"Last chapter was a little much for me": Yes, last chapter was definitely the darkest one I've written for this story so far. Thankfully, it is also the darkest of this book and, in all likelihood, of the series as a whole. Everything gets lighter from here, not that that's hard.

Steven: Many members of the Buckley family have been avatars of Holda, just none in recent memory. That's where the white magic wards came from. Most of the knowledge has been forgotten over the centuries, but the use of Patroni against "dark wizards" has been kept as a family secret.

After four long, long years, I graduated from medical school on Saturday! You guys may now refer to me as Doctor Silently Watches. Now I just need to finish three years of an internal medicine residency… and two more years of fellowship training after that….

Ugh. At least I'll be getting paid this time.

Disclaimer: After losing the first war against Voldemort, were the blood purists and the Death Eaters removed from their positions of power in the Wizengamot and intercepted when they tried to purchase the ear of the Minister? If not, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whomever else she sold the rights to.


Chapter 19
Dark Conception

Luna was no stranger to vibrant dreams. When she was little, she would regale her parents with tales of the unnatural vistas she had visited in her sleep, and after one particularly disturbing dream, she had even convinced them to let her bring a coil of rope and a jar of honey to bed with her just in case she was ever trapped in that cave with the angry bear again. During her first two years at Hogwarts, her dreams had actually felt more real and were more welcoming than real life.

That meant that when she opened her eyes to find herself in a lush tropical jungle, she started wandering around like she always did. If nothing else, it was an excuse to forget the news about her maternal family's murder.

It took her several minutes before she could put her finger on just what it was that was slowly but surely making her glance around the close quarters with anxiety and suspicion. Despite the alien feature of the places she visited in her own mind, whether they held purple skies or waterfalls falling upwards or dog-like creatures covered in insectile chitin, there was still something normal about it. Birdsong, waves sloshing against the shoreline, the chirps of crickets or some other similar animals. The song of nature, no matter how strange a specific instrument might be, was a constant companion.

But here? It was utterly quiet. The wind did not stir the leaves. No birds chirped or called. The undergrowth was not disturbed by wandering animals. Climbing a low-hanging branch, she pulled her legs up to her chest and glanced nervously around her.

"Be not afraid, sweet child."

Luna heart pounded in her chest as she threw herself away from the voice, and she stared in shock at the face that had suddenly appeared in the side of the tree. The woman's face frowned before it pressed forwards, and the smooth bark of the tree thickened and seemed to melt. The liquid wood rolled together to become shoulders and chest and abdomen, though farther away from the strange woman's chest her skin reached, the less fleshy and the more woody it appeared. "Dear thing," said the tree-person, plump cheeks distorting inhumanly when she frowned. "You have no need to be so concerned for your safety here. There is nothing that will harm you."

The blonde was used to strange dreams, but people in her dreams talking back to her was disconcerting even by her standards.

"Come. Sit." The possible dryad seated herself on the same branch Luna had climbed onto and waved her closer. "I merely wish to speak with you, Luna."

"How do you know my name?"

"I know the name of every Child of Buckley." The woman scowled for a moment, but in that brief period Luna caught a glimpse of something ancient and terrible perched where the woman sat. That was enough to ruin the illusion of the sweet matron the dryad apparently wanted to cloak herself within. "Not that there are many of you left. Not after that slaughter."

"You know what happened to my mum's family?!" Luna demanded, taking a step closer despite her fear. "Do you know who did it?"

The woman shot her an uneasy glance. "I do."

"Who?!"

"That I cannot tell you. Not as you are." The blonde glared at her. This woman-tree-thing knew who had killed her maternal family but was not going to reveal the monster's name?! "I wish to tell you, my dear, I do. But there is a protocol that must be adhered to. If you desire the right to know their names, you must take up your family's mantle. You must swear allegiance to the Light and to Holda. To me," she added with a warm smile.

