September 30, 1997

The MACUSA Embassy Office was unchanged from my last visit. Security was tighter, Auror Mankiller was checking everybody who entered with help from my cousin Quincy who asked me a security question about how Grandpa Atticus ate his cereal (with almond milk because of his digestive issues). I was quickly waved through the doors and was able to pull down the hood of my cloak once I was safely out of sight of the door, my hair turning from brown to its regular black as I pinned a nametag to my robes.

Today was official business.

We were having our vote for MACUSA to get involved with the war in Britain. My hands were shaking so badly I stabbed myself with the pin twice.

It would be fine.

I was going to meet Elihu in his office for some coffee and a chat before the event started. It would be nice to see him as we had cut all communications after his display at the Ministry a few weeks ago, no letters, no visiting, it was as if we were strangers. I had to dismiss Elihu completely with the Minister and Yaxley, calling him a rogue government official among other things that I hoped I would never have to repeat for their nastiness and falseness in the truth of who Elihu was to me as a mentor and as an individual.

The door to Elihu's office was now in front of me and I shifted slightly on my heels, bouncing slightly on the balls of my feet as I raised my hand to knock on the door.

"Door's open!" Hearing Elihu's voice was such a comfort, I really had missed the political talks and the coffee. I pushed the door open to a sight that was surprising, but not unexpected in some ways.

It had been some time since I had seen Valencia Talbot in person, the tides of war and information had kept us busy in our respective fields. Her red hair was still short and her glasses still sat perched on her nose, giving her a rather buggish appearance behind the magnification of the lens. Valencia was dressed in the style of local muggles, a black, high collar turtleneck sweater and a light rain jacket that went to her knees in a brilliant crimson that clashed with her hair. There was something very professional in how she carried herself, but also deeply playful in the way she was speaking with Elihu.

When the door creaked in full at my entrance, Valencia and Elihu became all professionalism, smiles became grim expressions, arms were crossed in thinking poses as a slight hunch in shoulders was instantaneously achieved.

Was this what Percy and I were like?

Gondulphus' grave! I hope nobody saw us perform that little show!

I saw nothing.

It's not my business.

"Hello!" My voice was high and unusually chipper to try and cover this under a veneer of being sweetly dumb with singular interests in politics and good coffee.

I got some murmured hellos in return and closed the door behind me as I entered the room.

There had been no change to Elihu's office, it was still sleek and professional with the most interesting feature being the large window behind his desk and the nice fireplace nearby with the pretty stone mantle where there were jars of floo powder and some odd decorations sitting atop it.

Elihu was drinking coffee, despite the early afternoon hour. There were no signs of him having eaten lunch. I was fairly certain Elihu just sustained himself on coffee and regular doses of spite, which sounded delightful, if unhealthy.

Valencia waved at me with a bright expression, as if she had not worn a similar one moments ago before she heard me come in. "Hey Aud!"

"Want a chair?" Elihu asked as he summoned one from the other side of his office, it was a nice, plush one that I liked. He set it next to the thicker chair that he had apparently pulled out for Valencia, the one I generally was afraid I would be swallowed by and never seen again. Valencia was apparently an irritated pacer who liked to talk and walk, which might be how she avoided what I viewed to be an evil, if comfortable, sort of chair.

"Yes please!" I sat down, engaging in a few brief hellos and how are yous, alongside the various small talk of early conversation before Elihu summoned me some coffee from the supply he kept on a small table on the other side of the office. Something that was supposedly just for polite offerings to political guests, but clearly had been converted to Elihu's preferred brands. A steaming cup of coffee found its way into my hands and some creamer landed on the table in front of me, spilling a couple of drops on impact as I asked a question that had been on my mind for days. "Have either of you heard from Alex?"

Elihu sighed and shook his head, "He sent me a note two days ago, it told me not to bother him anymore."

Valencia looked sadly out the window, biting her lip as her brow furrowed.

The silence was overcome by Valencia, quickly changing the subject to what they were presumably discussing when I arrived.

"Anyway, Elihu, we both know fascist governments are not a new phenomena," Valencia started, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "They rise out of a view of disenfranchisement, poverty, loneliness and the like, creates easy targets for these kinds of groups to recruit. People who have very little resources and when the party provides, they get loyalty in exchange."

"Exactly right," Elihu nodded as he took a sip of coffee. "I don't think you all studied the No-Maj wars in Germany?"

"Not much, we were more focused on Grindelwald," I put more cream in my coffee and sat in my usual chair. "We didn't cover a lot about government takeovers or authoritarianism."

Valencia made a noise, some combination of a bored sigh and a hiss of pain that made Elihu chuckle.

"Well, the short version is economic issues from the first World War created a perfect storm for the conditions that created the second war, it was more of a singular war that had a long break in the middle, but the second part had a host of promises for the economic woes of its citizens… and offered series of groups to blame to unite the citizens behind what the government was promising. Prosperity."

