Thanks for reading the last two chapter and extra thanks to those of you who took the time to leave feedback! Sorry, last chapter and snippet. You'll notice this here is chapter 3. ;)
... And that's all I've got. There are a lot of questions to be answered, so on to the chapter!
Chapter 3
The Meeting Hall of the International Confederation of Wizards lay behind a cheerless, forbidding door. It had been crafted from dark mahogany wood with no embellishments apart from a knocker that looked like it had never cracked a smile in its entire existence, and a large carving of a pointed wizard's hat surrounded by a circle of mistletoe – the symbol of the ICW.
What it lacked in decor, it more than made up for in warding magic. Kingsley didn't think there was a more heavily-warded door in the world, warded against everything imaginable with at least as many traps for those who would dare attempt to break those wards. There was so much magic weaved into the door that it was nearly visible to the naked eye, an aura that covered the door in a constant, steady glow. Or as much glow as dark mahogany could give off.
It wasn't Kingsley's first time being called before the Confederation, but the door didn't become any less intimidating through exposure. At least it was in Berlin this time. Last time he'd had to take an international portkey to Boston, because the Meeting Hall moved every few weeks, supposedly to make it fair to all countries. Kingsley wasn't sure that 'fair' was one of the words he would've used to describe it.
Still, he grasped the knocker and knocked twice. The knocker's eye's flew open and stared at him sternly.
"Kingsley Shaklebolt, Minister of Magic for Great Britain," he announced himself.
The knocker continued to stare at him for a few, long moments. Then there was a loud, ominous 'click', and the door quietly slid open. Kingsley took a deep breath.
"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here," he mumbled under his breath. He remembered some Muggle had written that somewhere, but couldn't remember where or how he'd first heard it. The phrase seemed oddly appropriate.
Kingsley pulled the door open further and entered the Meeting Hall.
It was a colourless, rounded room with walls made from unadorned, grey stone and floors of polished granite. Rows of wooden high-backed chairs surrounded a raised wooden podium in the centre of the otherwise empty floor space in a large semi-circle, each row hovering above the one below it, the chairs rising automatically into the air as they became occupied. Only the large, elaborately-carved seat of the Supreme Mugwump stayed where it was, already on a platform with four steps.
Kingsley took a seat in the observer's section, which faced the ICW but was just off to the side of the speaker's podium. There were about three dozen seats here for members of the press, political observers, presenters and interested citizens (though there didn't tend to be many of those).
Once the final, high-backed chair had risen, the Supreme Mugwump called the meeting to order. He was an elderly Romanian wizard with a dark beard liberally peppered with grey and tanned, weather-beaten skin. His name was mostly unpronounceable and so Kingsley, like just about everyone else, simply addressed him by his title.
The International Confederation of Wizards spent the first hour debating various minor issues before finally calling on him. Kingsley quietly took a deep breath, straightened himself to his full height and smoothed his face into a calm, emotionless mask as he took to the podium. He scanned the wizards and witches staring down at him, trying to gauge just what mood they were in and what degree of questioning he was in for.
It didn't look promising.
He cleared his throat. "Supreme Mudgump," he began, not bothering to speak above his normal tone, knowing from experience that the projection spells on the podium were some of the best in existence. "And assembled witches and wizards of the International Confederation of Wizards, I am Kingsley Shaklebolt, the Minister of Magic for Great Britain. I understand I have been summoned here before you today to speak to my administration's efforts in subduing the last remnants of the pro-Pureblood group knows as the Death Eaters."
He looked around the room and saw several people nodding at his words. Probably appreciating that he was getting straight to the point.
"In which case, I can assure you that I, Britain's aurors and everyone at the Ministry of Magic for Great Britain, are doing everything in our power to apprehend these final members and put a stop to their threat once and for all! Is it taking longer than any of us would like? Yes, I'll be the first to admit that it is. But what you all seem to forget is that Voldemort had years to grow his supporters, to spread his ideas and ideals both before the First Blood War and in the interim leading up to the Second. And may I remind you, ladies and gentleman, that many of the Death Eaters we've apprehended over the years have come from countries outside of Britain. These followers hide in plain sight just as they always have and with Voldemort himself dead, his mark has disappeared from their skin making it nigh near impossible to detect them by any usual methods."
Kingsley looked around at the witches and wizards of the Confederation and allowed a hint of anger to colour his voice.
"If any of you have suggestions on how to identify these Death Eaters, I'm willing to listen. What I am not, however, willing to do is allow this hunt for Death Eaters to become the exclusive driving force of my administration and Britain's Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The war is over and what my people need is peace and stability, not what Muggles would term a 'witch hunt'."
He paused, wondering if they would allow him to end with this. He meant every word – it was why he'd ultimately decided to make the changes he had in the Auror Department, after all. But, the witches and wizards he was speaking before were intelligent and he didn't think they would let him get away with only some heart-felt emotion and a well-crafted speech.
They didn't, of course.
"Minister Shaklebolt, though we appreciate your efforts and determination to return stability to your country," said the tall, skinny witch representing Italy. "Truth be told, you are to be commended for those efforts, however it does not change the fact that this peace you reach for seems worryingly far from your grasp. Just last week, there was a yet another attack in Central London, which resulted in the deaths of six wizards."
Kingsley nodded in acknowledgement, cursing once again the timing of the attack. "The deaths were unfortunate, but unavoidable. The attackers had to be stopped before they caused irrevocable damage to the Statue of Secrecy, and the death of even more Muggle bystanders than they already had. Of those six dead and the two apprehended, only three had been flagged as potentially having ties to the Death Eaters."
"That does not exactly speak highly to the competency of your Auror Department," the German delegate commented with a snort of disapproval.
Kingsley grit his teeth. "With all due respect, my Auror Department is stretched thin enough on the ground as it is. They are doing what they can with what is available to them. And, as I have already stated, I will not permit them to use more invasive methods."
