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.

35. Chapter 95

I have finally reached the end of Odyssey of a Mage (Chapter 99 - arc 3 chapter 35). The wait between chapters will be a lot more structured now - every two weeks, I will post another chapter.

Without further adieu, please enjoy the post!

Note: If you would like to read ahead, the next chapter is available on discord whilst at least the next three chapters after it are available on P^A^T^R^E^O^N / Boombox117

The NEW discord channel LINK is d^i^s^c^o^r^d^.^g^g^/6^x^8^m^K^V^w^X^

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6th of January, 1973 – The Evans', Avalon Heights

Lily J. Evans POV

FIRST MILANESE TRIALS SET TO BE COMMENCE ON SPRING EQUINOX

By: Henrik Valdoon

The Commune Tribunal, the body of international judges selected for sitting in judgment of the Ravenites, has announced that the first trials shall commence on the 20th of March 1973, the Spring Equinox.

As readers may recollect, this will initiate the trials of almost sixteen thousand Ravenites and collaborators, an unprecedented and staggering numbers of trials.

Though it should be said it is likely that a large percentage of trials are going to be unconventional. Out of the sixteen thousand indicted men and women, a significant proportion are likely to be considered 'mentally unsound' as a consequence of heinous mind tampering over years that some experts have said is 'irreversible'.

A fate, as readers will be relieved to recollect, last-of-their-line orphans from Central and Eastern Europe have been fortunately been spared from.

However, it should still be noted that thousands of Ravenites and collaborators have been confirmed to have participated in the murders and horrific crimes throughout the past twenty years and this reporter can easily understand why the Illosian and Avalonian governments have reached out to the worldwide magical community to assist in these upcoming proceedings.

Not only to help with the large number of trials that must be conducted but also because of symbolism. The Daily Prophet understands that with the grave crimes committed by the untampered Ravenites and collaborators against the magical world, Their Majesties the King and Queen advocated in opening up the proceedings for the attentions of the entire magical world.

'His and Her Majesties are deeply concerned that in the space of fifty years, there has been two vicious world wizarding wars. The Milanese Trials is as much to sit in judgement of the perpetrators of the Raven War as it is to open the eyes of the wizarding world so that another war doesn't happen again.' A government official who asked to remain unnamed had said.

The Daily Prophet wholeheartedly agrees with the sentiment of Their Majesties.

A permanent solution must be found.

With estimates ranging from sixty thousand to as high as one hundred and fifty thousand magical casualties (squibborn, squib and Magical Being deaths is estimated to be a quarter to a half of total casualties), the Ravenites have been directly responsible for the greatest loss of magical life in over eight thousand years of recorded magical history.

Only the Olympian-Persian magical wars in the fourth century B.C. have had a greater loss of life as a percentage of world wizarding population and that of other magical races.

Combined with the estimated death toll of fifty thousand wizards and witches in the Grindelwald war, wizarding casualties can go as high as ten percent of global wizarding population and for other magical races such as the Sirens, Goblins and even Giants, it is estimated that anywhere between twenty to eighty percent of their populations have died in the decade before the Raven War during the Blood Purity Purges.

This should be very frightening, my dear readers, and it should be clear that a permanent solution to the constant rise of Dark Lords and dangerous dogma – like blood purity which has ironically decimated and extinguished many bloodlines – and The Daily Prophet hopes the trials can lead to those solutions.

Read more on Page Three on the accusations that are expected to be levied…

She tried to go to page three but found herself unable to, much to her frustration. 'Parental lock engaged. To remove lock, provide passphrase or provide a sample of your magic to confirm age of majority'. She sighed at the notification and morosely returned to the front page of Daily Prophet program-feed and set aside the still-on holo-tablet onto the bed.

Her parents had been concerned about the news that had been filtering through the news and didn't want her or Tuney to read things that they shouldn't be reading…according to them.

She didn't really get it, why they were so concerned, when she could literally call her friends and ask them to send a picture of the newspaper, and she planned on doing so later anyway.

She turned her head towards her sister and saw that she was still watching that silly holo-vid of how to increase potency of beauty potions and balms.

Ever since Tuney discovered that new program on the magi inter-network where people could upload vids of all sorts of things, all she did in her spare time was look up potions and beauty things and when they overlapped…

Not even an earthquake could move her away from her holo-tab.

She looked away from her obsessive sister and turned her head towards the ceiling and she let off a sigh. She'd wanted to visit Marlie during the Yuletide break but she'd gone to Milan with her father and her brothers and she didn't really want to see her other friends at the moment except for maybe Mary but Mary was probably playing Three-Peller at this time of day and she didn't care to watch the sport.

She could always study and practice more magic but she'd already done that earlier in the morning and she hadn't had any new ideas she wanted to work on and she wasn't really all that able to think of anything new, she'd found out.

She was far too distracted with that.

And she had also caught up with her shows so unless she wanted to re-watch old episodes – she didn't – or unless she wanted to try new ones – she wasn't in the mood – there was nothing for her on the M-TV. And she'd looked through the winter and the new spring catalogues for new dresses or shoes and she didn't particularly want to feel bemoaned at being unable to get the pretty but pricey ones.

She blew air out of her lips at an angle, the strand of her bright red hair that been on the right side of her face cast away. She was bored…so, so bored.

So much so, that she didn't even mind talking to Tuney about her stupid boyfriend.

"Tuney…"

Her sister turned her face towards Lily, irritation clearly showing on her face.

"What?" Lily winced at the irritated tone of voice.

"Just wondered if your friend is going to be there in Milan like Marlie will be." Lily said with a glance to the holo-tab which Petunia caught.

Tuney turned her eyes towards the holo-tab and returned her gaze back to Lily, a faint prideful look on her face although there was a smidge of annoyance there too.

"Boyfriend." Petunia said irritated before her irritation fell away and a dreamy look appeared on her face. "And soon to be my intended as well."

Lily snorted and was subjected to another irritated glare. Dad won't sign any betrothal contract any time soon, she thought to herself wryly. Tuney was only fifteen and Tuney knew it too but for some reason she was being crazy about it.

Besides, this Quincy Wakefield did not seem all that great anyway. She hadn't met him but Tuney had described him enough to her. Uppity and vain, was what Lily thought of at the end of Tuney's gushing over the boy.

The Wakefields were a young noble family, having given their status as nobility about a hundred years ago through an ancestor who'd earned a posthumous Merlin First Class for saving the life of the then-Minister from an assassination attempt, so she didn't understand why this Quincy thought he could be uppity.

'Plus it's not as if he is anything special since he attends Tuney's school' Lily winced internally at the meanness of the invading thought.

"Anyway" Petunia said with a drawl, still glaring somewhat at Lily. "He's not going but his grandad is. Although he said he had the opportunity to go and he didn't want to."

"Really?" Lily asked her sister, managing to avoid the scepticism she felt at the idea of this boy rejecting going to the Trials from her voice.

"Yes" Tuney said with a gushing look on her face "He said that he didn't want to be away from me for months and decided not to go."

Lily began to laugh-snort, loudly and earned herself a scathing glare. When she finally stopped, she looked at Tuney, with a hint of concern on her face "Tuney, he's lying to you. They were never going to let a boy attend the trials"

Even Marlie wasn't going to the trials, only her father was and she'd be back in time in time for the new Hogwarts term. No fifteen or sixteen year old would be missing school to attend trials.

'Let alone a boy like Quincy' Lily thought to herself.

"He's not lying." Tuney said with narrowing eyes "He's being…nice." Tuney said as she padded down her dress. "Maybe not the best way to about it but it's nice to be complimented, you know."

Lily looked stupefied by it before she realised "Oh" so Tuney knew it was a lie but she wanted to think the best of him? "Tuney, he shouldn't lie to you if he's your boyfriend." Lily said earnestly.

She didn't like the look of pity in Tuney's eyes. "Oh Lily." Tuney began with a pitying voice. She already knew she wouldn't like what Tuney would say even less.

"When you get a boyfriend, many years from now, you'll understand." Tuney said sweetly. Lily narrowed her eyes. Tuney knew that Lily didn't like being talked down like that, ever.

"Understand what?" Lily asked affronted "That lying arses are terrible boyfriends?"

Tuney's sweet and condescending look evaporated away and anger flashed as she spoke "What do you know about relationships? You're still a baby" Tuney said angrily before she shook her head "Enough. Leave." Tuney demanded.

She didn't want to leave yet "Tuney…I'm sorry, I didn't mean it" Lily whined a little pathetically as she turned her head to her sister with an imploring expression.

"I'll make it up to you…we can play wizarding chess? Or wizarding Monopoly?" she asked with a tremulous but hopeful smile. Tuney liked playing both.

And it should maybe kill a few hours of boredom.

Her sister stared at her unimpressed before sharpness grew in her eyes. "You're just saying that because you're bored." Lily winced and Tuney looked triumphant. "You always do this when you are out of ideas."

Lily only helplessly shrugged.

Tuney glanced at her holo-vid that was still paused before she turned her attentions back at Lily before she pressed her lips thinly. "You need a hobby" Tuney said with a deadpan before she narrowed her eyes.

"And you need to leave my room. You're bothering me" Tuney said sternly.

"Ugh. What hobby is there for me to take?" Lily said exasperated and fully intent on ignoring Tuney's stern command for her to leave.

"Everything is either sports or duelling and I don't like either of them." Honestly, the wizarding world wanted brawl or speed or to fling about magic for hobbies.

"Just because that is what everyone at Hogwarts likes or pretends to like, doesn't mean that is all there is, Lily." Tuney said with a roll of her eyes.

"You could try out dancing?" Tuney suggested and Lily could hear the teasing in her voice and she gave Tuney a glare at which Tuney snorted.

They both knew she was as graceful as a stick.

Tuney sighed before she peered at Lily. "You don't have to have a normal hobby like everyone else. You could sign up at the Morgana Observatory or you could, I don't know, be a boat enthusiast." Tuney said exasperated.

"Boat enthusiast?" Lily asked flabbergasted.