"I don't think we can compare these two wars very well," I started slowly, "These British Purebloods have money, power and influence. They've lost in numbers because if we didn't intermarry with people of No-Maj ancestry, we would have died out long ago. They all have a No-Maj in the family tree somewhere they don't talk about. They're preoccupied with holding onto their family money, cultivating more of it and exercising their influence to close the doors to Muggle-borns with their pro-pureblood laws."

"Ah, but they blame the Muggle-borns for all of their ills, don't they?" Elihu smiled wryly.

"Yes."

"A persecuted minority group in several different ways and people with all the money find a convenient scapegoat in them for how scary they are to wizarding perceptions of power."

"And their money is running out apparently," Valencia smiled grimly, "There was an influx of cross the pond marriages with American business upstarts and various old money Europeans after the both wars in Europe. That new American money saved a few of these families, the ones who were less interested in having sex with their cousins anyway."

Elihu was snickering. "We've been intercepting some letters over the past few days, apparently these clowns are trying to start arranging marriages with the WandWay group out west."

Valencia froze, her mouth falling open in shock. "What? They're a cult! Those families have no money, they give it all to their Sanctuary!"

"I know!"

"Their Sanctuary is built with tithe money!"

I threw my head back to finish my coffee, nestling my part in that little affair into a secret place deep inside of myself.

"They want to meet over the Canadian border and have a chat apparently. I'm allowing those letters through so we can get WandWay on a real watch list for extremism, but I have to admit I am very amused. I wonder how that came about?"

I'm not touching this.

"Really," Elihu's eyes rolled so far back I was sure he saw the back of his skull, "did they reach out to these foppish aristocrats advertising money they don't have and a pure bloodline? I don't recall seeing that letter, must have been before we got our hands on the mail or it went through Europe. I do know the head of WandWay wrote some man called Selwyn claiming that his daughter boasted a 'bloodline unstained by Seeds and No-Majs.' That's bullshit. I know his mother was a halfblood."

How do you know that?" Valencia asked, genuinely curious, her hands resting comfortably on her hips.

"I went to school with his chatty, atheist cousin and figured it out from there."

"Oh! What time is the meeting?" I piped up, staring pointedly at the clock that sat on the mantle.

Elihu waved his hand dismissively, looking at Valencia intently as the clock ticked and tocked, "Half an hour. Plenty of time."

"Agreed! You let them arrange a meeting in Canada?"

"WandWay have a sect up around the Yukon I think, so some of the kids are US citizens by virtue of being born just inside the Alaska border. Two passports." Elihu shrugged. "Not much I can do there but encourage them to screw up until Canada decides that they want to pick a side in this. Graves will bully them into allying with MACUSA eventually, if he hasn't already, but as a commonwealth state, Canada's not going to be overt about it because of their close ties to Britain, they'll probably just give us access and intelligence."

Valencia sighed, "Stupid."

"I know, I can trust Jack to throw his weight around when policy doesn't work. Might have been for the best that his Auror career ended when it did." Elihu straightened suddenly and looked over at me. "No offense!"

"None taken. That's just facts."

Jack's Auror career ending early was probably the best case scenario for my family, a version of my father traumatized by dark magic would be less manageable than one driven by purely political ambition. The version of my father as he existed now was not a man controlled by trauma, he could change his views to suit the parts of the world that met him where he was. Though there were some things in this world that would never become a part of Jack's worldview.

"I think I'll go down to the chamber and grab a seat."

"Oh, save me one too, please?"

"Sure!" I set my empty coffee mug on the table. "Thank you for the coffee."

"My pleasure!"

I slipped out of the room, throwing a backwards glance to catch Elihu and Valencia moving slightly closer together as they began speaking in low soft voices that I was sure were filled with subtle flirtation that I would (hopefully) never be privy to.

Elihu's laughter was the last thing I heard as the door closed behind me.

I was happy for them.

Finding love and contentment in trying times is such a gift. To find solace in chaos, even for a moment, was something precious, a moment of stability in shifting sands and roaring seas of a perpetually dangerous landscape. I was not sure what the future held in store, but I had my doubts that nationality would spare the expat community for long when President Graves became more outwardly antagonizing, as he was apt to do. It was his nature and it could not be denied. from political insurgents and outside dangers of all sorts beyond the walls of the embassy.

I followed the carefully placed signs that pointed down corridors and staircases to the large chamber beneath the MACUSA Embassy Council Chamber that dwelled beneath this street of London. The staircase was long and winding, having to be rebuilt and redesigned to accommodate itself after the London bombings during World War II. It took ten minutes to get from Elihu's office to the dark wood doors that were my final destination. I decided there was no reason for the Embassy Office to be so stupidly large as I threw open the doors to be greeted by a wall of chatter from the other expats who were already seated or talking around the room.

