Odyssey of a Mage Part III

by mootjeman7

Part III of Odyssey of a Mage. Post Grindelwald era. Atticus Sayre, reincarnated soul has chosen to carry the fate of all Magical-Kind onto his shoulders. A weight that bears heavy on his soul for all that must be done. And it is a weight he intends carry all the way to the very stars. Ruthless, Determined SI-OC. Fem Riddle. Pre-Halo Crossover.

3. Chapter 68

Hello All, welcome back to the story!

Thanks for the reviews, I enjoyed reading them!

I don't want to spoil anything - even if it appears obvious and a simple answer, it may not actually be - which would diminish the story and your experience.

However...please speculate (and criticise if you like) to your hearts content. I love reading them. The more the merrier!

Without further adieu, please enjoy the post and let me know what you think!

Note: If you would like to read ahead, the next three chapters are available on P^A^T^R^E^O^N / Boombox117 where we are now on the third final Arc of the story .

The discord channel is d^i^s^c^o^r^d^.^g^g^/^v^r^8^8^t^6^4^Y^e^7

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29th of October 1952 – Pandrosion Institute, Illos

Chancellor Sandra Saunders POV

She walked the halls of Pandrosion Institute, the darkness outside the striking halls of the school doing little to falter its majesty. It was late Wednesday night and there were few people walking its halls, the only ones that might be in the school would be the students in their dorms, students who resided outside of Illos during the breaks, the Professors or the residential graduates who were apprenticing with the Professors.

"You're certain he's there?" Sandra asked her companion. It wasn't uncommon to find him here from time to time but it was uncharacteristic of him to not attend a meeting, an important meeting at that, without letting them know.

Parkinson turned her and quirked a brow in response.

Right.

Of course a spymaster would know where he would be.

Probably knew what everyone had for dinner too.

She sighed "Out of all the meetings to skip, he had to do it today."

Parkinson eyed her curiously "Are the terms so troubling?" he asked her.

She glanced at him for a moment before shaking her head "Not so much troubling but rather…unexpected." She said musingly for a second before continuing.

"Nothing too concerning or bad for us…not necessarily" she said with a light frown. It had been a surprise to be sure, just as this final condition was.

In the months since the meeting with the delegation they'd been somewhat…difficult and she was sure that they would continue to be. Yet they weren't and in fact had reversed their decisions on some of the terms they'd outright rejected before.

She wasn't sure what to think of it but she knew it had to do with this…demand.

Parkinson hummed for a moment. "Do you want me to look into it?" he asked her with a tilt of the head "Nothing too pervasive of course."

She thought on it for a minute or so before shaking her head "Not yet. We'll see what he thinks or knows" she told him and he nodded his acceptance before they continued to walk in silence.

They arrived at the doors and walked in. They were at the top of the lecture hall though the voices of the two at the front of the lecture hall carried through the air with deliberate ease.

She looked down at the pair who were by the black board, a board that was filled with markings she faintly recognised.

She glanced to her right and saw a few older students, likely graduates who were Mastery students, seated together a few rows down from the top.

"-an't see the reconciliation between this…predictive system and magic when it comes to divination, my Lord" she heard the accented woman at the bottom say. She took a moment to look her over and saw it was a relatively young woman, likely between her mid twenties and thirties.

She frowned for a moment before she turned to Parkinson "I'm going to speak to those students." Parkinson nodded before he returned his attentions at the two debating people at the front as she began to walk over to the students.

"Traditional Seers see the future as Magic decrees, seeing the possible and likely route the future may take and Prophets" the woman continued, pausing as she wrote on the board "Prophets decree prophesies, prophesised events that are unavoidable if the conditions arise and serve as a fixed point in time" the woman said with a heavy accent.

"All of this, the possibility of seeing the future itself is possible because magic is rooted in the very structures of the universe. It is the same, though on a much lesser scale, for all other forms of minor divination, scrying, tarot cards, leaf reading, all of it, is only possible because we are capable of tapping into those streams of magic that are tied to everything that is and ever will be, streams of magic that allow us few gifted with the talent glimpses into the future even if it is often without certain direction or sense. What you're suggesting…"

Sandra got to the few students as she walked down the stairs to where they were seated "How long have they been like this?"

The students disengaged from listening in on the conversation and were startled when they recognised. "Madam Chancellor!" they said a little alarmed as they started fumbling and made motions to stand up but she waved them off.

"It's fine, let's not get hung up on ceremony" she smiled at the students before she asked again "So, how long have they been talking with each other?"

The students looked at each other a little lost before one answered "I think over a couple of hours now."

Her eyebrows raised "Really?" she glanced at the two below. Hmm. Maybe she should wait a little longer before she interrupted them.

"Yes." The other student spoke up next "At first it had just been about new divination techniques that the Professor was showing him but then they got into possibilities of using Arithmancy primarily to divine the future"

The other laughed a little awkwardly "I think I'll spend a lot of time trying to figure out what they're talking about" the student admitted. "After a long nap I think" he murmured tiredly before he seemed to remember who he was speaking to and looked a little abashed to her amusement.

Sandra smiled at the students "Go." She jerked her head towards the doors. "You can catch up with the Professor in the morning." She told them.

The other student wanted to protest but she gave a pointed look which halted any beginnings of protestations. They gathered their books and made their way to the exits.

"-not possible! Random chaos prevents such predictability from being possible and it is only through magic – which is eternal and timeless! – that we are able to glimpse the future! To suggest that we could possibly divine the future using arithmancy by deconstructing the flow of coming history itself…" the woman trailed off.

Sandra was struck with what she was saying as she sat down, a frown adorning her face.

'Deconstruct the flow of coming history?' she wondered to herself but she was soon distracted by the continuation of the conversation.

"Visions and Prophesy have always been the most reliable forms of divining the future and even then they have their flaws as they rely on individuals to act as agents of Lady Magic to bring about the Seen future or prophesised event." The woman said with a shake of the head

"Magic acts as an invisible hand to bring about her preferred future and this is the acknowledged view of most Divination experts." The woman stared at him for a moment

"Using Arithmancy circumvents that train of thought completely, makes the belief that there is a Will of Magic that guides us invalid if we're able to using this new form of Arithmancy to divine the path that is before us." The woman sighed as she brushed her hair behind her ears as she turned to stare at the writings on the board "It seems impossible to make sense of Chaos without the Will of Lady Magic." She finished with a strange tone.

"I wouldn't quite say the belief that there is a Will of Magic would become invalid rather…less mystified and also not necessarily impacted by this predictive method." He returned to the woman before seeming to pause for a moment, seemingly considering how to answer.

"What is chaos but perturbations with amplified effects within a complex system?" she heard him answer a few moments after.

He didn't move, not a single gesture was made when a dim glowing ball of light emerged between himself and the professor before more orbs were created, much smaller than the central ball of light.

Atticus created the solar system. She glanced to her left and saw Parkinson come down and sat a few seats apart from her.

Parkinson had an intense expression on his face, one that uncharacteristically thoughtful as he stared at the two debating people. She turned to them as well and listened in.

"To accurately model a system, you need to define its parameters, its initial conditions and what perturbations exist that can alter its expected results" he said to the woman.

A radiant line sprang from one of the orbs that orbited the model sun which followed its orbital path. "We can predict where planets will be centuries in advance with a very high accuracy with Arithmancy alone. But what happens when you add another variable to the system? An external variable?" he asked of the woman as another object began to race towards to the planet and almost brushed against it. It caused an effect, the radiant line that marked out the orbit began to change, subtly but change it did.

"The system changes." The woman answered "And that only proves my point! Arithmancy cannot reconcile the randomness that exists in the universe let alone predict events that might occur in the world with millions of chaotic elements that are individuals"

Sandra's eyes widened at the statement. They were discussing how to predict events?

"Of course not, not completely" he agreed.

"Even in a macroscale system as such as a solar system, eventually minor perturbations do add up to cause change to the system. But what if you could define the system down to the very microscale?" he asked her.

"You're talking about Quantum Mechanics, the very topic that's been giving those eggheads of yours minor strokes?" she asked with a hint of laughter in her voice.

There was a tone of humour in tone as he spoke "The very same though only as an example when it comes to factoring the minor and seemingly inconsequential variables and random changes. The mundanes have been making progress but I suspect we'll do it better and quicker. Now," he paused as the conjuration shifted away and began to form into the universe as they now had been able to see thanks to one of the recent breakthroughs made by the Office of Magical Innovation and Technology.

"What if I said it was possible to arithmantically define the system down to the very miniscule, factoring in all debilitating effects such as variables, randomness, all of which can and will cause perturbations in the flow of events? What if I said similarly you can use this method to scale up usefully, ensuring that you could account for any such perturbations individuals could cause and correct it accordingly?" Lord Sayre posed to the woman.

"I'd say impossible!" the woman exclaimed as she began to pace, her head bowed seemingly deep in mind bending thought.

"What you're suggesting…!" she said with a shake of the head.

"How would you account for the randomness that exist that is a person's free will?" she asked him "A single individual can destabilise the desired future with a single decision, a single decision that can cause waves of cascading disruption that leads to thousands, millions of other individuals to also contribute to make that desired future impossible to manifest." She said with an animate wave of the hands.

"And if what you say is true, that there exists an infinite multiverse where any and all random events manifest themselves no matter how improbable or impossible, to plot the course of a desired future seems as unfeasible as it is incalculable!" she said animatedly.

Atticus seemed to smile given the tone of his voice "And you would be right to say that plotting the course of a desired future is unfeasible – at least with a hundred percent accuracy and without corrections" Atticus paused meaningfully now, the conjuration shifting again and in its place a river in a rocky landscape took its place.

"In any reality, there will always be a butterfly effect, one where the same events that play out differently will result in consequences and results that are tied to the difference between the realities." He said to her before continuing

"Even a miniscule change on a massive scale will have effects that can snowball into a larger consequence. A hurricane on earth will not have much of a measurable effect on the Earth's gravitational pull on Jupiter nor does it matter much who wins the Quidditch International League." Lord Sayre stopped for a moment as he stared at the river for a second before continuing.

"But…" he said, stressing the word as he resumed "said hurricane still has an effect even if it is miniscule, just as that Quidditch game matters in some way or form. In the case of the hurricane, the non-uniform distribution of the Earth's mass will still have an effect on the force that is exerted on Mars or Jupiter and that minor, near inconsequential effect can later on, perhaps centuries, perhaps millennia or eons, yield a result that can trace back its roots to that single hurricane which set off a series of events that affected things on a solar scale" He turned to the woman.

"What I take that to mean is that even in the absence of intelligence and 'free will', the universe and its events cannot be predicted indefinitely far into the future. Adding intelligence only exacerbates the problem…but it also simultaneously eases it." He said with a pause as a rock rolled down the rocky landscape, diverting the river as it settled in the river.

"…As an agent, I can be unpredictable like any individual but I can also force events to happen as is useful to us." A conjured miniature figure was created and removed the stone and then it shifted again, resetting the blocked river only for the figure to add more stones to the river.

"It is possible for us to move rivers, to move mountains, even eventually whole planets to bring about the path that is preferred for our people" he said to the woman and it sent chills down her spine with the level of assuredness he spoke with.

"We know that from an observational standpoint that individuals are often highly unpredictable in their specific actions but…in a statistical sense, they are less so" he told the woman.

"You cannot know for certain when you go to the toilet but it can be proactively influenced." The conjuration shifted to a trickling waterfall "Thinking and seeing the flow of water can alter the path you were going to take, and just by conjuring this, I am able to hasten your body's need to relief itself"

"Ah, that is a cheat! Taking advantage of my pregnant condition like that!" she said with a playful scowl.

Atticus smiled "My apologies" he said charmingly with a grin in his voice that was not apologetic at all. "Shall I pause or…?"

She shook her head "I can control myself and I'm quite intent on disproving you, at least on needing the washroom at this moment" she said teasingly with heavier accent than before.

Atticus smile increased for a moment before he grew serious "Very well. In this example, I mean to show that despite the unpredictability of humanity under most circumstances, actions and decisions can still be influenced. As unpredictable as human actions might be individually, moment by moment, they tend to average out."

"What do you mean?" the woman said as she swivelled around, her blond locks swaying as she stared the shifting form of the conjuration.

