CHAPTER 10 - Motitus, In D Major (Act 2)
Quidditch Trillenium Stadium, 5:57PM
It took some effort, but Barty Crouch Sr. successfully tuned out Ludovic Bagman's unending jabbering as the former Beater eagerly chatted with Jayson Barliman - current CEO of Butterbeer Enterprises and one of three sponsors for the World Cup.
Bad enough that Ludo never really seemed to know when to shut up; he was also impossibly loud , his voice booming regardless of the setting. It was grating at best even with the aid of Occlumency, but a necessary evil if given the evening's event.
Further relaxing into his seat, Lord Crouch registered the more genteel tones Percy Weasley as he chatted in flawless Bulgarian with Branislav, Krasimira, and Iskra Krum - esteemed guests of Bulgarian Minister Zlatan Oblansk who were quite excited to watch their 'Vitya' play in the Finals match. As the youngest Seeker in Vratsa Vultures history, Heir Krum's profile skyrocketed the past Yule when the team's former Seeker Kiril Andonov seriously bungled a Wronski Feint during an intense game against the Gorodok Gargoyles in a low-visibility hailstorm. Andonov failed in pulling his broom up in time, crashing into ground and suffering severe breaks of almost every bone in his body.
So far, Krum had succeeded in acquiring the Snitch in every game played since, helping the Vultures secure their current position as Cup finalists.
Just as impressive was Viktor retaining his status as Top Student in all of House Bogatyr and Top Five of all Durmstrang students despite his exceedingly busy extracurricular schedule.
Keeping hold of Weasley in his periphery, Barty Sr. continued his quiet perusal of the younger wizard. He was quite intelligent, that much was obvious given his polyglottal abilities and an impressive ten-NEWT showing. The former Head Boy was nothing like his father, who often erred on the side of gratingly cheerful and at times, a touch childlike in his fascination with those moronic muggle knickknacks.
In fact, Percy was appropriately accommodating and ever the professional, even in the face of his boss' purposeful and repeated mispronunciation of his name, off-handed requests to fetch his superior an item he was readily capable of getting on his own, along with demanding unneeded annotations of prior annotations of past meetings, interdepartment missives, and other such things.
In truth, they were all tests to gauge whether the Gryffindor alumnus possessed the ability to maintain the necessary diplomatic decorum in the face of any agitation - be it bold-faced or sly. Any bureaucrat representing the esteemed nation of Wizarding Britain would have to maintain their wits, else their entire position would be pointless.
Dorian Avery had been put through a similar gauntlet during his inaugural months as Crouch Sr.'s personal assistant, handling his personal operational requests, accompanying the older wizard on trips to the ICW, and other such needs.
It was quickly revealed that despite his predisposition to charming politesse, Heir Avery did not take well to being treated as an underling.
The Boyar expected to be treated not only as an equal in all matters pertaining to his superior and his colleagues, but, he expected deference from those he outranked in a rather poignant display of paternalistic superiority. The younger wizard had not been receptive to Crouch's instigative quips and unnecessary demands to be an errand boy and had let the older wizard know - in his dulcet yet sharp-witted manner - that he would not be tolerant of such a dynamic.
As it stood, Dorian's abilities would be better served within the halls of the DIMC and the Ministry-at-large in his current role as Crouch's Junior Undersecretary, where his familial reputation and personal brand of savoir faire would be better appreciated and infinitely more effective.
With a sigh Crouch Sr.'s eyes drifted around the Top Box, the most exclusive seating in the entire Stadium. It was located exactly midway between both sets of goalposts, roughly opposite the giant blackboard used for advertising and the scoreboard. Holding only twenty very cushy purple-and-gold seats and a specialized booth for the announcer, the Box was reserved strictly for VIP; in addition to the aforementioned parties, also present were the British Minister of Magic, the DMLE Director, the additional World Cup sponsors, and a handful of other distinguished guests.
Lord Malfoy was among their number, accompanied by his guests Lords Parkinson and Greengrass. The trio were engaged in pleasant chit-chat with Eccleston Miller, CEO and Seniormost Concoction Formulator for London Pumpkins & Sons, creator of Pumpkin Juice Ltd. and one of the Cup's sponsors.
Another of the esteemed VIPs was Lord Gaunt accompanied by Yahya Kolumbiko, the latter of whom was currently chatting with Minister Bones with all of the charming grace of a seasoned politician. He'd recently graduated from Almadrasa, already pursuing joint Masteries in Law and Arithmancy. Barty Sr. was acquainted with the boy's paternal grandfather when he served as Special Attaché for the North African Federation of Mages, a position his son Sameer - the recently ascended Lord Kolumbiko - currently occupied.