Luna shook her head. "Sorry, but I've read those kinds of books. I know a bad idea when it's staring me in the face like this."

That wiped the smile off the woman's, off Holda's, face. "You need not be so distrusting. I am not like those djinn and specters. Nor is this a ploy. There are rules to which I must adhere, and so long as those prohibitions bind me, I may not tell you all the things I wish to."

That was exactly the kind of thing the more malevolent fae or certain spirits would say to trick her into making a bargain with them. Luna shook her head and took a step backwards. She had learned how to wake herself up from within her dreams, but it was not something she had practiced much. It took time for her to force herself back to the real world.

"The Black girl," Holda suddenly said. "Even if you do not desire to align yourself with me at this time, I knew your family for centuries. They would not wish you to involve yourself with someone like that."

"What have you got against Jen?" First this dryad refused to tell her what she knew about the murder of her family, then she tried to enslave her, and now she was disparaging her girlfriend, her best friend? That was far too much!

Holda's lips pressed tightly together, the expression reminiscent of McGonagall when she was most severely displeased. "That girl is a fiend. She will corrupt and destroy you should you continue on unwary, and once you lay broken on the ground, she will walk away to find someone new with whom to entertain herself with nary a backwards glance."

"How dare you!"

"I dare because, whether or not you believe such, I desire nothing but the best for you."

Crossing her arms, she glared at the tree-woman. "Prove it. Tell me what she's done that makes you so sure she's that kind of person."

"You have seen the proof with your own two eyes. Would a lover who truly cares about you seek out a place in another's arms?"

That hurt, and the sharpness of the barb just made Luna angrier. True, she and Jen were experiencing problems with their relationship. Her girlfriend's insistence on finding a husband, no matter how often the dark-haired girl tried to explain all the political advantages such an arrangement would bring her House, was placing a strain on them. They had started doing more of their activities separately, even sleeping in different beds many nights, but Jen's indifference to how much she disliked her girlfriend putting their relationship on the back burner to play politics was not enough to make her throw everything away. "That's selfishness. Or maybe obliviousness, I'm not sure which. But it's far from being a fiend. Try again."

"I cannot tell you," Holda spat out after long seconds of fruitless straining. "Everything rests on a single foundation, and that I may not reveal until we have sealed our pact."

"Of course you can't. How convenient," she shot back. "I'm leaving now. Hopefully, I won't see you again."

Holda shot to her feet and raised a warning finger. "Do not speak in that way. Child of Buckley you may be, but never did you dwell in the house of your mother. You channel my power each year, but our connection is frayed and fragile still. Cast me away, and I will be unable to offer my aid when you have need of me."

"You insulted Jen to my face and keep trying to convince me to make a bargain with you," Luna reminded the dryad. "I don't want your help, and I don't want any connection to you. All I want is for you to leave me alone."

"You do not understand what you are doing, little girl."

She turned her back on Holda. "I understand enough. Goodbye."

The landscape fell away to be replaced by an amber sea surrounding a lone sandbar, and Luna nodded as the cries of bizarre four-winged seagulls reached her ears. This was better.


Landing on the ground near her allies' warehouse base, Jen hurried inside and billowed out the sides of her coat to shake off some of the snow that had stuck to it. Teleporting into a storm was not her idea of a good time. This was the kind of day when she would love nothing more than to stay near the fire in the den, but unfortunately, the dreadful weather was something she would have to deal with. It was the winter solstice, and they had only today if they wanted to find the Turk and kill him while he was unconscious. Priest had told her that the ability to shake off the lingering weakness that followed the solstice was one that developed with experience, and considering how old the Turk was, that meant he would probably be capable of fighting at nearly full strength the very next day.

The sooner they dealt with the Turk, the sooner she could kick these two out of her country. Dora's censored references to the Auror's investigation of the Buckleys' extinction were hammering in just how much of a threat the other black mages' recklessness was to her own safety, and that was without considering the indignation their wasteful attitudes had stirred up in her breast. She still had to live in this land when they were through, and that task was made more difficult when they could not constrain themselves to being judicious in their murders.