"Ve are not asking you to be more invasive!" the rotund French delegate declared loudly, his high-pitched voice grating on Kingsley's ears. "Only Zat you put a stop to this killing! The magical community iz small enough vithout losing more adult vizards!"
"England's wizarding population simply can't afford to let this rapid decline continue!" added a grim-faced woman with an American inflection he was fairly certain came from Boston. Or possibly Chicago. "It won't be long before it begins to affect the rest of us as well."
Kingsley frowned. Since when had this become about population?
Before he could say anything in his defence, the Supreme Mudgump silenced the room with a single tap of his wand against the small, innocuous-looking bell dangling from the end of the right-hand armrest of his seat. It looked like nothing more than a small, silver bell, but with a single tap, a low-pitched wave of sound swept across the room, brushing across Kingsley's face and ruffling his clothes.
"I don't think we need to tell Minister Shaklebolt the reasons he needs to put a stop to Death Eater attacks in England," the Supreme Mudgump practically hissed at the French and American delegates, his eyes narrowing at them in obvious annoyance. "These are, after all, his people and the Muggles within his domain, who are in the most danger from these attacks."
Then the man looked down to Kingsley, his dark eyes boring into him in a way that wasn't quite threatening, but wasn't entirely non-threatening either. "Minister Shaklebolt, you yourself are a former highly-ranked auror, a decorated veteran of Britain's force. You do not seem to be a man content on waiting for your opponents to move in order to counter-attack."
Kingsley met his eyes and held the gaze, refusing to be cowed.
"I never said I was," he answered calmly and, to his surprise, he saw a pleased look crossed the Supreme Mudgump's face. The man blinked, and it was gone. But it was enough to bolster Kingsley's courage and give him hope. He looked away from the ICW leader and addressed the room.
"You've misunderstood me," he told the international assembly of witches and wizards. "Yes, it's true that we aren't aware of all whom are attached to the Death Eaters, but in the name of peace and stability we've altered our methods of stopping them. At the moment, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has been concentrating its efforts into two fronts. The first, being the obvious: defending civilians, be they wizard or Muggle, from Death Eater attacks and apprehending the perpetrators. The second, however, is less obvious and certainly more discrete. I currently have a team at ground level, listening to whispers, watching for rumours and suspicious movements. In recent months, the Death Eaters have become more organized in their attacks. We believe this means a new leader has emerged."
He paused, letting this news soak in.
"This is both good and bad. Obviously, an organized group can do far more damage than unorganized individuals. However, if there is a definitive leadership structure, then that is something concrete we can track. And this is where we are concentrating the majority of our efforts, at identifying this new leader and their new inner circle so that we can then take them down once and for all!"
As expected, not all the ICW members looked thrilled at his proclamation, but there were more nodding heads in the crowd this time. If that was the most he got, he'd take it.
He took a deep breath and braced himself for the next barrage of questioning.
Hermione never thought she'd ever get tired of reading, of immersing herself into the world of the written word.
Clearly she'd been naive. Though, she also wasn't entirely convinced what she was reading even counted as the written word. She'd been under the impression that working at the ministry first required graduating with a certain amount of OWLs from a reputable magic school. How any of these idiots had managed to hoodwink Professor McGonagall – not to mention Professor Snape – into allowing them to graduate with this atrocious writing was mystifying.
Some of these groupings weren't even sentences, just words hastily thrown together with a prayer that they would somehow add up to something comprehensible. Most of those prayers had sadly gone unanswered.
Reading through auror field reports, Hermione had learned very quickly, was like trying to piece together a jigsaw puzzle someone had dumped a bucket of paint over. After nearly a month, she was about ready to quit and go teach at Hogwarts, where she could at least give out detention for turning in anything resembling these reports. Though, to be fair, she'd been at that point since the second week of said month, but refused to give the crabby middle-aged witch in charge of Ministry Archives the satisfaction of running her out.
She understood that this was a job that had gone neglected for far too long and Hermione was an apprentice. Some of the reports also contained sensitive information, which meant it couldn't be handled by a junior apprentice. So Hermione knew the task hadn't been given to her entirely out of spite.
Still, there had been quite a bit of spite.
Hermione pushed her chair back and clasped her hands behind her head as she stretched her back, blinking her eyes rapidly to get rid of the tired ache. She then reached for her mug and found it empty except for a few sad bits of tea leaf at the bottom. Obviously, it was time for her to take a break.
She tapped her wand against the side of the mug and whispered a spell. The dredges instantly disappeared. Hermione then stood, taking the mug with her as she walked out of her little office. It wasn't quite a cupboard, but it wasn't much bigger either. However, it was much better than the shared office the junior apprentices had – Hermione liked her own space to work in and, more importantly, the lack of inane, pointless chatter.
At the end of the hallway, she walked into the communal lunchroom. It was an odd sort of room, decorated with an attempt to be welcoming that had somehow resulted in the space feeling like an awkward eye-sore. The walls were covered in bright floral wallpaper, with several paintings of countryside landscapes and tropical beaches (one would often walk by and find former Ministers of Magic or distinguished Aurors from the 'Hero's Wall' sunning themselves on the beaches) and the floors were covered in green carpet that was just a shade too yellow. It wasn't used much, as most people preferred to eat in their offices, but occasionally someone could be found inside, often doing exactly what Hermione was currently doing.
She passed the two large round tables that dominated the main space and went directly to the smaller table against the far wall. It contained a pot of tea, a pot of coffee and a jug of pumpkin juice, all charmed to never be empty. On Fridays there would also be a plate of pastries.
She poured herself a fresh cup of tea and inhaled the aroma. Surprisingly, while not the best she'd ever had, the Ministry of Magic actually made decent tea for their employees. It wasn't always the same blend, but it was generally rather good. Except for that tropical blend they'd had two weeks ago – that had been horrid.
