AN: For those who enjoy HP/Marvel Crossovers, I suggest shinebrightnetwork's "This Gonna Be Good." You won't be disappointed at all. It has Fem!HarryxWeasley Twins, time-travel, Deadpool insanity, and a kick-ass fight scene between Harri and Odin!
A few people have made comments about this story not being true to canon. They haven't explained whether that's HP, Marvel or Norse mythology canon, nor what it is they didn't like. If my previous chapter's description about realities combining together didn't make it obvious, this is an AU!
A guest reviewer thought Harry/Mel should be bisexual in both forms. I can't disagree strongly enough but an author's note isn't the platform for a gender/sexuality discussion.
And once again, I own nothing but my original spin on the characters. If you enjoy that then leave a tip in the patre0n account.
IMPORTANT: To any Scottish readers, especially those of the Clan MacFarlane/Byrne persuasion, I humbly hope you don't take offence and that I do the country and Clans right in this story. The Black family from this Marvel-AU replaces both of these and I do so with the greatest of respects to the Clans' history and to the people of Arrochar.
Illumination Requested
3rd May 2008 – New York Sanctum Sanctorum
It had been a little over thirty hours since Sorcerer Supreme felt reality rearranged to accept a visitor from another world. A little over thirty hours since he faced down an Elder Goddess and her parallel copy and they declared the visitor as their chosen warrior. They denied him the chance to assess the potential threat to his Earth, and Doctor Stephen Strange, even with his four centuries of life, was still a man who did not appreciate being told no.
He had spent those hours setting up a ritual allowing him to go over the head of the Elder Goddess. Strange was looking to gain cosmic aid by speaking to a being whose sole purpose was the protection of the multiverse. His younger self might be running around being a genius neurosurgeon, but he was a genius mystic defender of Earth's Realm. He was sure the Living Tribunal would be on his side.
Esoteric symbols covered the hard wooden floor and coloured candles formed a six-pointed star. The Cloak of Levitation hovered by the door with its large collar turned in disappointment. Strange knew it didn't agree with his actions but then, he was the Sorcerer Supreme and it was only a mystical relic.
The Cloak rippled as though picking up his thoughts but Strange continued to ignore it. He sat full-lotus and threw his mind and magic out into the cosmos to reach the ultimate Judge.
There was a brief cosmic moment when his astral form made contact with the Living Tribunal's realm. The next saw Strange's awareness pulled hard in another direction. Something had taken over his ritual, something powerful and dangerous. He had no control over the energies that made up the universe blazed around his spiritual self. He saw lights in colours that had no mortal names. Non-human dreams created patterns in the colours. Shapes and designs that promised knowledge or the answers to hidden desires. More lights created shadows that promised nothing but pain.
Strange cried out and buried his face in his arms to protect his mind from burning out. He instinctively threw up a mystical protective barrier around him in case of an attack.
None came. Instead, the intense energies receded and he was able to lift his head up to find himself in a copy of his attic. The facsimile was bare, lacking his mystical paraphernalia. The only solid part of the room was the circle within his barrier. The air beyond his shield was hazy and unfinished while shadows moved in his peripheral vision when there was nothing to make them.
"He wishes to question," a voice spoke from the shadows and Stephen Strange frowned. It was familiar to him yet his eidetic memory was unable to place it.
"He questions us," another whispered in unbridled anger, the emotion almost making the word incomprehensible. "He can't understand, no one understands."
It wasn't anger, Strange realised, spinning around in the hopes of seeing who was speaking. It was pure disgust.
"I could make him understand," a third promised. This voice offered everything he ever wanted if he only listened to it long enough.
"I can make him see," yet another giggled. The sound filled with unchained insanity. "I can make him see so much more than he does."
Doctor Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, swallowed as he realised exactly who surrounded him. They only had one word to describe them but it was enough. It was their name; it was what they were, and it was what they represented.
"Endless," he whispered into the hazy shadows. The rustling of movement he hadn't even known he was hearing stopped as he named them.
The haze retreated from around a figure and it was one he immediately recognised. She could have been any age and had short black hair and darker eyes. A silver eye of Horus marked the skin beneath the fathomless right eye. She wore a simple purple business suit with a silver ankh resting on her black blouse.
"You remember me, Sorcerer," the woman spoke in a dry, rasping voice.
"Hello, Death," he smiled. For a moment, the playboy doctor of his youth made an appearance. The secret rite of passage to become Sorcerer Supreme was to face the concept and truth of Death. The mystic had to face the unwinnable fight and accept that Death took everyone. The prize was for the entity in front of him to remove the threat of a natural death. "Fancy meeting you here."
The hazy air retreated a second time to reveal a tall man in a heavy cloak carrying a thick book chained to his wrist. The scrolls on the Endless described the book's leather as coming from an animal that had never existed. He was Destiny, a being who knew all that is, was, and would be.
"The change was foretold," the hooded man explained in a tone of finality that promised Very. Bad. Things if Strange pushed the subject. The Endless weren't embodiments of abstract concepts, they were the abstract concepts. He had no delusion he could survive an attack from them all. "Do what you are written to do, Sorcerer, and speak out to the mortal Pillars. But never again will you go beyond your realm to question this judgement."
"Why are you involved?" He couldn't help ask with a frown. He knew the Living Tribunal was more than willing to tell him uncomfortable truths. By the Vishanti, it had threatened to wipe the Earth from existence all because he had made a slight mistake with a creature called Zom.
Death smiled and the hazy shadows swallowed the siblings. Strange felt a sharp tug and was then thrown back into his mortal body. The impact of immaterial and material caused him to fall backwards from his meditative position and smack his head against the hard floor. He could hear the rustling of his Cloak even above his groans and sent the laughing cloth a scowl.
"I guess we go to Plan B," he grumbled.
The Cloak rolled its collars at the man's stubbornness.
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OoOoO
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Somewhere in Wales
"I knew I'd see you tonight," the man announced to the shadows. He poured two sniffers before turning to face his older looking visitor. He offered a glass and gave the charming roguish smirk that had gotten him into so many troubles in his youth. That those troubles usually came in the form of angry fathers surprised no one who grew to know him. "So what can I do for the Queen's Magician?"
"I'm called a Royal Adviser now, Jack," Sir Warren Traveler scoffed. He stepped into the room to take the offered glass. The eyebrow above his false, larger, right eye rose at what he smelt. The white quartz orb glowed in the firelight. "Hennessy?"
"My own small distillery," Jack smirked, taking a fortifying sip of the cognac. "Each bottle is at least fifty years old."