One could see it as an honor to sit in the MACUSA Embassy Council Chamber, an echoing underground room with stone walls and tapestries that hung on the walls behind the high podium, both depicting the symbol of MACUSA. Another massive tapestry depicted the Twelve Aurors and the first president of MACUSA standing behind them with Latin words in gold lettering beneath them with the motto of the MACUSA Auror Department.

Simul unitum pro pace et libertate.

Together united for peace and liberty.

I focused my gaze on the figure that represented Gondulphus Graves. He had been very young when he became an Auror, barely eighteen and there was ferocity in his eyes even in this still tapestry where he blinked and watched all of the American expats coming into the chamber. I locked eyes with him and he paused for a moment to nod at me in acknowledgement. He had intense dark eyes and feathery black hair that reminded me of Alex, but this younger version of my forefather had a softer face, like he was still trying to shed the last of his baby fat.

Family lore from the Graves family grimoire said that Gondulphus had gotten in some trouble back in England and had hopped on the first ship to the New World he could find. That was a common story for many people in the time period, though maybe he wanted a bit of adventure too. In any case, immigration was always the same story with different circumstances. Running from economic woes, discrimination or personal issues. Some stories were happier, people who wanted adventure and a new start in a place where opportunities seemed limited only by one's imagination.

I took a seat in the center of the room and looked at the other expats. I could see the baker who did not live too far from Percy and I. He was a short, jolly man with gray hair and a wife who was small and plump. I was not sure I could trust a skinny baker, that meant they weren't sampling for quality. I also don't trust bakers who can't make good bagels, and his are exceptional!

The low hum and echoes of the other expats chatter was senseless in the confines of the chamber.

I never realized how much I missed hearing the diversity of American accents, I only understood the broadest definition of accents in the UK, I could say what country a person was from, but not the region specifically. Here in this chamber, I could hear and appreciate a man from Michigan, talking fast in an ingrained northern instinct to not be outside in the cold longer than necessary. The southern drawls of a elderly married couple who spoke in an older dialect with the distinct Florida and Mississippi accents. I could hear someone from California somewhere behind me, buoyant and relaxed. I turned to look at the source of the voice and guessed he was a young business man by his attire. The woman next to him had that wonderfully distinct Minnesota accent, warm, chipper and bouncy.

I shuffled down in my seat next to Auror Jenkins, who had taken off his cowboy hat and began rolling up his sleeves to display his wand holster of worn leather and a horse tattoo on his inner arm. He had a handsome face, tanned skin, strong nose and a crooked, easy smile, blue eyes and a smidge of blonde stubble along his jaw. Very much the traditional look of how a woman wanted to imagine a rugged cowboy romance hero. I could understand how he had caused a stir amongst the Embassy secretaries.

But I could never consider dating someone named Leroy, even if I was single. Auror Jenkins is, by all accounts, a very nice man. I just… I really hate the man's name.

"Howdy!" Jenkins smiled at me and held out his hand. "I don't think we've been introduced."

I shook his hand, "Not officially. I'm Audrey."

"Oh! Eli says good things about you! Says you're pretty bright."

"He's nice like that."

We spoke of MACUSA and the Ministry. Jenkins spoke of his fondness for his family cattle ranch which his brother Maynard was running with his father.

"Auror Jenkins-"

"Please, call me Leroy!"

No. I don't think I can.

"Or just Roy," Jenkins' smile was warm and borderline flirtatious. "Either is fine."

Yep. I can see the chaos in this man's wake and I'm not sure it's intentional. I don't know if that makes it better or worse.

I feel a deep affection for Percy's general awkwardness. British men being stuffy and cold was a popular romance trope, but I didn't think Percy's fussy personality would have the same effect as Jenkins' Texas drawl and easy confidence on the secretaries. Percy was very extroverted, but not in a way that was generally attractive to other people, let alone Americans who wore confidence and smiles like armor and offered promises and convictions that even they could not be certain of.

Percy and I were probably far too personally messy for other people in any case, damaged and traumatized from all of our ambitions and the remnants of it that laid at our feet like ash and dirt.

"Elihu says you can cast a patronus, is that true?"

"Yep!" He rolled his sleeve up a little higher to show me more of his horse tattoo. It turned its head proudly and began to gallop down to his wrist before turning back to run up his arm to its original position. The horse's mane and tail glowed a brilliant silver, brighter than the rest of the figure. These were an unusual, but traditional kind of tattoo in the states. People who could cast a fully formed patronus would get tattoos like this to display on their person. Some were like Jenkins, displaying the true form of the animal. Others were more artful in design, sketchy lines and art deco, some took inspiration from Native American art with bold lines and splashes of bold color or carefully placed shapes within the patronus portrayal. "Chesnut stallion! He's a beaut!"