"—your fault! 'Just jump,' you said! 'You can make a new one,' you said! How about you make a new one, jackass!"

Well, that answered the question of where Menagerie was, and it was probably Priest at whom she was shouting. Navigating her way through the crates, she poked her head into the clearing that she assumed served as their living quarters in the single enormous room. Priest ducked under a box that came hurtling at his head, smile never wavering in the slightest, and Menagerie—

"…the hell?"

The pink-haired witch turned to face her with a snarl. Jen ignored that; her eyes were locked onto the gravid belly that swayed with the movement. She had seen Menagerie not even a week previously, and she had looked totally normal, but now? Now she was in the last few weeks of pregnancy!

"What are you looking at?!"

Jen blinked in complete bemusement. "…Priest?"

"Please excuse her," the dark-skinned wizard said in his ever-placid voice. "She always gets like this when she has to create a new chimera."

"…What?"

"The Grand Wyrm is also known as the 'Mother of Monsters', and it is a fair description. As a reflection of that, she places a requirement on her female servants that, when they want to produce—"

"Stop. Just. Just stop." Her eyes drifted toward Menagerie again, and then they shot back to Priest. "I'm going. Somewhere. Somewhere that isn't here. This has gotten too weird even for me."

The winter winds smacking her in the face were bracing, and she let it go on for a few seconds before throwing up a charm to shelter her.

Footsteps came from behind her as Priest walked up to stand next to her. "It is strange, sometimes," he said, "to remember how little of our world you have yet witnessed. In time, even this, as strange as it must be to you now, becomes commonplace."

"I suppose that explains you," she muttered. He tilted his head curiously. "In all the time I've known you, you have yet to seem surprised by anything. Or angry. Or sad. Or happy. You're always totally, unbreakably calm."

The African wizard nodded. "It is a benefit of my magic. In exchange for my emotions, I received an immunity to the vast majority of mind magics I might come up against. That has saved my life on numerous occasions, actually; it should not come as a surprise that a number of white wizards have attempted to deter me and the companions I have had at one time or another by subterfuge rather than risk an open confrontation. But yes, an even keel in the most stressful of situations never ceases to benefit me."

"You gave up your emotions to make you safe from compulsions?" That really should not make as much sense as it did. It also reminded her of a question she had meant to ask him but had not found a politic way of doing so. "I suppose you did something else to modify your body the way you have? On Halloween, you lost an arm, but you didn't care, and it wasn't bleeding. It looked… strange."

"That was one of the largest pieces of black magic I have ever performed," boasted the black wizard. "It was after my… third hunt, I believe? I had been rather grievously injured, and while my comrade at the time was able to stabilize me and take me to someone who could restore the destroyed pieces of my body, it was not an experience I was eager to repeat.

"You recall what I said before concerning the women protecting this place, yes? My solution was in much the same vein. In order to keep myself alive and in proper health, I needed to eliminate the care others felt for me. My entire immediate family: my parents, my siblings, my nieces and nephews, my grandmother, and even my former fiancée. Not a one of them remembers anything about me."

She swallowed lightly. To be completely isolated, with no one at all? That was an extreme step, one she personally would hesitate to consider unless there was absolutely no other way to achieve her goals. "Do you regret that? Or did you, before you bargained away your emotions?"

Priest leaned his head back and looked up at the cloudy sky as he considered that question. "Not particularly. We – black mages as a whole – do not bond well with other people. We cannot, not if we are to be effective at our tasks. I would recommend you ask Menagerie about her schism with her own family at some point, but I do not wish you to be mauled by all manner of creatures. If you are curious, though, she has a fondness for mead and tends to be more open when intoxicated."

"I'll… keep that in mind." Which meant she was never, ever going to ask.