As for Riddle he was quietly engaged with Winston Whitehorn, eldest son of Nimbus Racing Broom Company founder Devlin Whitehorn and the company's representative for the evening's event.
'He may as well be a bloody sponsor,' thought Barty sardonically as he allowed his gaze to skim over Lord Gaunt.
The number of galleons it took to provide as many tickets as Riddle did was quite significant, once more piquing the older wizard's curiosity regarding the seemingly never-ending source of the muggleborn's wealth. As always, Crouch was convinced that a Gaunt ancestor of olde had the foresight to hide a great cache of riches in case of an emergency, already seeing the disastrous path his house steadily traversed. His overall opinion of Lord Gaunt was mixed; while he admired the younger wizard's political skill and cunning in getting muggleborn Nobby Leach elected Minister of Magic, he'd found him infuriatingly moderate on the topic of McAvity's reign of terror.
Under Barty's grand vision for Wizarding Britain insurrectionists deserved no place in proper society regardless of blood status, and Riddle's heavy-handed critique of the pureblooded Dark Lord during Wizengamot sessions was patently hypocritical considering his passiveness regarding the Dark Lord McAvity.
Looking away Crouch gaze settled on the Second Box, situated directly beneath the Top Box. It held double the seats and served as the second-most exclusive space in the Trillenium Stadium. Crouch spotted quite a few VIPs in their number, including Lords Black and Wilkes and their accompanying clique.
To Barty's surprise Heir Malfoy was among that number, huddled between Lord Peverell and the youngest Weasley as he chatted animatedly with the latter who looked fondly amused about whatever the blonde was passionately blathering about. The Longbottom Heir chatted with Anthony in low tones, though Lord Crouch hadn't a clue who the muggleborn wizard was, much less his name.
Lord Greengrass' brood were also of their number; the youngest stood chatting excitedly with the Lovegood girl, Lord Kolumbiko's youngest, the Toymaker's sprog, Lady Brown's granddaughter, and the sole daughter of the Cragg brood. The Greengrass Heir stood closer to her mother and the Davis girl, quietly chatting with the pair as she studied the laughing pair of Harry and Hermione with an unreadable expression.
Unbidden, mawkish musings regarding the demise of his own relationships with his deceased children flitted through Crouch's mind, eliciting a slight scowl.
The demise of his family was a tragedy that never failed to elicit his disappointment, rather ironic given House Crouch's motto.
'Per Filios Nostros, Nos Immortalis' indeed .' The bitterness was visceral, starting to rise in the back of his throat.
His first marriage to Elaine Doge was an exercise in pure practicality, betrothed in contract by their fathers Caspar and Valerius. It was a sensible match between two powerful Ancient and Noble Houses that would strengthen their allyship and yield powerful offspring who would further their families' agenda.
And it helped that Barty and Elaine were casual friends, study mates during their tenure in Ravenclaw and eventual induction into the Slug Club in their Fifth Years.
Both were supportive of each other's professional aspirations, with Barty securing a DADA Mastery three years after his Hogwarts graduation and smoothly sailing into a bureaucratically-aligned career in the DMLE. Likewise, Elaine earned her own History of Magic Mastery in the same term, achieving her ambitions to become an Archivist for the Ministry. Amortentia took care of the lacking romantic attachment to fulfill their marital duties, and a few years after their marriage ceremony Magnus was born. They were relieved at having bore a son on their first try, a boisterously tempestuous boy who reminded Barty of his paternal grandfather Marius. Like his forebear Heir Crouch Sorted into Gryffindor, becoming infamous for his lackluster grades and propensity for partying.
Interestingly enough, Magnus made an impressive showing as Beater for the Lions' Quidditch team, eliciting great interest from the Tutshill Tornados to join their team. That dream was dead on arrival, as Barty Sr. would never allow his firstborn son and heir to participate in the indignity that was being a Quidditch player. Heir Crouch, by some miracle, scraped by with the necessary OWLs to attend the Auror Academy, his family name doing a lot of heavy pulling.
Olympia was born two years after her elder brother, somehow Sorting into Ravenclaw. She displayed a rather keen propensity for churlish spitefulness even in her youth, running afoul of many yearmates within and out of Ravenclaw House. Molly Weasley was one such example, as Olympia was not shy about mercilessly mocking the Lion for her struggling grades despite her own pitiful academic showing.
Juno arrived a year after Olympia, Sorted into Slytherin. She was infinitely more clever and cunning than her siblings, enough to garner the interest of the Hydra Throne and earn a Questing Letter.
