*Author walks in cursing* "Hello all, I really need to stop working on this story after midnight. Me, myself, and Grammarly, which I will acknowledge the use of to assist in editing because this is un-betaed, and my spicy brain refuses to believe that sentence structure exists. I noticed some inconsistencies with the pronouns and Pov transitions, so I wanted to make a quick fix. which turned into a fifth rewrite, adding further world-building. Enjoy". *walks away, shaking head, staring at the clock in disbelief*
POV Ambassador
The castle stood before them as described—A shell of its former glory so different from the old days when the wards felt alive, radiating life and power as the castle was imbued with the excess magic of its inhabitants. They barely glowed due to how much they had been tampered with. As she walked through the gate, disappointment washed over the cloaked figure. Shaking her head at how far Albus Dumbledore, the supposed leader of the light, had allowed the wards to fall into disarray. The protections that the founders had laid when building the foundation of the school that, for many, had been a haven during the witch trials to safeguard its inhabitants had been tampered with so many times that they had become a mess under the watch of numerous headmaster's that had held the mantel since then.
She was shocked at how far the supposed leader of the light had allowed the wards to go into further despair while he was meant to protect the students as she sensed traces of his own magical signature added to the mess. Then again, this was Albus Dumbledore they were talking about. Given his storied past, even less was anticipated, a truth that now felt painfully accurate. Regardless, she had expected more than what he had done, while the small changes he had made seemed minor to the untrained eye. Her experience in the labyrinths and blood pits caused her to worry about the overall integrity of the wardstone. After all, it only takes the slightest disturbance to create an avalanche-level reaction.
As the crisp night air hinted at a transition from autumn to winter, memories of Beauxbatons uniforms flitted through her mind. The students would undoubtedly feel the chill, something that she would have to remind the French headmistress of before the days grew shorter. After all these years, her identity remained an enigma, cloaked in mystery—a puzzle destined to be unraveled. So ingrained was the need to hide in plain sight, even from those closest to her.
Pausing briefly, she felt her thoughts drifting to the last time she had walked these grounds as she traversed the path. She fortified her defenses and clutched a scroll hidden in her pocket with mounting trepidation as the doors loomed closer. Five years had slipped away over time since her last visit, and nostalgia for simpler days weighed heavily on her—the days of mischievous pranks with Dora and carefree pick-up quidditch matches with Bill and Charlie when no one cared about her status as a transfer student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
As thoughts continued to plague her of the sprawling grounds, the Whomping Willow and the enigmatic Black Lake surged back, briefly overwhelming her as she redirected her focus to the reason for her return. As the newly appointed ambassador to the fallen courts and various clans of her people, this critical responsibility fell upon her shoulders.
The Abyss, governed by the Throne of Ash and Bone, had not directly interacted with the wizarding world since before the last war ended. The disconnect made it advantageous in the eyes of the Council in hopes of de-escalating the current tensions. Her people faced ostracism in the British Isles, cast out by the Wixen. Who feared losing their perceived superiority following the mysterious disappearances of prior emissaries during the wars had issued a ban making it illegal to live openly, conveniently making it a hotbed for the black market traders who fled the continent evading capture from the guardians' time and time again had left a growing hatred amongst many of the Fallen.
Who knew that if their focus was not on keeping the rest of the Divine and Supernatural world separate from the hidden war, the Wixen would be taught a valuable lesson. Fortunately, the treaties long since ingrained in the codex prevented this.
To the Council, requesting she intervene, albeit begrudgingly since they didn't control her, having failed in their attempts in the past to do so, seemed to be the only way to de-escalate the current mess that was detailed within the pages upon pages that made up the rather large file she had found upon her desk along with the scroll that had been sent to her assistant when she was found to be unreachable. This was often the case with her work, sometimes being unreachable for months, and her fragile bounds, which were often the only reason any of the people closest to her knew she was alive, were often the only point of contact when she went radio silent.
A distant whinny drew her gaze; the "carriage" that had brought the Beauxbatons students, including her cousin from France, and the ship anchored on the shore just beyond it belonging to Durmstrang made for an opulent addition to the ominous grounds the backdrop of the forest silhouetting the night in the promise of the dangers that lurked within.