Once back in her office, Hermione sat down with her tea feeling slightly refreshed and re-energized by her short trip. She grabbed the next scroll off her never-ending pile.
Fifteen minutes later, she was frowning.
It had started yesterday, this insistent niggling at the back of her mind that seemed to be telling her there was something more here. That there was a pattern of some sort slowly emerging in what she was reading. It wasn't every report that added to this feeling, but she'd come across a few that seemed to be pointing at the same thing...
Suddenly, she remembered Friday dinner. She remembered Harry and Ron talking about the Death Eater attacks.
The auror field reports she was reading weren't specific, but they weren't meant to be. All they were meant to do was alert the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or the Department of Muggle Affairs to a potential problem. If either department decided more information was needed, they'd respond with a request for more details. And then the auror or a muggle affairs official would go collect more information and compile a more comprehensive and detailed report.
But nothing had ever been done with these field reports, nothing further requested, and so Hermione was reading only brief accounts of what the aurors had witnessed. Sometimes the auror had gotten close enough to get concrete details and sometimes only had observations and conjectures from a distance.
Harry and Ron had mentioned the American Muggle Military had been involved in last week's Death Eater attack. And now, as she read the report in front of her, she realized this wasn't the first one she'd read where she'd seen mention of the American Military.
She stood and walked over to the stack of scrolls she'd already gone through, catalogued and charmed for filing. There was something strange going on, something that had been missed because of the war. Something that probably shouldn't have been missed.
"Sam, I heard a rumour you were back on base!"
Sam looked up from her laptop and grinned. "Hey, Daniel," she said as her friend and teammate walked around the briefing table to grab the seat beside her. "So I heard you guys had an exciting mission without me."
Daniel shrugged as he took a drink of his steaming coffee. "It wasn't anything too crazy. Strange, sure, but nothing we haven't done before."
"Strange how?"
"That's a very good question, Colonel Carter, and one I'm looking forward to getting answered," said General Landry as he waltzed in, Anise right behind him. He paused in front of the table and raised both eyebrows. "Where in the hell is everyone?"
"Uh, I know Teal'c went down to the infirmary to get Mitchell," Daniel answered. "I have no idea where Vala is."
"She's probably downstairs looking for you in your office," Sam whispered to him softly.
Daniel looked over at her with a confused frown on his face. "Why would she be in my office?"
"Planning to drag you to the briefing."
Daniel blinked. "But I'm already here."
Sam giggled. "Yes, you've done a great job of foiling her plan by being early for once."
Daniel just blinked some more. Then he turned to their Tok'ra guest – who was eyeing them as though they were a particularly perplexing puzzle. "Good morning, Anise, Freya," he said.
"Good morning, Doctor Jackson, Colonel Carter," Freya answered.
"Hey Anise, Freya, it's good to see you again," Sam lied. She still hadn't forgiven her for her experiment with the Atoniek arm bands, but she was willing to set that aside for now. At least until they got the intell out of her.
"How is your work on Atlantis proceeding, Colonel?" the General asked as he sat down.
Sam straightened in her seat as she turned to him. "It's going well, sir. There's been some damage to the circuitry as a result of Atlantis' crash landing and some minor corruption in a few of the databases, but our main problem is that the Ancient database is simply massive. Doctors Lee and Adams are trying to put together a compression algorithm based on Doctor McKay's model to try and condense it as much as possible for transfer into more portable storage."
"Do you know how long that will take?"
Sam shrugged. "We're not sure, sir," she said apologetically. "The main problem has always been that the Ancients' method of data storage onto crystal components uses an entirely different coding system than ours. In a sense, our computers have to first translate the Ancient database, decompress the data, copy it while recoding it for our systems and then compress it for storage. We can do it with small parts, but it's slow and requires a lot of storage room. The crystal data storage is really amazing."
"Give me your best estimate, Colonel."
Sam thought about it. She'd seen Rodney and Radek nosing around the team working on the compression problem and with their help it would take less time overall, but both the engineers had more than enough to keep them busy...
"I'd say about another week or two, sir."
General Landry nodded. He opened his mouth to reply, but paused when they heard voices coming from the corridor.
"I mean, come on, of all the stupid things... we work with fucking alien technology here!" they heard Cam complain loudly.
Moments later, Cam and Teal'c arrived. Teal'c was wheeling the wheelchair, his usual stoic expression on his face, although his eyes looked as though they weren't sure whether to be annoyed or amused. Cam was in a robe and hospital gown and looking paler than usual. He blinked slowly when he saw the General.
"Uh, sorry we're late, sir," he said. "The elevator was having 'technical difficulties'."
General Landry nodded in understanding. "I see. Is it being looked at?"
"Yes, sir, maintenance is on it now."
"Good."
Teal'c wheeled Cam over to the table and then took the seat beside him, nodding to Daniel and then to Sam. "Samantha Carter, it is good to see you again."
"You too, Teal'c," she said with a smile. Between her new duties on Atlantis and his duties on Dakara, they hadn't seen each other in months. "I'm glad our schedules finally managed to align."
"Indeed."
Suddenly, Vala rushed into the room. "Daniel, what are you doing here?" she demanded.
Daniel just looked at her. "Um, we've got a debriefing, Vala," he said.
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know that, Daniel. But you're early. You're never early!"
General Landry cleared his throat. "If we're all here, I'd like to get started. Ms Mal Doran, could you please close the door behind you?"
Vala closed the door and then sat down on the other side of Daniel. And the debriefing began. Sam listened closely as the rest of her team described how the townspeople had suddenly turned on them, the former Goa'uld temple with Ori locks and the temple guards wearing leather vests, ridiculous helmets and armed with Ori stave weapons.
"Excuse me, Colonel," the General finally interrupted Cam. "Did they all have Ori stave weapons?"
Cam shook his head. "No, sir," he answered. "All the temple guards we encountered did, but only one of the gate guards had a stave."
"During my infiltration of the guard tower, I noticed only two stave weapons between five men," Teal'c added.
