Morgana looks down at Liz from her full, unglamoured height, "Now, what do we do with you?"
Liz swallows, finally deciding that this must all be a dream, "Um, you are very tall."
Morgana nods, "I am indeed, now, why did Skye give you that prayer?"
Liz giggles, "I keep bugging her about teaching me how to learn the Celtic Language. But she's been holding out on me." Liz steps forward and hugs Morgana, and rests her head against her belly, "Mmm, so firm, yet soft in all the right places. I love having dreams like this, though usually it's Sean Connery I'm hugging."
Morgana looks over at Skye, "Is she normally like this?"
Skye sighs, "No, she's usually more with it than she is at the moment. Still just as Ditzy, but she's usually better with personal boundaries unless she's drunk."
Liz lets go and dramatically clutches her heart, "Oh, Skye, you wound me so…" as she turns around to see the skyclad, battered, bruised, and most importantly unglamoured Skye, her eyes widen and she licks her lips, "Yummy, you're in the dream too, and you're sooo tall."
Skye suddenly finds herself carefully fending off a cuddly Liz, "Liz, what is it you want?"
"Mmmm, to hug you right now."
"No, what do you want in life?"
"I want to be a translator, to be able to speak to people from all over the world and enable everyone to communicate together."
Morgana mutters, "Well, Ogma's out as he's now Sidhe, maybe Aí, he was a minor poet, so there's lots of room for growth." More loudly, she calls out, "Dora, get one of the apples from the basket."
Liz pouts, "Blurgh, I don't like apples."
Morgana just smiles, "Well, you said this was a dream, and sometimes in dreams you need to do things you don't like in order to get to the best bits."
"Do I have to?"
Skye opens her mouth to speak, but is pushed out of Morgana's domain in a puff of mist, "If you eat the apple without throwing up, when you next wake up, you'll have the opportunity you asked for."
When Dora returns with the apple, Liz greedily eats it, nearly whole. Towards the end, the sour flavour of the fruit starts to persuade her that she's not actually asleep. When the stomach cramps hit, she knows she's not asleep, and she tries to say something before her world goes dark.
═══════ ೋღ ღೋ ═══════
Liz wakes up on a patch of lush grass, the tinkle of water in the distance making her bladder beg for release. As she licks her parched lips, and scowls at the taste of morning after mouth, she mumbles, "Fuck, I drank too much again. Skye'll kill me."
Blearily she opens her eyes, and blinks at the bright light. Once her eyes have adjusted, she glances down at the road cone she was holding, only to find it's some sort of stringed instrument. Blinking, she looks around for any sign of where she is, or how the hell she got there. All she can see around her is a light forest with budding leaves and flowers.
Staggering to her feet, she immediately falls backwards onto her bum, as her heels sink into the soft loam the grass is growing on.
"Ow, fuck, stupid heels."
As she works the buckles on her heels, she notices that someone has threaded a letter through the strings on the instrument. Clearly visible is her name, obviously written with a calligraphy pen. Leaning over, she picks up the instrument, knocking a dagger that was concealed underneath it.
Once she's worked the letter out of the strings, she unfolds it and glances it over.
Liz
This Crwth used to belong to Aí, unfortunately he no longer needs it.
If you wish to have the same gift of languages Skye has,
just nick your finger on the dagger and smear your blood on the
Crwth.
From The Morrigan.
With a groan, Liz tosses the letter to one side before she finishes removing her shoes. That done, she grabs the dagger and the instrument before staggering into the wood in the direction of the trickling water. As her bladder reminds her of it's existence again, she finds a bush to squat behind. As she stands up, she steps on a twig, sending her flailing forward against a tree.
"Ow, fuck. That's it Liz, no more drinking so much on Friday nights."
After wiping her hands down on her dress, she inspects them carefully and winces at the blood welling to the surface of the scratches. "Damn it, I'm going to need to find the TCP when I get home. When did I last have a Tetanus shot?" Wincing she holds her head as her hangover informs her she was talking too loud.
With a hiss of pain, she reaches down and picks up the instrument, and the dagger. She only makes it a couple more steps before she screams in pain as it feels like a lightning bolt runs up through her feet and stabs into her head.
═══════ ೋღ ღೋ ═══════
"Albus Dumbledore, please enter the defence stand."