It began to resemble a mundane city.

"Fascinating…" Parkinson muttered and she turned to him. "It seems like he is trying draw a pattern that is independent from magic." Parkinson said.

"A pattern?" Sandra said with a frown. "Deconstructing the flow of coming history…" she said aloud "Predicting events…" she trailed off again for a moment.

"Yes." Parkinson said to her, turning to her for the first time. "Divination for the most part is interpreting the signals magic grants us. Some can do it naturally and others learn how to do it but in both instances, they tend to be on a minor scale." He glanced at the two below for a brief moment before continuing "What they are discussing is predicting events – possibly all events – to come without needing to interpret the signals at all."

Her eyes widened "But that's…" she said in wonder. 'Is that even possible…?'

"Yes." Parkinson said once more, thoughtful than ever "And impossible at present, especially given the amount of information and everything else you'd need to make it a workable method" Parkinson said with a deep frown "The things you'd need to be able to factor in for it even remotely…" Parkinson's frown melted away and his eyes seemed to light up with an understanding that he seemed to have reached and turned his gaze back to the conversation below before she could ask, an intense expression sporting his face.

She turned towards the same direction.

"…I do not know what you or others will have for breakfast tomorrow but if we look at the sales grocery shops make as a whole, we can make some fairly accurate predictions at how many people, for instance, will have bacon and eggs or muesli." He said to the pregnant woman.

"The bigger the sample, the more accurate our prediction becomes. If we only use a sample of only ten people, our accuracy will be low but if we use a city of a hundred thousand and estimate ten thousand of them will have bacon and eggs and in the end nine thousand eight hundred do, we can say that we were fairly accurate." Atticus lectured as the conjuration changed to suit the explanation with thousands of small figures.

He continued "As my sample size increases, my accuracy increases, to the point for example things like the behaviour of a gas sample composed of trillions of individual and unpredictable molecules can be predicted with incredible accuracy at least for some aspects of that sample's behaviour. I will actually be more accurate the bigger the sample, in direct contradiction of the notion that there are more things and complex interactions involved. Many complex chaotic systems, as they scale up in complexity and in size, can begin to show emergent patterns that can make them easier to model"

"Statistics…Statistics would be the base of your formulation of behavioural patterns and future events" The woman said after a moment of realisation. "But to even create a workable model…" she headily exclaimed, a sense of wonder and understanding of the magnitude crept in her voice. "Is that even possible?" she said with a deep frown on her face "I can't even imagine the kinds of Arithmantic calculations and expressions needed to formulate such predictions."

"Statistics would not be the only base." He said as the conjuration ended. Lord Sayre turned to her "But for the sake of simplicity, yes. As for the arithmantic calculations necessary, it will be something that addressed in time once you've defined the system in its entirety. We're already making significant headway with improving Magi-Comp by several hundred factors." He told her before continuing

"With an excruciatingly precisely defined model as possible, one that has factored in the very miniscule, even to the irrelevant like the probabilities of what type of food is eaten for breakfast, the time distribution of when people take their lunch breaks, all of it, all of that randomness, all of that unpredictability will be washed away into averages and patterns once it is scaled up, once the sample size reaches a certain threshold population and could be used to predict the flow of magical history." Atticus said passionately.

"With this use of Arithmancy, a new form of divination independent from the visions and prophesies interpreted from Magic would be possible and would allow us to predict the course of history with a degree of accuracy." He paused for a moment as he glanced at the blackboard.

"With visions we see the most likely future near future, one that Magic herself seems to favour. But with this as a tool…we could have greater degree of input as to what kind of future comes to pass and see further too" He said.

Sandra almost slumped in her chair. What they were talking about…surely…?

"Naturally there will be rocks, interferences and disturbances that can alter the desired path but this can be accounted for and corrected…returning history back on the path we want" he finished.

"That is…" Sandra said with wide eyes as she sat up, finally having digested the information. "That can't be possible?" she turned to Parkinson whose expression was incredibly thoughtful.

"Why not?" Parkinson voiced out as he turned to her. "Though I see many issues with the form of divination, one that depends on a sufficiently large population, something that we've never been, not to mention the factor that magic has."

"However, saying that" Parkinson continued "I can see it being possible to even factor that…after all" Parkinson turned away from her "magic acts on our will and our will…well, that is far from being so different from the mundanes, magic or not. We all have the same base desires even if the flavour is different."

Sandra frowned at though her thoughts were interrupted as the Professor spoke again

"This will always have several fatal flaws" the woman said as she flicked her wand, vanishing the conjuration "One of them being that it relies on the civilisation being stagnant, insofar that all magical and technological advancement is halted in its entirety." The professor paused as she wrote on the board an expression Sandra didn't recognise.

"Magic will always be a disrupting element, one that will always alter the dynamics of society, seriously disrupting society and in time so will technology and whatever symbiosis Illos finds between the two. We cannot predict the coming of advancements that can profoundly alter the course of human history." She began pacing slightly before she swivelled around, her eyes wide as she stared Lord Sayre.

"That is why you want a reconciliation between this possible use of Arithmancy with Divination, isn't it?" she questioned him intently. "You want to make sense of the limitations and haziness that can exist with Visions with…this…and also to factor in these unknown advancements with glimpses provided by Magic creating some kind of symbiotic fusion that practically gives us the roadmap of the possible futures?" the professor exclaimed in wonder and was brimming with excitement.

Atticus only smiled and inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Yes. The information by visions, at times, can only be understood after the fact which can be too late to halt whatever has been set in motion which is problematic to say the least if it is an unfavourable future. It is this lack of key points in time that I wish to map out, the points that are effectively nodal points in history and open up entire roads of possibilities." Atticus paused for a moment as he glanced at the blackboard.

"Though in some ways…I'm also thinking long term, longer than anyone since Phemonoe has managed to see." He said as he stared at the calculations on the blackboard.

"Predicting the course of human history decades, centuries down the line in this way alone is not going to be accurate, not when we have magic and when magic itself can interfere to derail the predicted path of our people." Atticus said to the woman.

The professor stared at him for a moment before speaking "You already surmised all the issues I spoke off." She simply stated, a curious expression on her face.

"Yes." Lord Sayre simply said though there was a strange tone to his voice which disappeared as he continued "If we're able to create a unified divination system that combines the largely mundane divining method with the magical ones, we should be able to glimpse further and more accurately into the future and many of the probabilistic paths that are open to us…paths that we could ensure to narrow down to an ideal few so that the prosperity of our people and our descendants is as long as possible." He said with a glance to Professor's belly.

"It could change everything if it worked" the professor said after a while as she rubbed her belly. She gazed up at Atticus "You know as well as I do that changing outcomes has often proven to be too difficult." She turned to the blackboard "This…this could really change everything…if it is possible"

She turned back at Atticus, seemingly having gained a bounce in her step as she spoke "There are a lot of problems to solve" she stated matter-of-factly.

Atticus inclined his head "I know." Sandra could hear the smile in his voice.

"It probably wouldn't even remotely be possible for decades to come" the professor further added, her eyes flickering between the blackboard and Atticus.

"I know" Atticus said once more.

The professor was silent for a moment as she stared at Atticus for several minutes. "And you just want to reconcile divination and this model, no…not to reconcile…not really…you want to fit Visions and Prophecies into this theoretical model to generate a more accurate prediction of the future and change it for the better if needed?"

Sandra saw Atticus nod and decided then to stand up and make her way down.

Atticus spoke up as he turned to the blackboard "I think it's worth trying at the very least. We have a great many challenges coming our way, short term and long term. A bright future grows smaller as time goes on if we're unable to meet those challenges fully informed and ready. A symbiotic method may well give us what we need for a lasting peace. On its own, this Predictive History Method would falter even if we managed to somehow account for the perturbations caused by free will, Magic and Technology."

Lord Sayre stared at the board "If we consider a thousand year long plan, let's assume every century or so there is a crucial moment or decision that can destroy the plan if the wrong action is taken."

The board became clean with Lord Sayre moving and numbers in white chalk began to form on the blackboard "Each correction planned ahead of time to counteract this disturbance will be pretty accurate in a large scale system, say it will be 90% to keep it simple. Each time we through the dice, the correction will have a 90% chance of succeeding. The second correction there is only 90% of 90% chance of succeeding which is 81%. Do this until the tenth correction, you will have a 34.9% chance of achieving the plan, a two to one chance."

"But with visions…" the professor trailed off for a moment "With visions we'd able to increase that chance of success each time at the moment the disturbance threatens to upend the preferred future."

"Yes." Atticus said with an incline of the head.

"What about the morality of such a system?" Sandra said as she reached the final steps of the lecture hall.

They turned to her, the professor seemed a little startled but Atticus seemed unsurprised.

"What you're speaking of is highly unethical" Sandra said with a deep concern.

"Madam High Chancellor" the Professor bowed her head and Sandra acknowledged it, even if it was brief.

Atticus turned to her, a kind smile on his gentle expression. "Only if you think it is done at an individual level." He said before continuing "which it isn't. What we're speaking off is at a civilisation scale, far from the individual level that would make it manipulative."

"How so?" Sandra asked sceptically "Would this not plan the course of people's lives even if it is on such a large scale? Even make people's decisions for them, removing free will?"

He shook his head before his eyes met her gaze "No. It would only map out the future and even then it would be on a large scale. Any corrections made to the course of history would likely be miniscule and would not infringe on the individual's free will." He paused for a moment as he met Sandra's gaze.

"Any corrections made is unlikely be at a single individual level and the system would not work down to the specific individual. Such a thing could never be possible even if you had all the time of the universe to compute it." He told her and quirked an eyebrow as well "Besides, to be that controlling is far from what a healthy civilisation should aspire to." He said to her pointedly.

Sandra frowned before she nodded. She knew that above all he wished Illos to be a success onto its own and did much to elevate people to positions of power where they could make decisions, educated decisions, without needing micromanagement.

It would have been contrary to all of their planning and what Illos was meant to be if he wanted to be that controlling.

Still…

It didn't sit easy with her.

He continued "Every decision you make, every single thought you have, has an effect that changes the very present and future. An infinite variable that might have recognisable patterns to the decisions you make but nonetheless a variable that cannot be predicted with any sort of great degree of accuracy." He paused for a brief second as Parkinson also reached the ground floor of the lecture hall.

"It is only because of the size of the population that the human chaotic system can be modelled with any degree of accuracy, even if it is easy to perturb and sensitive to the butterfly effect." Atticus tilted his head as he turned around glancing at the blackboard.

"With a fusion of this Predictive History and Divination, it becomes possible to recognise the pitfalls that can break civilisations, that can descend our civilisation into stagnation and demise. That is ultimately what this would be for, to see where we are going wrong and what we can do to correct it. A stable civilisation that continues to grow and prosper would be the only goal of this system" his voice declined to a contemplative tone.

"The potential of abuse though…" Sandra trailed off.

He turned to her, a grim expression on his face and nodded "The potential of abuse huge. But then…" he smiled at her knowingly "Isn't that the case with everything and more so with us magicals where we have literal power at our fingertips?"

She had to concede to that…even more so when Atticus could probably reign down destruction onto the world that only Merlin or the Wizards who inspired the tales of the Four Horsemen could ever have managed.

Still…

It sat uneasily with her, the idea that history could be predicted before it became…well history.

Sandra shook her head "No one deserves such a power."

"Yet do I not have a similar power, power I use every day to the good of Illos and our people?" Lord Sayre posed to her, an apologetic expression on his face.

Sandra frowned "Yes but that is different and also I can trust you" she said firmly as she stared at the blackboard for a moment.

She knew he had incredible Seeing abilities, abilities that allowed him to see years into the future but as far as she understood it was nowhere near the scale they were talking about and it was only from his perspective. This could potentially see centuries into the future.

She wasn't even sure she could trust herself with this.

"But this…to this scale?" She questioned as she turned towards him.

"No one can truly be trusted with anything of this scale." She stated, her eyes intently studying him.

"At present it is only theoretical" the Professor interjected as she waved towards the blackboard "The Arithmancy on the board is only expressional not calculative."

She turned to Atticus before she looked to her and Parkinson and her silvery blue eyes met Sandra's gaze

"To create such a predictive model would take decades and new forms of Arithmancy that would boggle the mind." She shook her head. "Magi-Comps are great tools but even they would not be able to run the calculations needed for this, not at present. And then to figure out a way to combine visions with this model?" The professor only laughed joyously, the prospect of the difficult challenge seemingly exciting her.