Sir Warren snorted in humour and enjoyed a sip. The taste continued to roll over his tongue long after he had swallowed. "It's not as though you aren't swimming in fifty years to wait for a good drink."
Commander Jack Gwynn stepped away from the drinks cabinet and made his way over to the desk. His measured movements were completely silent. The desk was overflowing with paperwork, with some in a long dead language Sir Warren knew he wouldn't understand.
The man who was one of the four magical pillars of the British Isles sat back and took a hard measure of his friend. "Are you finally going to ask me the question?"
The look and tone took Sir Warren back and he sighed, sad at the guarded expression staring back at him.
"Jack, if I wanted to know how old you are, I would already know," he reminded his friend. He slid into the chair opposite and took another sip of the Cognac. "My eye could show me everything I ever wondered about you if I asked it to."
"That it could," Jack agreed with a ghost of a smile. "So what's the word? I had expected James to come instead of you."
"James and that boy of his are attempting to get answers from their Otherworld patrons," Sir Warren explained, with a small shake of his head that told Jack exactly what he thought of that. "I've been arguing for years how unlikely it was for the Captain Britain Corps to cover every reality."
"I always said you could never trust a Merlyn no matter what he looked like or how he spelt his name."
Sir Warren ignored the tired subject by finishing his sniffer and placing the glass on the desk. Gwynn had been a loud voice against anyone using the name of legend and it was hard to argue when two had Satanspawn and Demonspawn as their surnames.
"According to James, Roma hasn't a clue and her father is having a bit of a temper tantrum. Hunter says it's because it was without the old man's say so."
Jack sneered at the description but held his piece. Tonight was not the time to rehash his thoughts on that subject.
"Her Majesty wants to know your thoughts," there was censor in Sir William's words. A questioning to why Jack had not already given his report. "We only suspect that whoever has come into our world has caused changes to happen we can't detect. James believes it might be possible."
"James Braddock is too blinded by his history as Captain Britain," Jack snapped in frustration. He shook his head in part disgust and part exasperation at how the children were acting. "Our families had ways to monitor each other's estate in case of danger or we needed to contact them. James was stupid enough to move the actual Braddock Estate. You can't rebuild homes like ours somewhere else and expect the magic to go with the bricks. As for Cassidy, he's too busy playing the hero with his friend Xavier and running from his pain to bother with the Keep."
Sir Warren listened to his friend's rant, knowing that the important information was coming.
"The Black estate has had its magic woken up, Warren, and there's only one possible way that could have happened."
Sir Warren's eyes widened and he rose in a move that hid his age. He gave the other man a deep nod of respect for his hospitality. "That's all I needed to hear, Jack. Her Majesty has ordered a debrief tomorrow morning to discuss options."
"I'll be there," Jack promised. "And Warren, we're going to need contact soon before they get their protections too strong for a valid threat assessment. Just because they've got Byrne blood doesn't mean they're loyal to the Crown."
Sir Warren nodded his agreement and left Commander Jack Gwynn to his thoughts. Both men had plans to make.
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OoOoO
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4th May 2008 - Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division (SHIELD) Helicarrier
The dark grey hermetic door opened for the six-foot figure to storm into one of the most secured rooms of the high-tech flying warship that was SHIELD's Helicarrier 1. Two agents followed but the cigar-chomping Colonel Nicolas J. Fury gave them no notice. He gave each face on the screen the barest of nods.
"Well, people?" He demanded in his usual no-nonsense manner. "It's been three days and I want answers last week."
No one dared roll their eyes at the Director's attitude. Some had spent decades dealing with the force of nature and were well accustomed to his manner.
"I can confirm that May 1st saw a portal open between us and the Negative Zone," said one of the two Native American Special Directors. He was Charles Little Sky, SHIELD designation Portal, a mutant inter-galactic teleporter and head of SHIELD's Alternate Reality Monitoring and Operational Response (ARMOR) division. He was also their expert in inter-dimensional travel. "At the same time, the Negative Zone went into a cascade structural failure. Someone or something came through the portal with the Negative Zone collapsing out of existence behind them. The dimension no longer exists."
"And isn't Reed Richards in a snit about that," the second Native American interrupted with a sigh. SHIELD designation Forge, real name unknown to all but Fury because he didn't believe in not knowing, and the co-Special Director of the revamped Special Strategic Reserve (SSR) Division. "You'd think that someone had killed his Schrödinger's puppy with how he won't shut up."
"Little Sky," Fury growled before Forge could go on a rant about their latest SSR recruit. Forge's mutant ability meant he didn't need to understand how something worked before being able to invent it. This clashed with the engineering, and everything else, genius of Reed Richards. It was the age-old battle between instinct and knowledge. "Are you telling me that this entity destroyed an entire dimension?"
"No, sir, I'm telling you it destroyed two entire dimensions as well as changed our own."
"Explain."
"That's us, Director," the heavily tattooed African-America Pandora Peters said. She was the head of SHIELD's Wizardry, Alchemy and Necromancy Department (WAND) with an unofficial SHIELD designation of Wicked Witch of the West. Peters was a powerful witch that you prayed to never get into a game of Simon Says with. "The portal was magical in nature, sir. It brought with it a massive wave of mystical energy that we're still trying to get a handle on. I can tell you that its original reality is now completed closed off from the rest of the multiverse. No one can get in or out of it, nor can it create any new realities. For all intents and purposes, it no longer exists."
"Details, Peters," Fury snapped, his single narrowing in frustration. "I need details."
"In that case, Nick, we're up shit creek without a fucking paddle if you want to take on whoever did this," Peters fired back, her usual disrespect to authority breaking free quicker than usual. "I have half my people in fucking comas while the other half is too afraid to use their magic. Even the smallest spell becomes overpowered. We're on the tail end of a finished ritual here, Director."
"A ritual to do what, exactly?"
"Completely change reality," Little Sky answered for her. There was only silence as everyone attempted to take in what they heard. "When I open up a warp and go somewhere else, I become a visitor to another reality. When people visit us, they're visitors to our reality. That's not what's happened, Director. Whoever, whatever, came through that portal has used enough power..."
"Magic," Peter interrupted, annoyed at her fellow Special Director skirting the word.
"Used enough magic to not visit our reality but actually insert them into our reality. They've made themselves a fundamental part of this world the same way we all are. Their home dimension is now this dimension."
"Why ain't this soundin' like a good thing?" Dum-Dum Dugan drawled out beneath his thick handlebar moustache. Special Director of SHIELD's Special Threat Assessment for Known Extra-normalities (STAKE) Division, Fury's longest and closest friend and who was now leading the newest version of the Howling Commandos.