"The townspeople themselves have access to a very limited supply of stave weapons," Anise chimed in. "Your capture prompted them to increase their usual number of guards, which meant leaving some without staves."
"And the armor?" Daniel asked.
Sam blinked. "They had Ori armor? I thought you said they were wearing regular leather vests?"
"Only temple and gate guards wear Ori armor," said Anise.
Cam glared at her. "And you didn't think we needed to know this when we were planning our attack on the gate?"
She shrugged. "I did not think of it."
"Hang on," General Landry interrupted. "I think you're getting ahead of yourselves there, SG-1. How did you get out of those dungeons?"
Cam took a deep breath, obviously putting aside his irritation and then continued on with his story of fighting off one of the guards and how they met up with Anise. The Tok'ra herself then briefly explained the diversions she'd created to keep the townspeople busy so that she could get SG-1 out of their predicament. And, reluctantly, Sam had to admit she was actually quite impressed with the Tok'ra's out-of-the-box thinking and resourcefulness – it wasn't something Sam generally associated with the Tok'ra. However, she frowned when Cam mentioned their encounter with an old lady Freya had befriended.
"She called us enemies of the Ori?" the General asked with a frown of his own. "I didn't think the Ori had any allies left? The Arc of Truth should've taken care of that, shouldn't it?"
"As far as we understood its purpose and function, sir," Sam agreed.
"Amarela was very clear on the matter," Daniel spoke up. "She specifically said that they had embraced the Ori, not submitted to them. Among other things."
"She and Daniel really hit it off," said Vala.
Daniel rolled his eyes.
"General, it was one of many indications that this town still worshipped the Ori wholeheartedly," said Teal'c solemnly.
"Well the warship was a pretty big hint," Cam muttered.
Sam's eyes snapped to him and her eyes widened. "Warship?"
"What?!" said the General.
"Cameron, stop fast-forwarding the story!" Vala admonished Mitchell, looking amused. "Now you've spoiled the ending."
Cam shot Vala an irritated look, but went back to where he'd left off in the mission report, which mostly consisted of sneaking through the forest until they got to the stargate. Then Teal'c recounted his infiltration of the town's guard tower and Anise described taking out the men manning a control room that overlooked the stargate. Which was where she'd also discovered the approach of an Ori war ship – no, the return of an Ori warship.
A quick glance around the table told Sam that neither the General, nor anyone else, had missed the wording.
By the time Cam had finished giving his report, Sam's frown had deepened. She was sure the rest of SG-1 had questions of their own to ask, probably many echoing hers, but the thing that baffled her most was the DHD.
"So, in short, what you found on this planet was a farming village that not only still worships the Ori, but is in fact using their technology," General Landry concluded.
"Actually, sir, if I may?" Sam butted in. She waited until the General indicated she continue. "I think it might be more than that. I mean, using weapons is one thing, but what seems even more jarring to me is that they knew what to do to the DHD crystals. That's not exactly something they'd be likely to figure out on their own."
"Amarela also definitely mentioned the priors," Daniel added. "So one way or another, there is a Prior involved."
"Or someone pretending to be," said Vala pointedly.
Daniel grimaced thoughtfully. "It's possible, but you'd think at some point someone would need them to use their powers. The Priors kinda use them a lot. I know we've seen them fake it when we've got the anti-prior devices around, but that's usually only for a couple of minutes. I'm not sure how well you could fake it long-term."
General Landry cleared his throat. "Instead of speculating, perhaps we should ask the expert. But first, SG-1, do any of you have anything to add to Colonel Mitchell's report?" None of them did. "Very well then, Anise, you have the floor."
Anise blinked at him, most likely trying to wrap her head around yet another odd Tau'ri expression.
"What's this intell you say you have for us?" Landry clarified.
The Tok'ra operative nodded in understanding. "First of all, I would like to thank you, General as well as all of SG-1 for coming to extract me. I do not know how much longer I would have been able to remain undetected."
She paused and met their eyes one by one. Then she turned back to the General.
"As I have already told SG-1, I infiltrated the town just under a year ago as part of a trading expedition posing as a herbalist. It hadn't been my original intention to remain behind, however I quickly noticed the same discrepancies SG-1 had. It was a simple, primitive farming community, however the presence of Ori weaponry and armour stood out to me as it had for them. I also observed several wounded Ori soldiers being treated in their hospital. When I asked who they were, I was told they were brave holy warriors."
Sam felt her eyebrows rise almost involuntarily. She looked over and met Daniel's eyes.
"That'd get my attention too," said Daniel.
"Oh yeah, big time," Cam agreed.
Anise nodded. "It was what finally prompted me to search out a reason to remain behind. Once the trading party had left, I gave the excuse of familiarizing myself with the local fauna and left on a three day hike into the woods."
"I take it you didn't actually go hiking?" General Landry asked.
She cocked her head at him. "I did. Even then I had noticed the amount of security surrounding the stargate and knew I would not be able to simply leave whenever I wished. Returning with herbs and some knowledge of what grew in the area was necessary to preserving my cover. However it did not take me three days. And a day was all I required for preliminary surveillance of the town. As I was returning to the town, I saw an Ori warship land. When I got closer, I saw that the ship was being greeted as an expected arrival."
She paused, bowing her head slightly. When she raised it again, her eyes were no longer glowing as Freya took over the explanation. "It took me several months to integrate myself into the town and develop relationships with members of the population."
She said it in a very straight-forward manner, her voice flat and emotionless, though warmer and more animated than the symbiot's had been. Sam couldn't help but wonder if Freya had enjoyed having those connections, whether she ever missed feeling that sense of belonging, of being human instead of just a vessel for an alien spy. What would the woman have been like without the symbiot?
She shook her head and turned her attention back to Freya.