Seeing the Abraxan made her remember her nightmare, a horse of myth and lore. She wished she were out riding through the forgotten lands, the wind causing the mare mane of fire to flicker with a sense of freedom. Instead, here she was, walking up the path and traversing the steps toward the castle's imposing entrance, feeling a distant echo of the sky's weight resting upon her shoulders much like it had upon the shoulders of Atlas for millennia. She adjusted her helm, feeling her wings yearning to spring free from their confines in anticipation, and slowly eased the door open a slither, transitioning into her shadow form as she moved through the entrance hall toward the doors to the Great Hall.
A figure lurked ahead with a hunched, almost unbalanced gait and a pegged leg—Mad-Eye Moody, a former Auror, the mentor of her legal guardian, pseudo-aunt, and her best friend, Nymphadora. "Don't call me that," Tonks, as she had admonished her in jest for it the first time they had truly spoken. Aside from the fact that he had yet to notice her presence, which was unusual considering his magical eye, something felt off about him, distinctly different from what she remembered the few times their paths had crossed.
Adding this observation to the growing list, her thoughts shifted again. She anticipated a meeting with her 'pseudo-aunt,' Amelia Bones, director of the DMLE, one of the few individuals aware of her true identity beneath the mask she presented to the world even without her helm.
She re-materialized as she watched Mad-Eye spell the enchanted ceiling after the thunder and lightning shocked the students, no longer hiding in the shadows but with her protections still in place. Her 5'9" form was adorned in black combat leather' with blue and red accents. Her helm was sculpted as a dragon's head, swords strapped across her back, with various weapons concealed, ready for use if necessary. Sighing, she rolled her eyes at the sight before her within the hall, a mix of anticipation and annoyance brewing within. She couldn't shake the feeling that Dumbledore was being reckless simply by considering the resurgence of the Triwizard Tournament. Alas, as often was the case, a strategist often focuses on the outcome of their game, uncaring of the pons sacrificed on the board in the thirst for glory. This is why she never had patience for chess, so many only saw the forest for the trees overlooking the lives affected by their actions. Simply dismissing wrongdoing for the greater good. A chill ran down her spine at that thought. Flashes of a cold spring night so long ago caused her to rub her scared wrist over her gauntlet unconsciously.
Pov Narrator
The Great Hall itself was massive, with four long tables running lengthwise and a fifth table running perpendicular to it. It held the teachers, heads from other schools, and ministry representatives. The candles and fireplaces set ablaze filled the hall with warmth and a sense of calm as the enchanted ceiling portrayed the night sky filled with stars shining brightly.
Banners identified the four house tables: Slytherin on the far right, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw in the middle, and Hufflepuff on the far left. The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students had settled at the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables, respectively, drawing various Hogwarts students' attention as they craned their necks to glimpse the Quidditch star and the alluring girls among their peers dressed in blue and red amongst a sea of black accented by the colors of the houses.
As dinner drew to a close, Headmaster Dumbledore rose from his throne-like chair and moved to the owl podium to address the hall. "Good evening, students, and to the representatives from our foreign schools, welcome to Hogwarts. Tonight, among the changes for this year, I regret to inform you that the normal house cup will not occur due to needing the field for an event that will be happening throughout the year." A shout from the Gryffindor table interrupted him. "You can't be serious!" exclaimed a ginger-haired student above the others, incredulity in his voice.
"I assure you, Mr. Weasley, I am; the Triwizard Tournament will be happening once more after being canceled due to a few unfortunate incidents in the past. In a show of international cooperation and with the aid of the ministries, we have brought back this time-honored tradition that has united us once more. An independent judge will select three representatives from each school to compete in this historic tournament, and the winner will receive the Triwizard Cup as well as 10,000 galleons and eternal glory. To ensure the safety of all involved, as Bartemius Crouch, the Head of the Department of International Cooperation, will explain, the organizers decided that only students of age will be allowed to enter…" Dumbledore paused, the uproar in the Great Hall nearly rivaling the chaos that erupted when the cancellation of Quidditch had been announced. As Mr. Filch presented the cup from its chest and placed it atop the staff table, Dumbledore raised his hand, silencing the hall before continuing.