"Because it's not, Dugan," Peters answered with a scowl. She was notorious for getting frustrated explaining magic to non-magicals. "This type of insert has sent ripples up and down the time-stream. Our world, our reality, is now not what it was before the Event. We are now a splintered off reality."
"Are you saying we aren't who we used to be?" Fury demanded, his gut twisted at the type of power that he was hearing about.
"I couldn't tell you," Peters shrugged. The few locks of her dark brown hair not tied back into a tight bun drifting across her brown eyes. "Rather, we are who we are now but not who we were or might have been before. This isn't a rewrite of our original reality, Nick. This is us becoming a different reality altogether. There is no fixing this. As far as our reality cares, there's nothing to fix."
"Options?"
"I hate to be a bringing of more bad news, darling," a beautiful woman spoke up from another screen. Her Italian accent held a small speck of Russian that was only noticeable if you knew it was there. The signature white streak running through the Contessa's silky black hair was well known. It had to be after all her time at red carpet events. She was the Special Director for SHIELD's Public Relations department, a skilled field agent, and sitting in for SHIELD's EuroMIND division that was having its own fires to put out. She was also Fury's sometimes lover. "But I would say our older cousins from across the Pond are in contact with whoever this is. My contacts are saying that MI-13 looks to be cutting us loose."
Valentina Allegra de Fontaine's base was Italy, partly so Fury could keep an ocean between them, and partly because her public persona was a European socialite. If anyone would hear what the British were doing first, it was her. Nicolas Fury, said to be the greatest spy in history, had only one reaction to everything he had heard.
"Well, fuck."
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OoOoO
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5th May 2008 - Sheraton Hotel conference room, New York
A hi-tech wheelchair rolled into the conference room. There was a serene air surrounding the paralysed man as he spoke to his companion walking beside him.
"I'm only a Professor, Reed," Xavier pointed out to his brown haired friend whose greying temples providing him with his own academic air. "People might know of my published work or my mutant activism, but neither of those would answer their curiosity about me using a floating chair."
"And yet you're Tony's godfather," Richards replied. The man who tied as the smartest in the entire world gave a little frown. "That alone would answer any uncomfortable questions."
"You could be right," Xavier accepted with a slight smile. "But I like the feel of something beneath my wheels. Consider this me walking around barefoot."
"At least let me build you one that has hover technology in case you ever need it," Mister Fantastic urged. "I'll make it transformable so that you don't lose your every-man image and make sure to use something that isn't repulsor technology so Tony doesn't feel slighted."
"Very well, thank you, Reed," Xavier accepted after thinking the offer over. His chair might contain many gadgets and secrets but he couldn't deny it would be nice for an upgrade. He turned to the empty room and a wide space that had been set up prior to their arrival. "I do believe our host is about to arrive."
Yellow and red sparks popped into existence, mystical sparklers spinning in the open area. They seemed to shoot out at chest height and both men heard the tell-tale fizz of a mystical portal opening. The sparks whizzed in a circle that opened a hole in reality, expanding in size until its bottom edge scorched the carpet. Neither man saw what was on the other side of the Sling Ring created portal in the time it took for Stephen Strange to step through and have the rip in space close behind him.
"Charles, Reed, thank you for coming."
"I'm curious, Stephen," Xavier couldn't resist asking. "Is it a thrill for you that we're having this meeting in the same hotel where you're currently giving a lecture on the Palmer-Strange Technique?"
"Strange-Palmer," Stephen automatically replied, glaring when both men smirked at his correction. "Actually, no, Charles, I'm preserving the timeline. I later use this room for a little get together and make a rather crass comment about the burn mark my portal has made."
"Playing temporal games with your past self aside, why are we here, Doctor Strange?" Reed asked. His brisk manner had become far more intense since the Event that destroyed the Negative Zone.
"I'm sure I don't have to tell either of you what happened recently..."
"The Astral Plane went insane."
"Something caused the Negative Zone's Crunch to occur over the span of minutes what should have taken another five hundred million years."
Strange nodded to both their answers and took a deep breath.
"When the planet was a fresh ball of rock and fire, the Essence of Creation brought the very first beings into existence," he explained. His hands moving behind his back in an unconscious lecturing posture. It would have been funny to both men if he didn't look so worried. "These were the Elder Gods. Beings of such power that at their strongest, they dwarfed all bar the very concepts of reality. As is the truth of life, war broke out between them.
"A great force was born to curtail their evilness. It slaughtered them until only a handful of these incredible beings remained," the two men of science listened intently. It was rare for them to learn about what lied behind the curtain. "These survivors put themselves into dimensions of their own making, dimensions that became their prisons. But the power of the Elder Gods still allowed them to affect all realities. You could be in any reality, any dimension, and it would be the very same Elder God that answered your prayer. This is true for all bar Gaea."
"The Greek primordial goddess of Life who came into existence along with Eros and Chaos," Reed added, much to Charles' amusement.
"That is one of her aspects, Reed. Gaea split herself across the multiverse, merging a piece of her being into every Earth that does or will exist. Each version is independent, a lesser version of herself with their own plans and actions.
"Moving between dimensions is not usually that difficult for those with the power," he segmented and both nodded their agreement. Charles was well aware that mutants could be born with the ability to do it. Reed had years ago created a dimensional bridge and often used it at night when he couldn't sleep. "What caused the death of the Negative Zone and the violent rippling throughout the Astral Plane was a mystical ritual. A woman of magic brought herself and her version of Gaea into this world. Whoever she is has allowed Gaea to merge with her alternate self, to merge with our Gaea."
"How bad is this going to be, Stephen?" Xavier immediately asked.
"Alas. I do not know, Charles," Strange admitted with a heavy sigh. The Cloak of Levitation clenched as though offering him support. "There are very powerful beings that could have stopped this yet allowed it to happen. The role of the Sorcerer Supreme is to stop attacks from outside our dimension. This is my mission, yet these beings say this woman is no threat. They do not believe this event will upset the great Balance. And that takes it out of my purview and into yours."
"We are the three pillars of humanity," Reed announced, looking at them. "Charles is the representative of mutantkind; you represent the supernatural and mystical world, while I am of the technology and, with my ties to SHIELD, also government agencies."
"Yes, Reed," Strange agreed. "I am not saying this woman is a threat to our world. I am saying I have been refused the chance to investigate her. But between the three of us, we have resources and avenues the others don't in finding her and finding out why she is here."