Several minutes passed in silence, and then they looked behind them at the shambling steps growing slowly louder. Menagerie's colorful hair laid flat and wet with sweat against her scalp, and her face was flushed as though she had just run a dozen kilometers at a dead sprint… or as though she had just given birth. It did not help matters that her belly now had a small paunch when during their murder of House Buckley it had been toned and flat. "That was rougher than usual," she told them in a weak rasp. "You two better just go and look for him without me. I'm going to eat something and take it easy for the rest of the day. Feed the little bastard, too, so it stops staring at my tits."

Jen could not even come up with any snide comments to that, so instead she tentatively offered, "Maybe you should take a nap when you're done with that. You look exhausted."

"I am. I was getting everything ready since sundown, and I've been carrying him since two." The older black witch yawned with her mouth wide open, showing off sharply pointed teeth that sat where flat molars should be. "I might just take your advice. Good hunting."

Reaching inside his coat, Priest pulled out a thick roll of cloth that he revealed to be a flying carpet. "Let us not waste any more time, then. If you would follow me, Queen? I propose we start at the two bases we know for a fact the Turk set out to defend, and from there we can move to the other locations. Have you kept track of him to make sure he has not created another stronghold?"

"There are specific circumstances that have to be fulfilled for that scrying to work. I have not managed to complete those again since the first attempt," she quickly lied. Really, she just did not want to go through the process of immersion scrying again quite so soon. Now that she knew what to watch out for, she expected she could mitigate the risk of destroying her self-identity, but that was still a risk she did not particularly wish to take.

"Disappointing. Very well. I suppose we shall simply have to search for him the old-fashioned way."


"Jen, hurry up or you're going to be late!"

"I know that, Aunt Andi!" she yelled back, her lips flipping through a multitude of colors and shades before she finally settled on a bright cinnabar. The pendant dangling from her choker was glamoured to look fancier than normal. A pair of ruby studs went into her ears. A decorative shawl to complete the ensemble, and she took a step back to look over the effect of the splashes of red and silver in contrast to the sharp black dress robes. It would do.

She quickly descended the stairs, most of her mind focused not on the Ministry's Solstice Ball but instead on the fruitless quest she and Priest had finally stopped a few hours previously. None of the locations had held hide nor hair of the Turk. She might have to try immersion scrying again, that or summoning another pooka to track him down. Or both, even, which might be the most effective option.

"Very nice," Cissy said when she reached the sitting room. The two sisters looked at each other and then refocused their attentions on her. "Now we just have to wait for your escort to show up."

She did not groan out loud, but it was a near thing. Finding a husband was incredibly important for the future of her House, but right now, she had a hard time calling forth any enthusiasm for the task. Each suitor seemed to be even more of a disaster than the one before him, and her list of viable prospects was growing shorter and shorter. This was the easy part, too! Once she had determined whom she was truly interested, the courting process became only more intense as the few remaining men jockeyed for the best gifts with which to win her over.

And Luna was convinced she was doing this for fun? If only that were true!

"Don't be like that," Andi chided gently. "We know you haven't found the last few—"

"Try the last dozen or so."

"—Fine, the last dozen or so suitors very palatable, but if you show up at the Ball without an escort now, it could be taken as a signal that you are not interested in the courting process, and some of the wizards chasing your skirt would leave to seek out some better prospect." She smiled at that thought, but Andi quickly cut it down. "Unfortunately, there's nothing to say that it wouldn't be the suitors you like that decide to look elsewhere, leaving you only with those you don't care for."

"Or can't stand," Cissy cut in with a smile. "Don't worry, though. We do know how little you've cared for most of your suitors, so we called one you do like to serve as your escort for the evening."

Jen narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Just what were her aunts up to this time?

A flare of magic came from the fireplace, and the piebald witch smirked. "And that should be him now."