In the background, Mister Crouch rose from his seat and started to move towards Dumbledore in anticipation of his speech, while Mr. Filch, the caretaker, appeared with a chest, placed it on the ground beside the podium, and opened it, placing the goblet of fire where all could see it. "Enough! To enter the tournament, each volunteer will place their name in the Goblet of Fire over the next few days, and the champions will be selected at the feast on Halloween. To ensure that no one underage attempts to enter, I will place an age line around the cup in the entrance hall." he finished saying while gesturing to the goblet. Unexpectedly, several things happened at once that, unbeknownst to those present, would change the world as they knew it in the years to come.
The enchanted ceiling changed abruptly, no longer clear, as thunder and lighting suddenly erupted out of nowhere, causing the hall to pause and look towards the side door behind the teacher's table as Mad-eye Moody appeared and cast at the ceiling, dispelling the storm that the castle had created in response to the Ex-Auror's entrance shown brightly with the night sky filled with the stars above once more. The students watched as he lumbered down the steps, his wooden staff leaving a thunk against the wood in his wake. He moved to greet Dumbledore, clasping hands with the headmaster as if greeting an old friend, his magic eye moving all the while. A faint conversation could be heard from the table of red and gold as they watched Moody step aside and drink from a flask that he had stashed in his coat.
Before anything else could happen, a slow clap accompanied by a mirthless chuckle echoed through the hall, quickly stifling the murmurs that had risen after Dumbledore attempted to return to his seat and allow Mister Crouch to take his place at the podium. Heads turned toward the door at the back of the hall, sensing a powerful aura that seeped into the room, heralding the arrival of a figure more intimidating than the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
Slowly, the shadows seemed to condense, and from within, an armor-clad figure materialized before their eyes, revealing the source of the disruption. Their helm sculpted into the shape of a dragon's head, swords strapped across their back, with various weapons concealed from view, ready for use if necessary, shown eerily in the firelight, sending a chill down the spines of all in attendance. The figure strolled down the central aisle with an almost unearthly, predatory gait. As they neared the front of the hall, A sigh was faintly heard by those closest to the figure. They appeared to roll their eyes which glowed with untold power from the eye slits. It was clear that they were not amused at the sequence of events that had unfolded in the hall that night, a mix of anticipation and annoyance seemingly brewing within, exuding an air of contempt.
Most students looked on in confusion, unaware of the identity of this imposing presence. Still, a select few, along with the adults in the room, felt a sense of dread rush through them as memories of the last war resurfaced and family tales filled with warning echoed in their minds. A member of the Fallen had returned to the wizarding world, and they were not happy.
...
The figure halted, their applause ceasing as they regarded the table staff before them, seemingly dismissing the students entirely. They tilted their head slightly, then sighed, "If the wards you plan to place around the goblet are anything like the ones surrounding the school, then your assurance of safety is lacking, Mr. Dumbledore. You didn't even sense my presence when I entered the grounds and the school some time ago." Their voice carried an American accent intermingled with something else, firm almost gravely with a slight rasp laced with a hint of disdain. As Dumbledore began to refute the comment, the figure raised a hand to silence him, turning their attention instead to the Beauxbatons headmistress.
Madame Olympe Maxime, a tall woman who seemed to tower over many in the hall, met the armored figure's gaze. "Madame Maxime, I wish I could say it's a pleasure to see you again, but considering the location, I find it slightly difficult to be sincere. Particularly in light of the contract you sent to my office for review, which appears to lack security protocols and escape clauses." The masked figure advanced up the steps of the dais, stopping directly in front of the French headmistress. They tilted their head in greeting before handing her a rolled piece of parchment that had suddenly appeared. As she accepted it, Madame Maxime finally spoke, her voice breaking the tense silence that had enveloped the room.
"Madame l'Ambassadrice, je crains que vous ne l'ayez pas reçue en l'absence de réponse de votre bureau. Je suis heureux de voir que vous êtes en bonne santé, mais pourriez-vous nous en dire plus sur ce que vous avez dans l'infrarouge?" Madame Maxime's voice held a touch of concern, capturing her students' rapt attention, while the rest of the hall appeared mystified by the unexpected turn of events.