"We're not even close to bringing it to life, Madam Chancellor" the professor said as she looked Sandra, an unreadable glint in her eyes as she faded away from the people surrounding her for a moment.

Sandra looked at Atticus from the corner of her eyes. She knew him all too well that this wasn't a random conversation.

They'll have to talk about it after.

She turned the Professor, whose name escaped her. She was a pretty woman, her silvery blue eyes certainly drew attentions and her light olive skin and blonde hairs framed her petit body excellently. And she was also heavily pregnant as she glanced at the woman's belly which was obscured by her Losi, the name of the style of clothes they wore.

She must be a recent addition, she mused. Or perhaps she was just too busy to keep track of all the newcomers.

"Professor…" Sandra began and the professor jolted out of her absentminded expression and met Sandra's gaze with a bright smile.

"Hypatia Agoralos" she said with a widening smile as she stuck out her hand.

Ah…so that accent was Greek then.

"Sandra Saunders" she said as she took the offered hand.

"I know" Hypatia said with a beaming smile "High Chancellor of Illos, the very first one! I'm honoured to meet you!"

She quickly introduced herself to Parkinson too whose stoic expression didn't seem to impact her cheerful mood at all.

Sandra's smile widened despite herself. "Thank you as am I. I don't quite recognise you." She said with a curious hint in her tone.

"Ah!" Hypatia said excitedly. "That's because I've only been here for about four months." She turned to Lord Sayre "I didn't come through the usual ways of migration, I think." She said with a musical laugh in her voice.

Sandra sent a curious glance at him and Lord Sayre's lips curled slightly, his eyes shining with a hint of mischief in them. "I heard about a prodigy in Divination from Athens." He only offered to them as an explanation.

"And before I could work full time at the Olympicus, I get this strange letter" she said with a bit of mirth in her voice "that piqued my interest and lo and behold, I'm introduced to the most wanted man in the world – and wasn't that a surprise! – and then told me what Illos was, promising me this and that and I couldn't resist when he offered to show me Illos!" She stopped for a moment, looking slightly abashed

"Not the greatest idea in hindsight, I know!" She peered at Atticus "Given your reputation and all that is said about you, half claiming you to be the Saviour and the other a danger, I shouldn't have been so eager but sometimes you just know it's the right thing to do, you know?" She said brightly, her eyes wide and mesmerising.

"It helped that Lord Sayre described Illos as the most magical place ever and once I was here I found out it was better than he described" Her eyes shone brilliantly

"When he made the offer to stay and teach, I could not refuse!" She practically jumped in exhilaration as a fond exuberated expression crossed her face.

Sandra's eyebrows almost raised passed her hairline before she rounded up at Atticus with a pointed look who only smiled at her and shrugged in response.

They'd be having words later. She thought he'd stopped inviting people without running them through the right procedures.

"Well…" she said as she turned back to Professor Agoralos "Welcome to Illos and I suspect I'll be working with you at some point in the future if you decide to make this your permanent home" she said before she gave a mild glare at Atticus.

He'd better have enacted the same oaths everyone else was on.

"Oh, don't worry." The professor waved away. "I don't see anything other than Illos in my future" she said matter-of-factly.

Sandra blinked a moment. Right…

She turned to Lord Sayre who only smiled a little wider.

"I see…" she said slowly. So that's why he went personally to invite her in.

"Might be different for little Pandora though" she said rubbing her belly.

She glanced down at the woman's stomach "Oh healers have confirmed that it's a girl?" she asked curiously, hiding her mild jealousy. She looked about four to five months pregnant. Derek and her had decided to wait for a couple of decades, deciding that their jobs were too important at present to interrupt it with raising children.

"No, I just know" she shrugged as she hopped on her feet and turned to Lord Sayre "I think I definitely need to use the washroom now" she said with a laugh as she turned around and walked with a quick pace away before twirling around and bowed her head "If I don't see you in the next day or so, I'm sure I'll see you at the Samhain ceremony! Goodnight all!" she said cheerfully as she practically ran away.

Sandra watched the woman go before turning her gaze to Atticus with a raised eyebrow.

His lips twitched at her expression before he decided to explain "She is incredibly talented in Divination, better than I am in many ways."

"Really?" Sandra said with supreme surprise. Parkinson's eyes flashed with intrigue and interest.

He hummed as he stared at the doors from which she exited "Yes. She isn't as Far Seeing as I am but she has the potential to exceed me if I teach her in the new techniques." For a moment it seemed like his eyes gleamed in anticipation.

As much anticipation he felt, she felt just as much dread. She didn't think it was a good thing if there were more like Atticus.

Not everyone could be as benign as he was.

"Is that why you decided to tell her about this new divining method?" Parkinson asked curiously.

Atticus nodded.

"You already know it's possible, don't you?" Sandra asked with a scrutinising gaze.

He turned to her "Somewhat." He said after a moment.

Sandra stayed silent, absorbing what he said until she narrowed her eyes "You wanted us to hear your conversation as well."

Atticus smiled and inclined his head "I did Sandra." He said with a warm tone "I wanted you to know about it from the start."

Sandra's lips pursed for a moment. She wasn't surprised that he informed them like this. Over the past near decade, he'd changed…becoming more mysterious and yet more open at the same time.

His abilities to See had grown to frightening levels to the point she wasn't sure what was scarier…his ability to See much of the future or his strength in magic that seemed limitless.

His lips thinned for a brief moment "If I'm right and it is possible, it'll likely be one of the most important Offices for a very long time to come."

"You want to establish something for this, don't you?" she asked him with a hint of resignation.

She knew him too well not to know that he wouldn't orchestrate all this without a purpose. She wasn't comfortable with it though…it seemed too dangerous no matter how useful it could be in the future.

"Yes." He simply answered, confirming it. He met her gaze, his expression slowly softening as he spoke further "And by the time it is possible, we will have a structure in place to remove abuse." He said to her mostly, alleviating some of the concerns she had.

He turned to Parkinson before flickering his eyes back at her "It's not as if we don't have capable people amongst us to ensure such a thing." He said with a mild smile as his eyes shone with amusement.

She scoffed as she shook her head. "Flatterer." She said with a sigh.

Her lawful mind tingled and she looked up at Atticus with a stern gaze "We cannot judge others before they commit any crimes."

"Of course not" Atticus tilted his head "That would be against the principles of Illos but what we can do is remove the conditions, if possible, that allow for such issues in the first place."

"It's somewhat relieving." Parkinson said in a musing tone as he stared intently at Atticus "That you're thinking about methods to incorporate preventative methods that are not solely reliant on you into the fabric of Illos." Parkinson peered at Atticus with an introspective gaze.

She could agree with that.

Much of Illos depended on Atticus – from education, to law, to building, to even child rearing! It was staggering how involved he was in everything even if he was stepping off the pedal somewhat nowadays.

She didn't begrudge him all of that, not at all.

He is The Lord of Illos after all. All they could see still belonged to him and his wife and likely would remain like that for a very long time.

In a way, it was comforting he was willing to relinquish a lot of the control he held for the benefit of Illos. It reminded her that he was still at heart that dreamy boy that revealed to her and her husband his plans.

Illos would always come first.

"My visions are powerful and I see much but I also don't see everything." He allowed a small almost self-deprecating smile to form "Not that I wish to be All-Seeing." He turned serious once more as he continued.

"I want to ensure that we don't miss anything, any chances that may present themselves whereby we save ourselves from circumstances that could cause the demise of all that we've built and continue to build" Atticus said with a determined expression and power in his voice, one that made her stand straighter.

"Like preventing the rise of a Dark Lord by ensuring they don't have an opportunity to have a reason to rise in the first place?" Parkinson mused aloud and Atticus nodded.

"Just so." He turned to Sandra "That is one of the greatest concerns I have. With our powers, we are effectively near godlike beings. We are nearly limitless in our capabilities and as we improve our civilisation, so will our capabilities and understanding. Should another one with my kind of potential rise to decide to become a Dark Lord…" he trailed off, his insinuations clear.

She sighed for a moment before as she grabbed the bridge of her nose. When he said it like that…

It was going to be a headache writing the codified oaths that would bind this future department.

After a moment Parkinson spoke up "I take Dark Lords and the like are the main instigators of this…research?" Parkinson posed to Atticus.

Atticus' expression shifted "Somewhat though Dark Lords are far from the most concerning problem that we might face at present" he said much to her concern.

"What then?" Sandra questioned intently. As Chancellor, she was involved in the oversight of all facets of Illos including security and wouldn't change in the upcoming elections. The Representative Council was the legislative body of the government but they were not the complete executive body of Illos even if they did some aspects of it.

Oversight was what the High Council was for and the Chief Representative, the chosen Representative from the Council of Representatives, would sit amongst the High Council on the behalf of the wishes of the public and the Council of Representatives.

The High Council did not make local decisions nor the laws but could veto such matters if it is found to be in breach of the Constitution she helped write with Atticus, his wife and several other people.

In matters of Office direction, such as making changes in Education, such decisions would have to be brought to the High Council and justification provided for the changes.

Such a structure was intent on ensuring the overarching direction of Illos was never changed without the input of the High Council who were effectively Guardians of the State.

"Dark Lords we can deal with. They are an easy target after all. What isn't easy are the people behind the scenes, powerful people who are moving pieces across the board against us from the shadows even in this moment in time." Atticus' expression darkened "It's not an issue right now, perhaps not for years to come but eventually they will be."

"Do you know who they are?" Sandra asked with a frown.

Atticus shook his head "I don't." A flicker of frustration cut across his face "I only know that they are referred to as Men of Symbols" he told them.

Parkinson's eyes widened. "M.O.S." he said with an uncharacteristic hint of surprise in his voice.

Atticus only nodded.

"Mos…?" Sandra parroted with a frown.

Parkinson turned to Sandra "They're a legend amongst the ICW. I've heard them referenced as the Unspeakables amongst the Unspeakables" Parkinson narrowed his eyes as he looked past Sandra "I heard about them during my stint as a bounty hunter from a few ICW enforcers. I seem to recall once hearing that the organisation might be older than the ICW itself" He pursed his lips, turning to Atticus

"I'll look into what I can dig out."

"Please do." Atticus said before pausing for a moment.

"I'm hopeful this possible system may be eventually pick up such noise in the background and we can root it out before it can become an infection. I have a feeling that our issues with the Magical World stems directly from them and I'd rather Illos isn't blindsided by things like this in the future." He finished with a nod before turning to Sandra

"Can I depend on you to begin on drafting the codification?" he asked of her.

She didn't respond for a moment before she met his gaze "I will do it. I want to make sure we have checks and balances in place if this…method ends up becoming a reality"

Atticus offered her a smile "Good. I don't expect the research to begin for several years to come, I don't think." He paused for a moment glancing into the distance before he continued as he turned to her, seemingly regaining focus "Actually, you should spend some time with Professor Agoralos. It will do you some good to understand her."

Sandra digested that for a moment and she was about to nod until a curious thought entered her mind "You're planning for her to head this new Office, aren't you?"

Atticus turned to her and nodded with a small smile. "Don't tell her though. It is after all quite a number of years away."

"But she's…a little eccentric." Sandra said with a frown "Not really the type to be heading organisations." True she was basing it on the short exchange they had but still…

He only smiled as a mirthful gleam entered his eyes "If you think she's eccentric, wait until you meet a few more like her. Hypatia is practically mild." He said with a knowing tone, seemingly genuinely exciting him as he spoke of the prospect of others more eccentric than the professor.

Parkinson interjected, turning the conversation to another point "Those two students overheard much of what discussed."

He hummed "I know. They're fine. They'll be some of her first protégés." He dismissed cavalierly "They'll do good work" he tagged on which made her eye twitch.

"Will this method allow more like you to sprout into existence?" Sandra said long-sufferingly. Professor Agoralos might end up like him but she really hoped she'd be the only one.

Atticus' lips twitched "Not quite. You're quite safe from being overrun by Mostly-Knowing people" he said with an amused tone.

"Good. I think the universe can't handle many more beings such as yourself." Sandra said with a shake of the head.