Turning towards the green flames, her mouth dropped open when she recognized the tall, broad-shouldered wizard stepping into her home. He brushed some soot off his overcoat, and only then did he look at her and smile. "You von't even say hello?"

"Viktor?!" He smiled and stepped up to pull her into a tight embrace. "I missed you," she whispered. It was true, too. She could not help but compare the wizards she was going out with to him, and few of them stacked up.

"I haff missed you as vell." Tilting her chin up, he gave her a deep kiss.

Half-heartedly stifled giggles ruined the moment, and she turned to glare at the two women who looked entirely too pleased with themselves. "The three of us are going to have a long, pointed talk when I get back."

"Only when she gets back?" Andi said to her little sister in a stage whisper. "She can't be that upset about it, then."

She felt a niggling against her mental shields, and curious despite herself, she launched a probe at Cissy's mind. "You know we just want you to be happy," she heard the older witch think. "Andi and I both avoided having to court, but we had to listen to Bellatrix's non-stop bitching on the subject before she finally settled on Rodolphus, so we are at least peripherally aware of how frustrating it can be. Tonight, you don't have to worry about putting up with someone. Just enjoy the party."

Jen gave Cissy a look of thanks. "We had better get a move on," she told the famous Seeker, slipping her arm though his and leading him back towards the fireplace and the jar of Floo powder. "There's a fine line between fashionably late and rude, and we don't want to cross it. Notty Acres!"

The fires disgorged them in an opulent greeting room, rich walnut paneling on the walls and an intricate tile mosaic depicting a orchard in bloom spanning the width of the floor. At the end of the room stood an actual person, a middle-aged blond man wearing a rather bland set of dress robes. "May I take your coat?" he wheezed in a flat voice.

Viktor shrugged off his coat and handed it to the man. "I did not dink dere vere still families in Britain who employed human help."

The servant said nothing in response, nor did he so much as flinch when Jen slipped deep into his personal space to examine his blank, unfocused eyes. "I don't think he was necessarily hired," she said quietly.

"Vhat?" He loomed over her to look at the man's eyes himself. His next words were whispered harshly in Bulgarian. "The Imperious Curse? I thought that was illegal in this country."

"Incredibly so. I know we aren't the first ones here. Someone else has to have noticed this, too. I'm extremely curious just what's going on." Slipping back into English, she gave his arm a short tug. "It will be interesting what Lord Nott has to say for himself."

They walked into the enormous room that had been set aside for the ball, not a few people's heads turning to stare at her when they realized she was on the arm of world-famous Viktor Krum. She exchanged pleasantries here and there as they walked deeper into the room, her eyes on the watch for the eldest Nott.

"Mr. Krum, what a surprise!" The turned to see Lord Pickering approaching, the man's smile dimming when he saw her. "And Scion Black, of course it's a pleasure to see you here, as well. Will Lord Black be present this evening?"

"The pleasure is mine," she replied with a practiced smile. "I was under the impression that my lord already was here. Perhaps you have simply passed him?"

"Perhaps I have."

Before the ensuing silence could become too awkward, Viktor jumped in. "How are de Catapults doing dis year? I heard you hired on a new Keeper, but I haff been too busy to keep up with de details."

"O'Connell is doing fine, Mr. Krum," Pickering answered, his grin widening again now that he was no longer speaking to one of his political and philosophical opposites. Leaning closer conspiratorially, he whispered, "I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but since you play in the European Leagues, it should be safe. It's Bertram who's still our weak link. I sometimes wonder if he could catch the Snitch if it flew straight into his hand. You wouldn't happen to know anyone who might be looking to change countries and head to Britain, now would you?"

Viktor flashed his own smile. "As a matter of fact, my contract vith de Vultures is set to end in de next eighteen months. If everyding goes vell, I might find myself in Britain by den, anyvay. Of course, I vould be a kept man, so to speak, so how I spend my time vould not be only my decision."