The now-labeled Ambassador seemed to hesitate for a moment before responding in French. " Madame, je n'avais pas l'intention de vous inquiéter, une autre affaire qui requérait mon attention concernait une opération de contrebande." they paused for a moment before continuing in English, "I meant what I said Madame, inferring to both the wards as well as the tournament contract which to my recollection upon reviewing the papers you have not signed officially entering your students in the tournament. I would suggest a meeting to review the contract and safety measures before continuing with the selection process, or the tournament may become more violent than the blood pits, which the underground seems fond of." they seemed to look upon the rest of the table pausing on the ministry representatives before continuing. ", It seems that the ICW and the Council's message was delayed due to the surprise my presence has brought. The French ministry contacted the Council and requested a review of the plans to ensure the safety of the tournament and that international cooperation was assured with a third-party representative who they asked to be an additional judge while also providing extra security for the event. Due to this, the request was transferred to my office as I am the only emissary willing and able to set foot in this country without causing an international incident." The ambassador seemed to wait for a response. Yet, the air around them seemed to be that of an uncaring attitude, as if they already expected what would happen next.
Bartemius Crouch, who had been introduced to the student body earlier as the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, appeared to tense up before replying in an almost strained manner, his mustache twitching gave away his disdain," Now see here, I was not informed of this matter and do not know who you are but demand an explanation as to why you think a member of your kind can waltz in here and do whatever the bloody hell you want." he fumed towards the end grasping the podium tightly where he had moved to before the Ambassador appeared. The accusation that what he deemed an insignificant pest who dared ridicule the contract that he helped create filled him with unbridled rage.
Unexpectedly, the figure let out a breathy chuckle in disbelief, shaking their head amusedly while the rest of the staff reacted in varying manners. The teachers started in shock, while the foreign headmaster seemed wary of the reaction. Headmaster Dumbledore seemed to agree quietly, seething at having his abilities questioned in the first place. The unexpected response came from the French headmistress, who seemed to sit back with a small smile, almost expecting this unaffected response from the supposed intruder. While this was all occurring, a quiet curse was uttered by a French student at the table of blue and silver in reaction to the ineptitude of the British man, knowing that the night would not end well for him if he did not choose his following words carefully. The other French students looked at the student in contemplation before returning their attention to the unfolding scene.
...
The figure seemed to move almost untraceable to the human eye as, in the next instant, a dagger was embedded in the wall, taking Crouch's bowler hat off his head with a resounding thud as it created a fissure in the masonry. The figure buffed their gloved hand on their chest before speaking once more with an edge to their voice almost as sharp as their blade.
" See this as your only warning to behave before I decide to report you for your insolence. As you are unfamiliar with French, even though you are in charge of an office that ensures cooperation between the different magical communities, I will introduce myself and do not take my politeness as a weakness. Any other member of my people would have already taken your tongue for your lack of manners." they flicked their wrist, summoning the dagger back to its sheath, causing the hat to tumble to the floor before they continued,
"I am Ambassador Drake, ambassador to the Courts and the Council which govern the fallen, and despite communicating with the wizarding world, I am not part of my assigned duty. The Council felt that this matter required a delicate touch and that anyone else would be unable to maintain a neutral mindset when working with you and your fellow wixen.
My office was sent a missive that asked to review the contract for this tournament to ensure that no student would be put at risk due to not only the incident at the Quidditch World Cup but also the uptick in human trafficking conducted by the underground black market groups namely the Trial and the Brotherhood. Which has resided unopposed by your ministry within the British Isles. While many seem to believe that they only target fallen children, they would be sorely mistaken, considering the most recent raid conducted across the channel included the discovery and rescue of several magical beings in addition to Fallen." at this, the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts spoke for the first time.
"Ambassador Drake, are you certain of these findings? To my knowledge, there have not been any recent reports of the movements of these so-called groups that you speak of within our papers." There was a slight hesitance in her Scottish accent as she seemed to consider her next steps carefully, fully aware of this unknown person's power that still seemed to radiate off them in waves.
The Ambassador turned towards Professor McGonagall, their glowing eyes seeming to flare slightly beneath their mask. "Admittedly, the prophet does not report upon the happenings of foreign countries as often as the Quiddler, I believe it's called. I have worked with Director Bones on numerous occasions over the years when one of these groups conducted a crossing of the English channel in the past, as to why reports of trafficking operations of this caliber have not been reported to the British wizarding public.
