. She picks up a paper and pen, ready to call in reinforcements but pauses. She reaches across her desk and turns up the radio.
Soft, shy laughter comes through the speakers.
"And you, Credence?" the host asks eagerly. "What do you think? Give us the inside scoop on your brothers, you must have something good."
"Oh?" the creature muses. "Um, actually yes!"
"We don't need that," Gellert cuts in with a laugh.
"Shouldn't we be talking about our work?" Tom demands.
"You see, we have a dragon at home," the creature begins, ignoring its fake family, and launches into a childhood story that Priya doesn't find particularly interesting.
The creature must be sitting with them, in amongst the staff of the radio station, the prey who don't see a thing.
It follows Tom and Gellert around and occasionally takes part in humanitarian or charity projects while the two boys do far more important work. People are often lauding it as a paragon of human virtue these days, as if it was even human.
Priya doesn't mind it all that much. She can see why the boys keep it around as an attack dog, and she has before thought about borrowing it – especially after that gala where Tom wore the ash like a waterfall down his back. It's elegant in a sort of way, very old-school magic and might.
The host roars with laughter at the story, nothing but a loud personality and no opinions, the way people like. "That's wonderful! So young as well. Your parents must be proud."
The creature hums, happily. "Yes, our Harry loves us very much."
A few months later, Priya is once again restricted to her office doing damage control. It wasn't just the lower levels of her network dropping out – that happens when you have a web as wide as hers. Replace them and move on.
No, the problem is when all the connections drop off and she's bleeding resources into the ether. The webs fray and pull apart and with no more basic information or money coming in, the higher end starts to get restless. She's spent the last month alone wasting time, alternating between pacifying allies or demanding they do better.
Her prized wall is nearly empty; in the beginning, having been a threat to those she called into her office, but now a looming sign of her own stress and anger. A single newspaper print is staring back at her now, a little family of four being heralded for their efforts in not only civilian protection but also having a part in ending the muggle war.
Priya rips the paper off the wall and sets it ablaze, jaw clenched as she storms back behind her desk and buries herself in more paperwork.
She already knows she'll be working until late so she doesn't notice when the building slowly gets quieter until it's completely silent.
Priya does notice when the lights flicker and plunge her into darkness.
Tom sits in the high-backed chair and surveys the room. "I like it." Tom is sixteen now, long legs stretching out under the desk and crossed at the ankle, still trying to be graceful even when he's all gangly limbs and growing pains.
Priya, in her true face, lies bleeding out on the floor unconscious. They meant to keep her awake but she was strong and difficult to contain.
Priya was a problem to take care of because she had so much power she had amassed that honestly, it was a waste to just end it. So they spent the last few years digging it out from under her.
"Kind of messy," Gellert muses, currently in his long hair phase with blond curls pulled back into a bun. He's flipping through ever-expanding drawers for all the files. "We're going to have to do a lot of decluttering. Oh! I found ours."
Priya is akin to their Unspeakable, but she struck out on her own and isn't restricted to a country. So when Berdine came through and started making waves, Priya got interested enough to make contact.
Priya never cared enough to do more than observe though, right up until she realised the Unspeakable must have picked up the boys. That of course led to her ministry visit and the party.
Really, they've taken over to add her power and contacts to their own, but a little part of the teenagers is still petty and annoyed they had to put up with so many adults looking down on them, some on Priya's orders as a test for them.
Credence stands in front of some shelves, a willowy giant because that's how his ash wants to lie, with his dark red hair cut short. Credence holds a cookbook in his hands and shows his brothers. "I'm going to take this back for Harry."
"Grab a nice wine from that rack for the Unspeakable," Gellert adds, still flipping through the file he found. "What should we get Albus to celebrate?
Tom picks up a fancy quill stand and charms it blinding orange.
"Why is that exactly Albus' taste?" Gellert tsks.
.
A/N: We're wrapping up, one chapter left!