She ultimately failed in her bid for Princehood when the Hydra ultimately realized that Juno preferred using her skills to pursue her puerile whims of cruelty to satisfy her own ego, rather than guiding and shaping Salazar's House within the shadows as Rajah had hoped she would aspire to. Her consistently less-than-impressive academic showing inevitably earned Ka's outright disdain, even more so when the witch utilized the reputation of her familial House to coast by. Mara, Alecto, Megaera, and Tisiphone grew disillusioned at the witch's "purposeful wasting of her potential", while Jormungand grew to find her unredeemable at her ability to only make enemies and little allies. Nidhogg found great delight in the Claimant's ruthlessness, though he had enough foresight to acknowledge that it would not be nearly enough to guide Salazar's House.
Delilah concluded Juno to be utterly insufferable, all brazen charm with absolutely zero subtlety and the lack of wherewithal to recognize that fault.
Nonetheless, Juno's guile was enough to earn the attention and affection of Lancelot Heir Marchbanks, betrothed to be married.
Trajan was the lastborn, a surprise baby neither parent had expected but were nonetheless pleased to have. He'd been quite powerful even as a mere babe, with episodes of accidental magic as young as 11-months-old. He Sorted into Gryffindor, displaying great propensity for dueling magicks and the magimartial arts, a decorated champion in the European Junior circuit for both dueling and fencing. Trajan embodied the brave fearlessness of his Hogwarts House, and unlike his elder three siblings was genuinely liked by his peers, a fact that particularly grated Magnus' nerves considering both were Lions. Trajan immediately took to the Auror track, poised for a very promising career in magical law enforcement.
All things considered, the Crouches were as prosperous as an Ancient and Noble House could be, four descendants ensuring the continuation of the family's legacy and motto.
But alas, tragedy stuck.
Elaine Crouch died in February of 1960 during a terrible public freak accident, which upon further investigation, revealed itself to be a terrorist attack attributed to Cecile Ambrose. He was one of three lieutenants who rose to infamy in Alexander McAvity's Muggleborn rights movement, and was considered the most dangerous and ruthless. Sorrowful, the widowered Lord Crouch channeled his grief and rage into cutting off McAvity's movement at its knees, often aligning his House with Abraxas Malfoy's 'Light Lord' efforts to discredit McAvity's campaign for muggleborn supremacy.
Amidst a flourishing career as Assistant Director of the DMLE and Special Attaché for the British ICW Delegation, Barty Sr. realized that he would need help tending to his four children, two of whom were under seventeen at the time of Elaine's death. He married Melinda Burke in 1961, who'd originally been second choice of bride for Heir Crouch, but ultimately lost out to the more esteemed Ancient and Noble status of Elaine's maiden family.
Crouch's only child by Melinda was born in 1962, causing a whiff of scandal that the child was named Bartemius Crouch Junior. While it wasn't illegal or anything to name one's child after oneself, it was considered to be bad luck among most nomenographers, a clear break in tradition given House Crouch's use of such services well into the late 19th century.
A lot like his namesake Barty Jr. was brilliant, exhibiting great magical and intellectual talent in his childhood. Unfortunately, said brilliance readily earned his elder siblings' unrelenting ire. Magnus, Olympia, and Juno absolutely loathed the boy without reservation, resenting his precocious genius and his tendency (though unwittingly) to show them up. Trajan's contempt was visceral, loathing the boy and his mother as representations of his neglectful father replacing his deceased mother.
At this point in Junior's youth, the elder Crouch had risen to become DMLE Director at the height of the Death Eater Insurgency and so was rather "hands off" when it came to childrearing, leaving Melinda to deal with the fallout from her elder stepchildren. The witch was both unable and unwilling to do so out of a futile desire to overcome their resentment of her and the precious son she'd birthed.
Junior's brilliance only flourished that much more when Sorted into Ravenclaw, quickly rising through the academic ranks and impressing his professors and peers alike whilst earning more of his siblings' collective ire. He scored twelve Outstandings on his OWLs, a feat he believed would earn his father's attention and favor that the gentle and shy boy craved .
Unfortunately, it did not.
Nonetheless, Junior turned down the Head Boy position because he'd planned on sitting ten NEWTs and simply didn't have the time, hoping to pursue at least three masteries after his graduation. He pushed the boundaries of his studies especially in Charms and Ancient Runes, his experimentations earning the attention of the Unspeakables and a Recruitment Overture he ultimately declined.
Unfortunately, Barty Jr. failed to reach his immense potential.
His latching on to DADA Professor Augustus Rookwood resulted in him taking the Dark Mark almost immediately upon his graduation, following the Dark Lord's sordid path until his capture in 1981 and eventual trial for his use of Cruciatus against Frank and Alice Logbottom. He was convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban's North Tower despite his vociferous claims of innocence during his trial. He died a mere three months after his incarceration, deteriorating under the relentless influence of the Dementors.