Charles Xavier sat back and thought about what they were suggesting. He wanted to find the one behind the massive power he had felt. He also knew that the search would keep Jean Grey connected to the X-Men for longer. A glance at Reed also gave him another reason. His friend's fury over the death of the Negative Zone was an almost physical thing. The rage radiated out from Reed with such intensity that it was making Xavier feel sick. He hoped doing this would keep his friend from falling into its darkness.
"I agree."
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OoOoO
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Xavier Mansion, Westchester, New York
"And that, my X-Men, is what we are looking at," Xavier finished his small briefing his mutant superhero team. "I know it isn't much but we must begin working on plans to fight mystical attacks if this woman becomes a threat. Please think over any ideas you might have in finding this woman. Scott, I would like for you to stay behind."
The large group of mutants left the office of their leader, the buzz of murmuring growing as they shared their thoughts with each other. The well-built man with messy brown hair waited for the room to clear, his eyes hidden behind specially made ruby quartz glasses that kept his optic blasts contained. Yet there was no mistaking that he was watching Jean Grey but the redhead never turned as she left the room.
"I realise that things haven't been easy for you, Scott," Xavier said, drawing his first X-Man out of his thoughts. "What with Jean leaving us and trying to integrate the new X-Men into the team."
"I'm working on it, sir," Scott admitted, sitting straighter as he addressed the man he saw as a surrogate father. "Alex and Lorna are talking about their future now they're married. Krakoa has had them wanting to seize the now as much as possible; they may even be discussing children. Bobby has also been researching degrees. He's taken a surprising interest in economics."
"A bit of a difference to his practical jokes of only a few years ago," Xavier chuckled. He allowed his second-in-command to ignore his obvious breaking heart. "I'm also not blind to the difficulty in working with people who have lived active lives, Scott. Logan with his history, regardless of how murky that is, means he has his own views on how the team should act. So too, John from being in the army, and even Storm's life of living it rough on the Savannah makes her someone used to following her own path. None of them are comfortable in a group dynamic following orders."
"Where are you going with this, Professor?"
"That it might be time for a new generation, Scott," Xavier explained with enthusiasm. "A group of New Mutants we can take in and teach how to control their powers. They will learn what it means to be a mutant and what it means to be part of the X-Men."
"Like us original five?" There was excitement in Scott's voice as he considered the plan. It struck to the very heart of what being the X-Men was for Cyclops. A group of friends who fought for what was right together, sharing the same dream as the Professor."
"Exactly," the man in question smiled. He was glad his protégé understood his reasoning. "This also means I'll be adding to your workload for the foreseeable future. I would like you to accompany me on my visits when I bring these young men and women into our fold."
"I'd be happy to, sir," Scott eagerly answered, practically vibrating in his chair. "It would be good to help those who need it."
Neither Cyclops nor the most powerful telepath in the world realised that one of the X-Men had not gone too far. The mutant known as Wolverine, a man who only knew himself as Logan, stood outside the office door with his enhanced hearing focused on the conversation inside. His frown grew more pronounced as he listened until he was fighting to keep himself from growing. He turned when he heard the scrape of a chair signalling Cyclops had risen, only to stop at the sight of a watching Jean Grey. She lifted a finger to her lips for him to keep quiet and then nudged her head towards the mansion's front door. He nodded and followed her, his mind churning over everything he had heard. His eyes also kept drifting to the sway of Jean's hips.
Jean didn't stop until they were within the trees that filled the Professor's land. She ignored where Logan's gaze had been, instead focused on maintaining a telepathic quiet zone to keep her mentor from picking out their thoughts.
"You know it's rude to eavesdrop," she said to break the silence; doing her best to ignore what his intense eyes did to her insides.
The last few days away from the mansion had allowed Jean to accept that her reaction to the wild man was a purely physical one. A sexual fire she refused to allow becoming something more. Unfortunately, the same reflection had her questioning her long-term future with Scott.
"You're one to talk, Jeanie," Logan replied in his gruff voice, pulling a cigar from the inner pocket of his leather jacket. "You were keepin' us hidden, weren't ya?"
"What do you think of what the Professor told us?" She asked, choosing to not answer the question. Logan took his time in answering.
The unique snikt sound followed the release of one metal claw from between his knuckles. A practised flick of the wrist saw the head of the cigar drop to the ground and then the sharpest cutting tool in the world slipped back beneath his skin. The wound easily sealed over as though it had never been, leaving behind a smear of blood that fascinated Jean.
"They hurt every time," Logan announced, biting down hard around the cigar. The words pulled her eyes up to look into his intense blue gaze. "I say Strange is throwing his toys away because someone else played in his sandbox. We don't know enough to make any guesses until this witch appears out from whatever rock is hiding her from Cerebra. And I don't like Chuck looking to make more child soldiers because us newer X-Men ain't drinkin' the cool-aid."
"That's not fair," Jean snapped, only for Logan to smirk at the lack of passion in her words.
"How old were you when Chuck recruited you, Red? He's planning to use One-Eye to recruit kids," his arm out to point at the mansion they had come from. The anger rising over what he had heard. "Not to learn how to use their powers and go on to have happy lives but to replace us, to replace you. You left to have your own life, Jean, and he's already got a list of potentials to take your place on the team."
Jean Grey, the simple daughter of a history teacher, wanted to deny the accusation. Professor Xavier had helped her when her powers first manifested. He had been her personal therapist for five years before she came to Westchester. And he locked away your telepathy; a loud voice reminded her. It had only been a year since he had seen to release her telepathic powers and the months since had seen her flying on waves of wild emotions trapped behind those mental barriers.
"What's your take on things, Ororo?" Logan asked, surprising Jean by looking up to where the slightly older and beautifully dark-skinned woman was hovering. Her long white hair fluttered in the gentle breeze that radiated off her.
"I think, Logan, that I am reconsidering my words," the once goddess of the Serengeti said as she lowered herself to the ground. "When Sunfire left after our first mission, the Professor asked us all if we were going to leave."
"And you said that two days was barely enough time to make that decision," Jean reminded the elegant woman. Their friendship had rapidly developed with Jean not able to think of Ororo no longer in her life. Even with their battle to have her understand the importance of wearing clothes.
"He told me that I had responsibilities, Jean," Storm continued in her gentle tone that was as soft as a summer's breeze. "I did not expect these 'responsibilities' to be hunting a woman protected by the Goddess. It goes against all that I have lived for."
"What of this other dimension?" Jean pushed. They could see that their arguments were striking deep within the redhead. "An entire universe was destroyed for her to come here."
"It is the nature of nature," Storm calmly answered. She brought up a palm to create a small rain cloud that drizzled over her hand. "If I cause it to rain in an area beset by drought then I must take it from somewhere else. If I stop a storm then I must send that power elsewhere. I have caused much damage in my desire to help others when I did not accept that this is nature's way."