"...eventually I was able to gain enough information to deduce approximately what was going on. That was when I sent out the message. Up until now I had been able to use my cover as a herbalist to avoid coming into contact with the Prior, however it was becoming increasingly difficult to do so without arousing suspicion, especially as my lover was promoted higher up within the ranks of the town's guards."
Sam blinked, wondering if she'd missed something. "Your lover?"
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cam grimace.
Freya simply nodded to her. "Yes, finding a lover was the most expedient way to create a reason for me to stay. Many of the townspeople disapproved of our unsanctified union, however that only helped give me further reason to stay away from many of the official functions attended by the Prior."
Beside her, Daniel finally spoke up. "Freya, this town had a visiting Prior who still spread the word of the Ori? And this Ori warship had soldiers that did the same?"
Freya nodded. "Yes, it did."
Daniel sat back looking thoughtful. Beside him, Vala looked equally thoughtful, her eyes calculating.
"Had the Ark of Truth not worked on these followers?" Teal'c asked.
"Yeah, that's what I'd like to know!" Cam exclaimed. "I thought it was supposed to the show the truth to everyone, not just half or just to those born in July."
"If the Ark didn't work, that's very troubling news indeed," said Landry with a deep, worried frown. "Not that I doubt your observations, Anise and, uh, Freya, but are you certain the Ark hadn't affected the Prior and his followers?"
Freya hesitated for a moment and then her eyes began to glow, Anise taking over once more. "All we can report is what we observed," the Tok'ra said sternly. "Had the Prior seen us, he would have immediately recognized us for what we were and as such contact with him was avoided at all costs. Therefore I cannot report on what he himself was like, only his actions. This prior that came to the town is spreading the word of the Ori and is commanding an Ori warship full of soldiers whom have remained loyal to him."
"That doesn't necessarily mean the Ark didn't work," Vala interjected. All eyes turned to her and she rolled her eyes, as though her point should've been obvious. "You'll remember that planet where I still pretended to be their God even though I didn't have a Goa'uld symbiot inside anymore?"
Teal'c eyebrows rose. "You believe it is possible the Ori Prior is aware of the truth about his gods and yet continues to spread false truths."
"Well, the priors' powers aren't really linked to their belief in the Ori," said Daniel thoughtfully. "The Ori essentially opened up part of their minds, which links them to a sort of universal well of power, or at least that's kind of what it felt like. It's not quite a partial ascension, but it's on the way there..." He shook his head and then turned his attention to his team. "The point is, that those powers won't just go away unless that connection is closed, uh, manually so to speak."
"Hang on, you're saying the Prior knows his gods are fake, knows they're dead, but is keeping up the ruse anyway?" said Cam incredulously. "Why the fuck would he do that?!"
It was Teal'c, who answered him: "Power."
Cam blinked at him. "Okay, so the Prior's decided that since the guys upstairs are dead, their 'chosen child' is being kept busy by Morgana and they've still got all their powers without anyone watching over them, they can just do whatever they want? That's... okay yeah, that's kind of obviously what's going on and now I feel more stupid than usual."
Vala was grinning. "We'll let you blame it on the painkillers," she said.
Cam rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks guys."
"I believe it may be worse than that," said Anise, instantly bringing the table's attention back to her.
"You think there's more than one Prior doing this?" Daniel asked immediately.
Anise nodded. "While I was careful not to get too close to the Prior, I was able to speak to many of the Ori soldiers or listen in on their conversations. They mentioned coming across other ships and lingering while their priors spoke with each other, often in private. However, there were also two instances when I was asked to come bring herbs and mix healing salves for the hospital for soldiers who'd been wounded in battle. The soldiers were much distressed, speaking of their sadness for their brothers who had turned from the light of the Ori. As I understood it, they believe the Milky Way is becoming a corrupting influence on them and turned many of their brothers against their cause."
She paused for a moment. "Though they never spoke it out loud, I got the impression that even on their ship, the Prior had executed soldiers for speaking against the Ori."
"Damn," said Cam quietly.
Sam felt equally stunned.
"The Prior twisted the Ark's powers into a test of faith," Daniel said after a long moment of silence had passed.
"That would seem to be the most likely explanation," said Teal'c. He turned to the General. "General Landry, I will need to return to Dakara as soon as possible. The Jaffa Council should hear this news immediately."
General Landry nodded. "Of course. I need to inform the President and Joint Chiefs as well. Anise, I'd ask if you could remain at the SGC until I've had a chance to speak to my superiors in case they have any other questions."
Anise nodded. "Of course." Her eyes slid to Daniel. "It will give me the opportunity to speak to some of my acquaintances here."
Sam felt Daniel stiffen beside her and resisted the urge to giggle.
General Landry looked between Anise and Daniel with a raised eyebrow, but remained silent. "Good. I'm sure you'd like to report back to your own superiors to let them know you've been safely retrieved. I'll have someone escort you to the Control Room. Sergeant?"
"Yes, sir!" said the young man standing by the door. He then opened the door and waited for Anise to walk through before following and closing it behind them.
"Geez, these Ori just keep being the pain-in-the-ass unwanted gift that keeps on giving," said Cam.
"What you didn't think getting rid of them would been as easy as opening a box, did you?" Daniel asked mildly.
Cam glared at him. "Exactly which part of that mission are you calling easy, Jackson? 'Cause I sort of remember being captured, tortured, fighting Adria and, oh yeah, since the rest of that didn't sound like enough fun, replicators."
"Enough!" said the General. "Does anyone have any constructive thoughts to add to this?"
"Well..." Daniel began, pausing to collect his thoughts. Landry looked to him in interest. "General, I don't think this changes the playing field nearly as much as it seems to. I mean, yes, the Priors now realizing that they no longer answer to anyone, is huge. Especially for the ones to whom the power that came with their position meant more than their religion in the first place. But from the moment they came to the Milky Way, the Priors have been the ones making the decisions and planning the Ori army's attacks. Which is probably how they managed to convince so many of their soldiers that the Ark's influence was in fact the Milky Way corrupting their minds."