Grimacing those distressing thoughts away, Crouch smoothed his visage and did his best to engage the elder Krums in friendly chatter.
He hadn't a clue that the memories of his son's and second wife's death were falsehoods, consequence of an Unbreakable Vow and Memory Lock Spell.
Shamefacedly vowing to a completely grief-stricken Melinda to save her only son…
Visiting the boy in Azkaban, treated considerably more magnanimously by Warden Stark and his team considering the elder Crouch's status as DMLE Director and his noted ruthlessness against Death Eaters…
Using a smuggled Polyjuice Potion to transform mother into son and son into mother…
Obliviating his son from his memories as Barty Jr., unwittingly triggering Rookwood's Personality backup of Bartholomew Janosky…
Spiriting the amazed and grateful boy away to a faraway wizarding commune in Thessaly, pleased to have fulfilled Melinda's dying wish and on a more primal level, satisfying his oft-unused paternal instinct to protect his flesh and blood…
The latter was especially ironic, considering that Lord Crouch had no idea that his youngest - as Mr. January - was involved in the deaths of his four half-siblings.
It was Mr. Nemo - as a favor to his young protégé - who cornered Magnus Crouch during the London Melee in the summer of 1977, torturing him with the full breadth of his Ventriloquist Legilimency before executing him.
It was Mr. January who led the raid that wiped out Olympia Crouch-MacDougal and her in-laws during the family's annual Yule Celebration, exterminating an entire Noble House in one night.
January stalked and cornered Juno and Lancelot in a dark and warded Knockturn Alley-way, brutally torturing and murdering them with the Cruciatus and Transmogrifian Torture Curse. True to his name Lancelot had given January a run for his money with retaliatory magicks, but he'd ultimately been forced to surrender when the Death Eater succeeded in overpowering Juno.
Trajan proved to be a formidable challenge for January, the two engaging in an almost hour long duel wherein the Junior Auror nearly succeeded in overpowering the Death Eater twice. While exceptionally skilled with a wand, Barty Jr. was utterly lacking in hand-to-hand combat training and swordfighting, skills his brother possessed in spades. He also wasn't afraid to fight dirty, and it was only due to sheer dumb luck that a Tripping Jinx from the seriously wounded Ravenclaw connected with the Gryffindor's legs, leading to his disarmament.
Some bouts of Cruciatus and other choice torture curses later, a satisfied January executed the unrecognizable and catatonic Trajan.
Sadly, Barty Sr. knew none of these details.
But it was ultimately for the best, as truly terrible things were best left unknown.
6:17PM
From his vantage within the Second Box, Harry Black observed the incredible sight of the nearly packed arena with an expression of boyish wonder.
A crowd thousands in number was already going wild, with many sporting the colors of their favorite team. As Ireland technically had a home advantage due to Wizarding Britain hosting, a sea of clover green and glimmering gold filled many sections. Many carried flags bearing their favorite Irish National players, alongside banners emblazoned with gold-scripted Seamair Sciathánacha - the Gaeilge -equivalent of 'Winged Clovers' which was the proper name for the Irish team. Dissimulators emitting emerald green and gold clover-shaped smoke filled the air, accompanied by sounds of the team's anthem.
Bulgarian fans refused to be outdone; many used hand-held megaphones imbued with the Amplifying Charm, allowing their booming cheers to ricochet through the stadium. Flags bearing Viktor Krum's animated visage were present, with many loudly singing the Bulgarian National Anthem in an attempt to drown out Ireland's fans.
"Blimey!" exclaimed a wide-eyed and grinning Ginny. "The entire place is bloody packed!"
Sirius barked out an excited cheer. "That it is! This is supposed to be one of the most anticipated matches of the century! Ireland and Peru's match was insane; practically gridlocked at 175 points by each team for almost two hours. Thankfully, the luck of the Irish pulled through. Bulgaria nearly lost against the Aussies, Maria Monteith on the Aussie team nearly got into fisticuffs with Clara Ivanova on the Bulgarian side. The referee ended up hospitalized when the two witches crashed into him in an attempt to clobber the other. Quite a bit of bad blood there."
"...I read it seats 100,000 people… is that true?" Hermione was surprised to detect the faint wobble in Daphne's voice, who stood back ramrod straight with a slightly pale face as Tracey gripped her hand in a comforting grasp.
Known only to her family, Heir Greengrass suffered from enochlophobia, kept at bay by Occludic meditations courtesy of Monsignor Lucardi's teachings and specialized Calming Draught to soothe the accompanying anxiety borne of her fear. That, coupled with her innate shyness, saw the Slytherin witch stick to the company of Tracey and Tori.