"And you, Jeanie?" Logan asked the one question Jean had hoped they wouldn't. "You weren't hiding me from Charlie for shits and giggles. What d'ya really think?"
Jean Grey's silence was more of an answer than anything she could have said. Logan grunted and made to walk off only to stop when Ororo spoke again.
"Forgive me, Logan, but you are a great warrior, a wolf dominating the plains. What is it that has truly angered you, my friend?"
Logan looked over his shoulder at the exotic beauty whose scent calmed him. He held her eyes, a predator assessing prey, and the animal gaze turned to Jean. He said nothing until both women understood the seriousness of what he was about to share. They both nodded their promise of secrecy.
"Chuck would turn my little girl into a weapon and promise he was helping her as he did so. I'll kill anyone who thinks they can do that to her."
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6th May 2008 – Coven
The Coven had spent the last few days unwinding and relearning how to live above ground. The lack of having to fight for their constant survival was both a blessing and a shock to their minds, with the excitement of the Arrochar villagers only making the feelings stronger. Thankfully for their collective sanities, the people were quick on the uptake and allowed the Coven their needed space.
Yet they were used to being busy, even if that was only busy surviving. The need to do something was beginning to override their need and desire to recover, making it a restless group sitting down for a Harry cooked meal.
The only sound in the small dining room was that of cutlery. The decades the group had spent together had long ago removed any uncomfortable silences between them. The glances each shared were enough that they knew the same subject was dominating their thoughts.
"We don't have to fight, not anymore," Neville announced after cleaning his mouth, finally speaking aloud their new reality. "We can do whatever we want."
The Coven as one put their cutlery down, picked up their drinks and leaned back in their chairs to collect their thoughts.
"We don't have to," Daphne said, carefully. Her intense gaze jumped between Neville and Harry. "But will we?"
All eyes looked towards the thoughtful Harry who had put his glass back on the table, turning it so that the candlelight caught the crystal.
"Let's be honest here," he began without looking up, talking partly to himself as well as them. "After everything we've seen and done, after the end of our world, this table still represents a major legacy of the potential good it contained."
Harry raised his Avada eyes and looked at each as he continued.
"We are Pure-blood, Half-blood, and Muggle-born. We are children of the social elite of Britain and Europe. Our legacies are of generations of politicians, children of Aurors and Spell-crafters. Some of us have been at the very bottom of our society's boot while some saw its corruption every day by the struggle of their parents, aunt or grandmother. I once sat down and stared the non-Riddle Slytherin House in the eye and even they didn't have the potential that we would if that world was still alive. So yes, Neville, we now have a chance to be something other than be fighters."
"World players," Daphne immediately answered. She was a political animal as much as she was a destructive force and Harry's words were lighting that fire inherited from her father. Susan was nodding along with her own passions that weren't about death and destruction waking up. "We could reshape the world with what we have if we planned it right."
"Yes," Harry smiled at her and, for a brief moment, it was the crooked grin that had caused so many hearts to swoon. "We can be world players in politics, finances, business, and, if needed, military. The information Gaea gave us of our new home showed us exactly what this world is teetering on."
"A new genetics war," Dennis growled, his techno-magical right fist clenching at the idea of the war starting afresh.
"And we're on the ground floor before that happens," Harry promised his friend. "We're children of those who fought in a blood war and survivors of our own. We know the signs, the acts needed to stop it happening again before it gets a chance to even breathe."
"No rest for the wicked," Susan announced, repeating her aunt's favourite saying whenever her niece would ask why she was so busy. "Not when you're trying to protect the innocent."
"Exactly," Harry nodded, turning back to Neville who was listening with a thoughtful look. "I don't think we ever will find rest, brother, but we can stop children having to become the next us. And isn't that something to fight for?"
Neville had to agree but it was obvious that there was still something on his mind.
"We don't have any real identities in this world," he reminded his brother and best friend only for Harry to smirk.
"That's easy enough, Nev. You and Daphne can hit London while Susan and Dennis do a bit of American travelling. Gabrielle and Blaise do Italy, France and Spain. You all know what to do. Within six weeks we'll be buried so deep into the system that only an expert would notice anything suspicious."
The Lord Longbottom nodded his acceptance to the order, as did the others. No one questioned that Harry was still their leader. Faking identities had become a necessary skill once the larger world began hunting wizards and witches. It was too easy for governments to find them from their years off the grid while learning magic in school. It had forced falsifying a non-magical history had become a well-honed skill.
"What we need is a major moneymaker," he continued and this caught their attention. Various eyebrows rose at what he was suggesting. "We might have a crazy amount of Galleons that we could turn into cash but that would only go so far. You said we could be political and financial players but that all starts with the business side. It's a reason to get into the game that people would accept."
"He's right, Harry," Susan said, adding her thoughts. "Can you imagine Auntie's reaction if some mysterious group appeared from nowhere with a Gringotts Vault full of Galleons but no family history or reason to have the money? She'd go hunting."
"Rubbish," Luna declared, far too brightly for shooting down Harry's idea. The blonde received many glares that she smiled back at from behind her green blindfold.
"No, Lu, she's right," Harry argued. His mind coming up with different business ideas they could create. The Potters, and before them the Peverells, had been famous for inventing and improving magical products and Harry wanted to do something that honoured his family's legacy. Neville's chuckling broke through his thoughts.
"No, Harry, she means actual rubbish," the quirky girl's husband laughed. He loved how his wife continued to be able to confuse those around her. He leaned over to kiss her cheek and the quirky Seer to tilt her head at the very last moment to capture his lips with hers. There did no doubt the intense love that the couple shared in that brief kiss before Neville sat back with a grin. He wasn't going to tell the others that the two had actually talked it out between them before the dinner. "We become the country's biggest cleaner of rubbish and it would rake in the money after the initial setup costs. A rune setup would allow us to split the rubbish up. We can reuse the metals and fabrics, and I'm sure I could use the organics as a good fertiliser. Anything we don't want or need can be resold or vanished."
"That's right," Dennis proclaimed. His manic grinned reminding the group that he was a Creevey as his eyes shone with ideas. "We know how to mix metals and enchantments to make better materials than this world has. We'd corner the steel market with what we know. Hell, we'd put the steel market out of business. And we can easily melt anything else down that others can't and not worry about the fumes. We can strip everything to its raw materials and sell it back to the country recycled."
Harry could only blink at the husband and wife team as the rest of the Coven mirrored Dennis' grin. The excitement of their lives gaining new purpose became an almost tangible thing.