"Can you tell me how to do it?"

Jenkins tilted his head, seemingly a bit confused by the question or why it was coming from me. "What do you mean?"

"There's dementors in the Ministry… It's… becoming more difficult to manage if we have to go down to the trial chambers or even to the lower floors. I'd love some advice."

Jenkins shrugged, "Indescribable happiness is all you are looking for, most people never find it." He patted his tattoo to prove a point, causing the horse to neigh silently. "If you are not casting a fog, you need to look someplace else for what will power the spell."

"If you don't mind me asking, what do you think about when you cast the charm?"

"Oh," Jenkins shifted slightly to face me before propping his arm on the back of his chair, leaning his chin into his hand with a flirtatious smile. "I think that's dinner talk."

"I'm sorry?"

"I make some real good cornbread."

Ugh, I hate cornbread. It's always so dry!

"And I have a nice Tennessee whiskey I brought from the states, my cousin's got a distillery."

"How nice," I smiled sweetly as I tried to think my way out of this particular mess.

"I mean, I'm single, I've not heard anything about you being otherwise."

Oh, Percy and I are doing such a good job! Except for Jack figuring it out, but that's not important right now.

"It would be nice to have some company that is not Mankiller, he's great! But he just wants to talk about our future hunting trips."

I was saved from having to answer by the arrival of Valencia, heaving a tired sigh as she dropped down in the empty chair at my other side. She threw her head back to get to the very last bit of her coffee in the bottom of her mug.

"How ya doin', Val?"

She held her hand up, "Not until I've had my fourth cup, Jenkins."

"Ya talk to Elihu after two!"

Merlin's beard!

"He doesn't just try to tell me about how great Texas is and how you cook bull testicles."

What the hell?

Jenkins sighed, "You Yankees are a cold bunch."

"We say the same about the Rebs, and their southern hospitality bullshit," the Michigan man said as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. He was darker than my cousin Quincy, broad shouldered, barrel chested with close cut hair that was almost military in style. He had the look of an old style manufacturer or union leader of some sort like the pictures from my history books about worker rebellions.

Valencia turned her head, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't you one of the guys who was advocating to hunt werewolves a few years back?"

Morgana's left tit!

"Yeh! They're a menace you know. You hear 'bout that Greyback sonovabitch?"

My hands clenched in my lap, the grip tight and white knuckled. I remembered the stench and voice of the monster Greyback contrasting with the humanity of my sister-in-law Thalia when he stormed into her home. I had no doubt more visits had occurred in the months since that day while Thalia planned Greyback's demise and waited for the right opportunity as she quietly earned a position of respect in the pack she did not openly belong in.

"Should put them all down like the dogs they are!"

Thalia was not a dog! She was not a monster! Alex would not love her if she was!

"It's not their fault! They wouldn't be dangerous if the government gave them Wolfsbane potion!" Valencia snapped, "Labor unions fought for workers to be treated like people-!"

"They don't work, why should we drag them up with us? And they ain't people!"

Don't talk about my sister-in-law like that!

"You union men used to fight oligarchs and now you just just punch down-!"

I can't go anywhere for some peace and quiet these days…

I tuned the voices out as Valencia continued to argue with the man. Valencia apparently still really loved politics on a personal level and I could see how she and Elihu had connected over it. It was nice to see other people being crazy and have someone agree with your views of the matter. I did not have any semblance of that at the Ministry these days.

There was a rush of noise from the front of the room, a hurried chattering of voices and a quick response before Elihu stepped up to the podium. Elihu was wearing a very official hat, something I was so unaccustomed to seeing him in I was momentarily taken aback. He reached up to fix his hat, adjust his stole of office, featuring the crest of the MACUSA Embassy of London and MACUSA itself. He looked so politically official, Elihu was always professionally appearing as the situation required, but the American reputation for casualness, No-Maj avoidance and melting pot culture always left our officials a combination of dour and nonuniform at global events and in our own houses of government.

Elihu pulled a piece of paper out of his sleeve and laid it on the podium before him before pointing his wand at his throat and muttering the sonorus charm to ensure he was heard.

A quiet fell over the crowd and Elihu allowed himself a grim smile

"Good afternoon!"

There was a low rumbling answer from the crowd.

"For those who don't know me, I'm Elihu Weathers, former Senator of the State of New York and the current MACUSA Embassy Representative to the United Kingdom. In short, welcome to my office."

The crowd laughed quietly.

"Yes, yes, we have more coffee and other refreshments along the back wall. We can't say we're not hospitable."

A few whoops and cheers came from the back.

"Now, on to business," Elihu said solemnly, "We're here this evening to vote on a matter of war."

I would not call the crowd solemn, but there was a brewing undercurrent of something both familiar in its terseness and felt quick to kindle like a spell with the mere mention of a spark.