She turned serious as she met his gaze "We've received news from the Japanese Delegates." She told him flatly.

He tilted his head in curiosity "And?" he questioned, his full attentions on her.

She let no emotions leak out as she explained "The trade agreements we've reached are favourable" To say they were favourable was an understatement.

Illos had little need of anything and while it wasn't a problem, it did make things a little stale. To be become a trading nation would do much to rejuvenate the people especially given that there were many things that they could offer and not just finished products either.

While the Japanese delegation were incredibly impressed with much of Illos, they were particularly impressed and interested in the yield of magical plants and crops Illos was able to produce.

With the loss of their trade agreements in Asia and most of the Magical World, Magical Japan were depleting much of their potion ingredient stock. They reversed some of their decisions that hampered an agreement and now it was likely they'd become a major importer of their ingredients should they get over the final hurdle.

One of the things they had done prior to their full settlement in Illos was to obtain every known specimen of magical plants and grow it all here which hadn't been an easy feat at all.

Magical plants were highly attuned to the locations they originated and the rarest plants needed specific conditions to bloom, conditions that they managed to replicate with their greenhouses through a combination of magic and science.

"But?" Atticus prodded.

She sighed "Any talk about forming a political and economic organisation independent from the ICW and its members cannot be continued along with signing the trading treaties until we meet their one fixed condition." She said as she met his gaze.

She suspected he probably knew.

Atticus' eyes narrowed but after a moment, he looked away, seemingly lost in thought. After a while he spoke up "Ieyasu Seiwa Genio wants to come here to talk to me personally."

"He does." She confirmed.

A small smile formed on his face even as he continued to look away. "It'll be years since I've seen the old man." He said with what sounded like almost a hint of respect in his tone.

He turned to her and nodded "Set it up. Let them dictate when. It doesn't matter."

Atticus turned to Parkinson. "It will be time to speak with MACUSA soon. Make sure we have the latest information available when we approach them." He said with an expressionless face.

That'll be an interesting meeting, Sandra mused.

Quite the family reunion if President Clito-Beauclerc is still head of state by the time everything is set up.

Speaking of family…

"Shall I contact your sister as well?" Parkinson asked intently.

Atticus remained silent for a moment. "No." He met Parkinson's unflinching gaze. "I'll speak with her myself." He said in a tone that brook no further conversation on that topic.

Parkinson bowed "My Lord." He intoned and Atticus turned to her again.

"Similarly it'll be time to approach France in the next year or two." Atticus' eyes were gleaming with anticipation before it faded away just as fast it appeared "We're not ready to be known to the wider Magical World but the time is fast approaching."

"I need you to liaise with Parelius" he nodded to Parkinson "And come up with a phasing plan to shift most of the people we have out in the world into Illos. That'll reduce the chances of the ICW chancing on us before we're ready. The risk has been getting too high."

She nodded.

She'd also talk with Derek about the Dormants and muggleborns – first generation magicals she corrected herself – who were working all across the world in Atticus' Mundane companies. Many of those first generation magicals were British who had left the Isles a few years ago when it became untenable to stay any longer.

She didn't think it would take much to convince them to move to Illos given that some of them had already seen the place. The others would be easily convinced given that Atticus had only gained in reputation amongst them.

"What about New Zealand?" Sandra questioned.

"Nothing will change for New Zealand. The operations there will remain running likely until the last moment" Atticus told her.

"Very well." She said after a moment. The families that had a magical child and agreed to move were often sent to America, Canada or Australia, places that Atticus' mundane companies held a significant presence in. But New Zealand was different…special.

The country since its inception had a limited Ministry which had been to their benefit. Slowly over the course of a short few years they managed to effectively turn the Ministry into an extension of Illos.

Most Dormant families that were trustworthy were sent there now and many of the overseas students came from New Zealand. These families were also more integrated into magical society which was on purpose. In time, they intended to take in all of those families into Illos. She'd speak with the Minister about accelerating the timeline on some of the plans.

"The time of taking it easy has come an end" Atticus said with a thin smile, his purple green eyes as hard as glittering gemstones.

"Sooner than we realise we'll be on the central stage" Atticus said before he turned towards the doors and proceeded to walk away from them, his steps echoing in the hall.

"And when the curtains fall, my old friends, we must rise to the occasion" He finished as he opened and walked out the doors.

-Break-

29th of October 1952 – Wizengamot Chambers

Rasmussen Lestrange POV

He stood up as Chief Warlock Ollerton arrived and waited as the Chief Warlock took his seat. Ollerton banged his gavel.

"I call this session of the Wizengamot to order. My Lords and Ladies, please be seated." And he took his seat just as the others did.

"I welcome you all on this auspicious day…" he tuned out the ceremonial speech of the Chief Warlock and refocusing only when the agenda was listed out by the scribe.

He glanced at Lord Prince who sat on his right for a moment. Lord Prince gave no outward expression except for allowing a knowing glint to be seen in his eyes.

It seemed the rumours had been right he thought musingly.

The Minister was intent on circumventing tradition and open up with the trial instead of the normal proceedings.

The accused man, Jack Coulson was brought into the chambers with a spectrum of reactions though anticipation, irrelevant if it was disapproving or not, was shared by all.

He sat in his seat in the middle tier of the Wizengamot, lazily gazing down at the man accused in today's trial, hiding his interest in what was about to happen.

"This trial is a farce." The Lord Blackthorne whispered in the short interlude before the trial would begin, the hate in his voice clear to hear. He glanced around and saw him looking around the chambers with clenched teeth.

Lestrange set his hard eyes on the man at the blatant show of emotion.

Despite years of lordly training, he was still found…wanting when it came to being the Lord his House demanded him to be.

The bad muggle blood towered over what meagre noble blood the 'Lord' Blackthorne had.

"When hasn't this place been a farce, Michael?" 'Lord' Eveningshade said, his facial expression not changing from the stoic expression he wore.

Another squib descendant that found himself fortunate enough to carry the blood of a storied family and carry enough vestiges of family magic to be chosen as Lord Eveningshade.

Rasmussen almost scoffed. And yet they were the better bunch of a poor lot and fortunately for His Lady, they were also the ones who had the 'ancestral rights' to the permanent seats they now occupied.

There might have been more than six dozen squib descendants of extinct 'noble' bloodlines but only two were of any true value with eight having been from noble families that once had a Noble Elected seat but lost it in the wake of their family's 'extinction'.

As such, out of hundreds of squib descendants, there were only two were of any particular value and they sat above him next His Lady.

Even after all of these years they knew not how privileged they were that she had taken them under her protection.

Otherwise…

Well, it would have been a certainty that they would have been right there in the same place that man currently sat, awaiting 'judgement' from the Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot and that was if they were lucky.

After all…even if they were his 'allies', he could barely stand the presence of mudbloods of a 'higher rank' than himself and he knew the majority of the true Lords felt the same.

"We all know this is just another hunt to remove more troublesome" Eveningshade allowed his lips to sharpen in a hidden sneer "pieces of the board whilst at the same time rob them of what is rightfully theirs."

"I don't know why we're allowing this to hap-" Blackthorne's voice had threatened to rise but a carefully placed hand stopped him from voicing out any further.

His eyes travelled from the long delicate hands that were on Blackthorne's arm to the person it belonged to.

She was dressed in the most resplendent Wizengamot dress robes but that was not caught your eyes…no, what caught your attentions were her entire being.

Her long black silken hair was free and fell passed her shoulders, her pale skin resembled closer to marble with how pristine it was, how unmarred it was. Her delicate features did nothing to hide the strength and power she radiated.

Her eyes did not falter away from looking down at the man who sat with his counsel at the front in today's court proceedings.

"Now it is not the time…" she said, her words were spoken quietly but impossible to be unheard. She broke from her gaze and set her engulfing eyes upon Blackthorne "Nor the place." Blackthorne looked chastised and apologetic before he bowed his head and looked away.

Even if she was still only in her mid-twenties, she radiated the kind of authority that wizened old mages could only aspire to achieve. It was that same authority that managed to create the powerful political block that was the Ouroboros faction.

His Vasilissa was nothing but perfection.

Even now, he was in awe of her, especially with the way things were falling into place.

If Sayre was unrivalled in magic, she was unrivalled in politics.

Despite all the problems Magical Britain faced, and because of whom it faced, you would have thought she was vulnerable, to be targeted for the actions of her husband.

Yet, it was far from the case.

From the moment she married Sayre, she remained completely separate from his ambitions, her keeping her family name was certain proof of that, forming her own political group that leaned Traditionalist but where it differed was its central ideals laid in Education and Magical Culture.

She created orphanages – her measures of inviting orphaned children from the Continent contributed significantly in limiting the population decline – revamped the magical schools in Wales, Scotland and England entirely without governmental funding and she created free preschools for ages four to eleven funded out of her own pockets that focused on magical history, culture and theory along with preparing the students for Hogwarts where they would receive scholarships.

Her own academic successes rivalled that of Sayre when she became the second person in history to obtain at least two masteries before the age of nineteen and her duelling skills were put into display when she won the International Duelling Competition three times in a row at the age of seventeen, eighteen and nineteen.

During the growing conflict between Sayre, the Ministry and its Wizengamot allies, she remained neutral, offering no support to either side only asking in the public forum for moderation and peace as the conflict spiralled out of control.

The International Magical Press, a readership that exceeded that of the Daily Prophet even now despite the Daily Prophet being owned by the Ministry, followed her neutrality and did little to comment on the growing political crisis.

Many questions that arose, questions that should have been problematic for his Vasilissa, were sidestepped and diffused away. Questions that touched on the topic of their lack of unity were explained away by separating away unity in marriage from unity of politics, a point the public had accepted. In truth, there as little they would not accept, not with the way the public had taken to his Vasilissa.

Publicly, she was the perfect symbol of what an Heir of the Founders should be like.

She was powerful, focused on education as well as on the wellbeing of the coming generation and she funded many institutions dedicated to cultural heritage, from the Arts to a National Museum that showcased artefacts that belonged wizards and witches of note, such as the Slytherin Locket. Helga Hufflepuff's Cup and the Ravenclaw Diadem, all of which had catapulted her as an equal treasure to the public as those trinkets were.

Privately…

Well, he thought musingly to himself as he sat back in his chair, his eyes glancing towards the Traditionalist faction.

While nearly all the heirs who'd sworn their loyalty did not sit in their family seats yet, they still held significant influence on their Heads of Houses.

Not that she needed it all that much once they had met her in private. Any prospects of involving her in their conflict with Sayre died not long after they'd spoken with her.

Sayre had cast a long shadow but many had found that she could cast an equally long one should she desire and many knew she would not relinquish her position, not after publicly stating she would continue her ancestor's work in Britain for a long time to come.

He did not know what the agreements were reached at the end, rumours amongst her faithful were rife but he did know that she'd been important in facilitating the deal that led to Sayre's exile and prevented all-out civil war that could have escalated to another global conflict with the way the ICW and its puppets were involving themselves in their affairs.

His attentions drifted back to Minister Lowe, elected this year after Norton's replacement had been ousted due to poor performance, rose from his seat.

"Honoured Members of the Wizengamot" Lowe said in his gravelly voice "today we have all convened to preside over a trial that has been long time coming" Lowe gazed across the Chambers before his eyes settled on the man below who was fearful but nonetheless radiated hatred and contempt for the people in the chamber.

"One that will get to the bottom of the truth of the heinous act that was committed and that Mr Coulson is accused of performing!" The Minister said with a furious flourish before he continued pompously

"Normally, the threshold for the alleged crime committed would not have yielded a Wixen Court however, Honourable Lords and Ladies, we are presented with a crime that threatens the very stability of our nation, one that follows a slew of similar crimes that aims to weaken the very threads that keep our nation together" Lowe spoke passionately.

Rasmussen leaned forward from his chair, his eyes intently staring at the Minister.

Lowe had circumvented the standard procedures once again and used his executive authority to force it through into the Wixen Court, the highest judicial body of Magical Britain.

He wondered if it was a scheme made with the Traditionalists.

Unlikely, he mused to himself. It wasn't Lord Black's style to drag it out in such a dramatic fashion. It was likely Lowe's idea and execution with tacit approval from the Traditionalists at most.