"Here's to Malfoy Waste Management, the greatest cleaners up of Muggle rubbish in the world and our first step in rebuilding the world!"
The building that had stood silent and empty for centuries erupted with the laughter of a family cheering for a future far brighter than the past they had left behind.
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OoOoO
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7th May 2008
Melania was a suspicious woman by nature. Harry's childhood under the roof of the abusive Dursleys laid the foundation but it was a way of thinking that only grew as she entered the magical world. It was a way of life within Slytherin House and ultimately became a central part of who she was. So her natural instincts where understandably aroused when her Coven scattered to the four winds and Luna suddenly announced she had a wardrobe.
"Lu, honey," she called out in a faux-sweet tone that didn't fool the smirking blonde. "Why do I need to wear this?"
"You need to change for the nice men," Luna explained in her usual 'I know something I'm going to drive you insane about' voice that made Melania question why she loved the younger woman. "You can't make an impression if you aren't dressed."
She didn't have to ask who the 'nice men' were when Luna was wanting her to change into her SAS M-Squadron uniform. It was apparently time to face this world's version of the government.
Mel sighed as she stared at the uniform. She was already married to Nymphadora when the Neo-Death Eaters rose. The two contacted the British government for help training their Aurors in combat that wasn't about exchanging dangerous lights with the enemy. The talks had gone right to the very top where Mel, Dora, and her closest advisers had to explain to the Queen the truth of what had been happening in her Magical Realm. Her Majesty had agreed to the training of the Ministry's forces only if some joined the military. She worried about the Ministry falling beneath another Lucius Malfoy or a repeat of the Grindelwald War.
They had accepted the conditions and the reasons for them, and many of Mel's friends had decided to sign up. Melania, Dora, Blaise, and Neville were the first of the SAS M-Company while Susan and Neville became British Marines. The Creevey brothers had gone into the Air Force, Dennis following his older brother so that he could "keep the airhead from flying off course just to take the ideal photo of a sunrise."
"Hurry, big sister," Luna called out, breaking Mel from her memories. She went to point her wand at the uniform only to stop at the next words coming through her open door. "And don't do the switching spell. You know the uniform doesn't sit right when you do that."
Mel growled at the truth of the statement and began to change into her uniform. She was putting on the sand-coloured beret with its changed badge – the flame-wreathed Excalibur was piercing a horizontal wand – when the wards announced that three men were approaching the castle. The men stopped some distance from the front door and simply waited, telling Mel that they knew of the wards.
"I don't like this, Lu," she exclaimed when she found Luna standing by the front door with her bone staff in hand. Her friend wasn't dressed to impress which only made her frown more. "And I don't like the idea of you all alone."
"I can look after myself, Melania Black," Luna patiently told Mel. The other woman was smiling despite knowing her friend immediately looked at the scars from her Dark Magic forced enucleation. "You need to go and get our plans started."
"You knew this would happen last night," Melania accused, her eyes narrowing when Luna continued giving the infuriating smile. "You're a mean witch and I don't know what Neville sees in you."
The words were softened by the loving kiss Mel placed on Luna's forehead. There was a rustle of wings and Hedwig gently landed on the blonde's shoulder, softly hooting in promise to protect their little girl.
Melania walked out to face the men waiting for her, hoping her little sister knew what she was doing. The comfort coming through her familial bond with Hedwig helped settle her nerves.
The three strangers were standing apart and straightened when she left the building. The man in the middle could have easily fitted in at Diagon Alley and, put a robe on him, wouldn't have been out of place in a Wizengamot meeting. He was around six foot with grey hair loosely hanging on his shoulders. His aura pulsed with magic, most of it swirling in and out of the false right eye. She knew it was far more powerful than old Mad Eye's little bauble.
The one on the left was the tallest of the three but not by much. His grey hair was short, not quite military cut. There was a sense of service about the way he stood, even in the perfectly cut suit that she knew was handmade. The man's brown eyes never stopped moving, assessing the entire area as though he was waiting for an attack.
The third man appeared to be the youngest of the three but she knew how deceiving looks were. His scruffy brown hair reminded her of Harry's when it wasn't long enough to be tied back and there was a lazy stance to the man that didn't fool Mel in the slightest. The old World War II coat was open to reveal an off-the-rack suit and his smile reminded her of Dennis' when her friend was out for seduction. None of this took away from the very uneasy aura he was giving off that caused something deep inside her to shift. Mel let the feeling slowly grow as she approached the men, allowing the power of the Resurrection Stone to reveal their souls.
All three men were more than they seemed with the third the most extreme and Mel quickly shut down the extra Sight before she began crying over the Truth it revealed. Somehow the man realised she had seen the real him and the boyish smile vanished, replaced by a wariness that she respected.
"Dear Lady," the man in the middle bowed in a way that he never looked away from her. Melania was positive he could feel her magic as she felt his. "I am Sir Warren Traveler, the Queen's Adviser in the Mystic Arts. The man to my right is Sir James Braddock and to my left is Commander Jack Gwynn. To whom do we have the honour of addressing?"
The mode of address was a surprise and for a moment Melania felt as though she was home. She dipped her head in respect to their social standings.
"I am Lady Melania Black, Head of House Black, Co-Regent of House Potter, and I welcome you to this land gentleman."
"And we welcome you to our world, Lady Black," Sir Braddock answered, a sliver of the mistrust slipped past his pleasant smile. "We'd like you to come with us to answer some questions. I'm sure you understand."
"Of course, Sir James, and where is it you'll be taking me?"
"A city called Glasgow," Gwynn smiled, his charming persona not fooling her in the slightest. "It's…"
"I'm very familiar with Glasgow," she interrupted with a smile to keep a sting out of her words. They didn't seem too surprised by her words but then they were politicians. "Shall we?"
The conversation might have been light and friendly but they all knew Melania was on her way to an interrogation. This was even more obvious when the group left the Black grounds and came across a waiting fleet of government vehicles and their accompanying Special Forces protection. Mel's instincts didn't like being surrounded by so many weapons but she did enjoy the ripple of unease that went through the soldiers when they caught sight of her uniform.
"Trust me, big sister," Luna's voice sounded in her ear through the special communication earrings they all wore. The sheer number of concealment enchantments meant it was only Dennis' technomanced addictions that allowed them to do their jobs. "Everything will be fine."
"Why the hell does Melania need to be careful?" An angry Daphne demanded to know. The woman in question fought down a wince at the image of Neville tying Daphne up so she wouldn't hurt Luna. Daphne Greengrass was overprotective of her and had slaughtered people who had only tried hurting her. "What the bloody hell is going on there?"