"I don't know, okay?!" Tuney said snappishly "Some skinny little irritating twerp in my class always talks about boats and the like so if it's good enough for him, it might be good enough for you, you skinny little twerp!"

"You missed irritating in your name calling." Lily returned waspishly.

"It wasn't missed, it was implied!" Tuney returned with equal waspishly to Lily.

Sister glared at sister with heat and anger frizzing in between them until Lily backed down and curled her lips downward. Tuney also backed down though not without a sigh as she sat up and stared at Lily "What is wrong, anyway? Usually you always find something to do." Tuney commented.

Lily also sat up. "I don't know…" Lily said with a sigh and a shrug. "I'm a bit distracted I guess."

"Boys?" Tuney asked and the eager inquisitiveness in her voice made Lily look up.

"What? No." Lily denied and it was true as well.

She had little interest in boys, not like her friends who seemed to fawn over the likes of the Greengrass, Black and the Diggory heirs.

Tuney seemed to inspect her face and must have found the truth because she harrumphed disappointed before turning to stare at her. "Then what is it?" she asked impatiently. "Either tell me or leave." Tuney said threateningly.

"I'm stuck okay." Lily said frustrated with her hands thrown up.

Tuney eyed her carefully and Lily looked away from her look. "Everyone knows what they want to do." Lily admitted to her sister. "Marlie is probably going to follow her passion in magical architecture whilst Mary wants to be a teacher and Alice wants to become a botanist. I don't know what I want to do." she admitted.

Most of the other students knew what they were going to do. Even the other squibborn like her had a better idea of what they wanted to do than she did.

"This is about your electives?" Tuney asked.

"And everything after that." Lily admitted. There was so much for her to choose and she wanted to do everything. Runes, Arithmancy, Ancient Studies, Alchemy, Wandless Magic, Magical Theory and so many more electives! She could only choose four electives with her core studies and she had yet to select them.

"Lily…" Tuney sighed as she turned fully towards her.

"You're, as much as I hate saying it, quite brilliant. You're also very powerfully magically. You can do whatever you want to do, especially later. You're not even thirteen yet. It's fine for you not to know yet what you want to do."

"Easy for you to say." Lily muttered. Petunia was great at potions, better than she was at any rate and Lily was the best in her year. It was obvious she was going to do something with potions.

"Brat." Tuney said with a roll of her eyes. "Seriously you are hard work. I feel sorry for whatever boy is stuck with you." Tuney said with a teasing note.

Lily flashed brightly red, affronted and embarrassed. "I'm not hard work!"

Tuney only raised an eyebrow at her with a deadpan expression. "You receive a compliment and you make it almost worthless."

Lily looked away from her accusing eyes and Tuney sighed and she could hear that her sister was at her wits' end. "Look." Tuney began, drawing her attentions.

"Write down what you enjoy doing and look into what options are available." Tuney eyed intently "And in all honesty, I've always thought that you're end up at the Department of Mysteries or at SIMS as a researcher. You do have a knack with magic" Tuney admitted with a grudging note in her voice.

Lily was surprised "Really, you thought I'd end up as an Unspeakable?" she asked. She'd thought about the Department of Mysteries and especially SIMS to obtain a mastery in Charms and maybe more, but that was all really.

"Yes." Tuney said impatiently "I think there's like a summer program at SIMS tailored towards students to 'broaden one's thoughts about magic' or something like that which sounds like a baby Unspeakable would want to go to. You can look it up." Tuney narrowed her eyes.

"And now that you have something to obsess about, go…away. I'm tiring of this conversation. Scoot away from my room before I banish you out of it." Tuney said threateningly as she reached for her wand.

Lily quickly made her way out of the room with her holo-tab and made her way down the stairs, and looked up the DoM. She knew only a little about it, that it was a department of the Ministry and once part of a global organisation which researched and protected the world of all kinds of magic.

'Summer program SIMS' she looked up on the inter-network and found a link on the SIMS website and she began reading it. And the more she read it, the more she was liking it.

There was nothing specific about what would be thought but the people who would be guest lecturing was amazing! She recognised a few of the names who those who would be lecturing but the ones that caught her eyes were the Flamels who were still the headmaster and headmistress of the Institute, yet that was not all.

The King and the Queen would be lecturing too!

She realised she was standing on the stairs and quickly made her way to the bottom.

"Dad" Lily said eagerly as she walked into the living where he was going through some documents as the Holo was on. She glanced at the Holo and saw that he was watching a football match. She squinted and saw that it was West Ham v. Liverpool.

She sighed internally. He'd always watch a game or two of footy, especially when his team West Ham were playing. When dad found out that a bunch of people figured out how to connect the Holo channels to pick up on mundane broadcasts, he'd jumped on getting the Holo-Screen modified.

Her mother was pretty happy with it too, finally being able to watch Coronation Street again.

She shook her head and turned towards her father who looked up from his documents with a frown on his face. "Yes, Lili-bet?"

She smiled beautifully at her father and it was a look that made her somewhat wary. She shoved the holo-tab in front of him and he eyed it carefully. "I want to sign up!"

Little did she know it would be a choice that would change her life.

-Break-

29th of January, 1973 – Sayre Manor, Illos

Emily POV

A raspy hum escaped her throat as she became awake though the webs of sleep still clung onto her mind, webs that were being burnt off as she felt him pull her closer to him and the webs of sleep were flash burned into ash when he kissed her cheek and felt his endless love seep through their bond.

She opened her eyes, his scratchy chin scratching her cheek, and she turned around and caught his gentle look as he almost hovered over her, violet eyes bright with star-like emerald flecks. "Morning" she murmured, the corners of her mouth sharpening as her lips stretched into a pleased smile.

The gentle look made way for naked fondness "Morning" he returned as he leaned in and snatched a loving kiss from her, a kiss that fed warmth into her being.

She felt him smile against her lips, their lips still touching as Atticus spoke once more "I haven't seen you that restful in some time"

"The two months lack of sleep caught up on me" she admitted to him as she backed away a little and met his gaze, the silk sheets sliding away from her naked form as she reached out and touched his prickling cheek.

Clearing up the Ravenite mess was admittedly and irritatingly harder work than actually disbanding the nihilistic terrorist group. Russia, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, Norway, all of these nations were effectively without a rudder with every level of government implicated in the Ravenite cause.

And the other nations were only slightly better off which wasn't much in the grand scheme of things. The rebels that managed to survive were worn and beaten and far too bitter to be considered as leadership for the restored Ministries.

Fortunately, a proportion of the refugees that escaped those nations had worked for the overthrown ministries in one function or another and these people were proving to be very open to lead the restored ministries.

Much to her pleasure.

By the end of the war, there had been approximately eleven thousand refugees in Avalon with another three thousand having been granted citizenry in Illos and as some of these families, or specifically the elder generations returned to their homelands, the influence Illos would have on them would be supreme.

Of course, cashing in on that goodwill and debt would come years down the line and it offered poor satisfaction in the immediate term given how much she, Atticus and much of the Illosian leadership had to be involved in rebuilding governmental frameworks for well over a dozen countries.

And then there was the Miring-Gene-Array project, her experimentations with the Veil of Death with Sidwell and Rockwood, hers and Atticus' experimentations with Retro-Cognition into the Deep Past and there was the Exposure to guide…

Let's just say that last night was the first time in months since either of them had slept and neither of them could sleep well without the presence of the other so they often didn't bother until their bodies needed it.

Atticus hummed in affirmation as he leaned into her touch. He had been busy outside of their shared work too with how he was the main face behind the Milanese Trials even if they were not the ones who would be sitting in judgment of the collaborators.

Meetings after meetings with Presidents, Ministers and Chiefs, his time was hardly spent here in Illos, spending most of it in Italy whilst she spent it across Europe with Abraxas and other high ranking officials.

Knowing how crucial and how set they now were with politically dominating every single body of magical government, it would only be the start of how busy both of them would be when it came to politics.

"You need to shave" she remarked as she trailed her thumb across his scratchy cheek.

"You weren't complaining last night." Atticus said with a faint amused smile as he rubbed his other cheek with the back of his hand.

"It was of lesser importance last night." Emily said with a raised eyebrow before she channelled her magic through her hand. The evening shade of hair faded away from his cheeks leaving behind smooth skin and he was looking much better, much to her satisfaction.

Atticus lips curled further upward as he shook his head and leaned away from her.

"I was planning on letting it grow." Emily raised her eyebrow at that as she turned towards the side of the bed, the silk sheets falling away from her body and as she stood on her feet, her magic with a fraction of her attentions the silk sheets and the pillows were made and the bed pristine once more.

"If you wanted a beard you would have let it sprout in an instant. You were just being lazy." Emily returned with a raised eyebrow as she looked to him in her full naked glory. He'd already gotten somewhat dressed…if one could call underwear clothing.

Atticus chuckled "I was letting nature take its course." He said with a mild smile, his eyes trailing across her body.

"Overrated." Emily said with amusement before she felt Time with a pulse of her magic. "I have overslept" she said aloud, neither to herself or to Atticus specifically. She didn't need to conjure a clock to feel the flow of Time any more, not after her experiments with the phenomena and Living Time.

It was almost ten a.m. and it has been years, possibly decades since she'd slept in that long.

"It's fine, I've already told Doyle of the pushback of the meeting." Atticus said and grasped her attentions once more.

She smiled at him faintly before she turned her attentions towards the closet and a towel fly towards her that halted right in front of her. Whilst she didn't need to dry herself using a towel, she liked the feel of these enchanted towels.

She turned her gaze towards him and saw his royal Rosi clothing clothe him. He had a soft expression on his face, a softness to match his tone. "Go ahead without me. I'd like to play Cana's harp for a bit."

She had a quip on the tip of her tongue, that she was getting rejected for a harp but she knew that look on his face. She met his gaze for a long few moments before she turned away and walked off towards the bathroom.

Some time afterwards, after showering and getting dressed, she walked down the steps of their manor to the sounds of music, music that felt physical and music that rang with magic.