He glanced at Lord Black. He sat stiffly, his posture exuded nothing short of utmost control as he watched the Minister's performance with an impassive face.

Besides Arcturus Black were Selwyn, Parkinson, Avery and Shafiq, a powerful block of five Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses

On the other side of the Chambers were the Progressives who had their own powerful block of Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses in Longbottom, Prewett, Bones, Abbott and Potter.

Despite McKinnon's lesser rank as an Ancient and Most Noble House, he had led the Progressives for over two decades yet the decline of the Progressive's influence had led to him being replaced by Fleamont Potter, a man who seemed most likely to reign in the increasing power of the Traditionalist faction.

Both faction had a collection of Noble Elected Houses though the Traditionalist had a slight majority in their favour as they managed to corral independents to their faction, likely because of Lord Black whose influence could not go unrecognised.

It helped that when the Sayres…departed and gave up their ancestral rights, another six Noble Elected seats opened up – though surprisingly the McDowell seat was left intact even if it was held by an abstaining proxy – when Ancient Houses such as Merek, Garrick and Carson left with the Sayres.

That allowed the Traditionalist – with the significant aid of the former Minister Norton – to get their sycophants seats in the Wizengamot with five out of six all ending up joining the Traditionalist faction.

It was a contributing factor to McKinnon losing his leadership position in the Progressives given the huge blow it represented.

With the growing influence of the Traditionalists, the independent seats were pressured in joining a side in the growing political chasm that was forming in the wake of the worst economic recession that gripped the country since records began.

The independents were now the smallest they've ever been, most of the remaining deciding to survive under the leadership of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Fawley who managed to get them organised in a small but vote swinging faction that could protect itself from pressure from any of the sides.

The Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Ollivander was one of the few remaining true independents.

And the last faction…the last faction was his own, the Ouroboros Faction under Lady Slytherin's leadership which had Greengrass, Blackthorne, Eveningshade and Nott and Carrow who had defected from the Traditionalist faction when their heirs convinced them to.

Six Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses were a powerful voice with a small but wealthy group of Noble Elected Houses forming its core and it had shown during the Sayre Crisis.

The Sayre Crisis…

An understated naming of a period that to this day still left its lingering touch on society. A touch that felt withering to most of the nobles and a touch that left the regretful commoners longing for more.

He glanced at the infamous Sayre seat that was left unoccupied.

The magic within the Chamber imbued by Merlin himself would not be so easily violated. That seat would remain there until the end of time and it cast an ominous shadow over the Wizengamot and what Sayre represented to its members.

His mind cast back as he delved into his memories.

Sayre had remodelled the entire economy to his family's whim, creating sectors and new forms of business nearly on a weekly basis.

It was genius, and in the end perhaps foolish, the way he ruthlessly upended centuries of economic makeup, breaking the gears that turned the economy of Magical Britain.

Scores of influential families were losing money, indirectly, to his inventions that gobbled up huge amount of market share as bespoke stores and shops found themselves with far less foot traffic than before as other interests and comparative products replaced centuries old 'traditional' products and goods.

If it had been just that, things might have worked out but Sayre had different ideas.

He'd used his incredible popularity, which continued to rise as he brought to the average magical a way to see the Magical World in their very living rooms with his M-Vision product, to campaign and advocate for laws to be repealed and putting forth laws that were intended – at least according to most nobles – to claw away power from the nobility and the Ministry.

That had been the signal to most of the elder Lords and Ladies that Sayre had no intention of playing by the rules that had been established for centuries upon centuries.

The Wizengamot protected its own and Sayre…Sayre had no interest in protecting them

Sayre had grown too powerful, his defeat of the most powerful Dark Lord in centuries, his status as a Sayre and his ability to gather legions of followers had all combined to form a looming dragon intent on devouring the carefully constructed power structure that ruled the Isles for centuries whole in a just a few swallows.

He had already begun with the economy and his extreme speeches in the Wizengamot were a death knell to any hopes they might have had about his intentions.

That realisation had been the turning point in their growing resentment, a realisation that sparked the fuel into an explosive despise and more importantly…burning fear.

In truth, the fear they held that their power would be destroyed was an understandable one.

The War on the continent had done a huge number on purebloods with a death toll that reached in the five figures and decimated entire ancient bloodlines and, as a consequence, many of the Ministries that had been gutted by Grindelwald and his followers, new 'democratic' government – in reality it was little better than oligarchy – had been instituted that removed much of the political privilege the nobility had by the ICW.

Only Greece, Italy, Portugal, Norway and Sweden retained their Wizengamot parallels as of today when before nearly all of Central and Western Europe had the nobility dictating policy and their nations.

To go the way of most European nations…

One of the secret covenants that bound the nobility of Magical Britain was that to jeopardise one of them was to jeopardise all of them.

And Sayre…

Sayre was threatening them all

It had been fascinating to watch, the decline of an unconquerable hero at the hands of the people he had saved.

The fears that the nobles held, regardless if they were progressives or traditionalists, were solidified into unbreakable diamonds when The Truth about The Returnees and the Lie of being Muggle Borne came out.

A book that forever altered the dynamics of Magical Society across the world no matter how much they tried to restore things back to the way they were by banning the book.

A book whose very existence cracked the screen of superiority his fellow purebloods had and later shattered as mudbloods gained access to the vaults and treasures of long dead ancient lines all because one critical point.

They had Family Magic.

Nearly all families worth their salt tied their legacy to family magic if all main line and branch clans were extinct, legacies that could only be reactivated on having the blood and magic of the family line.

Magic through centuries, through millennia, was shaped and formed into an encompassing nature that was family magic. It created a bond through blood and magic between family members and often resulted in the manifestation of certain characteristics, affinities and traits unique to that bloodline.

However weak their family magic may have been, however diluted it was, nonetheless it was undeniable that mudbloods held access to the most revered aspect in magical society.

Just as it was undeniable they had family magic, it was undeniable what they represented.

A threat to the very foundation the social order was constructed on.

To say it made unlikely allies was understating it.

McKinnon, who at the time had barely retained control over the Progressives faction following the Dumbledore Debacle, joined in complete arms with the Blacks to combat the rising threat they came to see as the Sayres.

Oswald Carlinger, Heir of the Noble House of Carlinger, stated that he'd heard that McKinnon, Prewett and MacMillan tried to talk to Lord Sayre in private, to press him to slow down the 'destabilising' reforms he was championing but it had been to no avail and so the Progressive-Traditionalist alliance for the first time since the founding of the Wizengamot was born, aimed to remove Lord Sayre from power at all costs.

Individual whispers began to gain in strength, a disharmonious melody that came together, louder and stronger, forming blades of wind that began into the thick, seemingly impervious scales of the looming dragon until it was no longer whispers but rather howling voices that sunk deep into its flesh and made the unconquerable seem far more surmountable.

And eventually…they managed to do what they set out to do at all costs, no matter how heavy.

'And the cost was heavy indeed' he mused to himself inwardly.

His eyes sported across the Chamber, his eyes trailing across the faces of the men and women who sat in their House seats.

They were old, most of them were over seventy years of age with a sizable number well over a hundred and fifty.

Would they have chosen differently then, if they knew the consequences of their actions?

The economy was still broken, a pale shadow of what it had once been in 1930, let alone the height of prosperity that was reached in 1945.

When the Sayres left, they took their preposterous wealth, a wealth that at the time had climbed to 21% of the total wealth of the country.

In 1945 the cost of a vial of Pepper-Up had been exactly one galleon. Now that same vial costs twelve galleons and its ingredients were just as costly. A far cry of when it had been twenty-three at the height of the crisis but it was still a steep problem.

At that time, the cost of living had also become untenable in Britain and had the Ministry not enacted emergency protocols that severely infringed on the Statute of Secrecy, Magical Britain would have descended into anarchy.

No one had considered that the Sayres would do this nor what it would result in. It seemed though Sayre had been exiled, he had the last laugh.

Whilst Britain was the most affected by this exile, it was by no means the only nation.

The Sayres had held significant wealth in many of the Magical World's banks and bar the ones in France and MACUSA, had all of that wealth withdrawn from the banks, instigating an economic crisis that piled onto the unrest that still existed in the aftermath of the Grindelwald War.

No one had been safe from the consequences, not even those who sat in this chamber. His own wealth was far from what it was before yet he was comfortably better off than most.

Poverty was still too high as was unemployment, assets had barely recovered forty percent of their pre-1948 levels, the Ministry was in a mountain of debt and businesses that managed to survive were barely turning a profit. The Ministry tried – and continued to try – to reignite the economy but the shock that resulted from the economic recession was just too debilitating for it to be solved in the short term.

The measures the Wizengamot had passed had been promising, at least at face value and perhaps the measures of the Wizengamot could have worked had it not been for the population decline that seemed impossible to stop without drastic actions.

In 1945, there was a population of roughly 32,000 people. In 1952, the population was under 24,000 and still falling.

In just seven years, the population declined by twenty-five percent, a loss that put Magical Britain on par to some of the worst struck countries during the Grindelwald war.

Though only half of the eight thousand left with Sayre, the other half left to seek greener pastures in the Colonies or left because the reactionary measures taken by the Ministry that infringed on their lives and livelihoods.

And even if many of those that left because of those measures were mudbloods, a sizeable number were still young half-bloods and poorer purebloods who took offense at finding themselves being forced into taking critical but hard and low paying jobs that had been left vacated due to the people who left with Sayre.

When Sayre left, he took, along with his wealth, most of the hedge witches and wizards, people no one in these chambers would spare a thought for yet were as vital to Magical Britain as Hogwarts was.

When the muggle war had been going on and rations had been in full swing limiting the food supply available, the farmsteads of the hedge witches and wizards had been forced to sell at the same rate the Ministry normally purchased from the muggle world. Such an act put those families in dire straits as the exchange rate effectively gotten them eighty-five percent less than what they used to get for the same harvest yield.

Sayre had campaigned on their behalf, even financed them from his own coffers and in return, after the deal was struck and he was exiled, they had been all too happy to leave with him and sold their lands off to House Greengrass.

There were many such acts of generosity, of kindness made to struggling people – struggling people who did important if menial jobs – who were in the end convinced that they were better off with Sayre than they were remaining in the Isles.

An opinion that more and more commoners were beginning to think as the Ministry showed its incompetence and inability to deal with the problems that mired the country.

The population decline, the high inflation, the loss of labour in important industries, the civil unrest that continued to burble below the surface of Magical Society, all of it continued unabated with no end in sight, no matter how successful the knock off inventions based on Sayre's products were.

Even after the destruction of Sayre's political power in Magical Britain, the shadow of the consequences of the actions against Sayre still cast a large shadow over the Isles, one that seemed to continue its growth, slowly unravelling Magical Society down to its very bones and this trial…

This trial would only hasten it.

The Minister turned away from addressing the Chamber and gazed down at Coulson with a harsh glare "Mr Coulson" The Minister said with a scowl in his voice "was fortunate enough to inherit the wealth of the Ancient House of Cavil, a wealth that put him on par with the wealthiest of nobles sitting here!" He said to the Lords and Ladies of the chamber as he turned around, flailing his right arm aggressively.

"And yet, you might wonder, My Lords, My Ladies, what has been done with the wealth that members of House Cavil laboriously gathered over centuries when they were a part of our community?" He asked as he peered over his box towards the nobles "Do you think it has been used to invest in British business to help the economy grow?" Low shook his head fervently as he raised his index finger

"It has not, My Lords, My Ladies." Lowe said with a disappointed tone before he perked up dramatically as he spoke once more to the chamber "You might then wonder, and you would be right to, has he instead decided to use it fund his own enterprises?"

Minister Lowe stared down at Mr Coulson with an angered expression "And once more it is not what Mr Coulson chose to do. No…instead of being a productive member of society, he instead chose to be subversive!" Minister Lowe said loudly with a furious consternated expression.

"Choosing to use the wealth of a storied family to fund a radical movement!" Minister Lowe said rousingly and the chamber murmured amongst themselves as disdainful looks were sent Coulson's way.

"The Isonomian Movement, My Lords, My Ladies, is a far from just an angry collection of people" Minister Lowe shook his head "Some amongst us here today may state that they are but a minor group amongst many but that is not true. None of the other groups threatens the very stability of our nation the way this movement does, with what they are advocating for and Mr Coulson's donation is far from innocent." The Minister said passionately to the chamber before he straightened up and continued

"You may wonder what it has to do with the charges that are levied against Mr Coulson and why his trial has been moved before the Wixen Court." Minister Low stated to the Chamber.