"I'll keep this short."

Elihu began to speak, there was no fancy lawyer jargon, he was meeting his people where they were. Speaking as a citizen and person, not as an advocate and manager of this small section of the magical world. He led the people through a quick review of the facts, that the Ministry had become a casualty of this ongoing war and that they were now prosecuting those wix of non-magical descent. MACUSA had called its expat citizens here to hold a vote on two matters. The first being if they believed war was a justified response, or if this was an internal matter for an independent nation to sort out on its own without intervention. The second matter was who would deliver the vote to MACUSA.

"I now open the floor to the first Town Hall debate to be held in this Embassy since 1939."

A middle aged woman near the front stood first, "This isn't our business, let them sort it out themselves! They just want the Seeds anyway and won't bother anyone with magical ancestry!"

Valencia was half out of her seat, outpacing me in this by a mere fraction of a second, her voice reminding me of a baying hound on the hunt. "Sure you're not a purist too?"

The woman whipped herself around, a flash of blonde hair and sour expression only a couple of rows up from Valencia and I. Jenkins was relaxed on my other side, propping his foot on the back of the chair in front of him which was unoccupied in a lazy manner as he settled in to watch the show.

"These people don't give a damn about your origins!" I was propelled by anger and disgust, my voice was loud and carried through the room without the need for a charm. "I work for the bloody Ministry and when they run out of Seeds they'll need new people to blame for their problems! Why not blame the foreigners next? Maybe they'll start hunting No-Majs and risk the Statute of Secrecy?" I took a deep breath, my anger keeping me upright while my knees shook. "We don't need to sit back and wait for every little decision to be made by this corrupt government run by a puppet Minister! If MACUSA begins to prepare, we have a real chance at preserving our way of life and putting an end to these blood purists once and for all!"

"Look, Newt!"

I turned quickly to the man who called me a Newt. It was not a polite thing to say in wizarding society and considered an insult to people from the state of New York and the city itself. The proper term for New York City wix was either Apple-Eaters, for people who traveled to work in the city, or Nork-Norks, for wix who lived and worked in the city.

"I'm from Albany!"

"Where the hell is that?"

That's just rude!

"Piss up a rope, redneck!" Valencia's voice was loud and cut through everything else that was being shouted across the room.

"You're just too chickenshit for war!" The Michigan man shouted from somewhere behind me, his voice direct and joining in Valencia's rapid criticisms and insults on the man who was trying to pick a fight with me. A strange alliance really.

Why… Why did I miss American politics?

That nice old southern couple was watching the screaming match with wide eyes and amused exchanges of looks at each insult as they sipped their tea, while the young business man with the California accent sat next to them and appeared to be doing paperwork on his lap.

The shouting went on for what seemed like hours but was probably only a few minutes before it tapered off to angry muttering and snippy comments. The blonde woman who seemed to be more of a Ministry supporter had been shouted down by the vocal people next to me after attempting to intrude on the fight with the man who tried to insult me.

I wondered why and how America functioned as an actual country with all of its particular lunacies of governance and the weird people it seemed to attract.

The time to vote arrived, though there had not been much debate on the matter, just a lot of insults and uninformed opinions along with some informed ones to level out the monotony of politics. When Elihu made the call to vote for war, all but five people raised their hands in support.

When he asked if anyone wished to put their name forward as a representative to MACUSA to deliver the vote, I was the only one who volunteered. Someone had just brought in some apple pie and distracted some of my potential competition, or people were generally just apathetic about the more symbolic and practical aspects of politics, but I preferred to believe the apple pie was what really tipped the scales.

There was no protest to my volunteering to deliver the message and I ran unopposed for the honor.

The honor meant that I was not getting a piece of pie, which was a bit disappointing.

I followed Elihu out of the voting chamber where the people who had been screaming at each other for over an hour seemed to have achieved some sort of peace over pizza, hotdogs and apple pie. Maybe dad was right, Americans were free to hate each other but like siblings, we were the only ones allowed to lob insults and threats at one another. It was a charitable, optimistic view of the complexities of social politics for a very diverse nation.

"We keep our emergency communication method with MACUSA in here." Elihu opened a small door of wood and iron with a gold plate on it labeled 'Dangerous Sorcery'.

"Is this legal?"

"It's sanctioned by MACUSA for these kinds of situations. We used to have to send the elected representatives in person back to MACUSA for the vote, but during the war against Grindelwald, we had to get a bit more creative in our methods."

There was a mirror standing in the center of a large circle connected to seven smaller circles by a collection of runes and other symbols I did not recognize. It was a complex array of symbols and strangeness that I could not recognize as a singular, familiar thing.

"America is a diverse country, I don't believe there are any other nations who have incorporated magical knowledge in a similar manner." Elihu smiled widely, "We crafted this from more magical traditions than I can name and managed to make them work together to create the spell you see before you now."