Albus creaks to his feet and winces slightly when Fawkes lands on his shoulder. While the damage from the guards abuse has now been healed, he's feeling every one of his over 100 years. Walking as proudly as he can, he makes his way into the defence stand, cursing lightly under his breath that there's no chair inside it.
Once inside, the acting Chief Warlock looks down at him, "Mr Dumbledore, you stand here accused of grievous breaches of the statute of secrecy. During your convalescence we have heard testimony of each of the witches and wizards that took part in the same breach.
"It is the considered opinion of this body that you are guilty of revealing the magical world to muggles in an unsanctioned and uncontrollable manner." Albus tenses as the penalty for that crime is death, "However, we have also found that you cannot be held culpable for your actions at that time. Indeed, you are to be awarded an Order of Merlin, 2nd class, for your quick action in preventing the breach from being worse than it already was."
Albus' legs almost give way beneath him, and he puts his hand on the stand to steady himself, "Thank you for your consideration."
The man in his seat looks down at him with a smile, "Go and get your wands and effects back. I'm fed up with warming your seat, there's far too much paperwork."
Albus nods and leaves to do just that.
Once he's retaken the Chief Warlock's seat, the December session of the ICW begins with a motion to amend the Statute of Secrecy to allow a member nation to issue an international arrest warrant through the ICW, that will be carried out by the ICW security forces. Despite his misgivings, Albus finds himself voting in favour of this measure. They then move onto setting up a task force to research the myths and lore of the ancient wizards that set themselves up as gods, with the aim of discovering just how they could be summoned and contained.
═══════ ೋღ ღೋ ═══════
Minerva huffs as Fawkes delivers a letter from Albus. That huff turns into cursing when she reads the content of the letter. Putting her knife and fork down, she stands and stalks out of the Grand Hall to the floo in the Headmasters office. Snatching the Sorting Hat off the shelf, to a startled yelp, she floo's the Ministry of magic and makes her way to the department of education.
As she enters, the worker on duty takes one look at her face before scarpering to the offices. A few minutes later, the tap of Marchbanks cane precedes her entry to the reception area.
"Good morning deary, what's got you so worked up?"
With a barely concealed snarl, Minerva slams the letter on the counter, followed by the Sorting Hat, "This is the matter. I'm already struggling to fill the Headmasters job on top of teaching and being the Deputy Head. I canna keep doing this, an I don't have time to fix it."
Marchbanks nods gravely as she picks up the letter and scans it quickly, "I see, and what do you expect me to do about it?"
The sorting hat puffs itself up, before forming it's face, "Well, don't keep me in suspense here. I've been yanked out of a nice nap, and then dumped on this desk."
Minerva growls and taps her wand in the air, "Albus has informed me that he will be indisposed at the ICW until May, and I have my 6th year class starting in five minutes."
"Well, this is most irregular. Where are we anyway?"
Marchbanks chuckles as Minerva turns on her heel and heads back to the Floos, "This is the Department of Education at the Ministry of Magic."
"Why, in the name of the gods, am I here. Fat lot of good I can do here."
Marchbanks smiles as she picks up the hat, and plops it on her head, before taking the letter, "Why don't we head into the office and we can find out. Now, why do you think Minerva brought you to this office?"
═══════ ೋღ ღೋ ═══════
Pomona sighs heavily as Miss Greengrass leaves her office with her shoulders shaking. Honestly, she wishes it hadn't come to this, but with the massive number of absences over the last couple of months, and the corresponding dip in her grades from mid exceeds to a high acceptable in History, Astronomy, and Defense, she really had no choice. With a sigh, she taps her finger in the air to cast a Tempus charm, something she's been reduced to after Ollivander refused to sell her a third wand. Ten to seven, time to tidy everything up for the morning.
At nine pm, Pomona pours herself a couple of fingers of whiskey with shaking hands. The cause of her nerves is that she hasn't been abducted for her lessons yet. As the alcohol takes effect, and she starts to relax, she switches out her clothes for her night clothes, and goes to sleep.