Sam saw Teal'c nodding solemnly. "Many would not want to believe that all the deaths they caused had been done so as a result of a lie. That everything they had sacrificed had been done at the behest of false gods."
Sam wished she could say it didn't make sense, that the reasoning somehow wasn't solid.
"And some of them probably enjoyed it," Vala added quietly.
Beside her, Daniel nodded. "By executing or otherwise punishing detractors, the Prior silenced others who would've otherwise spoken out against him."
"So now the Prior's a dictator as well as a religious leader," said Cam with a disgusted grimace. "That's just great."
Daniel shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first. There's a reason why democratic countries have an indoctrinated separation between the state and religion."
"I'll pass your thoughts onto the President," said the General. "I'd like your reports on my desk ASAP so that I can add them to my presentation to the Joint Chiefs." He picked up the stack of reports on his desk. "Now, before I dismiss you, I do have one last thing to bring up. Colonel Mitchell, Teal'c, I've been informed of discrepancies in your reports on your misadventure in Trafalgar Square on Wednesday. Or, more to the point, your failure to accurately account for your ammunition's usage, especially since there's nothing in your reports to indicate why you'd fired your weapons in the first place."
Sam blinked in surprise. She'd heard about the traffic accident, but was fairly certain she hadn't heard Sheppard or Teyla mention a fight. Surely something like that would've spread through Atlantis. Not being a part of the regular crew would've likely meant she'd be one of the last to hear the rumours, but they would've made it to her eventually.
Teal'c frowned deeply.
"Sir?" Cam asked, blinking in confusion. "There was a traffic accident. We didn't need to fire our weapons."
"Then why are there bullets missing from your firearms?"
Cam shrugged, hissing in pain as the motion pulled at his wound. "Must've miscounted in the morning, sir."
Sam couldn't help the way her jaw dropped at the casual way her team leader dismissed the issue.
"Must have miscounted, Colonel Mitchell?" the General asked, his voice raised but not quite loud enough to be a yell. He sounded too genuinely flabbergasted to work up the volume for a yell just yet. "You are aware you're required to report all ammunition use? You're not new to this, Colonel."
"It... is protocol," Teal'c said carefully, as though trying to wrap his head around the concept. "It is required to report every bullet used, as every single one must be accounted for."
"Yes, exactly!" said the General. "And it took quite a bit of convincing to get all of you special permission to carry firearms while you were in London in the first place. So do you mind explaining just why you decided you weren't going to follow protocol on Wednesday? Or did you suddenly forget how to count?!"
"I didn't discharge my firearm, sir, so the missing bullets must've been a mistake," Cam answered.
"So it wasn't just me?" Sam heard Daniel say softly beside her.
"Daniel?" she asked carefully. "What do you mean?"
Daniel startled and then looked at her. "Oh. I, uh, took my own firearm to London and when I got home and checked the clip it was almost empty, but I was sure I'd checked it in the morning... Except I didn't remember firing it so I figured it was probably my mistake. I mean, I'm a civilian and it's been a busy week so I was probably just tired and not paying attention. It's not like I'd forget firing my gun in the middle of London, right?"
By the end of his ramblings, he was frowning. Sam looked up and met the General's eyes. Ten years ago, this explanation might've been understandable, but Daniel had been with SG-1 for so long that his proficiency with firearms rivalled that of the marines. Most of the time, all but the most experienced eyes would peg him for a professional soldier. Failing to check ammunition was a beginner's mistake.
On a hunch, she turned to look at her team leader again. "Cam," she said gently, trying very hard not to sound the least bit accusing. "If one of the Lieutenants reported using two clips during a firefight, but had been issued three and the third one was half-empty, what would you do?"
Cam's answer was instantaneous. "I'd bust his ass is what I'd do! What kind of moron can't count how many clips he's used..."
He trailed off, as though suddenly making the connection she'd hoped he would. He was silent for a few moments. "But it was a traffic accident," he finally said, however this time there was an odd sort of subdued confusion in his voice. He looked up at them, a half-glazed look in his eyes that Sam was sure wasn't entirely from the painkillers. "I didn't fire my gun. There was no enemy. It was a traffic accident."
Sam looked back to General Landry, who was no longer looking angry, but instead deeply disturbed. It was obvious that something more was going on here.
He looked directly at Sam. "Colonel Carter, get to the bottom of this," he ordered. "I have a report to make to the President. Get Doctor Lam to do a full medical work-up, pull all the official reports you can find, anything you can think of. And contact Atlantis, apparently Colonel Sheppard's ammunition count was also off and, while I'd expect something like that from Sheppard, I'm finding it hard to believe that half my senior officers have suddenly forgotten how to count! If something more happened in London, then we need to know what it was."
"Yes, sir," said Sam. As though she needed the extra incentive. This concerned her team; she wasn't going anywhere until she knew what was going on. She paused. "Sir, if the medical scans don't bring back anything conclusive then I'd like permission to request Anise's help with running a scan using the Zatark detector. She's the Tok'ra scientist who originally brought us the technology and knows it better than anyone we have."
General Landry nodded. "Do whatever you need to do, Colonel. If you think our Tok'ra guest can help you, then you might as well use her expertise while she's here."
"Thank you, sir."
"Anything else? No? Then you're dismissed."
It was late. He hadn't stayed at the office this late in months. On the first year anniversary of the end of the Second Blood War he'd made a pact with himself to never stay behind past seven o'clock unless there was an emergency. There'd been more of those than he would've liked, but outside of those, he'd remained true to his promise to himself.
This... wasn't an emergency, but Kingsley wasn't quite sure what to call it exactly. And, somehow, it seemed appropriate for him to contemplate it in his office. However, it was after seven, which he decided meant he was perfectly justified in pouring himself a healthy glass of firewhisky.