He'd gotten better with the harp over the years. Pandora loved his playing and as a child often pressed him to play for her, and the softie that he was, he'd always accede to the girl's wishes.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the heaviness of the magic the notes carried was noticeable, tangible, like the feeling of the mid-summer breeze on one's skin.

The music itself was one of his creation, one that he'd worked on for years though she'd never heard him play it, only having read it in his music notes. It has changed though, she noted to herself. It was more forceful, more demanding, more intense.

He'd always had a penchant of playing much that drew on emotions, whether they be hopeful, or melancholic or furious, and this piece of his was no different.

She found him seated in their living, notes and tomes laid strewn across the large table, with the harp in between his legs and his fingers dancing across the strings of the harp and frequencies of magic vibrated along with the vibrations of the strings.

Hues of magic, hues of every colour in the spectrum of magic, vibrated around and from Atticus, the image akin to the heat radiating from reflective metal with sunlight directed cast upon the metal at the height of summer noon sun.

His eyes were closed, his face set in stone and his expression was one of utmost immersion into the music…into the magic, like he was not the one creating it but rather the one through music and magic was channelled through.

As she sat across from him, she let go of the control over her magic, opening herself up to the magic, and she drew in a little breath as the momentousness of the music sank into her.

And momentous the music, the magic was…

It was akin to being adrift in the great Void at the centre of the galaxy, billions of stars radiating their light brilliantly all around you all whilst you were slowly being pulled into the hungry maw of the supermassive black hole that lay all too close and all too far from you.

As if to tell you of your insignificance yet at the same time tell you that you are of the greatest of significance, this was what the music was imbuing into her, to wonder and to acknowledge the gift of existence and her ability to perceive the universe in all of its glory.

The music was drawing her into a state of nirvana, into a state of understanding, pushing her and pulling her at the seams in the hopes that it would tear her at the centre so that the brilliance of existence would fill her with all of its glory.

The music began its transition, its path to completion, and it was akin to seeing, feeling, the stars around them die until all that was left was blackness, darkness, nothing, yet…

As the music began its spiral to the end, there was a note, a note that reverberated from the finest of touches of his fingers, and at the centre where the black hole had been…there was now a spark, no two sparks, the faintest, almost infinitesimally small lights, left behind as the music came to an end, a hope, a prayer, a belief, all wrapped into one single end note and despite it all, she was left with a kind of peace that seemed to etch itself into her being.

He reopened his eyes and it was as if the room was set alight with how bright his violet and emerald eyes were, and she realised that the sparks resembled his eyes.

"It's beautiful" she remarked to him and he smiled softly at her.

"I'm glad that it is" Atticus said as the harp flew away towards its place above the large fireplace. "I hoped that it was." Atticus turned her, a small amused smile on his face "And not at all egotistical" he said as his eyes dimmed and lost their glow, instead turning supernaturally bright as normal.

"About being the one symbolically to restart universe from the darkness?" Emily commented with a laughing lilt to her voice. "Personally, I think such arrogance is quite sexy." Emily said with a curl of his lips as she crossed her long legs.

At this, Atticus laughed as he moved his index finger laterally, the notes and tomes they'd spent a few hours yesterday on sorting themselves before being sent into a puncture in space, towards their dimensional library.

Emily snapped her fingers and the spacious room began to constrict, the walls moving inwards whilst the long table at the centre of the room grew in height. The sofa chair she was on grew in height also, and shape, as it was twisted into the shape of a dining chair and the table turned into a dining table.

Atticus began to walk towards the dining table, the sofa he'd been on melted away apart and spat out a dining chair that walked onto its legs behind Atticus.

"I wouldn't quite say arrogance but rather a hopeful determination." Atticus said with a twist of his lips as he moved to sit on air though the dining chair caught him perfectly.

Food began to appear on the table, croissants, eggs, bacon and more, and she picked up the glass of water and sipped it.

She knew why he'd been inspired to finish the music in the way that he did. The Milanese trials were the beginning of the end, the final song before the album ended, so to speak.

The inertia was there, of course, in terms of moving towards Exodus, but it needed them to grasp everything with a velvet glove that covered a steel hand.

The music was a reminder, mostly to himself she thought to herself, of how much depended on them getting it right.

They hadn't talked much about the Older version of Atticus, the man who let hubris seep into his bones but she knew that it haunted him. It was reflective in his actions…and his demeanour.

There used to be a kind of a grim acceptance about him, the kind that made him believe, even if he never admitted it out loud, that he was as much a Dark Lord as Grindelwald had been, especially as the death tolls began to spiral out of control.

At times she'd wondered if he'd spent looking into distant possibilities, of distant timelines, those where he'd choose an alternate path, an alternate way to irrevocably shift magical culture and societal issues, as a way to soothe this grim melancholic burn he felt on his spirit, a burn she knew had seared him with every death the Purists and the Ravenites had wrought upon Europe and Asia.

Yet now…there was none of that, at least not in the way it used to be.

Atticus had always been a stubborn one, so sure of his ways, much like she was yet infinitely more self-conscious of his himself, of his actions.

To see the end of their civilisation, something they'd spent half a century in building, and would spent the next however long nurturing and growing, had shaken that surety and made him to accept that the work never ends, will never end, not as long as they live and that the work could never be dark when it came to the forces they were fighting against, whether it may be to self-destruction or destruction by their enemies.

And that meant that the ridiculous concept of Dark Lords and so on died lest he replicate the same hubris and defeatism that plagued his alternate self.

She wondered though…so very often…

What had resulted in her being so complicit in the hubris that had befallen their civilisation? She wasn't sure and that was something she had little experience of, especially over the past few decades.

They dug into their breakfast in companionable silence before Atticus broke it.

"Emily…" She turned her attentions towards him. 'I have made a breakthrough with Retro-Cognition' he sent to the forefront of her mind and it surprised her.

Retro-cognition was the ability to learn of knowledge of a past event which could not have been learned or inferred by using mundane or normal magical means.

In a way, it replicated how the Domain worked, yet where the Domain was a realm of magic and consciousness that held within itself Essences of those who had died and recorded all that had existed since the Dawn of Time, Retro-Cognition instead relied on honing in on the connections that existed between life and magic.

Magic had a memory, of a certain kind. Runes were an excellent example of the capabilities and capacity of magic to store memories and understanding.

Runes and the way they worked were because a metaphysical manifestation born out of collective understanding of what the runes meant, a collective understanding by magicals, and it was etched into the magical field that permeated the universe like how symbols and letters were etched into the sandstones of the Ruins of the ancient city of Petra.

And it was this memory, this etching, that could be exploited.

Magic and life were inextricably linked together, just as consciousness of all living sentient beings were linked together in the sea of consciousness, and the linkage left traces in the great magical field that bound the universe together.

And it meant that all that was experienced, all that was lived, all that ever was, would never be forgotten, not completely, within the universal magical field.

They'd hit a block about how far they could extend the abilities, which was not far at all. They could only obtain knowledge of the past from the distance of seven days from Time-Present.

They'd gained some insight of how much could be gleaned from this ability, which wasn't much, but it was enough to hone in on locations of interest.

Yet, frustratingly, the most they could do was seven days. It was as if there was a hard limit they needed to get past.

Which was effectively pointless for their needs since they wanted to go extract knowledge millions of years of the past so that they could find and destroy the Xalanyn, the Forerunners, and, the Shaping Sickness, should it still exist in some form or another.

He smiled at her reaction before he drank of his glass of ice-tea. He continued 'A surprising lead as to how it came to be' Atticus said to her before he flashed events of a Timeline that could have been into her mind. Events and memories in which she was heavily featured in…as was a young woman with striking red hair.

She watched as she saw her alternate-self eye the woman with inspecting eyes, tell-tale signs that she was impressed by the woman, and she watched and learned as her alternate-self, Atticus and this woman furthered the ability to see far into the past, until they'd reached the point of seeing thousands of years into the past which they'd used to peer into the days of Atlantis through a viewing pane that hung into the air, and she watched as they celebrated the success.

The images came to an end and she took a few moments to absorb it.

With his ability to traverse Living Time, any solutions they needed could be, and was, accelerated into the present once the solution was Seen in the future.

An ability they largely used to deal with problematic elements of world society though now, with the threat of these Xalanyn and the Covenant, seeking out advancements in both magi-tech and magic and bringing it to the present to maximise their advantage was something he was doing more and more these days.

It lessened the satisfaction of achievement and it also robbed other people's work but in the end, the ends justified the means, especially since they were not completely heartless by not arranging the individual to achieve in something else.

Her musings came to an end and she turned her calculating gaze to him as her mind circled back to the red-haired woman. She'd not thought about it for a long time, this apprentice of hers, and hadn't cared enough to think further on it after Atticus wanted to keep it a 'surprise'. Now that she'd seen the look of her alternate-self, it was clear that she liked this woman. There were very few people she actively liked.

'She is my apprentice, isn't she? Your cousin.' She hadn't been exactly able to feel the Evans girl's strength in magic but from what she'd seen in her intuitiveness of magic, she wouldn't be surprised if she was a latent archmage.

Atticus smiled slightly and inclined his head slightly.

'She is. In that timeline you discover her rather late when she is working as an Unspeakable under the tutelage of Rockwood.'

'That is too late.' Emily told him absentmindedly as she thought on the situation. If she is a latent archmage, the earlier she receives intensive magical training, the better. Especially since she is from Avalon which, while is improving, doesn't stress the magical cores of children to the same extent as Illos' educational system does.

It wasn't as simple as either you're an archmage or you're not.

It was nuanced, as was most things in life or magic.

And they were still finding out more about the nature of power as time went on.

Outside of Illos, though it was changing slowly, typically most wizarding population had twenty percent of its population as warlocks in power scaling and about two percent as Sorcerer level, and each of these scaling had their own nuances which could be colloquially considered as Low, Mid and High level which could be improved either through early years training or through ritual amplification.