"Don't worry. It's only the government wanting to talk to our fearless leader."
Mel was thankful that no one was watching her face as she stepped into the large SUV when Luna gave her answer. The loud cries of 'What' almost drowned out Neville's resigned sigh. The mildly insane Seer gave a cheerful explanation of what was happening. The entire time Daphne ranted threats if a hair on Melania's head was looked at wrong.
Susan and Blaise were making detailed and increasingly elaborate plans to both rescue Mel and take out the British military if needed. The insanity had reached the point where Susan was theorising how many dragon constructs she would need to bring the country to a screeching halt when Sir James broke the car's silence.
"The Regiment? Truly?"
The voices in Melania's ears stopped at the disbelief in his voice only to start up again in cries of anger and annoyance at his attitude. Melania raised an eyebrow at his condescending manner while miles away, one Brigadier Alysande Stuart was watching the live footage from the SUV and narrowed her eyes in mutual disgust at Braddock's tone.
"Who Dares Wins, Sir James," Melania answered and her tone was hard and grew colder as she spoke. "And I have spent my entire existence daring life. You are talking to Major Black, leader of M Company, the first magical to complete the adjusted SAS training and the only survivor of the Battle of Balmoral where a home-grown terrorist group looked to assassinate the Royal Family during Her Majesty's yearly stay. Do not disgrace the people who died in that attack by disrespecting this uniform."
The air within the armoured vehicle had grown heavy and Melania's laurel eyes had brightened until they burned the colour of the Killing Curse. She pinned the man to his seat, daring him to speak. Then tension broke when the soldier sitting in the shotgun position spoke up.
"Adjusted, Major?"
The tension slowly eased from Mel as she turned her attention to the speaker, her eyes bleeding back to their true colour as caught his in the rear-view mirror.
"You cleared for this mission, soldier?"
"Sergeant Goodman, Ma'am," the man introduced himself, Melania's attitude bringing out his military instincts. "We're a STRIKE squad; we don't go anywhere unless we have all the Intel."
Mel smiled at the attitude as well as the man's name. Luna's instructions to 'Go with the nice men' now had a different meaning.
"My body is magically boosted, Sergeant, and I come from an abused childhood," Mel admitted with a wry smile. "That means any instructor screaming in my face would find themselves blasted across the courtyard and I can physically outlast someone who doesn't have any boosts. Training had to be longer, harder, and more punishing to overcome our extra endurance and recovery speed."
Goodman whistled but his impressed expression turned into a frown at her shake of the head.
"It ended up the same torture, Sergeant," she promised the man. "The distances run and the weight carried might be longer and heavier but comparing the ratio of my baseline to yours, the effect is the same. It was still a brutal experience that many of my people couldn't get through no matter how much they tried."
The convoy took an hour to arrive in Glasgow and another fifteen minutes to pull in front of a non-descript building. Mel could only shake her head at how familiar the entire situation was. She had gone through a similar situation when first looking to merge Aurors with military training. The government had been paranoid bastards even then.
The Lady Black took everything in as the cars drove into the underground parking. Luna's soft voice was giving a background commentary on everything happening to Melania so the rest of the Coven didn't come in wands blazing. Her little sister's Sight wasn't an all-encompassing thing and normally needed her to focus on a specific event for her to See with any clarity. Seeing the present was far easier for the blind woman to do.
They took her through biometric scanners and a maze of identikit corridors until finally shown into a bland grey room. She would bet all her magic that the giant mirrored glass dominating one wall was two-way. She smirked and nodded at it before facing the man waiting for her. He was sitting behind a steel table shuffling a larger than a normal sized deck of cards.
"Hello, Lady Black," the strange man in silver armour said. His use of her name had her suspect they had monitored the car ride to the base. The armour's chest was black with a golden rampant lion on it while a red cloak hung over the back of his chair. A helmet lay on the table so she could see his short and tidy brown hair. "My name is Albion and I will be your interviewer today."
"That's an interesting name," she commented with a raised eyebrow. Albion waved her into the empty chair and she took it like a Pure-Blood Lady. Her Rich Bitch attitude of straight back and crossed legs at odds with the military uniform she wore. "It's a name I would have expected back home."
"It is who and what I am," the man shrugged, his blue eyes far more intense than the polite words he was using. "It is a calling."
"And who are you when you aren't Albion?" Now that Melania was closer, she was surprised to see that the cards he was shuffling looked like a Tarot deck.
"I have a PhD in History and a BA in English Literature," Albion confessed. He leant across the table to place the deck in front of her. "I've taught both subjects in my time."
"I might keep you in mind if I ever look for a teacher," she answered, cutting the deck without preamble. Melania split it into seven piles, one each for her friends, and then put them together in the order they stood for the ritual that brought them to the world.
"Are you thinking of opening a school?" The question seemed innocuous but there was almost eagerness in the tone. It made Melania pause, considering the idea as he took the deck back.
"We could," Neville's thoughtful murmur came through the earring and the others all gave some noise of consideration. "I don't think there's a Hogwarts for mutants."
"I might," she finally answered, talking to her friends as much as the man in front of her. "Tell me something, Albion. Why all the politeness? You all know I'm from another dimension yet everyone has been polite even with the forceful pickup."
"Our country is an unusual one, Lady Black," Albion said as he began to lay out the cards out in an unusual spread. Mel watched the cards and noticed that the deck was of Arthurian design. She felt it fitting. "We are one of the leading nations in the world and yet, we are still closely tied to our history of myths, legends and magic. It is not that we haven't forgotten the old ways, it is that we know we still live alongside the strange and unusual even in today's world."
"The magic is in the blood and the blood soaks deep into the land," she quoted from the Potter Book, a secret history for the Houses Potter and Black that went back to their creation. It was their founder's philosopher. Albion looked up from placing a card in surprise at the words and then gave her an open smile.
"Exactly," he nodded, finally finishing the spread and placing the unused deck to the side. He didn't look at the cards but leant back in the chair to observe her. "MI5 is about keeping our country safe while MI6 is our foreign intelligence service. Everything you see here is MI-13, who focused on keeping track of the unusual and unique. One thing it has always known about is the ties to the land and Queen that bind our Majesty's Four Lords."
"One family for each of Britannia's lands," Mel finished with a groan and shake of the head, having flashbacks to Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts. "I didn't even think about that. When I used my blood to open up the Arrochar Castle, I tied myself to those oaths. I pledged myself as a vassal to the throne."
"I see you understand the situation."
"Oh, I understand. I could still go nuts and be a threat to the people but I can't be a danger to the Land or Queen. Clever, very clever."