We just found out that they had made their base of operations within the UK instead of merely using the country as a byway to escape the guardians because, as is well known, they are not allowed to pressure fugitives past your shores. It wasn't until earlier in the summer that the Guardians were given clearance by the ICW and the Council to create a joint task force to be able to start investigating and gather our findings." the tone of the Ambassador had turned almost resigned as their voice radiated throughout the silent hall.
For the first time since the conversation began, the foreign headmaster of Durmstrang spoke, "посланик, If I may ask, what event led to this discovery? For a task force of this nature to be allowed to occur within a country in which the Council does not have jurisdiction, if I recall correctly, requires significant developments to occur." his thick accent carried almost a tone of difference as if he knew who this mysterious figure indeed was. Turning their attention to the Durmstrang headmaster the ambassador spoke once more. " директор Каркаров, you are correct in that recollection of policy.
The Council does not allow guardians to investigate or assist a country that is not a part of the collective for any reason as outlined within the codex unless unforeseen events happen. It was recently discovered that a contract was signed and proven authentic upon examination. As a result, despite the British wizarding world not being a part of the agreement which the founding treaties between Council and the International Confederation of Wizards created.
Although, in this case, the British Ministry of Magic is a member of the ICW, this means that, in this instance, we are left with a grey area where specific allowances can be made. A neutral third party can be requested to operate as an independent investigator, maintaining the agreement between our governments while not breaking the law, which is why my pretense was requested. Once a contract is signed to ignore, it would be disgraceful to the sacrifice of the child who has done so." their voice turned almost resigned and sorrowful upon revealing this. A pause swept through the room, the gravity of this information weighing heavily on the now somber room.
Drake Pov
One of the things that weighed heavily on her was delivering the news about signing a contract of this nature, a reminder of the time she had altered the original contract, inadvertently causing this rare occurrence so many years ago. Once willingly signed by the child's free will, the agreement meant that the brotherhood could no longer operate within the town, city, state, or country named within. She recalled the information that she had discovered so long ago after breaking into the archives seeking answers about her fate.
The brotherhood was an ancient group that operated in the shadows since before their fabled emergence when their leader, a fallen child of hell known only as Darkar, attacked the ruling family, the Eternal and Royal House of Cinis, one of the original families in ruin. The Cinis family, who acted as the regents for the throne, had ruled since the end of the great war, which had been ended by the ultimate sacrifice seven princesses made to end the war that had broken out between the children of Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. The children of Heaven and Hell had attacked the children of Purgatory some years after Lucifer's fabled uprising believing that they should be punished for living within the divide between the two original courts.
In the aftermath of the sacrifice, the fates cast judgment upon those responsible and took the souls of the princesses, creating seven thrones. From that day onward, the ten courts of the fallen were created. Each court waited for the day when one of the sentient thrones would choose a new heir when it deemed that the current ruler had served long enough to peacefully bring forth a new era. The brotherhood, however, believed that this was an insult to the original courts and that the only lines that should rule would be Patriarchal finding Matriarchies, tanistry, and Primogeniture lines of succession sacrilege.
Darkar and his men had bided their time waiting for the naming ceremony of the next Heir to the Obsidian throne to occur before causing an uprising that left the Cinis family a tanistry, destroyed, and the disappearance of the heir in its wake, the throne sat in the ruins of the castle as the curse of Obsidianus raged leaving only nine courts all of which would later find themselves affected by the curse. The brotherhood, unable to claim the Obsidian throne, hunted any possible heirs, believing that if they couldn't seize the throne, no one could. Despite millennia having passed, the courts still had not regained their full power, and many of the original families had gone into hiding or were cursed as the hidden war continued to rage.
The power and authority that the courts once wielded in unity left fractured, causing several things to occur. The council was created along with the codex to restore order after the courts settled into a sense of limbo that the hidden war created leaving the other realms out of their fight. The Northern court seceded, closing its borders and only communicating with the different courts through the use of an emissary, arresting any who dared to journey through the frozen tundra of the far north. Several organizations operated in secret, with their sole goal being the protection of heirs. With this modus operandi in mind, the heir designate was created. Each generation of surviving families would choose a child and hide them either with another high-ranking family or with the aid of a sworn vassal hide the child in the mundane world to protect the future, waiting for the day the Obsidian Heir would be found. Another thing that occurred was the curse's effects, which caused bloodline gifts to be a double-edged sword.