"It is true that the violation of the restrictions set in the Galleon Transference Act of 1949 should have only yielded at most a fine in the Magistrates' Court but there is more to this…donation, My Lords, My Ladies and I have incontrovertible proof that connects Mr Coulson" The Minister spat out "is personally involved in an insidious, elaborate scheme to that is intent on overthrowing the very institutions that preside within these chambers today!" The Minster shouted out and the volume in the chamber increased.

So he was going in that route then was he? Rasmussen mused to himself.

To take a case from the Magistrates' Court to the Wixen Court was quite the leap and was one that hardly ever happened. There were three courts of Magical Britain; the Magistrates Court, the Principal Court and the Wixen Court.

The Magistrates court dealt with the majority of the criminal offences up and settled civil disputes between families when one or both parties desired an impartial outcome by a panel of oath sworn magistrates.

Ironically this lesser court was also the most impartial and least vulnerable to corruption and bribery.

The Principal Court dealt with the more serious crimes such as murder and use of banned magicks. This Court was presided by a judge and jury though they were primarily Ministry officials. It was also the court that primarily dealt with appeals and restitutions from the Ministry.

The Wixen Court however was the most senior of Courts and involved in dealing with the most serious of crimes and issues tending to be of national significance.

These tended to be things such as Line Theft, Line Extermination, Gross Violation of the Statute of Secrecy and of course Disrupting the National Peace.

It seemed that Lowe was entirely intent on having Coulson charged with Disrupting the National Peace…something that was historically used to persecute wizards and witches that followed and aided Dark Lords. Words such as treason may be used but ultimately it was this that people were charged with.

Rasmussen couldn't help but find it wildly amusing, the lengths those like Lowe would go in protecting their own hides through using stolen wealth to make a dent in the glaring budget deficit that existed.

Even once they succeeded in getting Coulson convicted, summarily executed and his wealth seized, it would do little but plaster over the cracks. Eventually the public would see Lowe lied about the things he'd promised when nothing changed in the next year or so and at that point…well, they'd see how much patience the public had left.

Chief Warlock Ollerton banged his gavel "Order!" the room quieted down once more.

Ollerton sent a look at the Minister "You may have taken the role of Prosecutor for this trial but I will remind you that you are skirting the line with your statements." The Chief Warlock warned the Minister. "Any further such outburst will have you noted in breach of decorum."

The Minister gave a stiff nod to the Chief Warlock and cast his gaze back at the Chamber "You must ask yourselves, My Lords, My Ladies…it is a donation today but what about tomorrow?" His voice reduced down in volume as he trailed his eyes across the chamber

"Tomorrow when the Isonomian Movement and others such like it, have a war chest filled enough to bring into reality what they only speak in hushed words now?" He posed to the chamber and Rasmussen could see that the Minster's words were having an effect – at least on those who were not read into this...performance.

"That is why I have brought this case before you, My Lords, My Ladies. Not because of a minor crime, not because of whom had committed it" Minister Lowe said pointedly to the Progressives faction "But rather for what it represents." The Minister drew himself up "He is here today because of treason, My Lords, My Ladies, and it is not an easy accusation to make, I know" he said with a raised hand as murmurs rose in the public gallery even as those seated in the chamber remained silent.

The Isonomian Movement was real, just as there were a few others like it though what made it different from others was that it was a movement that largely had mudbloods, half bloods and squibs in its organisation, were known to campaign for the repeal of the harsh laws that had been levied against them after The Truth about the The Returnees and the Lie of being Muggle Borne had come out.

They were far from what Minister Lowe was insinuating they were and it was distracting of what the true goal of this trial was.

"But it is made because of the very nature of what the people Mr Coulson donated to represent. We have placed arrest warrants on these subversives and in time they will be caught but all of that will be in vain if we do not put men like Mr Coulson to task!" the Minister said passionately to the crowd.

Lowe continued for several more minutes, pomp and deluge streamed out of the man's mouth at an impressive rate.

He could stare with bemusement at the Minister that somehow managed to spew such impressive fearmongering nonsense.

The man was middle aged and was shorter than average. Where he made up in physical stature was his ability to make people listen, whether they wanted to or not, a dangerous skill that made him someone to be wary of.

Especially given the company the Noble House of Lowe usually kept. They had a seat amongst the Noble Elected though they were independent, for the most part.

In many ways you could consider this trial to be a showing of where House Lowe's allegiances laid. They were a family were certain pureblood sentiments and this trial was not the first of its kind.

It was not surprising that farcical trials however amusing they may be, were happening at a faster rate given the leanings the Minister and his House had.

The Traditionalists under Lord Black capitalised on the waning influence of Progressives and managed to sway the Independents to vote in line with them resulting in Lowe taking the Ministership.

Finally, the Minister ended his opening statement and sat down.

"The Chair recognises Lord Fleamont Potter" Chief Warlock Ollerton intoned as Potter rose from his seat.

In the Wixen Court, the Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot were the 'jury' yet they were also permitted to speak in the trial itself to raise questions and to offer rebuttals.

"Once more" Lord Potter began, his tone flinty as a harsh countenance crossed his face "our judicial system is abused. What should be a minor crime brought before a panel of judges is instead elevated into a major crime." Lord Potter's lips drew to a thin line

"I do not fail to understand why it is we sit here given the…nature" Lord Potter rounded towards the Minister with a scathing look "of the case itself, one that seems to be disturbingly similar to the sixteen other such cases brought before the Principal Courts during the Minister's short seven month's reign as Minister." Lord Potter said with narrowed eyes.

Rasmussen inwardly smiled as he leaned forward. It was going to be interesting.

Lord Potter had come informed. In the past half year or so, there had been a systematic persecution of mudbloods, mudbloods who had inherited sizable wealth but had been astute enough to remain invisible – until now.

During the immediate economic crisis, stringent laws had been passed that prevented any withdrawal over a certain amount – something the goblins surprisingly agreed with – and as such, anyone who had a fortune would find it nearly impossible to leave with all their wealth, not after the Goblins had enchanted Gringotts to prevent any space expansion charms or runes from working within the Vaults.

That meant that wealthy mudbloods had to remain in Britain if they ever wished to enjoy their inheritance.

The Ministry was now fully focused on capitalising on it by taking nearly all if not most of their wealth on trumped up charges.

"But to claim treason?" Lord Potter questioned disbelieving "This is seven steps too far and you know it. Minister Lowe, when will this crusade end?" Lord Potter said to the chamber as much as he said it to the Minster. "Instead of dealing with the chronic problems that the country faces, you continue the legacy of the former Minister Norton." This garnered murmurs of agreement amongst the crowd in the public gallery.

In the past year or so, public's anger was slowly shifted away from the Sayres despite the Daily Prophet's best attempts and instead the public had largely begun blaming Norton for the economic problems that Magical Britain faced.

He'd been ousted less than a year after Sayre's exile and his successor hadn't even lasted a full term before Minister Lowe was elected.

"A legacy that we still suffer from to this day as the economy continues to not recover, as unemployment remains high and unresolved, as the cost of living remains indefensibly obscene!" Lord Potter's voice was furious by the time he arrived at the end of his sentence and the crowd voiced their agreement even more. "Stop this crusade and actually attend to matters that are crying out to be dealt with! What you're doing is doing nothing but harm on an already hurting society" Lord Potter said with a scathing tone before he sat down, his arms crossed and his head shaking in dismay.

The Minister stood up to answer after being allowed to by the Chief Warlock "There is no crusade and I protest such unwarranted accusations!" The Minister cried outraged and jeers and hollers rang in the Chambers until the Chief Warlock managed to restore order.

The Minister spoke again, an angered expression on his face flashed before he schooled it "My cabinet since the day I was elected has been prudently working to grow the economy! In the past seven months the economy has grown for the first time since before the crisis has hit!"

"Aye, with Blood Money" Lord Longbottom, the Grindelwald war veteran shouted out and the Chief Warlock amidst cheers from the Progressives banged his gavel.

"Order! I will have order!" the Chief Warlock bellowed out and the chamber silenced.

"Lord Longbottom" the Chief Warlock intoned gravely "Refrain from shouting across the chamber. Do it again and I will hold you in contempt" the Chief Warlock warned.

Lord Longbottom dismissively nodded his acceptance before flashing the Minister a gruelling smile.

Rasmussen looked on amused.

"They're quite intent on derailing the trial" Lord Prince mused. He turned to the man who sat next to him as Lord Carrow spoke up next.

"It's in their best interest to do so. The last thing they want is Lowe to see out his full term as Minister" Lord Carrow, the elderly statesman said. The old man's eyes glimmered with cold amusement "Not that his chances of actually seeing it out were that high in the first place. That Ministership is a poisoned chalice."

Rasmussen agreed.

Years had passed since the economic crisis and there is still no horizon in sight of a better tomorrow. The public still remembered the prosperous times and as each day passed, longing increased and anger rose.

"Does it even matter if Lowe gets booted out before his term is up?" Blackthorne said with a scowl in his voice. "The Traditionalists would just get another one of their cronies in the seat."

"Not if we actually voted for once." Eveningshade murmured and Rasmussen kept his silence even if it proved difficult.

"Don't be a fool." Lord Prince glanced towards Eveningshade even as his expression was stoic. "I know it must be hard, Lord Eveningshade" Lord Prince said with a disdainful tone, one that enraged Eveningshade "But not even you are so blind to see that there is little advantage at present to involve ourselves in the unstable cauldron that is before us."

"An unstable cauldron that we can stabilise" Eveningshade rebutted "How does it help that we allow these people" Eveningshade spat out "ruin this country even more than it already is? Not to mention the insipid treatment they enforce on squib-descendants! Things are worse than they have ever been!" He said with a shake of the head.

"And now they are stepping things up by putting forth fraudulent charges that are little more than a way to use people as scapegoats as they rob them blind. If they keep going, they're going to make what they're accusing Coulson of into a reality." Eveningshade said with hard eyes that promised he'd be involved in bringing about that reality.

"Careful now…those are words that can easily see you down there in the same seat as Coulson" Lord Prince warned with narrowed eyes.

"Not with the support I'll have from my people" Eveningshade said with gritted teeth.

"What people?" Lord Nott said musingly as he turned to Eveningshade "Your people" Lord Nott said in a mocking voice as he stared directly at Eveningshade with unblinking eyes "Are far from the numbers they used to be. They're also far less capable than the ones who had the good sense to leave years ago." Lord Nott said with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes before it went away and a sheen of coldness replaced it.

"The hardship they face is…unfortunate but they are not the only ones who face it and ultimately they number less than two thousand out of a population of twenty-four thousand. Their problems are not important and neither is your indignation towards their irrelevancy."

Eveningshade looked outraged with the way his eyes widened but before he could retort, their Vasilissa spoke up.

"Enough." She said, her voice cracking like a whip that silenced anyone who might have attempted to speak. Had the one-way silence ward not been active, a ward that allowed coalitions to speak freely without concern of being overheard, Rasmussen had no doubt that even the farthest away seat would have heard her.

She turned to them, her near black eyes set sternly towards them "I will not have you bicker amongst yourselves like children" she said, her tone non-negotiable "There will be time to discuss" she said as her eyes flickered towards Eveningshade who looked down in submission before flickering to Lord Nott who met her gaze unflinchingly "the concerns any of you might have in tomorrow's meeting." she said and her tone was final on that subject.

No one disagreed with her.

"And Lord Eveningshade?" his Vasilissa said in a soft tone, one that was as dangerous as it was entreating. Eveningshade looked up and met her gaze though he was hesitant to.

"Yes, my Lady?" Eveningshade asked warily.

"You may be tempted to veer away from the agreed plan and I can understand that." She said, pausing for a moment, a pause that somehow felt heavier than it should be. Her eyes were set upon Eveningshade in a way that seemed as if she was staring down into his very soul.

"After all, you may feel obliged to vote with your conscience, to think that it is the right thing to do and say 'damn the consequences' regardless of what they may be" She leaned forward and her eyes began to glow dimly in the well-lit chamber even as her face remained expressionless and it only increased its frightful intensity.