"That's right," replied Lily gently, seemingly sensing the girl's nerves as Lady Greengrass smiled gratefully. "However, there are safety protocols in place to ensure that there isn't a stampede. See railings?" She gestured in the guardrails that demarcated surrounded the perimeter of their box, eyes crinkling when Daphne feebly nodded. "If you look closer, they are imbued with the runic equivalents of a modified Protego and Flipendo , keeping us shielded and rebuffing anyone who tries to encroach here should a stampede break out. The International Association of Quidditch's Standard Operational Procedures Guide mandates their necessity when constructing an arena. We should be fine."
What Seneschal Wilkes didn't include was that the revision had been set in place by the IAQ and the ICW a few weeks after the Attack on Holyhead, in which a stampede broke out after scores of Muggles somehow evaded the bevy of Notice-Me-Nots and Muggle Repellant charms surrounding the Stadium. The poor souls (along with many magical ones) ended up as unwitting victims to the brutal mercies of Miss Demeanor and her psychotic protégé Miss Ann Thrope.
Still, Daphne looked significantly calmer and less pale as she nodded in Lily's direction. Winnie whispered a quiet " Thank you " in Lily's ear as Tracey nodded gratefully.
Moments passed in friendly camaraderie before a loud voice broke the reverie:
"Harry?!"
Lord Wilkes turned at the sound of his name, seeing his identical twin brother about seven seats away.
"Jim," he replied with a polite nod. A few beats passed awkwardly as the Slytherin's coterie watched the exchange with varying degrees of curiosity and trepidation.
The latter was especially true for Luna, who gripped Eurus' hand tightly as she watched the pair's nargles with baited breath. The signature astral beings above Heir Potter's head - not unlike six-winged Hoo-Hoos - ruffled their feathers as Lord Wilkes' own slowed their movements and rose slowly in warning.
Suddenly, an impish smile broke out on Prince Potter's face. "Did you enjoy the birthday presents I sent? You know, considering you didn't send me anything?"
A frown overtook Jim's countenance as he recalled the printed gag shirts he'd received from his brother. "I reckon I enjoyed them as much as you did making them," he retorted.
To his shock his younger brother laughed, before parting his forest green robes to reveal his shirt.
An identical copy of the t-shirt bearing 'Supreme Git of the Universe' adorned Lord Wilkes' body, depicting Heir Potter as a gleeful moon-like object flying around the laughing sun of his younger brother.
Jim gaped for a few moments, emerald orbs flashing in warning danger as their surrounding audience stared and tensed in varying degrees. All save Amy, who deftly hid her snickers behind her hand.
A fierce scowl overtook Jim's features, and for a brief moment, Eurus braced herself as Luna gasped and tightened her grip…
…Until Heir Potter snorted out a laugh as his expression softened. "Well… it's only fair, considering I didn't get you anything."
His twin looked momentarily surprised, before he chortled in matching delight. Luna sighed in relief as their nargles calmed and resumed their standard formations.
Lily let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, her action mimicked by most of their group as Theo visibly sagged in relief.
"Do you want to scoot in a bit closer?" They all looked surprised at Harry's question, who looked intently at his twin.
It was Jim's turn to be surprised at the offer, pausing for a few moments as his face wrinkled, almost as though he were arguing with himself and eliciting quite a few of the Slytherin's internal amusement at the Gryffindor's obvious lack of Occlumency.
"Sure! Better view I suppose." And with that, Jim bridged the distance to stand right in front of his brother, directly next to a less convinced-looking Ginny and Draco. Nonetheless, they followed their Prince's lead to be as polite as they were capable. Theo exchanged a friendly nod with Heir Potter, a move mimicked by the others present. Neville clapped a friendly arm over Jim's shoulder, pleased to have another friendly face amidst the ranks.
To Lily's shock Jim granted her a small and genuine smile, thanking her for his birthday present.
"You're very welcome Jim," she replied, eyes crinkled as she smiled at her firstborn.
"So," said Heir Potter after a few surprisingly non-awkward moments. "How many points do you think Bulgaria is going to score against Ireland?"
"Beg your pardon?!" exclaimed Ginny. "What in Circe's left tit makes you think that?!"
And with that, the two launched into a heated discussion regarding relative player ability, team stats, and other relevant factors off the top of her head, the redhead intriguing both Quidditch and non-Quidditch fanatics among their group with her near encyclopedic grasp of the sport's facts.
"Well," interjected Harry, halting Ginny's furious rebuttal to Jim's insistence that Seeker Krum's skill far outmatched Aidan Lynch's own. "I think Ireland's going to take the Cup, even if Viktor captures the Snitch." Surprise met his statement, though the youngest Weasley looked decidedly mutinous at that declaration as Draco successfully repressed his snickers at her countenance.