He sat down and took a sip, savouring the familiar burn as it travelled down his throat while he leaned back and looked up at his enchanted ceiling. It hadn't been there before his inauguration as Minister of Magic, but he'd found himself jealous of the Muggle Prime Minister and the large window he had in his office. He'd had to visit Hogwarts to get his hands on the proper enchantments – under the guise of official business which he likely would've had to do anyway.
Headmistress McGonagall had then come to his office to inspect the spellwork... as a part of equally official business.
As he stared up at the stars – which were brighter and more visible than they would normally be in the middle of London – his thoughts wandered back to his morning audience with the ICW. He couldn't quite put his finger on the cause of his unease, but he'd been an auror for far longer than he'd been the Minister of Magic and after all those years, he'd developed a sense for people. Often his instincts had helped him identify people who were hiding things, individuals who were dangerous, or they'd tell him when something about a situation was simply wrong even if his mind hadn't quite caught up yet.
He'd often joked with Tonks that a good auror's instincts were smarter than they were.
His breath caught at the unbidden memory of the other auror. He swallowed down the grief with a large gulp of whisky.
And then he turned his attention back to the modest stack of scrolls sitting on the corner of his desk. He'd had one of his assistants pull them earlier, shortly after he'd arrived back from Berlin. A compilation of reports from and to the ICW for the past five years.
Kingsley wasn't sure what it was yet, but his instincts were telling him there'd been something off about his entire meeting this morning. It wasn't just one thing, however, but several small things that didn't quite add up to anything he could put into words.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. He jumped slightly at the unexpected sound and then glared at whomever was on the other side. He'd closed his door precisely so that he wouldn't be interrupted. He'd also hoped to make people think he'd gone home. Obviously, his plan had failed on both fronts.
Kingsley sighed and waved his wand at the door to open it.
"Oh, you are still here," said a familiar voice that made Kingsley relax in relief.
"Yes, I'd hoped to go unnoticed, but I suppose I shouldn't expect such things," he called in answer.
Arthur Wealsey chuckled as he entered. "Well, you're the Minister of Magic," he said. "People tend to pay attention to what you do."
Kingsley grimaced. "Yes, I suppose they do. So, what can I help you with, Arthur?"
"Ah well, nothing too strenuous, I hope. Only Molly was thinking that perhaps it was high time to throw a reunion party. Nothing much, just dinner with some former Order of the Phoenix members. We were all so busy after the war ended that we never really got the chance to celebrate as such and now that things have calmed down, she was thinking perhaps it would be nice to get together again. As friends, not co-conspirators, I mean. Some of us got along quite well if you recall."
His first reaction was to say no. Kingsley hadn't really had the chance to form friendships with anyone in the Order aside from his fellow aurors; he'd simply been too busy. To see the former members together would also mean counting the empty spots belonging to those who hadn't survived the war.
"Though, if I'm honest," Arthur continued despite Kingsley's silence. "I think mostly Molly wants the opportunity to tell as many people as possible that she's going to be a grandmother."
Kingsley blinked and, suddenly, he felt his previous melancholy lift away. "Arthur, that's brilliant news!" he said with a grin. "Fleur and Bill, I take it?"
Arthur Weasley broke into a proud grin. "Yes. We just found out last Friday at dinner. As you can imagine, Molly's over the moon. Her first grandchild."
"And yours," Kingsley reminded him. He stood and walked over to the cabinet where he hid his firewhisky. "This definitely calls for a toast!"
He re-filled his glass and poured one for Arthur as well. The soon-to-be-grandfather took it happily.
"To the future!" said Kingsley as he raised his glass. "May it be peaceful."
"Yes, to the future!" Arthur echoed.
Kingsley motioned to other man to sit down as he, too, sat back down. It was funny, how the mind worked, he found himself thinking, because suddenly, the idea of sitting down with his fellow Order of the Phoenix members no longer seemed quite so daunting. He wondered how the rest of their lives had progressed, how well they'd managed to move on.
"And tell Molly I'll be happy to attend whatever dinner she throws," he told Arthur. "I'll even bring the wine."
"She'll be happy to hear that," Arthur replied.
Kingsley nodded. "Speaking of your wife, I know why I'm here so late, but why are you still here? I can't imagine conveying Molly's dinner plans was that urgent."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Oh no, we had an urgent case pop up in the afternoon. Wild magic in a muggle family and a case of domestic abuse to top it off. The child was eight and watching her father beat her mother caused her magical abilities to manifest prematurely. According to the parents, she simply screamed and then the, uh, re-fridgertor came flying out of the wall and across the room, right at the father."
Kingsley took a deep breath and forced himself to relax his grip on his glass. "I imagine that made him stop."
Arthur smirked. "Oh, yes. Broke his right arm as well. Needless to say, the entire family was hysterical when we arrived and it took forever to calm them all down. Especially when we started explaining who we were and telling the parents their daughter had magic."
"Ah yes, I remember those conversations. Never understood the amusement some got out of them. I really just found them rather irritating. I mean, there's only so many ways you can say 'magic is real' before you start feeling like perhaps you should check that someone hadn't hit you with a translation charm when your back was turned!"
Arthur chuckled. "Yes, well, in this case the evidence was rather irrefutable."
"Hm. The child's alright, though?"
"Oh yes, she's as well as can be. Rather excited at the idea of going to magic school and kept asking why she had to wait three whole years. Reminded me of Charlie for a bit there."
"Well you can hardly blame her for her impatience. Eight is rather young to manifest magic. Many wizarding children don't manifest that young. As far as I know, in Muggleborns it's nearly unheard of."
"You'd be right there. No one else in the department could remember having one so young before."
Both men jumped at three rapid sharp knocks on the door. Kingsley blinked, instantly recognizing the Head Auror's knock. Sure enough, as he was reaching for his wand to open the door, Angelique Bryant waltzed into his office, a rather determined look on her face.
"What in the world are you still doing here, Minister?" she demanded.