"You don't seem surprised such things are possible," Albion noticed, glancing at a section of the spread.
"I'm not. I'm very familiar with binding magical oaths," she admitted. She had to filter out the quickfire ideas that the others were coming up with to get around any oath. "I'm more disgusted that I didn't think of the possibility."
Albion hummed and there was a moment of silence as the strange man read his cards. He had a faraway look in his eyes when he finally looked up.
"Tell me about your word," he asked and she felt as though he already knew far more about it than she was comfortable with. "The cards say you should start at World War II."
Melania snorted and looked to the two-way mirror. Whether she was staring at her reflection, into the past, or attempting to look through at those watching the interview was unknown to the people in the other room. They all agreed it bordered on the dreaded thousand-yard-stare.
"I suppose that's a good enough place to begin," she admitted, turning back to Albion. "The Magical World had hidden from the rest of society after the Inquisition swept Europe. It locked itself away behind powerful spells and turned its back on the world, letting time pass by without it. It was inevitable that this would come back to cost the Magicals.
"I don't know how it was here but our history books say that the Second World War was like the First, non-magical versus non-magical. That's not quite the truth. The Dark Lord Grindelwald looked to conquer the world at the same time as the Nazis expanded out of Germany. I never learned if he used the Nazis as a shield to hide his activities, was working with them to spread terror, or if it was all a terrible coincidence that two tyrants rose at the same time."
"Our Nazis formed a splinter group named Hydra," Albion informed her. Sharing as she did. "Hydra moved beyond the racist rhetoric and into desiring world domination. We had many heroes and metahumans fighting against both forces."
"And that is the real difference between this world and mine. The Magical society had a law that stated non-magical people were never to learn what hid in the shadows. Those who fought against Grindelwald forces were forced to do so while also making sure they were never found out by either side."
"What happened if they were?"
"I'm sure the same as in this world," Mel shrugged. "Cover stories are made up and if needed, memories are altered to fit the new 'facts.' The Grindelwald War is notable for the rise of the two men whose influence destroyed my world."
Melania paused as the door opened and a man walked in carrying a tray with a jug of water and two glasses. He said nothing as he put the tray on the table and walked out while Albion immediately poured them both drinks. Mel took her glass and cast a wandless detection charm. The water glowed blue, indicating it was free of contaminants. It was Albion's turn to raise his eyebrows at the light show.
"A detection charm for poisons," she smirked, sipping the cool liquid. "Assassination attempts are not pleasant."
"I imagine not," Albion said, impressed by the simplicity of the magic he had witnessed.
"Tom Riddle was a boy born to a witch who died in childbirth and a non-magical who didn't even know, or care, that he existed," she continued. She made sure to put her glass back on the tray so not to disturb the spread. "He was an orphan living during the Blitz, angry at the world and believed himself special because he had magic. He would go on to become a Dark Lord who desired nothing more than to see the world burn."
"Sounds like a delightful fellow."
"He was a murdering wanker whose greatest claim to fame was failing to kill a one-year-old," Melania's spat, her powerful Slytherin mask cracking from its lack of use. "And then we have Albus Dumbledore, the man who believed to have battled Grindelwald and finally put a stop to the man's reign of terror. His fame also pushed him into gaining the role as Headmaster of Britain's best magical school. Riddle would reappear in the seventies under a new name and a very familiar philosophy; the genetics of one group of people being better than the genetics of others."
Mel stared into Albion's eyes and he could see the rage that she had burning beneath her layer of civility. "It turned Magical Britain in the Germany that had the Nazis rise to power. He almost gained total power until he attacked a family who managed to destroy his body at the cost of their own lives, and their child becoming the most famous orphan in the world."
Albion looked down at the cards and frowned, not understanding what he was reading. "You, but not you."
"Show them," Luna commanded and Mel guessed the show was for whoever was watching behind the glass. A mental command saw her body rippling until Harry Potter was sitting there, his uniform adjusting to the physical changes. Albion's jaw dropped to Harry's amusement and he changed back before continuing her tale.
"My family has a history of shapeshifting. My ability is binary. I am one or the other," she explained with a shrug. "By this time, Dumbledore was high up in the government and allowed many of Riddle's people to go free after they claimed to be under his control."
"The Nuremberg Defence," Albion said, shaking himself down to move past the surprise metamorphosis.
"Riddle came back many years later when I was attending the magical school. My friends and I were a major part of the war. We fought against the racism and bigotry on one side and the blind obedience to Dumbledore on the other. We won at great cost but felt we could finally live our lives."
Albion stared at a second part of the spread and seemed to See more than what she was saying. His face softened in a sympathy that filled his words. "Ideas and philosophies don't die."
"They don't," Mel agreed, as her right fingers lightly stroked her left ring finger. "Fanatics from both sides continued to crop up, waging a war that pushed the world to its brink with each act. We kept hoping every victory was us finally winning but it wasn't enough. It was never enough. The cult of those two men destroyed it all."
"You saved us, Mel," Neville spoke into the silence, the tears evident in his voice. "You saved Luna."
"You saved me," Daphne added and Mel's heart broke as she heard the other woman's sobs. The rest of the Coven added their affirmations that she hadn't failed. That she had done everything she could but it was a reality she could only sometimes believe.
She was so lost in the words of her friends that she didn't notice Albion reading the rest of the spread. He nodded to the mirror and to the half-Asian woman behind it. She then turned to one of the other watchers and gave her opinion.
"She's telling the truth as she knows it."
The target for her report stood and nodded to Sir Traveler, imperially walking out of the room. The aged wizard took a steady breath and sent a weak smile to the telepath in thanks before following.
Melania was brought out of her emotional turmoil when the door opened and she saw the Queen's advisor.
"Lady Black, your Queen and Country have need of you once more."
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OoOoO
SN: The communication earrings are inspired by the same used in Fairy Heroes. A funny, if time-loopy Luna-Harmony time-travel story. Give it a read.
So some people will shout "But women aren't allowed in the SAS!" They're right; tradition still says women aren't allowed to join the elite unit. And this is one tradition that should be broken.
People playing the Coven:
Melania Black – Monica Bellucci
Harry Potter – Either Jared Padalecki or a youngish Leonard DiCaprio
Daphne Greengrass – Elisha Cuthbert
Gabrielle Delacour – Sofia Vergara
Dennis Creevey – Jensen Ackles or Viggo Mortensen
Luna Lovegood/Longbottom – A blonde Julie Andrews
Blaise Zabini - Young Antonio Banderas (from Assassins)
Susan Bones – Christina Hendricks
Neville Longbottom – Steve McQueen
Last Edited: 24-11-2017