Eveningshade swallowed harshly even if he managed to keep his composure "I-I won't, my Lady. I won't veer away from the plan."

Her expressionless face finally broke and a razor sharp smile, a small one but sharp smile nonetheless, formed. "I know." She said calmly. "I know I can depend on you, Lord Eveningshade." She said with an incline of the head.

"After all, you know better than to surprise me." She finished as her eyes flickered away from Eveningshade in a way that seemed to dismiss him. She leaned back in her seat and her expressionless face returned.

Rasmussen allowed an amused tug of the lips to form before he returned his attentions back at the trial.

The trial continued apace, the defence had done admirably and had it been an objective court he would have won. In truth, had there not been a ban on brewing expensive potions that were vital for health or injury, perhaps he may even have been able to win despite the rigged state of affairs with the aid of Veritaserum.

Much of what the Minister said was little more than fearmongering and the witness he had brought forth was his only 'proof' of treasonous activities.

"You may now cast your votes" Chief Warlock Ollerton said.

The process of voting was simply. Within each seat there an enchanted orb that registered the person's vote. Abstain, aye or nay.

A slew of orbs went up, flickering one colour or another as people voted.

An unbroken sea of green, aye, went up in the Traditionalist camp and the same happen in the Independents.

The Progressives showed their disjointedness as more than a few green stars radiated amongst a red canvas. It would not have mattered even if they had been wholly united but it sent a clear message of the internal problems they had.

Their own faction, Ouroboros was an unyielding grey as they abstained, something that surprised no one in the chambers.

For years, they'd abstained from voting on sensitive divisive matters even if it proved disadvantageous to their cause.

But Rome was not built in a day and it was not yet time to tear down the decrepit shacks of houses that stood in its place.

Finally, one of the clerks shot a spell which tallied the votes; 69%.

"Mr Coulson" The Chief Warlock spoke up gravely as the crowd and chamber quieted down to a hush and then silence.

"You have been found guilty by the majority of Wizengamot for Disrupting the National Peace and such you have been sentenced to death via the Veil. May Magic have mercy on your soul" The Chief Warlock banged his gavel.

Cheers and jeers coalesced from amongst the nobles and the crowd in the public gallery.

"You think this is justice?!" Coulson raged out over the noisy chambers as his face contorted in a hateful expression, his head swivelling around rapidly as he glared at the Wizengamot, particularly towards the Traditionalist side.

"That you continue to get away with what you're doing?" The Aurors quickly grabbed him by the arms. "One day, one day you will get what you deserve! Robbing and killing innocent people because you despise the fact that we have you loathingly think we should not have!" Coulson raged as he struggled against the Aurors, his eyes wild with hate. "Our blood and magic is just as SPECIAL as yours is, you INBRED FUCKS and one day you will get your dues, you BASTA-" he was cut off, silenced as he was dragged away amongst claps and jeers.

Rasmussen glanced at the public gallery. He could see Coulson's words had an effect with some and they probably weren't just mudbloods either.

Another shack has fallen apart.

How many more, he wondered, until everything fell apart?

The session ended and he met with his Vasilissa with the other senior members of Ouroboros outside the doors of the Wizengamot. Blackthorne and Eveningshade were upset, that was far too easy to see.

They had to be reined in, he darkly mused to himself as he caught Blackthorne glare hatefully at a smug Lord Avery. It would not do for them to jeopardise all that their Vasilissa was working for even if they knew nothing of it.

"What time shall we meet?" Lord Prince inquired.

"We will meet at Slytherin Manor at ten in the morning." Lady Slytherin said calmly before her eyes fell upon Blackthorne and Eveningshade "Do not give any of them the opportunity to capitalise from your volatile state." She said with a fixed look.

"We wouldn't" Blackthorne said defensively.

"Wouldn't you?" Lord Nott said musingly "If they came to you now, said just the right thing…would you not make an error in judgment that not even Lady Slytherin can defend you from?" Lord Nott posed in a drawl.

His Vasilissa sent a look at Nott who dipped his head "My apologies, my Lady. It had to be said given the way they seem so eager to throw away all the hard work you've done to protect them from the realities of life."

"Are you suggesting we're ungrateful?" Blackthorne asked harshly.

Lord Nott only countered with a tilted head and a small smile that said everything.

The hairs of his body stood at mast as an air constricting pressure descended on them all. They all turned stiff as they turned to her.

Her expression was unchanged yet her eyes glowed impossibly black, her posture was the same yet now she radiated intimidation.

"My Lady." Rasmussen said with a struggle as he bowed his head.

She turned to Blackthorne and then Eveningshade and she spoke "Do not leave your homes until it's time to convene. You'll need a clear head for what we're to discuss tomorrow." She said and it was clear that it was a dismissal.

"Yes, My Lady" "My Lady" Eveningshade and Blackthorne bowed their heads and left.

His Vasilissa watched them go departs towards the elevators that led to the Floo before her eyes flickered to Lord Nott. "Your disdain of them is turning into a problem."

Lord Nott said nothing for a moment until he responded. "They are a problem." He said as he met her gaze unflinchingly "Not because they are mudbloods but because they lack control."

Lord Carrow scoffed "Obvious to anyone" he muttered "Especially to Avery and the others."

"You could always school them, Lord Nott?" Rasmussen said with a wry smile, one that did not amuse Lord Nott at all.

"That is an excellent idea, Rasmussen." She said with a gleam in her eyes as she turned to Lord Nott who was visibly surprised. "Oh?" she said with a tilted head as a far from innocent look crossed her face "You don't think it's a good idea?" Her expression changed and it was as cold as the vicious freezing air of the Arctic.

"Then perhaps you should refrain from antagonising them lest you find yourself teaching them the control they lack." She said with a fixed gaze.

Lord Nott was expressionless for a moment before he nodded "Of course my Lady." He said with a tilt of the head.

Soon enough they all separated until he was left with his Vasilissa who he was walking with to the Floo stations where she'd take a Floo to Hogwarts. While she had Slytherin Manor built on the ancient Slytherin lands, she lived in the castle most of the time given that she recently became Deputy Headmistress when Michais Fawley retired.

"Are you still planning on going to the theatres?" she questioned as she stopped before the Floo and turned to him with a curious look in her eyes.

"I am." He told her and she smiled.

"Good." She said as she turned around and grabbed a handful of floo powder. "I hear tickets were all sold out." She said as she threw floo powder into the fire. "I'm sure you'll find it interesting" she said with a curl of the lips as she disappeared in a swirl of fire.

A few hours later he walked through the more luxurious parts of Diagon Alley until he neared his destination.

He waded past the line that queued up at the front of the Nine Realms Theatre and flashed his Lordship ring at the guards who bowed as they let him through. He paid none of them any mind as he walked the steps towards his private box, one that belonged to House Lestrange.

House Lestrange…

A few short years after he'd come of age, his great uncle had passed in his sleep and finally allowed him to gain the headship of House Lestrange and all that came with it.

He drank of his firewhiskey as he brought it to his lips.

His great uncle had never truly cared for any of his extended family, and, in truth, he didn't either.

Still, he had been chosen heir to the Lestrange family, the black sheep his family had all underestimated and discarded, too late to realise the changes that he'd undergone during his time at Hogwarts.

As he brought his glass to his lips, he allowed a blood curling smile to form as a savage gleam entered his eyes.

It was ironic that he'd been alienated in the family for so long and yet he was the only male Lestrange alive now given the tragic fluke of an accident that resulted in most of his cousins dying at the fiery jaws of a rampaging Swedish Short Snout.

He savoured the taste of the firewhiskey as the curtains opened and a cover of dark grey, near black smoke erupted onto the stage.

The deaths of his cousins were orchestrated as much as it was to fulfil his desires as it was necessary for his Vasilissa.

His smile wore off as a hard glint entered his eyes.

There could be no betrayal from House Lestrange against his Vasilissa and House Black could have won his cousins over with the promise of Headship.

Rolling drums swept into the theatre jolting audience into rapt attention as the sounds seemed to wash away the dark grey smoke as figures in loose cloth appeared from the smoke.

The enchantments of the theatre were masterfully done, allowing the illusion that the stage was larger than it was, had a depth greater than it had with the way the stage was moving the landscape along as the figures walked, moved.

It was dark though silhouettes of trees were easily discernible indicating they were in a forest. As they walked, it was easy to spot their tired, slow gaits as they moved through the dark of night.

Moonlight shone through the trees and cleared much of the darkness away.

There were about twenty people, half of them wore tunics, mantles and loose pantaloons that all seemed to be of the same cloth whilst they had ornamental bracelets and torcs made out of twisted golden wires. They also had primitive weapon, most of the figures had weapons had spears with what seemed to be an iron spearhead with runic symbols etched on its surface mounted on a wooden shaft.

Beyond what was clearly warriors, there were women and children though what caught the eye were the men dressed in druid garments and the long staff they wielded.

They were all worse for wear, they were wretched and miserable, their cloths seemed ragged and falling apart, their tired motions were impossible to miss.

"Father, father, where will we go?" one of the children cried out as he tugged at his father's tunic.

The Father picked up his child and held him dear.

"I don't know Son, we will go wherever Avalonia may lead us" the Father whispered to his son and he continued to walk with his son in his arms.

Wolves howled in the deep of the forest, frightening the people – and the audience – and a little girl cried out

"Mother, mother, can we go home?" she begged and the Mother crouched down and hugged her child.

"We cannot home, my child, for we have been forsaken and chased out. We must find elsewhere to call home" the Mother said tearfully to her daughter as she stood back up and took her daughter's hand and continued to walk tiredly.

The wind howled as the tired, wretched people marched on under the light of the moon, until the howling wind slowed and twisted into whistling winds, whistling winds that began to sound like whispering words.

"Heart...Heart…Heart…" the wind seemed to whistle and one of the taller druids stopped, the rest of the clan seemingly unable to hear the words spoken by the wind.

The druid faced towards the moon, his staff raised high in the air.

"Oooh Avalonia, how could 'tis happen?!" the aged voice of the druid cried out.

"Why have you forsaken us, oh great mother! What have we done to earn the attentions of the Ravenous Romans who have hounded us out of our homes, out of our lands! Oooh Avalonia, please tell me what we have done wrong!" The aged druid seemed to beseech upon their deity.

The whistling winds were eerily silent and the aged druid collapsed onto his knees, seemingly having lost the will to continue on.

"Oooh Avalonia, do not forsake us any further! Tell me what we must do, where we must go! We beg you, oh great mother, take us back into your bosom!" The druid cried out, his voice ever more fragile.

His head slumped as the whistling winds whistled no more, the silence seemed to break the aged druid as his head bowed with his hands clasped tightly onto the staff.

It seemed he had given up, left alone in the dark forest, his clan having continued on without him.

A wolf began to howl in the distance, then another and then three more, their voraciousness was apparent in their howls, their hunger clear to hear for all, much to the audience despondency and fear.

Until…

The howls stopped and frightful yapping replaced once greedy and menacing howls and the head of the druid looked up and gasped.

The face of the moon seemed to change, gaining features slowly but with an inevitability. The moon seemed to grow larger and larger until it seemed to loom over the druid and the audience and it began to change form, no longer round but thinning and thinning until it formed into an ethereal woman, silver of hair and in a glowing white dress. Her eyes were pure white light, no pupils or irises could be seen.

She floated down from the sky until she was before the druid.

The druid bowed his head, touching the forest earth "Oh Avalonia, you bless me with your presence!" The druid cried out reverently.

"Stand…" the wind whistled. A kind expression was on the goddess' face "Stand, you are one of my Children…" the wind whistled once more.

The druid stood up, leaning on his staff as he did so "Oooh great mother, you have done this old man a great favour by coming to me but I must ask, why now, why not before, before we were chased away by the treacherous Romans?" The Druid begged of the goddess as the staff fell to the ground as druid's hands came together in a pleading gesture.

The goddess' expression changed slightly, morphing into a saddened smile and spoke through the whistling winds once more "'Tis is so written, 'tis must be" she told the druid and the druid cried out.

"Oooh great mother, Goddess of the Avalonians, is there nothing that can be done? They will not cease, their hunger for our lands and our blood is unending, ooh great mother, I beg you, save us!" The druid begged of the goddess.