After millennia since the first integration into the mundane world occurred, many descendants of this first generation had found their mates among the various beings of myth and lore, creating hybrids or dividers as they are known. The courts exist on a separate plain of existence, much like the fae courts, and have portals that lead into the mundane world hidden from the untrained eye, shielding Mellom, the home of the fallen, from the rest of the other realms. The brotherhood, to strike fear, used what was referred to as the Trial, which was considered a grotesque version of the Olympic games, utilizing trafficked children of various races as entertainment to enforce a begrudging compliance among the fallen for as long as the Obsidian Throne remained heir less peace would not be restored.
She shook her head, pushing the thoughts of the past from her mind as she delivered the news, watching the room absorb the total weight of her words and what they could signify for the future. When the following statement was uttered, she felt a surge of indignation for not only herself and those who had come after her but also for the young one who had made the immense sacrifice. The hall erupted once more in murmurs as various individuals reacted.
The muggle-born, raised without awareness of the more profound implications, grasped the significance of human trafficking and were appalled by what had transpired. The outrage and devastation were profound for those raised within the wizarding world, as they understood the true sacrifice required for the events before them to unfold. Among the old families—the British sacred 28 and others who still adhered to ancient customs—there simmered a rage at the thought of what might come next, knowing it could herald their downfall.
Many were already plotting to write to the heads of their houses immediately after the welcoming feast. A scoff from the British headmaster sparked a chain reaction that would ultimately seal his fate. "Such a thing occurring is impossible, as I ensured that no fallen ones resided on the isle," he declared confidently, recalling the last group he had sent across the frozen channel that cold winter night. "You are wasting my time and patience with these lies and fallacies," Dumbledore concluded, exuding an air of confidence as he regarded the ambassador, who lowered their head as if in defeat, only to be left stunned along with the rest of the hall moments later. Unbeknownst to the general populace, the ambassador had been prepared for confrontation, bringing with them a tape recorder inscribed with runes that allowed its use within the wards. With their head lowered, the ambassador concealed a smile behind their mask, having reached into their pocket to retrieve the first recorder. Unbeknownst to all, leaving a second recording ensured that the entire encounter was meticulously documented for the report that she would have to draft later, which, once completed, would be sent to the ICW and the Council and kept in her own office. I really need to give Saber a raise at this point before she decides to turn that cold genius on reorganizing my smithy again in retaliation for doubting her. She thought of her talented assistant who ran the office with a cold and deadly efficiency fluid, exacting the weapon that had become her codename, and smirked, amused by her unintentional pun.
Meanwhile, hidden within that office her assistant and the rest of the staff loyal only to her and the queen she had raged war to place upon the throne resided. The gathered group sat in the spacious lounge, listening to the backup recordings. The assistant a young woman with hair the color of freshly fallen snow, ivory skin, and ice-blue eyes betraying her northern origins' chuckled darkly as if hearing the ambassador joke, "Well, well, well, how far the wise one has sullied his gleaming visage finally revealed to the sheep, so unfortunate." her eyes gleamed with promise in the wake of these honeyed words. In the darkened room, all present saw this statement for what it truly meant and the heads that would play a role in the aftermath.
Back in the Great Hall, the shocked gazes drifted from Dumbledore in response to his lack of remorse for the ambassador as she slowly raised her arm over her head before pressing play, activating the magnifying rune that made the playback audible to all. As the recording concluded, she lifted her head once more, silencing the chaos of the onlookers. With a swift motion, they flipped the recorder into the air, caught it expertly, and returned it to their pocket.