At midnight Morgana steps into her room with flinty eyes, a flick of her fingers has Pomona dressed in Celtic garb. Breathing out an angry breath, she reminds herself that killing people for hurting her family is not allowed in this age. Even if that family is through her granddaughter by blood. Once she's sure that she's not going to kill the woman in front of her, she reaches down and grabs her by the front of her top and drags her into the mist of the otherside.
Pomona jerks awake as Morgana releases her glamours, even though she doesn't release her magic. As she's lifted up in front of The Mórrígan, she starts to struggle when she sees the look in her eyes.
"You had a letter from her parents, you had my word on the matter, and she kept her grades up in all her magical subjects. But did you give her the benefit of the doubt? Did you ever consider that she was telling the truth?"
"I had no choice, she's allowed her grades to drop so she has to do detentions in order to bring them up again."
"Oh, you had a choice. You could have believed her when she said she couldn't control when she was pulled away from the school. You could have asked her what was going on, flooding in Italy for your information, you could even have approached me about it, or had another discussion to see if there was anything that could be done to help. Instead, you ignored all of that, you ignored your own disciplinary situation because of situations outside your control. Danu, you could even have approached Harry as her Master."
Pomona tries to talk, but Morgana places a fingertip on her forehead, "No, you don't get to talk now, you had your chance and now you pay the price. As punishment for your transgression this geas I place on you. Until next the sun rises you will not remember anything about the wizarding world's communities, defences, or places of learning and law. You will honestly answer all questions put to you, and you will be unable to use the mist without aid."
As the magic takes hold, Pomona struggles futilely in Morgana's grasp as she's dragged through the mist to who knows where. After a few minutes, the where turns out to be a place that looks like half a sitting room with bright lights preventing her from seeing anything else beyond the carpet.
As she's trying to regain her bearings, a young woman stands up from a chair with a smile on her face, "Isn't this a pleasant surprise everyone, The Morrigan has dropped in for a visit."
From the darkness comes the sound of clapping, and a few cheers and Morgana smiles brittlely, "Sorry, I'm not here for another interview. I thought I'd introduce you to a companion of mine who is really good with growing plants. If you can cultivate it, she can probably grow it, or tell you what's wrong with it and how to fix it; or even kill it."
The young woman turns to Pomona, "Isn't this a pleasure. Let me introduce myself. I'm Rachel Sanders and this is Celtic Watch, though we are also reporting the occasional sighting of Kali from India as well. Though mostly as a matter of national safety. Sitting beside me is a mystery guest brought to us by The Morrigan. By the looks of things, she's of Celtic origin, however there seems to be a distinct lack of weapons. What's your name Honey?"
Pomona tries, she really does, however lacking the lessons in Celtic customs that her first years have had, she answers the only way she can, "My name is Diougenia."
"That's a lovely name, isn't it everyone."
At the sound of applause from the other side of the lights, Pomona wilts inside as she realises what name she gave.
"So, Diougenia, The Morrigan said that you're really good with plants, what did she mean by that?"
"I've been learning and teaching Herbology for the last 60 years, both in the UK and all around the world."
Rachel smiles at Pomona, "Can I just say, you look really good for someone that started teaching in the 1930's. What's your favourite plant that you've ever worked with?"
"It would be a choice between a Venomous Tentacula or a Pussy Willow. The Tentacular because it's so hard to grow outside its native environment in the South American rainforest, and the Pussy Willow because it's so affectionate."
Rachel laughs, "I take it that pussy willow is different to the trees the rest of us know and love."
Pomona nods, "The magical version is spectacular as its cat tails grow into full length, and are amazingly agile. Because of this it developed a symbiotic pollination strategy, where it would groom passing animals, and leave a dusting of pollen on them, while taking away any ticks or mites it came across."
"What's your favourite non-magical plant?"
Pomona wracks her brain for an answer, after a moment she smiles, "There's a parasitic flower in the South American rainforest that produces a flower over a yard across. I remember going to see it when it was discovered to check to see if it was magical."
Well, that's all we have time for at the moment, join us after the break for our world wide sightings. Coming up after the news at nine we'll be having our phone in questions for Diougenia. Everyone, give Diougenia a round of applause for being such a good sport. And don't forget to check our website for details on how to pray to Celtic Deities, and the current list of known Deities."
As the lights die down, Pomona shivers and twitches as she starts to hear whispers asking about different plants and flowers.