This was equally true for archmages yet to become an archmage, you would need to rise to the potential that existed within you. Grindelwald, Dumbledore and herself and Atticus had pushed themselves to achieve the status before their final maturity which had allowed them to reach the upper pinnacles of their potential.

Credence, Romanov and even Cullaica, all had the potential to become more powerful than they ended up being, their trauma and their barriers having had a detrimental effect on their development with only Romanov having come close to achieving that pinnacle despite it all.

Dembe Habe and Gaius Hardy were, not lazy, but certainly not obsessed to reaching the highest pinnacle they can achieve. Neither of them achieved archmage status until after their final maturity and thusly it meant that their growth would be limited.

It was the same limitation that they'd encountered with the other two ancient archmages in their hidden towers who'd they'd unfortunately needed to deal with.

And it was a limit that neither she or Atticus had.

And Grindelwald, to this day, was likely still the closest to either her or Atticus but his limitations on the idea of power and misplaced focus on power over understanding, had hindered him.

And Dumbledore…

Well, the man's self-flagellation had been his limitation…and downfall.

And hers' and Atticus' obsessions with magic had brought them to where they were now, which was far beyond the categorisation of archmages and had quite likely become the most powerful wizard and witch to have ever lived.

Not even the Atlanteans could be considered a challenge when it came to raw power.

And Merlin or Morgana, who she thought possibly reached a similar point as she and Atticus had done decades ago, likely would be no challenge to them either now.

And so, should Lily Evans go through all of her maturities, the likelihood of her ever attaining archmage status was unlikely to say the least.

'Well, you will have a chance to meet her this summer.' Atticus told her, gaining her attentions once more. She looked at him a little confused and he expanded 'She'll be at the 'Young Mastermind Program'' he told her.

Ah…

She'd forgotten about that. Honestly, with how many events and the like they attended, it barely even registered to her. She mulled it over before she eyed him.

'You still haven't met her yet, have you?'

Atticus grimaced lightly 'I have not. It will be the first time I'll meet her. I'll meet my aunt not long after' he told her. She hummed silently.

'I will assess her' she finally said after a few moments of consideration. 'Should she prove to be worthy, I will take her on'. Atticus faintly smiled, knowing already about her assessment of the girl. She pointedly didn't ask.

He grew serious again. 'Now that we know how to push further into the past, we should start soon' he told her. She nodded agreeably.

Though they'd need to spent considerable time in attuning themselves to the ability, to the magic that surrounded them…and they'd need to figure out a way to push further than the thousands of years that they'd seen was possible.

'And if the Barrier exists?' she posed to him with knowing eyes.

The Barrier was the barrier when the abominable weapons the Forerunners was fired quarter of a million years ago. She remembered the Presence that had haunted Atticus decades ago, the Presence that made Atticus experience the effect the weapons had on the fabric of the magical field within the galaxy.

Magic had screamed, torn apart as it was by the weapon, a weapon that had killed all sentient life. It was quite likely that memory of the billions of years prior to that point within the galaxy was destroyed.

Which was completely unhelpful.

The Xalanyn were likely as old as Ancient Humanity which itself had ventured into space almost two million years ago according to the Archives and Moira.

'We'll deal with it should we encounter it' Atticus responded to her. 'Should it be necessary, we can always venture outside of the galaxy to peer into the past'.

That was another consideration, that magic outside of the galaxy would retain some traces of memory that had once existed within the galaxy itself.

"Very well" Emily spoke aloud, ending the secret conversation they were having between themselves. It was becoming standard practice to have the more sensitive conversations from mind to mind.

The chances of eavesdroppers were far too high to do otherwise.

Conversation after that had turned away from retro-cognition and apprentices and instead to more mundane things, like revisiting the topic of renovating their home since Sayre Manor hadn't quite changed in almost five hundred years.

Neither of them wanted to move into a palace, like the High Council and some of the Representatives had hinted, and they cherished the manor far too much to think of moving away into a more 'befitting' home.

For Atticus, it was what connected him to his ancestors and, in his own words, kept him grounded. And for her…well, it was her first home after Hogwarts.

She'd been welcomed here by Anna and Markus, an orphan supposed muggleborn, someone who was far below their notice yet… they worked to make her feel at home like she'd always yearned even if she'd never admitted to herself until much later.

No, Emily mused to herself with a sense of contentedness, neither of them would leave this manor for it possessed wealth that neither of them would find elsewhere.

Soon enough they departed and they got into their skymobile and before long, they were flying from their home, the view of the burgeoning city growing ever nearer.

The skyline of the city had not changed overly in the past few years but she'd seen, in all of its varieties, how it would change in the coming peaceful decade and how it would change once more when Avalon unified with Illos.

She'd been finally content with the changes that were to happen in this timeline, a more open, a more subtle direction of civilizational development than the pseudo mundane replication that she'd seen far too often in formerly possible futures.

It would be quite neo-classical in many ways, the aesthetics of tall bright silver-grey stone building mixed with classical architecture as the ridiculous present phase of architecture came to an end, yet it would inspire a sense of awe that Celestis City deserved.

Her gaze trailed over to the landmark that was unmissable wherever you were in this side of Celestis as the Temple of Celestis, the huge temple that stood on the outskirts of the city and bore a hundred foot statue of Lady Magic, came into view.

And, as she looked down at the pathway that lead to the entrance of the Temple, she could see hundreds of individuals on the pathway.

She smiled to herself.

Within the next decade and a half as they bound the rest of the magical world tightly to Illos and to Exodus, she intended to heavily propagate the magic-centric faith and within that propagation would come the dispersion of their Truth.

Truth of their ancient past as an advanced species that span across the stars.

She intended to use faith and truth to drive forward a sense of faith in their race and in magic in general.

With the horrors that would be revealed from the Milanese Trials, and with the broken spirits of perhaps hundreds of thousands of magicals, she'd capitalised on it to foster the belief of Destiny much like the belief of Destiny that her Illosian people held.

A destiny of returned greatness.

Morrigan – much to Emily's amusement and Moira's grudging acceptance – would be revealed to be the last of the ancient magical race as the Progenitors of Humankind, a race of beings who lost their war against the Forerunners who'd in their rage of jealously and spite had devolved most of humanity into a race of lessers and took away the parts of what made them special.

The mundanes were a consequence of this spite.

The people would be told Morrigan had survived the purge and had returned magic to their people and she'd press the point that it was their Destiny to return to the stars and to reclaim the universe as was their right.

And with the evidence that there were other worlds, more magical worlds out in the galaxy, the naysayers would be muted as hope would be manifested in the hearts of the magical world, hope that would be fed and fuelled with tremendous energy.

Yet, the idea of beings that destroyed their ancestors would remain on their minds, an idea that she would do what she could to make sure would remain in the collective psyche of magical-kind.

She knew the human condition…of what it could descend to. Post-scarcity beyond the wildest dreams of anyone would have that effect. Combined with peace and hubris, all of it would result in lessening their people.

The human mind was built in such a way that it searched, pushed, for the easiest path.

A path that would not be allowed to exist when the truth that there were monsters in the dark corners of space that could destroy everything.

There would always remain reason, necessity, to improve, to excel, when you knew not if what you were capable of was enough, would ever be enough.

Which was why this notion, this truth that there were threats, enemies, monsters to fight and destroy, would simultaneously disrupt this human tendency to become lazy and hubristic whilst at the same time, tie the more chaotic and powerful elements of society, the Errant ones that, with their errant psychology, would buck the trend, beautifully.

It did not matter if it was not completely truthful.

What was a lie and what was a truth did not matter…only subjective perception did and in this, the truth as would be told was just enough truth by most barometers.

And with what she knew, how their civilisation came to an end because of their hubris, this faith, this belief, of ownership of the universe would shore up against the magical world's inclination of retreating into their shell when it got comfortable.

As it was now, her and Atticus were revered. Not only by their people but also by much of the magical world and they'd capitalise on it in every single way.

Through politics. Through economics. Even through faith.

"I know that look." Atticus commented and she could hear the trace note of humour in his voice. She turned towards him, her hand rising to sweep a lick of hair behind her ear, playfulness playing on her face.

"I was merely thinking of the importance of faith." Emily said with an innocent tone though the smile that danced on her expression was anything but innocent.

Atticus dropped his head slightly, the corners of his lips rising as he looked at her with a touch of deftness in his expression.

She knew that he was accepting of her plans to weaponise faith for their purposes yet she also knew him well enough that it would not have been a choice of his to use if it were up to him…just as she knew that he would dance away from the topic just as he was now.

"Ah…" he let escape as he glanced at the now distant Temple before returning his gaze towards her, his eyes practically twinkling in mischief.

"Should I soon expect to see you donning a priestess robe?" his gaze was very attentive on her body. "On your knees, prostrating as you look up with an eager heart and an eager wish to be filled…I apologise, fulfilled?"

She raised her eyebrow at his comments as she crossed her legs, her hands folding into her lap, her chin slightly raised. "Careful…your words are quite blasphemous." Emily said with a warning note as she stuck out her leg until it was touching his calf at which point she was slowly yet deliberately caressing his calf with a sensual quality. "You may find yourself begging for atonement."

The gleam in his eyes came to an end and in its placed was unbridled interest in this little play of theirs. "Perhaps." Atticus said as his expression slowly phased into neutrality though the intensity in his eyes never faded.

And when he spoke, that intensity shone with the strength of an endless pulse from a pulsar "Though…I expect that neither of us remember the necessity of atonement or mercy in the heat of ssssssin." Atticus's voice trailed to a sibilant quality and it sent shivers down her spine and she could feel herself get in the mood.

She forced the feeling of lust away, knowing how close they were at arriving at the Charum Tower, the formerly named Main Tower, and eyed him with annoyance expressed through her face "That was cheap" she accused and Atticus chuckled.

Whenever he descended in parseltongue, he'd gain an unfair advantage since he knew that she had a weakness whenever he moved that tongue of his in their language.

"All's fair in love and war." Atticus said with an amused look.