In a steeled tone that resonated with genuine fear throughout the hall for the first time that evening, they spoke, "Ya know, I expected that to be harder information to gather. I overestimated your ability to maintain that false grandfatherly veneer you're so fond of emulating. It is not impossible, especially with Madame Maxime holding the most recent incident report. Several authenticated copies have been distributed to the ICW and Gringotts Bank. Alas, thank you for making the next part of my job easier with bonuses, as you do not even realize when an imposter has replaced your friend." Once the last words echoed in the air, chaos erupted. The Shadows moved as if alive. It was as if the shadows of the men turned on them as Mad-Eye Moody was trapped where he stood, and the shadow of the throne-like chair wrapped around Albus Dumbledore, trapping them. The shadows fluctuated momentarily, their forms becoming corporeal as they apprehended the two wizards before anyone could react. Wands were taken, and the hands and mouths of the two men were bound, preventing any spells from being cast. Everyone could only watch as a moment later, the Ambassador moved too fast for the untrained eye and held what the mundane born and raised knew to be a gun, pointing it at Mr. Crouch, who had attempted to flee the podium in the chaos stopping him in his tracks. From the back of the hall, a clap rang out for the second time that night as Aurors' appeared, led by a tall red-headed woman with an eye-covering spectacle and a woman whose hair seemed to change color with every step.
The woman with the spectacle revealed herself to be Director Amelia Bones, Regent of the Ancient and Noble House of Bones, and Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Her voice rang out with authority that commanded respect. "It seems we are late to the party. Now explain why an ex-Auror is being apprehended and why the Head of International Magical Cooperation is being held at gunpoint." She paused, uttering the last words almost in disbelief, clearly unfazed by Dumbledore's current predicament, earning a subtle respect from the mundane raised by revealing that a pureblood witch knew of the existence of such a weapon.
The ambassador turned from where they had been leaning casually against the podium, one hand holding a gun cocked back and ready to fire. "Bonesey, it's been a while; I thought I'd simplify matters to save some time. Truthfully, too many eggs fit so neatly in a basket that I couldn't help myself." A grin reminiscent of the Cheshire cat played at the corners of the ambassador's lips, suggesting a sense of satisfaction that was almost palpable. Slowly, they returned the hammer of the gun to its original position, removed the bullet from the chamber, and tucked the weapon back into its concealed holster. The director shook her head slowly, a look of exasperation on her face. "Last I checked, we agreed that mundane weapons would not be used. Now, Morgana, help me explain to Drake why there will be a new pile of paperwork on my desk tomorrow as I am forced to put out these fires."
The ambassador tilted their head slightly, an expression that might be interpreted as sympathy flickering across their features, before they spoke again, rubbing the back of their neck for a moment. "L'occhio pazzo è un impostore, e l'altro è detto il padre dell'impostore. It was not as if she randomly went around aiming a weapon at a person for no reason. Besides, how could anyone blame her when no one had questioned 'Mad-Eye Moody' drinking from a flask that reeked of Polyjuice Potion for the past hour? The hall fell into stunned silence as a Slytherin student momentarily stood up, amplifying his voice for all to hear. "For those who are confused," he declared, "she said, 'the mad-eye one is an imposter, and the other is said to be the imposter's father.' Learn a language, perhaps." He finished in exasperation before canceling the spell, sitting back down, and sipping his drink while concealing a smirk. A throat cleared, and Professor McGonagall spoke up.
"Thank you, Mr. Zambini, for the translation. Madam Bones, please explain what is happening here, as this chaos has ensued without prior notice. Also, why do you question the measures taken against the other two but not the Headmaster?" Her tone carried a hint of disbelief, possibly tinged with a longing for something more substantial than water. What occurred next would leave everyone present and the entire wizarding world reeling for years.
Please excuse Google Translate if there are errors. I promise this is the final version of this chapter.
Translations: Madame l'Ambassadrice, je crains que vous ne l'ayez pas reçue en l'absence de réponse de votre bureau. Je suis heureux de voir que vous êtes en bonne santé, mais pourriez-vous nous en dire plus sur ce que vous avez dans l'infrarouge? - madam ambassador, I had feared that you had not received it when there was no response from your office. I am glad to see that you are in good health, but could you please elaborate on what you have infrared.
Madame, je n'avais pas l'intention de vous inquiéter, une autre affaire qui requérait mon attention concernait une opération de contrebande.- madam, I had not intended to cause concern; another matter required my attention involving a smuggling operation.
посланик-Ambassador
директор Каркаров-Headmaster Karkaroff