"How did you know I was still here?" he asked her dryly.
Bryant raised an eyebrow at him. "I know everything that goes on in the ministry." There was a silent, incredulous pause. She rolled her eyes. "Also your assistants gossip like old maids and seem to forget that others around them have functioning ears."
Kingsley frowned. "I'll have to speak to them about that."
Across from him, Arthur was also frowning. "I have a hard time imagining my son gossiping," he said.
Bryant glanced to him and shrugged. "Admittedly, the redhead wasn't among them." She held out a hand to him. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced yet. I'm Angelique Bryant. You're Arthur Weasley from Muggle Affairs, I assume."
Arthur stood to shake her hand. "Yes, I am. I didn't think I was that well-known about the ministry. Or are those your all-knowing Head Auror powers again?"
"Not exactly, but you just said Percy Weasley was your son and your name is on the report I just received from Muggle Affairs."
"Ah, about the muggle-born child who manifested this afternoon?"
"Yes, that one."
"A sad, if interesting case. I was just telling Kingsley – I mean the Minister of Magic – about it."
Bryant shot Arthur a bemused look before turning to Kingsley. "Good, then I don't have to explain it to you. Could you sign this for me?"
Kingsley took the scroll she handed him. "What is this?"
"It's for Children's Services. I want that child tested for magic levels."
Kingsley frowned and unravelled the scroll. It wasn't a form, but a written request from the Head Auror herself. "And why do you think that's necessary?" he asked her, having never seen anything like it before.
Bryant raised an eyebrow at him. "The child managed to pull a refrigerator out of the wall and throw it across the room. And not just throw it randomly, but aim it to hit her father! That's something most fully-trained adult wizards can't do. She needs to learn some form of control sooner rather than later before she manages to seriously hurt someone who isn't her bastard of a father."
She looked to Arthur. "Speaking of which, did you really have to magically heal his arm? He could've just gone to a Muggle hospital and gotten a cast. A couple months of painful healing would've done him some good."
Arthur cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "You know, I don't think that even occurred to us. However, I'll certainly keep it in mind for the future."
"You do that."
Kingsley chuckled and reached for a quill. "What exactly did you have in mind as far as training?"
Bryant shrugged. "I was going to leave that in the hands of the Hogwarts' Headmistress. Eight is a little young for early admissions, but perhaps she might be able to find a teacher or seventh year student who'd be able to free up some time for a few lessons in wandwork. Having a wand would, after all, teach her focus and should therefore help do away with uncontrolled bursts of magic."
Kingsley nodded. "It's a good idea. I'll send an owl to Professor McGonagall in the morning and see if she has any suggestions."
"Thank you." She eyed the scrolls sitting on his desk pointedly. "Now, I understand the International Confederation of Wizards isn't always the easiest group to deal with, but what exactly happened today to get you so interested in them?"
Kingsley stared at her and then looked to the scrolls to see if they were somehow labelled on the outside. Then he looked back to her.
He groaned. "My gossiping assistants again?" he asked.
She nodded. "You really should get young Mister Weasley to do anything you don't want the rest of the Ministry of Magic to know about within the hour."
"You met with the International Confederation of Wizards today?" Arthur asked, looking uncertain, as though unsure whether or not he should be listening.
"Yes, and it was..." Suddenly, it occurred to him that perhaps a second opinion might be a good idea. "I don't really know what to call it, but something about that meeting today just left me unsettled. As though there was something more going on than the ICW wanting a progress report on the Death Eater problem."
Bryant frowned. "What do you mean?"
Kingsley leaned back in his chair and thought back to the confrontation. "I'm not sure myself entirely, but my instincts are certainly telling me there was something strange going on. The Confederation was almost too aggressive, too invested in England's problems. And a few of their comments..." He paused. "It almost felt as though they were less concerned with the existence of Death Eaters as they were with the fact that wizards were dying during confrontations with them."
The Head Auror's frown deepened. "We've managed to keep civilian casualties of both Muggle and Wizard down to a minimum and only five aurors have died in the last two years. Not that I'm happy about losing anyone, but I've only had to bury two of my own since taking charge and, considering our situation, that's really rather good."
"But that's just the thing," Kingsley stressed. "They seemed incredibly concerned at the casualties from last week's attack."
"But didn't only Death Eaters die in that attack?" Arthur asked.
"That's correct," Bryant answered him. "Six Death Eaters and eight Muggles."
"They didn't care about the Muggles at all, that much was obvious," said Kingsley. "But they seemed very intent on stressing the need to stop the killing. Not even on weeding out the Death Eaters themselves, but to stop adult wizards from dying."
Arthur looked worried. "I understand that only one member of the Council is from England, but surely the rest of them should understand the importance of stopping the Death Eaters once and for all, and preventing them from ever coming back in force again!"
"They should," Bryant agreed with him. "The rest of mainland Europe was also effected by your Blood war, even if to a lesser extent. Voldemort certainly didn't stop his recruitment at the English Channel."
Kingsley motioned towards the scrolls. "It's why I had them bring out these scrolls. I was wondering if this was something new, or simply something I was noticing for the first time." He eyed the other two people in his office. "I certainly wouldn't mind a few extra sets of eyes."
The Head Auror shrugged. "I've nothing better to do tonight," she said and summoned herself a chair from the other side of the room.
"And I'm fairly certain Molly will understand, especially if I mention the little girl first," said Arthur. "She would never begrudge anyone anything if it was to help a child."
Kingsley smiled and stood. "Well, then I suppose I should pour us all another drink," he said and went to get the bottle and a third glass for the Head Auror.
A/N: The quote Kingsley uses in the beginning is in fact the famous inscription on the gates of Hell from the first part of Dante's Divine Comedy, Inferno. Fun fact: what's less well-known is that there are actually two inscriptions on the gates of Dante's Hell. The second one is: 'Eternal love made me'. An interesting contrast, yes?