"Hmm. You do realise we'll be busy all day with the ambassadors" an evil look passed across her face. "And we both know that you can hardly resist when I fully open up the bond to my desires…" Emily leaned a little, malicious glee dancing in her eyes "And I will make sure you can't act upon it."

Atticus had laughingly little control whenever she'd basically ramped up her levels of wants and her desires for him to a ridiculous degree. It made him practically like a wolf during rutting season.

It was part of why sex with one another was so incredible and in those moments, it mutated their soul bond to a kind of bliss that was impossible to explain. And it was something she could manipulate somewhat for a time.

Her expression grew into a full blown grin when she watched his expression shift into one of genuine horror, a uncharacteristic look on his face before it melted away in a look of quiet warning as his eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't."

Emily's grin turned darker as she raised her eyebrow "…wouldn't I?"

The skymobile came to a stop as they arrived at Charum Tower.

Atticus leaned in, his eyes aglow as his look of quiet warning faded away into a look of neutrality. "I'll make it up to you…Emily Sssssaaayre" he said with promise in his eyes, his mouth slightly open as he'd spoken, the visibility of his tongue an unspoken gesture.

She enjoyed the thrill she felt travel up her spine. Last night had been more of an itch that both of them tiredly had scratched but it's been a while since they'd simply…explored one another.

She reached out and touched his cheek and smiled softly. "I will hold you to it" he returned the soft smile before he took her hand and kissed it with a tender kiss.

As much as they enjoyed their word plays, of threatening to embarrass one another, it was never actioned. It was simply part of the play, to make the other submit in their own privacy in a way that neither of them disliked.

Soon enough they were out of the skymobile and walked towards the entrance of the Tower, side by side, their faces expertly crafted for the occasion.

As they always were.

As they always would be.

-Break-

11th of January, 1973 – Paris, France

Jean Delacour POV

Jean stood at the base of the steps of the international Floo terminals, his gaze looking over the Spanish, the Ottoman, the Persian and the Italian delegates with neutral eyes as they walked towards him, escorted as they were by the assigned Aurors.

Galtier had given him the honour to discuss points of interest with these nations. Bah. He should have rejected yet he knew that when France called…

The months since the end of the Ravenite war had been hectic.

A good kind of hectic, in all honesty he supposed. It would be odd to say, given that nearly every ministry west of France was utterly disbanded and their officials in custody charged with collaboration and crimes against magical-kind, but nonetheless it was positive.

A thing that he could admit he didn't think he'd see for much longer yet.

He felt like he could breathe again, a feat that he knew many in France and much of Europe felt like as well, as if the thousand tonne elephant that was crushing the chest of Europe and its spirits and been utterly destroyed with the death of the Raven, Cullaica and the capture of his sycophants.

He'd never admit it aloud but he'd been glad when the Ravenites had turned their eyes east first. The Raven and his butchers had put the fear in everyone, he grimly thought to himself. Had they turned west…he wasn't sure there would have been enough of France left standing for Illos liberate from the Ravenites.

After all, there was hardly anyone standing in Northern and Eastern Europe, he thought with a dark cloud hanging on his mind. The travesties of the Ravenites had been known…at least it was thought it was known yet as the months passed by and the impact of their reign was brought to light, it left even the most hard line politicians queasy at what had befallen former Ravenite controlled countries.

They'd thought they'd known the depths of the depravity of the madmen and though nothing was as horrific as the Purity Massacres, it was horrible enough that it could compare.

Massive depopulation, magical towns and villages that had once flourished were nothing but ghost towns, peoples that were spared the Purity Massacres were magically shackled and bound to the properties of their assigned 'lords', before these lords too were massacred, and were traded amongst themselves like chattel…even the children.

To think that could have happened to France…

"Lord Delacour" the Spanish delegate, Lord Caicedo, greeted as he stuck out his hand. Jean drew himself out of his dark thoughts and smiled graciously as he took the hand.

"Lord Caicedo." Jean acknowledged placidly before extending his greetings to the men beside him. Before long, they got down to it.

It being specifically the upcoming trials of the Ravenites.

The Illosians had reached out to the magical world at large, to come and take part of the process of judgment of the criminals, though specifically many of the judges were to be from the New World, Brazil, Argentina, Mexico and MACUSA along with a sizable number of judges from Asia.

A decision that was proving to be popular with much of the magical world yet for Galtier and their government, it was a point that was greatly disliked.

…not that they could do much against it.

No, the Illosians, particularly his old friend and his wife were completely untouchable to much of the world, including in Europe itself.

The extermination of Vampirism had only aided in this popularity, especially amongst his countrymen who hated the beasts with a passion given that this was now the second time the beasts tried to feast upon France.

Jean inwardly grimaced though there was a trace of humourless amusement within him. When Galtier wanted the Queen involved with the situation of the Vampires, he'd irrevocably created a weak point, ironically enough given that he wanted to exploit the Sayres' penchant to come across as paragons of virtue.

With the complete annihilation of all known Vampires, to the point that it could be said that Vampirism was no more, it propelled Queen Emily to hitherto unforeseen popularity within France itself.

And Jean knew that Galtier was deeply unsettled by that popularity, especially given the way that Illos was involving, no, leading, the rebuilding of governmental institutions across former Ravenite territory.

'France would be next' Galtier told him and though Jean was incredibly sceptical in what he was implying, he knew in his heart that there was truth in that concern of his.

Which was why they were meeting with other delegates of nations that weren't utterly destroyed and would want some kind of pact to lessen the influence of the Grand Alliance on their nations…and peoples.

"They will not budge." Jean told the delegates who'd been arguing amongst themselves. After he'd gotten their attentions he continued "And we will have little recourse to persuade them to do otherwise."

The meeting had rapidly devolved in presenting a united front of persuading Illos to allow the peoples of their countries to restore their countries, completely forgetting that the ICW had occupied much of Europe and forced the Ministries to change according to their will…before they up and made an entire mess of everything that had bit them all on the derrière decades later.

"The ICW-" "The ICW is no more." The Ottoman delegate, Sakin, snapped at the Italian delegate. The Italians were amongst the hardest hit nation in recent years though they managed to save more of their leading families than most other Ravenite occupied territories had managed.

And they were the ones who were chafing the most under the 'occupation' of Illos.

"The ICW is dead, Ferrarrio. Accept it. It'll do you no good to hold onto that delusion." The sour face of the Italian delegate's face made it clear that it was hard for the Italian to accept. It wasn't that surprising. It was well known that the Italians had a historic connection to the ICW, having been one of the founding magical nations that drove for its existence.

The very first Mugwump had been Italian too.

"And it should be clear that Illos, or rather this Grand Alliance, is positioning itself as the heir to the ICW." The Persian delegate, Pandey, said before smiling thinly and adding "And it has been for many years."

"Quite." Jean acknowledged before turning his gaze towards the Italian "Which is why you and your colleagues should accept the occupation for now" Jean doubted he and his leaders would though, he thought with a weary sigh.

Not all of the Italian nobility were in agreement when it comes to resisting the Illosians and in truth, Ferrarrio and his people were in the minority.

The occupation, for a lack of a better word, was of benefit to Italy at present.

Much of the wealth that remained within the country was all that the nobility and the Italian peoples were able to squirrel away as their banking institutions were destroyed and its wealth taken away…

…wealth that no one knew where it was, a concerning problem that was replicated across Europe with the exception of a few nations.

And at present, Illos was providing food, much needed medical attentions and rebuilding much of the settlements that were destroyed. Of course, Jean considered to himself, this was not going to be without repayment.

And Ferrarrio and his people were right to fear for it was certain their way of life was never going to be the same again. If Jean was right, and he thought he had a good chance of being right, he'd say that Italy would no longer be a senate filled with nobility.

"And as much as your plight is unfortunate, Senor Ferrarrio" Caicedo interjected as he stared at the displeased Italian. "This is not a meeting to your plight as it is to come to an agreement in this new world we find ourselves in."

Hours Later…

Jean gratefully took the glass of wine as he sat down in the chair opposite the President. He drank half of it before he took a breath again.

"Do not think I will be sending any gifts come Yuletide, Antonine" Jean said with a displeased glare before he rubbed one of his temples with his hand.

"I think I can do without this year" Galtier said wryly before he eyed Jean with keen eyes and he spoke with a neutral face. "From all accounts it was positive."

Jean laughed wryly. "Positive?" Jean shook his head. "It might look so on paper, but I know that this won't even get far enough in reality, Antonine."

There were rumours that the Grand Alliance was to be reformed into a Federation of Magical Peoples, a much closer organisation of international cooperation between magical peoples, one of the main, if not the, trigger point that made Galtier seek out other interested parties.

It was a rumour that seemed to have no origin, no one knew anyone who'd spoken it yet it was one that seemed to simply…exist. And knowing his old friend…

He'd spoken with a few of his Avalonian contacts, about the truth of such an organisation and he was told nothing of import. He didn't expect anything else, in truth, he thought with a grimace. Their loyalty, either to the Queen or his old friend was not to be taken lightly.

Still, with the possibility of the concept of the ICW being replaced by a much intertwined organisation like this Federation – which was a certainty given the meaning of federation – the necessity of a pact to preserve measures of power was critical to most of the delegates, particularly the Spanish and the Italian delegates.

He had a feeling that the Ottomans and the Persians were more than anything else feeling out the worthiness of France more than anything else.

He shook away that thought.

"They are weak, Antonine. And they stuck with the old ways of thinking. Thinking that their blood and their names are enough to sway people in agreeing to limit the influence and power of Illos." Jean continued, a hint of imploring in his voice.

The proposal that all parties had agreed to was to align their interests should this Federation come into existence and to continue in

Galtier caught the imploration in his voice and he sighed heavily. "I'm aware. But what else is there for us, Jean?" Galtier asked Jean.

Jean knew what he meant.

There wasn't a clamouring…yet…for greater relations with Illos but it was fast approaching that stage. People had a very long memory and the latest actions of the Sayres against the Ravenites, the extermination of Vampires that the French people hated and their speeches since the war ended was triggering those long memories.