"Is this the weapon we made to assist in the Grindelwald war?"

"It was one of the options. Dumbledore beat us to Grindelwald, but I wouldn't call this a weapon. Your physical body will stay here in a way while the mirror acts as a conduit and focus to transport you to its sister at MACUSA."

"I see…"

There were figures I recognized from the embassy as I was led to the center circle and focused my attention to the mirror. The mirror showed me nothing but myself. Elihu gave me a quick series of instructions, it was a bit like apparition, I needed to stay calm and focus on myself and my physical existence in the circle. Breathe in a steady rhythm.

Easy.

If it was easy, why was Elihu standing so close to the door?

There was this great pulse of magic from the circle I was standing in. Runes and symbols I had no understanding of glimmered and glowed with power supplied by the selected MACUSA employees, volunteers who were skilled in focusing their magic as a team to the great mirror in front of me. Auror Mankiller and Cassandra were in two of the smaller circles, the remaining five were embassy staff I did not not know. I did not understand entirely how this spell would work, I did know it would allow me to see MACUSA and interact with the congress and cast a vote as a representative for military intervention. It was all I needed to know and all I needed to understand. I was just a part of the machine.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes as Elihu had instructed.

Breathe in, count to three.

Breathe out, count to three.

It was like the rhythmic splashing of waves at the beach, steady, periodic and calming to the senses until the pulsing of magic became stronger and made my hair stand on end like the air before a storm. I could hear the echo of drums from somewhere in my mind, the banging growing louder, faster, stronger and more intense with each echoing blow. The sensation now encompassing my body felt like apparition but longer and squeezing me tighter, tighter… until it stopped and I could breathe again, or maybe… it merely felt like breathing.

Because I was standing in the Representative House.

I was inside of MACUSA!

My hands were shaking. I looked down to find them to be the same silver sheen as the mirror I had been looking at back in the MACUSA Embassy Office of London. The difference being that there was no reflection. I could not see what the rest of my body looked like, but I assumed I was covered from head to toe in this shimmery, pearlish sheen.

I knew the government had done a lot of research on magic over the years, but I never expected this! But if it took seven people to send an image of a single person, then perhaps I could understand why it was not public or commonly used, we had similar, easier methods for less dire circumstances. My image rippled slightly, leaving my hands suddenly, momentarily translucent like a ghost. I looked around the room so as to not think about this unintentional comparison.

The fifty state governors were distinctive for their robes in the color of their party, (deep violet and burgundy for the main two parties, Populi and Virtus respectively, with a couple in pale blue as third party independents of differing ideologies) and the individual representative pin of office for their state governorship. The pins all shared the MACUSA crest, with the individual state animal above it.

The representative house was traditionally chosen for pre-emptive war meetings because it was already the larger of the two bodies, representatives relied on population. Some states like New York and California had a very high population of wix, it helped ensure all views were counted and represented to the body of government. For simplicity, the governor of each state sat in representation no matter the size of the state they represented and traditionally acted as leadership for their state representatives from the districts if the population was big enough to warrant it. Being a governor was a position of great power and responsibility if they represented a state like California, which had a high overall population of wix.

The Senators were nearer to me and easier to spot. They all wore black robes and wore their individual state pins with a pair of small, silver laurel wreaths on the collar of their robes. They crowded together like a flock of crows, peering at the representatives and some were glancing at me in either active recognition or taking in the strangeness of my silvery self.

I could not be sure which.

Other silvery figures appeared to presumably represent the other major embassies and the votes of the other expat communities; some countries shared an embassy with a larger country nearby or were similar enough to decide on one large embassy to cover several peaceful countries out of one facility like the Nordic states. I was sure there were about fifty silvery figures in total for global representation. I noticed that those of us from abroad were standing in small mirrors, as if we were standing in knee deep water.

In an effort to not dwell on the strangeness of my own situation of being halfway across the world and reorient myself, I turned my attention to the chamber. The Representative Chamber was crafted mostly of dark wood and gray stone at the entrance to make the building feel more aged and grand, to cover our insecurity of being a young nation with a massive amount of political power and global sway. There were aged desks of dark mahogany, tapestries hung on the wall depicting the founding members of MACUSA from the first president, Josiah Jackson, and the Twelve Aurors that looked just like the one in the Embassy chamber. There was a tapestry for Margaret Goode, the founder of the Salem Witches Institute where we stored our magical historical records and was the first public library on the American continent. Another depicted the founding of Ilvermorny along with the fairy tale of easy coexistence with the native tribes in the aftermath.