"Oh please!" Jim cried. "That's completely impossible!"
"What?" inquired his twin. "Scared Potter?"
The Lion's head whipped at that statement, initial anger smoothing at the sight of cheeky mirth dancing in his younger brother's eyes.
"Ha!" retorted Jim brightly. "You wish!"
7:33PM
A delicate yawn escaped Lead Healer Molly Hooper's mouth, signaling the rather long day she'd had aiding the seemingly unending number of patients in the ICU of the Emergency Ward, located on the first floor of St. Mungo's.
She registered her associate also yawning in her periphery, smiling tiredly in response.
One of her duties since ascending to Lead Healer in St. Mungo's involved taking mentees under her wing as part of the hospital's Advanced Student Programme, a decades-long collaboration featuring students from the Hermelinda Bonham Academy of the Healing Arts. It was fitting, considering the namesake founder of the academy was the daughter of the namesake of Wizarding Britain's chief hospital.
As part of their tutelage, students were paired with Healers who taught them the various duties and responsibilities of the profession via shadowing, completing practicals assigned by the Healers, and managing 'special assignments' at the hospital pertaining to patient care and hospital operations. Mentors would provide direct performance feedback to the Academy's instructors, who factored this tutelage into their students' grades under the classification of 'Real-World Experience' that counted as credit towards post-graduate residency.
Per St. Mungo's discretion, this experience could also count towards their Healing Mastery and whatever specialization they chose once the graduate joined the hospital's staff as a Trainee Healer.
"So, you've gotten a grasp on what you'd like to specialize in?" Molly smiled sweetly at Melissa 'Missy' Bulstrode, recent Hogwarts graduate and current Second Year Student of the Bonham Academy who she was currently mentoring.
The Slytherin alumnus smiled. "I'm still interested in working with the Janus Thickey Ward, long-term spell damage and all that." Healer Hooper smiled encouragingly at her. "I just don't think it's right that we can heal so much and aren't able to do so for them. It may sound a bit mad, but I don't really think anything is… incurable, especially when you have magic working on your side. I figured it just takes a lot of extra time and effort that most Healers don't have to dedicate to just one patient with an ailment that can't be reasonably resolved because, well, you have so many to tend to in a go."
"I can definitely see that!" And Molly did, having grappled with identical thoughts at the beginning of her own apprenticeship. Being muggleborn, she thought of magic as a boundless marvel, capable of healing a multitude of injuries that not only seriously incapacitated a non-magical, but would typically kill them.
Spells to regrow actual tissue in mere moments with no side effects. Potions that could repair organ function with little to no side effects. Diseases and illnesses that were considered mundane could be easily cured, though that couldn't be said for serious magical ailments or impairments, hence the reason for Thickey's ward.
"If you do decide to go that route, have you thought about getting an additional Mastery? Preferably Charms?"
Missy bit her lip. "Realistically, I was thinking Charms. I…I'd have to look about finding a Master who would allow me to come on as an apprentice. Plus… other logistics."
And by that, she meant the galleons to cover the cost of advancing her education.
"You could… you could inquire with the Youth Liaison Program. They offer a plethora of stipends for post-graduate programs for St. Mungo's, the Ministry, or a private Master or Mistress. It certainly helped me."
The Hufflepuff didn't miss the Slytherin's wince, eliciting a touch of sympathy from the older witch. Her previous conversations with Missy about her family painted the picture of a very inward clan firmly aligned with pureblood supremacist agenda, hoping to reacquire their Wizengamot Seat and their past prestige as a powerful and influential Noble House. The Bulstrodes of olde boasted several highly decorated Aurors, a Chief Auror, and a handful of DADA professors, and Magnus Lord Bulstrode was itching to get back that eminence alongside his fellow privileged peers.
Having his own daughter utilize the services of a "useless mudblood charity!" certainly would not be allowed.
"...I'll need to think about it."
Nodding magnanimously, Molly led the pair to the nurse's station that dominated the Emergency Ward, currently occupied by Healers Miriam Strout, Mary Cattermole, Leonard Dagworth-Granger, Irving Derwent, and Visiting Healer Andromeda Tonks, all quietly chatting amongst themselves as they recapped about their respective days. All five would be working the night shift in the ward, grateful for the endless supply of coffee and snacks provided by the hospital's three house elves.
As for Tonks presence, she lent her services to the hospital as a 'Healer Consultant' during their 'overflow periods' for whichever ward required it, all in exchange for a fee that constituted about one-sixth of the salary of a regular employee. She would 'recommend' patients to her and Ted's Hogsmeade Clinic for regular post-St. Mungo's checkups in lieu of journeying all the way to London to visit a Healer. While the practice was not explicitly allowed by the hospital's Administration, it wasn't explicitly frowned upon either.