No one in France had forgotten the old debt that France owed Atticus Sayre, especially the common people. His inventions, his book on the origin of muggleborns…squibborns, the very image of Illos that was as close to magical paradise…and then the news of his expeditions to Atlantis of all places…

It would not be nonfactual to say that the man was getting close to being deified by the French peoples much like how he was getting deified by large swathes of Europe.

"Resign?" Jean joked before he drank of his wine.

Galtier chuckled before he took hold of his wine. "Don't tempt me. I think I'd like to retire to the vineyards after this term. I think sticking my fingers in fertilised soil is less filthy than being President is."

Jean smiled mirthlessly at his comment. It probably was.

Galtier sighed after he drank of his wine and he seemed to stare at his glass for a long while. Jean looked at the man concerned. "Antonine?"

Galtier seemed to have been broken out of his reverie and he met Jean's gaze. "Apologies, I was just thinking." He eyed Jean "Do you want to know how many more Ministries I reached out to?"

Jean was surprised by the remark and Galtier smiled thinly. "Sixty other Ministries or communities." Galtier barked out a mirthless laugh. It was almost…defeated.

"As soon as they heard of my concerns, they'd all refused in one way or another. Even the Americans." Galtier said pointedly.

"I wondered why you didn't invite them." Jean commented though he was deeply surprised that even they refused to come. "That is…not good."

Galtier nodded slightly before he slumped in his chair. "I think they will join the Grand Alliance sooner than later. Before this Federation happens, I think." Galtier shook his head "And it is smart of them to do so."

Jean raised his eyebrows. Galtier smiled at his expression. "I know when a war is lost, my friend. That meeting of yours with the delegates was a last throw of the dice, a hopeful one."

Jean digested that and decided to speak his mind. "It's not the worst of outcomes" he said carefully. Jean was of course concerned about the power his old friend and his people wielded over the magical world, power that was set to grow to boggling heights, he was sure, but he believed he still knew his old friend, the one he'd fought with.

The fact that he'd joined the war as soon he'd returned from the supposed expedition to Atlantis proved that and there had been plenty of opportunities for his old friend and his people to conquer the magical world, a feat that this war had so blatantly indicated to the rest of the magical world that, should the Illosians try, it would be as much a foregone conclusion as the sun rising and the sun setting.

Galtier smiled at his comment though Jean wasn't sure what kind of smile it was.

"It is not indeed yet the idea that our destiny is no longer in our own hands…not truly…" Galtier's expression soured before he lost and a weary one took hold on his face.

"I won't preside over France's capitulation." Galtier told Jean. "I will advocate for you to take over presidency after me." Galtier stared meaningfully at Jean and as Jean made to speak, Galtier raised his hand, silencing Jean.

"I know you don't want it but France needs you, Jean." Galtier said with a determined voice. "You have a history with the Sayres…a great one. Despite my immense dislike for them and their, in all honesty, borderline insidious ways in grasping for more power, I know that they have a measure of honour at least."

"You want me to exploit my history with the Sayres to protect France." Jean more stated than anything else. Galtier smiled thinly.

"I do. I will throw in the towel. The magical world will soon be theirs, completely, and though I do not think they will destroy it, I truly believe they have a dangerous agenda of some kind. Magi-tech, unity of magicals, their country-ships, Atlantis, everything, I know that there is more to them and it isn't all good." Galtier said grimly before he sighed. "Yet I realise we are defenceless against it. Against them."

He eyed Jean once more. "But with your history, I believe that you will be able shield France from the worst of it. Better than anyone else could regardless." Galtier sighed heavily.

"And I pray to Magic herself that they prove to be as benevolent as they wish to be seen when their schemes come to fruition." Galtier finished and it would stay at the forefront of his mind for months to come.

Months Later…

20th of March, 1973 – Milan, Italy

Jean stared at the Gate for a long few moments, the runes etched onto its faces still dim waiting on his command to connect to their destination.

"Sir." Augerd called and Jean turned towards the man, broking out of his thoughts.

He only nodded to the man before he gestured that the Gate should be connected and soon enough the runes on the Gate became alive with a glow and the centre of the gate showed the other side that seemed to be buzzing with activity and brimming with Illosian Guards donned in their-now distinctive armour, covered fully from head to toe.

With a silent sigh he walked through the gate.

The Illosian guard stepped forward and Jean wordlessly provided the slip of paper to the guard. The guard waved his hand over the slip of paper and Jean idly watched the magic at play. He wasn't entirely sure what enchantments were on the slip of paper but he wouldn't be surprised that it was nothing he was familiar with.

'The security on that paper is tighter than the security in our Department' the Chief Unspeakable had told him after they'd analysed the paper.

"Delegate Delacour" the guard confirmed before he handed back the slip of paper. Jean took the paper and saw its surface change and it began to reveal a map.

"Follow the route as shown on the map. It will take you to your seats" the guard told him and Jean left without saying another word.

He glanced around and saw there were others being checked by the guards, some he recognised, most he didn't.

Given that it was to be a worldwide affair, the sight of so many that he didn't know wasn't surprising…just as it wasn't surprising that most of the people he'd dealt with internationally were either dead or being held until their trials were due, it wasn't that surprising.

He made out of the terminal, following the arrow as he was, and soon enough he was at a wide plaza where shops and stalls were artfully nestled in between the Corinthian marble pillars and marble walls.

If he remembered rightly, this was the place of power of the magical branch of the Scipio family. A family that as far as he knew had no more living direct descendants, most of them having perished against the Ravenites.

And the others likely having been conveniently and quietly disposed of by rival families in the chaos of it all, if accusations of treachery were true.

Jean's eyes darkened slightly.

He expected it to be true. After all, it would be par for the course, would it not? To end a family feud of centuries during the height of the greatest cataclysm your people are facing instead of settling it for the sake of everyone?

As they walked through the halls of this former palace and through the main entrance hall, he noted that there were far more people than he realised would be present, and not everyone was dignitaries as he was.

"I wonder how we will fit." Augerd commented "Spatial charms?" as he looked around as people conversed at the foot of the huge stairs.

"Probably." Jean stated as they walked up the wide steps that lead to the gallery before he glanced at the young man."It's not as if it'll be outside of their capabilities." Jean said a little reproachfully.

Augerd flushed a little embarrassed at his pointless question.

Jean looked away from the man. Augerd wasn't a bad man…just a little pointless. A son of a rather influential man back home, Galtier had saddled him with the young man for possibly the next six months, the estimated duration of the whole trial proceedings, to curry favours from his father.

At this point, Galtier most certainly wanted him as president far more than Jean ever wanted to be president.

Finally, they reached their seats which were indicated on the paper as being enchanted to protect against eavesdropping due to their status as dignitaries. As he sat down he'd glanced around and it was clear there were at least a few thousand spectators in the gallery that spanned the full diameter of the domed courtroom.

There must be reporters from every magical nation, he thought to himself as he glanced around the international press box which helpfully had a label above their section of the gallery.

Not that it could truly be called a box since it resembled more like a quarter-section of a Quidditch stand at a world cup, enough to fill a thousand people.

And amongst the reporters were magi-artists, the kinds that used magic or magi-tech to create moving pictures or drawings since the trial would not be broadcasted to the magical world until it was completely over and, he mused as he glanced at the distinctive holo-recorders that floated around in the room, he expected it cause waves for generations.

Even non-human peoples were amongst the numbers of the audience though they sat a little way away from the rest of the wizards and witches. It wasn't surprising, Jean mused to himself a little sorrowfully, not when the slaughter of any beings and half-breeds had been going on for nigh on two decades.

This would be the first mass trials ever that the public would come to know. Not even during the Grindelwald war had such proceedings been made.

"Do you think we'll see them being melted out of their amber blocks?"

Jean silently sighed long-sufferingly. What did he do to suffer this fool?

"Were you not briefed by the Minister of International Affairs?" Jean asked Augerd.

"I was but it never came up, how the prisoners would be brought to court."

"The prisoners have been out of their amber blocks for months. It was how they determined who was indoctrinated and who wasn't." Jean told the man.

Thousands had been indoctrinated and the reports that French healers, healers France had sent when Illos had sent out a request to the magical world for medical assistance, had provided the government made it clear that for all the ones they at least had diagnosed, were all beyond saving.

According to their most renowned mind-healer, the damage to the victims' minds were so absolute that the persona that they inhabited was practically engraved onto their consciousness. There was no separation of who once was and who now is, a chilling assessment.

And it was an assessment that most of the magical governments had agreed with, some far more begrudgingly than others, especially the Chinese.

And thus, for these poor bastards, it was undeniable that they had no chance of rehabilitation save for perhaps complete Obliviation but there were justified fears that it would only leave the victims in a catatonic state as instances of such treatment were only observed thrice in the magical healing world.

The most resembling of cases had devolved into a catatonic state and the third and least likely case resulting in infantilism of the patient.

Regardless of what to do with these poor witches and wizards, they would not stand trial in the way that the wizards and witches who were deemed mentally sound would though what the Illosians had planned for them, he did not know.

"I see." Augerd said with a frown before he sighed and muttered, morosely, underneath his breath "A shame."

Jean decided he'd ignore the fool for the rest of the proceedings to the best of his abilities.

The judges came out not long afterwards and he noted the robes that they wore. It seems like they settled for an Anglicised style of robes, thick white robes that swept at the ground as they walked.

There were thirteen of them, an unlucky number he mused to himself, yet it was also a powerful number…and a powerful symbol.

There were to be seven sets of thirteen judges, each set presiding over a number of trials that were assigned to them. Coming as far wide as Brazil to MACUSA, to China to New Zealand, from Aziza and Illos, these judges were all the 'best' of their homelands, and had sworn strict oaths of fairness and of utmost integrity.

He'd read the oaths they had to swear before being accepted as judges, and it was restricting, though the spirit of the oaths was known to him. After all, it was the same kind of oath that the ICW had standardised across the magical world.

The judges would alternate in sessions, allowing them to familiarise themselves with the cases. Some had said that it was unnecessary, given that they were all guilty, but most were generally accepting of this spread.