I turned to another tapestry that depicted the Battle of Plainsville, part of a small war between MACUSA and Native American wix over a wix settler community that was near the Canadian border in Montana where half of the town was kidnapped for ransom over a territory dispute. Another tapestry depicted a similar fight in the southern territories, a defense of Hemlock, a wizarding settler community who crossed into Native territory and were massacred for the offense. I think a relative of mine was scalped in that conflict. It seemed fair, he had been earning money for the same offense against the indigenous tribes to mark his kills for MACUSA.

The banging of the gavel grabbed the attention of the room, the Populi Majority Leader Thomas Freeman was ordering the representatives to their seats and the senators to the upper balcony where their aides were waiting to retrieve law materials for legality checks on the representative body during the course of this discussion for their own debate to come after the votes were initially cast. Freeman was not voting, as he was not a governor, but he was here to manage the and keep the governors focused on the task at hand and not their petty, state based bickering.

"Good morning," Freeman had a deep, easy voice, measured and pleasant with a lovely southern accent that I was sure was from either Georgia or Alabama, I had a hard time telling the difference if there was any at all.

There were murmurs of agreement that it was, indeed, the morning.

Communication between people was so strange at points.

"As we are here to cast votes, the embassies have sent representatives to ensure that all voices are heard in regards to this important matter." Freeman gestured towards me and the other twenty silvery representatives of other major Embassies, half of them looked very tired, the others looked as if they wanted to be anywhere else. "Since this spell is difficult to cast for long periods of time, the embassies will go first by my call," he held up a list, "state the vote their people have made, add any statements they wish and return home while the governor debates begin in a full, closed door session. Are there any questions?"

There were no lit red lamps to proclaim the existence of any questions.

"Fine," Freeman banged the gavel three times. Once for each branch of government and superstition related to the power and honesty of the number three in some old runic traditions. The secretaries and clerks who were taking notes snapped to attention, their quills self-inking as they prepared the parchment. Freeman looked over to where myself and the other silver people were gathered and began to call the embassy offices we were representing.

A vote for no war came from the Australia Embassy, followed by Egypt, South Africa and the shared MACUSA embassy of Sweden, Norway and Finland.

The calls for war surprised me less.

There was money to be made in major global conflict, and the Embassies in countries who stood to gain from it were all very aware of the potential offered by two global powers vying for their own vision of the world.

The MACUSA Embassy in Saudi Arabia generally dealt with people with major business interests on an international scale and voted for war with a smile on their face. Other nations rich in magical materials such as scales, wood and some old weaving traditions involving magical horse hair followed suit.

I found the European contingent more interesting, there was easy trade between these nations and the United Kingdom, but there remained a lot of independence between them as individuals. The MACUSA German Embassy voted no, alongside the embassy in France. Austria said yes, along with Italy and several others who proclaimed their votes next.

As each vote was cast, the representatives disappeared in a flash of reflective silver, some would give a small speech on the merits of their embassy's choice, others would just nod and disappear. Another waved at his cousin, the Minnosota governor, and asked to be mailed some No-Maj mac and cheese in the blue box before he was sucked back into his mirror.

I counted each vote from the Embassies as each one disappeared in a flash of silver. Twenty-four for intervention, twenty-five to ignore the problem.

Fuck!

It was just me left to take the Embassy votes to a tie and I was not sure how useful that was going to be, but I was here to vote. I had some things to say and maybe I could sway some of the governors in doing so before they moved entirely to a closed door discussion.

Freeman gestured to me and I took a deep breath, trying not to think about the eyes of the chamber resting on me, if they were paying attention at all.

"The MACUSA Embassy of the United Kingdom votes for war."

There was a noise of sudden recognition from those governors who were close to me.

"That's the president's kid!"

"Which one?"

"Andrea or something?"

"Pretty sure it's Aubrey."

Oh for the love of Merlin…!

"Her name is Audrey," a firm voice said a few rows back. It was an older man who spoke, someone I was familiar with from my father's parties who had come to the house for those events. The governor of New York was a man named Bartholemew Brambilla, a thin man with a perpetual smile and dark gray hair. He was pleasant enough, though we had not spoken much beyond generalities and pleasantries over the years because of my youth and being away at school.

There was an irritated sigh from the Senate seats in the upper section of the chamber somewhere above me.

I peered up to find Senator Sallow looking particularly grave in his black senate robes as he opened his mouth to speak. "So, what strings did your father pull to put you in this position, Miss Graves? Was there no one with more experience available or were they called home for you to sway our London Embassy to a war vote?"

"Senator!" Freeman snapped from the podium as he banged his gavel. "You're out of order!"

I heard Freeman, I knew better than to answer Sallow, but something inside of me wanted to take the bait without input from my rational, political, mind.

"I beg your pardon?"

Sallow smiled, "President Graves has a lot to gain from heading MACUSA in a time of war, how convenient to have such a devoted daughter to help ensure that sort of historical success for him."

Oh, hell no.