Was he…? He was. She stretched her smile out wider when Pickering turned to look at her, this time with greed in his eyes rather than distrust. By making it sound like he would need her permission to play for a team, Viktor could force all these team owners to petition her, and once she knew she had something they wanted, she could use that to leverage their support in the political arena. It would not be much, not when his talent could only be loaned to one person at a time, but it was something.

"I wouldn't keep you from doing something you love," she said, keeping the conversation going even as the last pieces clicked into place. "I can't say I would mind you being a little closer to home, though. Caerphilly isn't nearly as far a trip as Vrasta. I just don't know if that would be the best place for you to show off your skills. That's something we'd have to discuss later," she said for Pickering's benefit.

"Oh, take your time. I'm in no rush," the Light-leaning lord lied.

"We will certainly keep your offer in mind. Actually, Lord Black and I were discussing you just the other day." He gave her a look of cautious curiosity. "We were wondering where you stood on the bill regarding decreasing the tariffs on the importation of Sweetwillow Vine…."

Several minutes passed as she worked to sway him to their side of the debate, and through it all, she kept one eye on Viktor, who appeared perfectly content to hang back and let her handle the political maneuvering. "You planned that, didn't you?" she muttered once Pickering had departed. Pulling him to the side of the room where they were less likely to be overheard, she continued, "You knew he had his fingers in the Catapults, and you intentionally made your little offer sound like you needed my permission." The Bulgarian celebrity just smiled, a mischievous spark dancing in his dark eyes. "I'm impressed, make no mistake about that. But while I have my suspicions on why you did it, I want to hear it from you."

"If ve do marry, I expect that I vill move to dis country. It seems only sensible dat I try to find a new job." He gave the cuffs of his sleeves a little tug to straighten the fabric out. "But I haff to prove to your family dat I am de best suitor for us to get to dat stage. You know my family does not haff any political connections or vealth. But me personally? I do haff skills and a reputation dat you might find marketable."

"You're okay with being used a pawn in my family's games?"

"If I vere not, vould I be here trying to buy your hand?" he retorted in amusement. "I am used by de Vultures' manager and de Bulgarian Ministry anyvay. So long as I play Kvidditch and can support my lifestyle, I do not care if odders profit off my fame. If anyding, I get more exposure and more fame ven dey are finished."

"They use you to get what they want, and you use them using you to get what you want. Clever."

"I dink so." Holding out his hand, he gestured with the other at the dance floor that was just now starting to fill up. "May I haff dis first dance, my lady?"

"Certain—" She cut herself off as she saw a wizened man wandering through the crowd and shaking hands. "Perhaps the second. It's only polite that we say hello to Nott, don't you think?"

His grin faded as he took in her displeased smile, and he nodded seriously. "Yes, you are correct. Ve must greet our host. Compliment him on his staff."

"See? We are a good match." They slipped through the clumps of party-goers until they reached the eldest Nott, his son following close behind. "Lord Nott, I have to wonder if you are trying to outdo our party last year. Your decorations are marvelous."

The old wizard smiled politely at her self-deprecating jest. "I am glad you are enjoying yourself, Scion Black. I no longer have the same vitality as your Head of House, but I cannot help but be inspired by such enthusiasm."

"Then I find myself looking forward to the next time you host such a gala," she said. "And I simply must ask: Wherever did you find your footman? He looks so realistic that I nearly thought him a Muggle, but I know I have to be mistaken. Owning Muggle slaves was outlawed almost three centuries ago, after all."

For all the pretty smile on his face, the wizards eyes grew cold at that barb. Just as she thought. "I am afraid I cannot take credit for those. My great-great-grandfather commissioned that and similar automata to fulfill such duties that cannot be delegated to house-elves. Greeting visitors, clearing a table between courses, delivering formal messages, that sort of thing. Homunculi are not easy to maintain, but they are a point of pride in my House, and I believe we have done a decent job with their upkeep.