He stared at the woman that sat the centre of the judging panel. Sandra Saunders…

The once Chancellor of Illos had rarely been seen after her 'retirement' from the Illosian High Council. He'd known that she'd been a student of Law though he was surprised to see there. He'd honestly forgotten about her and it seemed like she'd returned to the matters of Law in her retirement.

The hubbub lessened as the first man was led in and his eyes narrowed as he caught a look of the man. A heavy set man with a strong thick moustache was led into the room with a permanent scowl on his face.

Mihály Teleki.

A man who'd become highly influential in Bulgaria once the country had fallen to the Ravenites and if what he heard was right, and he had little doubt that it was, he was heavily involved in the persecution and eventual slaughter of several Veela enclaves within Bulgaria and then later in Eastern Europe.

Jean glanced towards the section where he knew there were a few Veela. The look of hate in their eyes made it clear that they believed him guilty.

Teleki was made to sit in the chair before the judges and the defence, whom Jean did not envy whatsoever, spoke with the man.

From what he understood, every defendant was granted a lawyer or could hire one from their own funds which would be made unfrozen for that singular purpose…not that they had any chance of using it otherwise…or actually hiring the top law firms that remained in Western Europe and beyond.

As such, the court had ascribed this lawyer to the man and it wouldn't surprise him if this was the longest time since he'd spoken with Teleki.

And it seemed like it would be the last time the lawyer would speak with Teleki as well given that the lawyer was moving away from the man.

"I will defend myself." Teleki gruffly said in a thick English accent.

Teleki's mouth continued to move but no sound came out and he must have realised this as he firmly shut his mouth and let off a cold sneering expression.

"The defendant will be reminded that any insults, speeches or commentary unsuitable to these proceedings will be censured." One of the court officials said.

Teleki sent a cold glare at the official but said nothing otherwise.

It was interesting, Jean thought to himself. He hadn't even seen any kind of magic at play that silenced the man and he thought the magic at play was incredibly subtle if it could almost anticipate when someone was speaking outside of bounds.

Judge Saunders slammed her hammer down and a huge gong sounded out and Jean's eyes widened in slight panic when he felt the slight trace of magic wash over him.

"The courtroom is now sealed. The wave of magic you have felt is an intent based enchantment that prevents any interference, verbal or physical or magical, from this moment onwards" the lead court official stated before he looked towards Teleki.

Jean realised that the man had a shocked expression on his face and seemed to be unable to move from his seat though Jean saw no physical shackles.

"The Defendant is now magically coerced to speak the truth and nothing but the truth. His Occlumency shields have also been eroded away so that should visual imagery be necessary, it may be pulled from his mind and shown to the court."

Jean's mouth was now slightly ajar, shocked as he was. Being forced to tell the truth was no surprise, of course, there were potions and charms that could enforce it but the erosion of Occlumency shields?

"That shouldn't be possible." Augerd said shocked next to him.

Jean's mind was awhirl as he thought on it and he was coming up short how they were accomplishing it. It was well known that mind shields could be worn down or broken through Legillimency probes though he had heard of no other…

Jean's eyes widened. But of course! He shook his head in disbelief. He wasn't sure if it was right or not, probably not but he realised in any case that mind shields could be worn away through other means.

Simply because compulsion charms or even the allure of Veela could affect the mind through the application of foreign magic…even if you had mind shields.

Why couldn't Occlumency shields be entirely bypassed through similar application of foreign magic outside of blunt use of magic?

Jean's eyes sharpened as he stared at Teleki before he turned his gaze towards Saunders. 'My word…' he thought to himself before he glanced towards the reporters who were avidly writing down this surprise.

No doubt when it gets released to the public, more than a few people will be more aghast at the existence of such magic than whatever Teleki will say.

The trial commenced and Jean…well Jean thought he could stomach it. He was wrong. Teleki was vile, utterly and completely vile and evil.

Murder, torture, kidnapping, even was involved in human and Veela trafficking for decades before he'd stopped when rumours of mass vigilante actions proved to be far more than idle rumour though what truly sickened Jean was his actions during the Ravenite era.

Jean felt sick as Teleki described as to what Teleki was allowed to do, shackles of decency and humanity were truly cast away, not the man had much if any in the first place, yet what had been described, and shown, with narration from the man himself of how he felt, how he'd seen his victims, had made Jean gripping his seat with a death grip and his stomach on the verge of emptying.

Teleki was a monster of the worst kind, and he was proud of it. The glee, the expression on his face, none of it seemed forced – Jean realised that the effect of the enchantment was far more delicate and capable than he'd thought possible with the way that it could make Teleki to bring forth how he'd been in the moments he was describing – and it was a damnation beyond any hints of salvation.

And, as he looked around the courtroom at the gallery, he saw the horror, disgust and grief in their expressions with more than a few seats having been vacated.

Only the judges seemed unaffected and Jean would be hard pressed to believe that they weren't under some influence of some major calming charms with the way they were writing and listening all the same time.

When Teleki finally ended his narration of his crimes and the questions by the prosecutor had ran out, the judges conferred.

Jean took the opportunity to glance at Augerd and he wasn't surprised to see him as he was. Augerd was beyond pale and deathly silent and still.

A feat he didn't think was accomplishable. Jean glanced around and saw that many were equally as struck dumb as the young man was even though Teleki had stopped speaking. And more than a few were still missing from their seats.

"Augerd." Jean called out. He didn't get a response and he placed his hand on the man's shoulder which startled the pale-faced man.

"Samuel." Jean called out kindlier.

The man looked at Jean, a little more life in his eyes this time.

"I never thought such evil could be done." Augerd said in a muted voice. Jean realised belatedly that the man had lived a sheltered life and the Grindelwald hadn't quite touched the young man either given that he was about mid thirties in age.

Too young to remember or remember being affected.

"I knew it was happening." Augerd added as he shook his head.

"It is another thing to be witness to the crimes as…explicitly detailed." Jean agreed grimly. He was beginning to realise why his old friend was making such a spectacle of the whole thing. He'd admittedly thought that it was meant to be a show of Illosian righteousness but in reality, he realised that it was more nuanced than that.

He was using his influence to make the magical world bear witness to the kinds of monsters that walk amongst them.

Monsters that hide behind velvet gloves and silk robes. Monsters that might believe in blood purity but in reality only used the ideology to a means to an end.

"Yes." Augerd answered.

Jean tapped the man on his shoulder and looked at the young man with a grim face.

"This is only the first day, my friend." The thought made Augerd queasy but he seemed to shore himself up before he nodded firmly.

"Yes, yes it is." Augerd drew himself up "And it is for us to listen. We owe that at least to the victims." Augerd said, much to Jean's surprise.

The young man went up a couple of notches in his estimations.

Jean smiled slightly at Augerd before he turned solemn. "Indeed it is."

Augerd was going to say something but the voice of Judge Saunders had ended that.

"Mr Teleki." Saunders began, her voice authoritative as she somehow gazed at Teleki without judgement. "The admissions you have provided are, without the slightest possibility of misinterpretation or doubt in their veracity, undeniable. This court finds you guilty." Saunders declared before she slammed the hammer down.

Jean realised he was keeping in his breath that had been released when the sound of the hammer rang audibly around the huge courtroom.

He leaned forward when Saunders made to speak once more. He knew it was all but certain that Teleki was never going to taste freedom again and he hoped it would go further than that, he thought darkly. He remembered all too well the outrage he and others felt at the leniency the ICW had levied upon Grindelwald's followers.

Something he couldn't even contemplate his old friend would even allow to happen.

Teleki looked on hatefully but prideful at the judges, particularly at Saunders.

Saunders only met the man's gaze as she spoke.

"For the unforgivable acts you, Mr Teleki, have committed, you shall be sentenced to death." Jean smiled grimly at that, a feeling of satisfaction that he shared with the room, something he could sense easily enough.

Saunders continued "House Teleki shall be stripped of its nobility and the name Teleki shall be declared illegal and henceforth shall be dead until the end of time." Jean's eyebrows raised dramatically and he heard the surprise of his companion.

Teleki looked shocked.

Saunders continued "All members of the former House of Teleki, should they be found redeemable, shall be made to swear unbreakable vows to never take up the name, the legacy or the beliefs of the former House of Teleki."

Teleki was broken out of his shock and raged in his chair, murder clear in his eyes. But there was more…there was fear mixed with the anger.

This…

This was unprecedented.

"The members of the former House of Teleki, man, woman and child alike, shall be made to swear unbreakable vows upon their life and magic to never again harm another sentient life unless it is in defence at which point they must, at all cost save for the harm to their own life, avoid harming another more than is needed to ensure the safety of all.

The members of the former House of Teleki, man, woman and child alike, shall be made to swear unbreakable vows to never, in any way or form, acknowledge, teach or inform their descendants of their former name, their former legacy or the beliefs of the former House of Teleki. This so we decree, this so we judge." Saunders slammed her hammer down and a pulse of magic erupted from the act.

"This can't stand…can it?" Augerd asked shocked. "This goes far beyond anything that's ever been done!"

Jean said nothing and simply watched Saunders who he could see had not yet finished.

"When crimes become no longer crimes but acts of evil, the root of that evil must be ripped out." Saunders said with an authoritative air. "It comes to no surprise that Mr Mihály's acts of evil began long before the Ravenites became active. Acts of evil that stem from beliefs that have been passed down the generations with no resistance, with no reflection and with no guilt or remorse at the inhumanity of their actions and that of their ancestors."

Jean listened on quietly.

"It, then, needs to be questioned. Why?" Saunders said as she looked around.

"Why has there been no resistance? No reflection? No guilt or remorse at the dehumanisation, at the cruelty and evil that have been subjected against mundane and magical alike?" Saunders posed to the courtroom.

"Because there has been no consequence to such acts of evil." Saunders said firmly before she returned her gaze to Teleki…no Mihály. "No more. The legacy of inconsequence shall be no more."

Jean, many years later, when his grandson who bore the same name, had asked when he realised things had changed, he would tell his grandson of this very moment.