"You ladies excited to have the night off?" Leonard smiled brightly at the pair, looping a friendly arm around Molly's shoulders. The Gryffindor alumnus was usually the most exuberant of the bunch, living up to his House's reputation. Despite being the de-facto Heir of the Common House of Dagworth-Granger he was warm and entirely unassuming, easily earning Molly's trust since their apprenticeship days. Along with Irving the trio dubbed themselves 'The Three Musketeers', finding strength in each other's friendship to help overcome the stress of their Mastery and Trainee years.
"Definitely," yawned Bulstrode, lightly blushing at the resulting snickers.
"Missy and I get off at 9:00." Molly leaned her head against Leonard's shoulder. "I am absolutely looking forward to my bed, though not after indulging in my Mum's leftover roast and a nice glass of Pinot."
"Sounds divine," groaned Miriam, the seniormost Healer of their number. "What I wouldn't give for a glass of red, hell, a bottle would do me some good."
"We do have Sobering Potions galore," supplied Cattermole sing-songily. "No one would ever know."
Miriam looked to be seriously considering the option, eliciting the group's laughter.
"You lot are lucky to be done in an hour," Derwent turned to Missy and Molly. "Night shift always brings some drama, it's practically tradition at this point. Remember, remember, the 5th of November?"
Matching groans rose at his statement as all (save Missy) recalled the infamous night shift of 5 November 1990.
A group of magicals residing in the East Sussex wizarding commune of Lower Lewes were having their own Guy Fawkes Night celebration, accidentally setting off several boxes of Enchanted Fireworks. Not only did the ensorcelled display of dragons and phoenixes catch the attention of their muggle neighbors (who were also having their own Guy Fawkes celebration), the ensorcelled fireworks went haywire and set a considerable portion of the muggle neighborhood ablaze.
There were several grievous injuries from the fire and resulting stampede, and per Clause 10 of the Edicts of Engagement regarding Magical-Muggle Relations outlined in the Statute of Secrecy, the responsibility of administering healing aid fell on the magicals as the party responsible for the incident.
The sheer scale of injuries resulted in almost 70 muggles having to be ferried to St. Mungo's with the aid of Portkeys. Some of the healing had gone off without a hitch, but many had required more intensive care, primarily of the Skele-Gro variety due to the potion's use of pufferfish. Quite a few of the muggles were allergic, to the degree of requiring the intervention of Potion Master Damocles Belby to create a workable alternative in a short frame of time.
The chaos of having to keep hysterical muggles calm enough to receive proper medical care was taxing enough, with many healers-on-staff having to rely on Stupefy and Somnus so they wouldn't exacerbate their injuries.
Thank Merlin for the Obliviator Squads.
"Fair point," Stout conceded before she and Dagworth-Granger bid their group adieu, needing to tend to the patients of the Dai Llewellyn Ward in the corridor adjacent to the Emergency Ward.
It was Cattermole and Derwent's turn as they gave their goodbyes, venturing to the Primary Potion facility on the third floor to take stock of their medicinal potion supply for the night shift.
Andy planted herself into a seat behind the nurse's station, retrieving some paperwork from her doctor's-style bag. Missy and Molly settled beside her, completing their patient records as the trio chatted amicably with each other.
It was looking to be an easygoing night.
7:51PM
Standing quietly behind the blissfully unaware form of Mr. Richards were the pair of Messrs. Tyrfing and Inimicus, silent and observing all that lay before them. The latter was a mid-level Death Eater in the previous war, accompanying either Tyrfing or Justinian's cells during raids and displaying his own unique brand of violent cruelty. His ivory mask was rather garish, a saggy-eyed ghost with a mouth stretched obscenely wide in anguish.
Given the recent openings within Inner Circle ranks, Mr. Inimicus was primed for, in his opinion, a long overdue promotion.
Standing behind the pair were a total of eleven foot soldiers, believers in the pureblood supremacist cause who were ready to spill the blood of undesirables for their Master.
To the left of Mr. Richards were the pair of January and Direction, the latter gently stroking the confounded muggle's shoulder as the strength of her allure steadily rendered the man's mind to rapturous mush. She'd opted not to wear a mask as she would not be present for the night's festivities, having fulfilled her tasks to the letter.
A perfectly chilled bottle of 1820 Juglar Cuvée awaited her for a relaxing evening \home.
As for January, he would be venturing into the campsite. A matter of great import required his attention, and ultimately, would aid the group's efforts in the night's festivities.
He wore a modified Ianus Bifrons mask, an elaborately designed vizard that resembled the Roman god of duality. One half was obscured in a curious shadow whilst the other was not, serving to only highlight the spine-chilling gaze of its unblinking eyes.