The goddess did nothing for a few moments before the silver haired goddess looked up and reached out into the star-filled sky. She plucked star after star from the sky until there were hundreds of them floating in the air before her.

She brought her hands together and the stars began to clump together one after the other and a bright light that was blinding struck before it dimmed away and revealed a glowing sword to the druid and to the audience.

The goddess stretched out her hand to ground and a broken branch rose before it was filed away into a scabbard with beautiful carvings and what seemed to be runes on the surfaces.

The goddess turned her attentions to the druid and the sword sheathed within the scabbard and floated before the druid.

The wind began to howl furiously, dangerously before it settled into a whispering whistle "I have heard the pleas of My Children, I have Chosen. Go to the Heart of Avalonia, the lands of where my Champion amongst My Children shall be.

Take this sword to Him. He will lead you to a better tomorrow for those who hold Avalonia true to their Hearts will surely follow him."

"Oh great mother, I shall go where you decree and take this sword to your Chosen, the Chosen amongst our people!" The druid said in exaltation as he plucked the sword from the air, wonder and awe on his expression. He looked back at the goddess

"I will tell all I come across to go to the Heart of Avalonia and follow the great mother's Chosen!" The druid paused for a moment, scratching his long white beard.

"How will I know who the Chosen, oh great mother?" The druid asked

"Only my Champion may take the sword from its scabbard and wield it. No others are worthy" The winds whistled before she rose back into the sky and changed back into the moon, leaving the druid alone with the sword and the quest given to him by the goddess of Avalonia.

The druid picked up his staff and ran. He ran and ran until he caught up with the rest of his clan and told them of what he experienced.

The clan's hopes and spirits were lifted as they marvelled at the intricately made scabbard and one by one each of them tried to take out the sword but it proved to be impossible.

They became convinced and their tired motions gained a freshness to them as they resolved themselves to head to where their goddess directed them to go, to go to the Champion who would save their people.

The clan met other clans and each time they were told what their goddess told them to do and each time they tried to take the sword out of the scabbard but found it impossible.

The story continued as more and more people were given word of what their goddess had instructed and made their way towards the heartlands of Avalonia.

The play somehow managed to conjure a depth that boggled the mind as the landscape showed a horizon with rolling hills and lush fields with thousands of makeshift huts that signified the sheer scale of the number of people around.

The play continued and moved onto chiefs of different clans arguing and cursing each other.

They mocked one another and they fought against each other as none of them had been able to pull the sword from the scabbard and they proclaimed that the druid lied for they exclaimed that any of them were worthy of a sword crafted by their goddess.

Things continued to worsen as old feuds rose to the surface even in the wake of annihilation and death, unable to see sense and reason with their sight misted with a red fog of anger and pride.

Hubris and arrogance threatened to escalate things into all out war between the clans, forgetting the reason why they had even gathered. Their goddess was a distant memory as things were about to boil over until…

Until a young chieftain who lived on these lands arrived to stop a duel, a chieftain none of them had given the time of day. He looked around and arrived at the centre.

"Why are we fighting amongst each other, when we should be helping one another?" the young chieftain exclaimed loudly as the other chiefs quieted down, their expression far from warm as they seemed to question why this irrelevant young chieftain from tiny lands in the centre of Avalonia was speaking amongst his betters.

"Have we not got enough enemies to fight already, ooh brothers? Are we so poisoned by our misery, so consumed by resentment, jealously and anger that we cannot see we are the same more than we are different? Do we not call Avalonia, our home and our mother?!" The young man cried out questioningly to the elder chiefs who begrudgingly nodded.

"Then are we not kin for all share the same great mother? The mother whom we suckled from the teat, the mother who nourished us, fed us, cared for us?!" The young man's passion and fervour grew, charging the atmosphere with his electric presence.

"Aye" the chiefs spoke up though still uncertain.

"All of us, all our peoples have been driven from their homes, from their lands where their fathers rest, where their father's father rest!

We have been bullied, we have been harried – we have been killed! – we have been chased out of the lands we have called home and yet instead of our shared struggle bringing us closer, it threatens to tear us apart!

My brothers, sons of our great mother, where is your fury, where is your rage, where is your Heart when our people cry out for their leaders of men to save from the Ravenous Romans, to save them from the despair and bitterness that is creeping in their souls as Avalonia is ripped away from their flesh?

Do not give into to mindless envy, to heartless resentment, my brothers, and rise above it, rise above the despair and the misery and come together as our mother wishes us to be! Let us FIGHT together" The chieftains were all roaring their agreement by now as the young man walked towards the stone table where the sword in its scabbard rested.

"Let us FIGHT for the love we all bear our great mother, let us FIGHT for the liberty, the hopes, the wishes of ALL OF OUR PEOPLE" the chieftains roared once more as he neared the scabbard that seemed to begin glowing.

"Let us RISE together for if we do not we will surely fall apart alone! We are of Avalonia!" The young man shouted as he reached the scabbard. He took the hilt of the sword and placed his other hand on the mid rift of the scabbard "Within all of us is Avalonia, within all of us is a shard of our great mother's divinity for we are her children. Let us unite for if united none can stand in our way, oooh brothers!" He slid the scabbard of the sword and the glowing sword rose in the air.

The chieftains roared and roared and they called out the young man's name again and again. "Are you with me, oooh brothers?!"

The roar that followed was deafening and the act ended as the curtain drew once more.

The play continued on, war and death played out on stage just as triumph and bittersweet victory did.

Rasmussen glanced around at the full theatre, his eyes surveying all around him.

Stories…stories were as old as humanity itself. The legacy of entire peoples are in stories, stories that are turned into myths and myths that turned into stories.

Most stories that people cherish and are inspired by were those that contained the strongest inclinations of a people. Inclinations such as nobility, strength, honour, triumph over hardship and enemies. Characteristics of a classic Hero, something that the peoples of Britain have been enamoured with since time immemorial.

Magical Britain cherished the story of the Hero, the hero who rose up and defeated the wicked evil that terrorised the lands and its people. King Arthur, Merlin, the Peverell Brothers, all of those heroes were cornerstones of what it means to be the perfect Briton.

They were revered because they embody greatness, the root and soul of the greatness of men and of nation, people who have by their actions become the very spiritual centre of Britain.

The myths, the stories, they are a faith, a passion and it did not matter if it is a reality.

After all, faith never relied on truth.

Rasmussen brought the glass to his lips and drank the last remaining firewhiskey in one swig and gave the play his full attentions once more.

The play continued as victories continued to be won over and over again until the Romans were driven back to Londinium where they were on their last legs, a tiny fearful and tired army remained where before they seemed endless.

Yet, even as the Champion of Avalonia had led them victory again and again, all was not well. Chieftains that had proclaimed him leader were now unhappy how much he seemed to be loved by their tribes and clans more than the chieftains themselves.

They grew fearful and then hateful as the Champion of Avalonia continued to lead them to victory until they were a few days' march from the gates of Londinium, where they would finally crush the remaining Romans and take back their lands.

They began to conspire, to persuade others that he was a cheat, that the sword granted him powers that anyone could have wielded if only they had the sword.

The audience cried out in dismay as they watched on helplessly, grim and despondent as they realised what would happen to the Hero of the story.

The chieftains whispered that he would turn the sword on them once the war was finished, that he would betray them. That it was better to betray him first before he could do it to them.

More and more chieftains began to believe the poisonous words until it spread to the army of tribesmen itself.

It came to a head a day before they were to embark on the final moment that would result in completing their liberation of their lands.

The Champion of Avalonia was taken from his bed in the morning and thrown into the ground before all the men and women who had once called him leader, their angry, jealous and hateful gazes set upon him.

The Champion was confused at this, questioning what they were doing and one strode forward and stabbed him in the belly. He gasped as the man stepped away, his dagger wet with blood.

The Champion touched his belly and his hands were warm with his blood. He felt another sharp pain in his back and saw someone he had called friends stick his spear into his back.

More and more came forward and more and more stabbed him with daggers, with swords and with spears. A druid came forth, the same old man who had brought the Sword to central Avalonia and hit him on the back causing him to gasp with pain.

He staggered on his bare feet, his clothes red and wet with blood.

He was leaking blood all the while he walked towards the large boulder that was near the centre of the camp. He stuck out his hand and the sword materialised as he fell to his knees.

He was breathing raggedly, only minutes away from death. He turned to those he had called kin and for whom he fought for.

"Oh my brothers, oh my sisters. Children of our great mother. I do not blame you for this betrayal, for this unnatural murder.

It is in all of us, this evil.

This evil that turned fear into anger, this evil that twisted anger into hate. Oh, brothers and sisters, I do not blame you for my murder.

You have murdered me because you did not believe in the good that is in this world.

You chose not to believe in the promise of a better future for all of us, your once kind and gentle hearts turned cynical and that cynical heart blinded you away from the happiness that could have bloomed for us all and the way to freedom and beauty is now hidden away." The Champion cried out feebly before his head was bowed.

"One day, one day another man will come to free our people from the barricades that cage up the good that is in all of our hearts, barricades made of greed, of hate, of fear and intolerance!

Again and again this will happen until you, my brothers, my sisters, begin to believe you deserve a good world, a just world free from the poisons that decay our souls, the rot that infests our minds and on that day, my brothers, my sisters…

And on that day, when your children's children' s children begin to believe, a better future will arise when her Champion once more wields the sword she crafted to protect her Children and on that day…

On that day, Avalonia will smile down on your Souls knowing that the cycle is broken and you chose to believe in her Champion, following him into the promised future."

The young man who sat on the boulder surrounded by weeping, regretful people, stood up, his blood seeping into the boulder.

"And this sword…this sword of our great mother…Excalibur..." The audience gasped audibly at the name "Will one day be wielded by a man who once saved our great mother's children when the time comes to once more come to the rescue of his brothers and sisters from great peril" The young man raised the sword and with a yell, the sword disappeared.

The young man crumpled onto the ground and died amongst a sea of weeping people.

The play continued with the Romans finding out the man they called the Son of the Goddess was killed by treachery and soon fell upon the disorganised Celtic tribesmen.

The Romans won and killed many of the Celtics, scattering the remaining people in the same way their broken spirit were scattered in the wake of the battle.

One of the chieftains, the last of his people wept to the Moon. "Ooh great mother, forgive us for what we have done! We were weak and we fell prey to the evil of men! Ooh great mother, do not forsake us!" the chieftain cried out but the winds remained silent and the ever showing face of the Moon turned away.

It was then that dark grey smoke began to fill the stage and the sounds of the weeping chieftain swallowed whole by the smoke.

The last scene of the play twisted the stage into a small outcrop of forestry before a lake came into view through the dense forest and the stage twisted around to look directly downwards.

The lake was crystal clear, its depths shown by the illuminating rays of the moon and in the faint light, you could see the Excalibur laying on the bottom of the lake.

"'Tis a tale of sorrow and broken promise, of a better tomorrow and a lost today…"

He tuned out the closing monologue as he sat back in his chair, nursing his empty glass of firewhiskey, staring at the silent audience. Some wore stricken expression, some worried and others were confused, no doubt about the fact that it was not a heroic tale, where the hero is triumphant and gets the woman.

His Vasilissa had outdone herself. It will take some time before people will realise the danger of this play.

A creeping smile broke on his face.

What happens when the myth crumbles?

When the story of the conquering Hero is instead replaced by a story of a Hero who had risen up to defeat the evil was instead betrayed and defeated by the evil of men?

A story that was rooted in reality, one that they had all bore witness to?

The fate of the clans in the wake of the Romans would not be missed by everyone and some may draw parallels to their present ill fortune.

A whisper here…a whisper there…

Twisted truths will remind people of what happened, of what could have been.

They'll see what had been promised and what they had gotten instead. They won't blame themselves…no…people never liked to blame themselves for their actions.

Instead, they'll turn towards the 'true culprits'. And what they'll see…

They'll see a broken monolith in the deceitful Ministry, one riddled with rampant corruption, nepotism and incompetence.

Unrest will turn into anger and anger will lead to revolution…

And who would be there for them to latch onto?

He smiles, his eyes glittered as the scattered applause rang around him.

His Vasilissa had slumbered long enough and soon…

Soon Magical Britain would be fall before the great serpent and then the looming dragon they cast away would come and blot out the stars.