The moment that had changed everything immeasurably for him and many others.

Even more so than when news of the planets of the Celestis system were made public.

-Break-

27th of August, 1973 – Staffroom, Hogwarts.

Horace H. Slughorn POV

"It's starting" Minerva pointed out with a sharp note to her face, her expression reproachful. Horace almost chuckled to himself at his Deputy.

Making her his deputy was perhaps the best choice he'd made for a long time. She was authoritative and she was extremely intimidating…when she wanted to be.

Horace was not delusional and he knew his faults…and he knew his own demeanour. He was not Armando or was he Phineas Black, both of whom could command an air of respectability that was commanding, that demanded the individual to give it, even if Dippet may have lost much of that air in the last few decades before his retirement.

Yet where he differed from the pair of former headmasters was that he recognised his faults and he worked to fill it. And he'd done so ably with the hire of Minerva as his Deputy. Of course, the stain of being Albus' apprentice had been a point of contention with a few of the nobility, especially some of his former Slytherin charges but a single sentence of approval from Emily was enough to still any dissent.

Emily…

Horace drank of his cup of spiced hot chocolate, quietly ignoring the quiet chatter of his staff as his gaze watched the King, Atticus Sayre, on the screen as he arrived at the podium that was held in front of the former Scipio ancestral palace.

The King looked regal.

It had been announced that the King would speak to close out the trials, an odd choice but Horace thought it made sense, considering that neither the King or Emily had made much of an appearance at the trials.

He snorted quietly as his memory went back to the early years, their early years.

He didn't quite believe how everything had played out.

He remembered the day he and his colleagues had taken bets on when Emily and Atticus would marry, the completion of a sappy love story between a no-name orphan girl and a handsome boy who was practically a Prince…

And in a strange way…

It was truly such a sappy love story, Horace thought warmly to himself.

Mystery and one-in-a-million talent all wrapped in a petite form had flowered into a woman of genuine royal blood that could wrest the course of history in her own hands and guide their world with a deftness of politics never witnessed or felt before.

Equally, a boy of less mystery but of equal or perhaps greater talent wrapped in un-convention became a man who was quite possibly going to become the first King of the magical world if things were heading where he thought they would.

Yet…he thought as the feeling of warmth evaporated away from his centre. He knew full well that his former students were far more than an innocent sappy story.

As much as he wished it was simply so.

He knew not the details, oh no, he was quite happy not to know, but he knew enough. Just as he knew that his elevation to Headmaster was not because of tenure.

Horace was wise enough to know that to achieve what they had achieved thus far, achievements that he could not name a single witch or wizard who could even approach their impact on history, save for perhaps Merlin, and he was wise enough to know that it should not be something to be considered beyond the confines of one's mind

Still, he mused to himself, despite it all, he believed that it was not terrible, this control his former students had and would continue to have on the magical world, especially now that ICW was gone and no other nation or Ministry could oppose them.

For all that Charlus and a few others would bemoan, some more aggressively than others, it was hard to acknowledge that their world was better in most ways.

The number of discriminatory infractions this past decade was proof enough of that.

He snorted silently. It was amusing to think that the biggest detractors were the ones who were from families historically thought as 'light families'.

He- his thought processes were cut short as the King began to speak and silence befell the staff room.

"What drives ordinary people, regardless of station, regardless of so-called purity of blood, to become mass killers?" the King posed to the crowd and those watching the feed live, his regal voice hooking them to listen.

"Men and women who had gone to magical school just like the rest of us have. Men and women who had gone to the local villages or gone to a Yuletide Ball or a Beltaine festival like the majority of us have in our childhoods.

Yet these same men and women committed travesties that will haunt the magical world for generations to come." The King paused, his eyes seemed to scan and somehow managed to give off the impression he was meeting the gaze of every set of eyes simultaneously.

"What drove these people to do so?" the King once more posed, his cadence was akin to a beat of drums that ensnared all to lean forward, eagerly, impatiently waiting for more.

The answer, Horace to himself grimly, was one that everyone who'd paid attention to the trials would know.

Right of blood

It had been the right of blood that had driven noble and common alike, that their blood was more valuable than others and when they began to feel, began to listen to others, that their blood was not being valued as much as it should be, that their struggles was because of this devaluation…

Extremism had flourished in the wake after the Grindelwald war.

The nobility, instead of being defanged as they were meant to, were instead blatantly ignored and allowed to grasp more of their old powers back as the ICW turned its attentions elsewhere.

The nobility and other purebloods had seized upon the chance of regaining their strength at the cost of others when the Ravenites had presented themselves, many of whom had lavishly exacted 'punishments' on those they felt had wronged them.

Often times simply by existing.

"You know the answer. You should know the answer. It is also the answer to much of the happenings of this century and the last, and the centuries before that. Yet…my fellow magicals. This century we have descended into a new low." The King said solemnly the level of gravitas his presence exuded was immense.

"This century has been of grievous but monumental horror, committed not by a few psychopathic people, a few evil men and women who enjoy the sounds of terror through the innocent mouths of men, women and children, no, this century has been a horror committed by ordinary men and women who cast away all decency, all morality and all humanity."

"Germans, Danes, Austrian, Hungarians, Romanians, Russians, it matters not what ethnicity, what society, or blood purity or even nobility. No, this has been a travesty that transcends such simple denominations. Because…" the King trailed off as he leaned forward slightly.

"Any of us could be motivated under the right conditions, the right circumstances, to view others to be less than human, to lose our humanity, to become murderers." The King looked around, his expression stoic as he began to speak again.

"Most of you doubt my words, I know. Some of you are even offended that I could suggest such a thing." The King said with a deep sense of acknowledgement.

"It is hard to believe, after all. 'I could never harm another person'. 'I would never believe the kind of nonsense the Ravenites have spouted, that others have believed. I am better than that'" the King gave a grim smile before he raised his hand.

"Hanna Alvardsdottir thought the same" the King said and Horace understood where the King was going. "Erik Corluka thought the same. And hundreds of others had all thought the same."

Alvardsdottir and Corluka were two of the most infamous trials of the Milan.

Both of them had been caught up in the Ravenite philosophy early on, having believed that it was a way to have better lives after Grindelwald had destroyed theirs and that of their families. They'd had done terrible and cruel things but it was clear to anyone that they had not started out that way.

They'd simply been misguided teenagers who'd gotten caught up in the Raven's spell. Something that was replicated well over four hundred times as far as he knew.

By the time they'd realised what they had signed up for, they'd simply got on with it instead of running as much as they had wanted to, especially after they'd seen what happened to those who started questioning.

"It never starts with something large. It is always small. 'They need our help'. 'Don't you see, they are not like us.' And before you know it, your hands are coated in the blood you have begun to see as lesser. That is how it starts. That is how it ends."

"And the questions that every single one of us, all of you, and all of you listening or watching, and even I, must ask ourselves is…

How do we prevent our societies from descending into madness once more?

How do we inoculate our societies, our friends, our families, our children, from mass murder and genocide?

"And these are questions we must find solutions to. Our very survival depends on it"

The King paused as he looked around the assembled crowd before he spoke once more. "Over ten percent of our kind has died in fifty years. Three other magical races have lost seventy percent of their populations and others have lost nearly half."

"I do not exaggerate when I say that another war like this may well be our very doom. And we would deserve it" the King said harshly as he placed his hand onto the podium.

"Because we can stop the next Grindelwald, the next Raven from rising again, and even if we cannot stop them, we can stop listening to their lies, to their attempts to divide us, their attempts to destroy us so that they can rule over the ashes that remain" the King's voice had picked up in volume and in strength as he'd spoken before he halted and the silence that was left in his pause was deafening.

Even his staffroom was deathly silent.

"What we have heard and felt in the Milanese Trials is not a philosophy of evil, it is not the tale of black and white but the incremental development of evil.

Evil is moulded, twisted in shape gradually. We have heard enough of such progression in these trials to understand that. No one wakes up with hate in their hearts. No one is born with hate in their soul. It is learned.

And these Milanese trials have shown us what that can be and it is the worst of us

And now…now, we must show the best of us.

The veil of naivety must be torn away from our eyes just as our ears have been free to listen. We must search within ourselves, within our societies and come to answer the questions that have been presented to us, questions like why the protective father can murder the child of another, why a most loving mother can stand idle and watch a family be murdered in front her eyes, and why we have allowed propaganda of generations, cultural norms and history to entrap our world in this perpetual cycle of misery and death that slowly kills us all" the King has said passionately as he swept his hand across.

"Now is the time that we rise to the responsibility that we hold to ourselves, to one another, to everyone, and inoculate ourselves and our cultures and our societies in what always lurks within us" the King's expression fell into a kind of stoic solemnity, a solemnity that was slowly making way for hope.

"I have not lost hope. I have been blessed in this life of mine to have seen many great and wonderful and good things. I have met many, many good people, many of whom I can dearly call friends and loved ones, and many of whom are strangers" the King smiled as he trailed his gaze across the crowd.

"It is why I know that our world, our people, are not a lost cause and that we are merely a single step away from achieving wonders, much like how we can create wonders with a thought. We live in a world of wonder, of beauty and majesty, in harmony with nature and animals that is indescribable.

"And that is why I have great hope that, in the coming years, we will sit down, together, as one world, as one people, to address the fears, the worries, the anger, the hate, and the jealously, to find a way to destroy them" the King said passionately.

"And with magic, we will find no limits to what we can achieve, to what we can reach for and so I do not doubt for a moment that that fleck of evil that burrows in the hearts of man can be crushed into dust when we use the courage we all have within us to do so" Horace felt like the King was staring into Horace's as he'd spoken, and he felt a chill run down his spine.

"This what I believe and this is what I have hope in that we will achieve" the King raised his hand, a hand that clenched into a fist.

"For we are Magic. For we are federated in magic."

The applause that rang through the holo-screen was loud enough for Horace to believe, for a single moment, that he was there physically.

Little did he know, it was a feeling that spanned the entire magical world.