"With all due respect Senator Sallow," I began, my voice level as my mind screamed that he was not worth any respect at all, "there is no choice anymore. The Death Eaters and the tacit support they enjoy through acts of terrorism and what we believe to be genocide, has made the choice for you! The only choice you and the bodies of this government have before you is either supporting a corrupt government who are killing the nonmagical for sport and putting Seeds in Azkaban prison for the crime of being born! Or you can live up to your own proclamations of fighting for democracy for once in your career!"

The silence of the chamber was deafening. Lines of decorum had been crossed and obliterated. I was not supposed to talk back to the Senator after he spoke, the senators were here to listen, not to speak and collect information, check legalities of proposals for later discussion in their own debates and votes before the Govornors closed the door to the Senate for a true debate of the people. I was not to engage when he crossed the line.

Sallow's voice was low, almost threatening, but also reverberating through the chamber as he peered down at me like a hawk at its prey as Freeman banged his gavel again to leverage more orders for Sallow, which he continued to ignore.

"You sound just like your father."

My jaw set, my teeth ground together for a moment before I forced myself to relax, but the response flew from me without any real thought behind it.

"Better to sound like Jack than a coward like you."

There was a sudden chaos in the chamber, the last thing I saw was the reddening of Sallow's face before the spell around me began to fade and my vision began to darken. The sudden feeling of begging compressed and stuffed through a tube seemed to last far too long. The breath of fresh air I took smelled of coffee and warm, buttered pastries.

I opened my eyes to see the plain time ceiling above me. I had returned to the London Embassy Office.

My hands moved up towards my face, they were no longer silver, but had resumed their usual pale color, I could see my blue veins poking through my skin and the few freckles on the backs of my hands. The room was still, but my body felt weak and clammy, as if I had been very sick for days or weeks.

Elihu was saying something just out of sight, but I could not comprehend what exactly it was, the voices around me sounded like garbled gibberish being spoken into a metal pipe, echoing and incomprehensible.

I sat up.

Someone shoved a trash bin into my hands so I could vomit.

Which I did.

"See why we don't use that to communicate?" Elihu's voice cut through the lessening fog in my brain before my stomach heaved and I vomited again. "We just use it for dire situations."

That was code for Elihu did not want to do it, even if he was allowed, so he got me to do it instead.

Jerk.

Setting the bin aside to be vanished by someone I believed to be a secretary, I put my head in my hands to continue to reorient myself. We have this kind of power and understandably still use owls and No-Maj mail service to communicate in their… big, metal bird things.

Airplanes. They're called airplanes. My brain felt more burned and scrambled than my Sunday eggs.

"Can you stand up, Aud?"

"I think so…"

I moved automatically, somehow getting my feet under me and managing to stop myself from tumbling back to the floor before I got fully upright. I was never doing that again.

"What's the news?" Valencia formed in my vision, somewhere behind Elihu who was handing me a glass of water as he directed Beth the secretary to ready her quill for notations.

"The Governor Representatives will vote in the closed door session, but the fifty embassy votes are in place. Most of the other European embassy representatives all voted with us."

"What's the total you have for the war votes?"

"They're split right down the middle."

Elihu hissed. "That's not enough votes to speed up the Governors, they'll have to have a long deliberation and the Senate will drag their feet to their own vote. They'll drag out the legalities of intervention as long as they can or until an American gets arrested or killed."

"Which would make us untouchable to a point unless we cross someone like Greyback," I added, my mind finally breaking through the fog. "Or if you get someone like a Snatcher who doesn't care a bit about the political image and a picture sinks the whole thing."

Valencia perked up, something glimmering in her eyes that I was not sure I could place in the moment.

"In any case, I'm glad you're not malformed from the experience."

I turned so quickly the room tilted a full ninety degrees, I stayed upright by sheer force of will. "Malformed?"

"Yeah," Elihu rubbed the back of his neck. "We tested this on rats until they stopped coming back looking like pool noodles."

I took the pastry that was offered to me by Beth, who was giving Elihu a hard stare while I wrapped the pastry in a napkin and put it in my pocket for later.

"I'm going home."

"It was the 1940s! Everything was ethical then!"

"You're not helping!"

Valencia was laughing as I closed the door behind me, thinking only about getting back home to Percy and resigning myself to a very long wait for MACUSA intervention, if it happened at all.

All I could do right now was keep my head up, keep collecting information in the Ministry, persuade Lucinda to let me do more and be grateful that I did not resemble a noodly appendage.

But first, I needed to find one of Percy's headache potions.

Maybe political representation was not among my post-war career options.

Oo0Oo0

Author's Note: Expansion in America was a really ugly business and I was excited to touch on some of that here.

And we're essentially at the end of the MACUSA politics arc for the moment. Now it can go back to the background where it belongs.

It's good to be back. :D