"If you will excuse me, Scion Black, Mr. Krum. Sadly, a host's duties are never done, and I am afraid I still have many guests to greet."

"Our apologies for keeping you, Lord Nott. I appreciate your time."

"Was any of what he said even possible?" asked Viktor in his mother tongue while they watched the two Notts walk away.

"Possible?" she replied in the same language. "Yes. But so incredibly unlikely as to beggar belief. A homunculus takes a truly insane amount of resources to keep alive, and the Notts aren't that rich. If he really knew anything about them, he also wouldn't have called it a homunculus and an automaton practically in the same breath. The first is an alchemical creation, a human body that wanders the world without a soul, while the other is enchanted and animated and nearly impossible to make look truly human. Those were Muggles, no doubt about it, but like I said, there is an extremely slim possibility that he is telling the truth, and that is all he really needs to keep anyone from poking around too deep. If I were him or one of his ancestors, I would have bribed a Ministry official to register a certain number of supposed homunculi as family heirlooms so I would have the certificates to point at, too. So long as he doesn't enslave more Muggles than he has registered homunculi, that is another layer of protection."

"And if someone does look beyond that, he can just bribe or threaten them into silence?" he guessed, his voice rough with righteous indignation.

"Welcome to the ugly side of aristocracy." A tray bearing flutes of champagne floated past them, and she grabbed two before handing one to her escort. "Where nothing is illegal, merely expensive, and everyone has a price."

"Decent people do not have a price. They do not sell out their morals."

"Perhaps they don't. I know mine, though." He looked askance at her, and she nodded. Oh, she could be bought. It could be a high price indeed, but it had been met before. The Baron had met it. Sirius had met it. Voldemort could have met it if he had not been so heavy-handed in the graveyard and had her patron not demanded his head. "My survival. The promotion of my family. The life of my child, when that becomes reality. The right to worship in safety," she added when she remembered the excuse she had given him about wearing the Resurrection Stone. "Guarantee me one or more of those, and you would have my full and willing cooperation."

She tipped her glass at their host's back. "Nott and his son? Both Death Eaters. I heard their names in the cemetery when—" Voldemort's name would sound the same in Bulgarian, wouldn't it? "—when this country's Dark Lord was resurrected. They tortured and apparently enslaved Muggles without a care, yet here they are, pillars of society. All because they put the right amount of gold in the right hands. Like I said, anything can be bought here, even innocence."

"I mean no offense, but it makes me wonder if a society this corrupt doesn't deserve to be overthrown," Viktor muttered.

"Ignoring that my family owes a great deal of our power and wealth to working within the system we already have, I do agree with you, at least to an extent. But can you guarantee that whatever replaces it wouldn't be just as bad or even worse? People are people are people, darling, and if there's one thing about people I can say for certain, it's that nothing made by our hands remains untainted for long. Greed and pride are the most dire of venoms, and we all bear those vipers in our hearts. Some of us are just worse at keeping them in their cages."

"This is far more melancholy talk than I expected to deal with tonight," he admitted, draining his wine in a single swallow. "I am not nearly drunk enough to wax philosophical, and since I believe getting drunk is looked down upon at these types of party…."

She laughed. "You'd be surprised. Sirius and I found some people in rather awkward states at our own party last year. But you're right; this is neither the time nor the place for depressing conversation. Tonight is to see if you can wine and dance me into submission."

"Is that a challenge I hear?" She winked at him, and he gave her a broad, sincere smile that dispelled the shadows of their conversation. "Our hosts were good enough to provide the wine, so all I need to do is triumph over you on the dance floor."

"There go those boasts again, pansy man," she teased playfully. "You think you're that good? Prove it."


My mind is a very disturbing place sometimes.

That's three Powers who have shown up in the flesh so far, four if you count the extremely limited glimpse you got of Mab in Ascendant. I don't plan for any of the others to get any screen time in this series.

Silently Watches out.