Direction's hearing soon picked up on Tyrfing slowing down his breaths. He embodied every aspect of 'warrior-mage', armed with both wand and sword. She found him rather intriguing, though he seemed unaffected by her presence.
'A romantic and emotional celibate,' thought the blonde with a mental sneer. 'Such a pity.'
As though he'd heard her thoughts, January ever so slightly turned his head towards the blonde, his small smirk hidden beneath his mask.
They all took a few moments to relish the quiet, knowing it wouldn't be long before it disappeared.
The Stage for Act One of the Great Contingency had been set.
It was almost showtime.
8:01PM
"AND THAT'S ANOTHER GOAL COURTESY OF MAURA MOLLEN, BRINGING TEAM GREEN TO 120! THE LUCK OF THE IRISH IS CERTAINLY HIGH TONIGHT LADIES AND GENTLE-WIZARDS!"
The roar of the Irish fans echoed throughout the arena, though not succeeding in drowning out the matching jeers of the furious Bulgarian fans who remained undeterred after the less-than-stellar showing of their team.
Naturally frustrations were rising, though none was more frustrated than Viktor Krum.
The entire game had been an utter disaster as far as the Seeker was concerned, and he was reaching the precipice of his patience. Chaser Flann Troy scored the first goal of the match almost immediately followed by two others, leading the Irish into a solid salvo they'd been able to maintain for the entirety of the match.
While Bulgaria had scored a goal courtesy of Clara Ivanova's relentless efforts, they had yet to score another. The Irish were infinitely more vicious and calculating than their opponents had been expecting, and they were certainly paying for it now with their struggling gameplay.
Plus, Viktor was convinced that referee Hassan Mostafa had it out for his team. His son-in-law Maleek Bennani played for the Moroccan National Quidditch Team, who'd faced off against Bulgaria in the Quarterfinals and been utterly trounced in a rather brutal match that resulted in nearly a third of the Moroccan team needing mediwizard intervention. Though he hadn't refereed that match, Hassan was still upset at his home team being defeated so soundly and thus found any excuse to penalize the Bulgarians. They'd already earned a record five penalty fouls courtesy of Mostafa's biased calls, resulting in the current 110 point-advantage of the Irish.
Team Captain Vasili Dimitrov was determined to raise a Matter of Inquiry with the International Association of Quidditch, regardless of who won the match.
"AND IT LOOKS LIKE MULLET JUST MADE ANOTHER GOAL COURTESY OF ZOGRAF'S PENALTY!" The booming magically-amplified voice of Dòmhnall Macmillan interrupted Heir Krum's thoughts, eliciting a fierce scowl sent in Referee Mostafa's direction, no doubt another of his 'stick it to the Bulgarian' act. "IRELAND IS UP 130! THEY ARE UNSTOPPABLE LADIES AND GENTLE-WIZARDS!"
'Zaebi!'
Dipping into an improvised Sloth Grip Roll, Viktor increased the speed of his Firebolt whilst turning his entire body in a 360-rotation, accelerating whilst spinning.
"BY NIMUE! LOOKS LIKE KRUM JUST PULLED OFF A TWIRLING TWISTER!"
The resulting rotational momentum succeeded in knocking apart the Hawkshead Attacking Formation of the Irish Chaser Trio as they raced towards Bulgaria's goalposts, forcing a startled Moran to drop the Quaffle just as Troy and Mullen were made to break apart.
"AND THAT'S NOT ALL FOLKS, LOOKS LIKE HE'S ADDING A FLICK-TAIL TO SPICE THINGS UP!"
Ceasing his movement and braking sharply, Viktor adjusted his Firebolt and used its remaining velocity to strike the displaced Quaffle, sending it sailing directly into the hands of Chaser Alexei Levski who immediately raced towards Ireland's goalposts.
Unfortunately Quigley and Connelly were immediately upon him, initiating a flawless Dopplebeater Defence that knocked right into the tail of Levski's Firebolt and forced him to drop the Quaffle. The ball was immediately scooped up by a recovered Troy with Mullen flanking his left as they raced towards a furiously scowling Zograf.
"VIKO! ONE O'CLOCK!"
Jerking at the sound of Vasily's voice, Krum's eyes widened at the sight of a Bludger hurtling straight towards his chest. With less than a second to react Viktor tightened his left grip and hurled himself up in a perfectly executed one-handed handstand, body perfectly perpendicular to his Firebolt.
" CIRCE'S LEFT TIT, THAT'S ONE CRACKING MOVE BY KRUM!"
The Bulgarian faction went wild at their Star Seeker's display, chanting his name in jubilation as he righted his form. Said cheers soon turned to boos as the Irish regained possession of the Quaffle.
"LOOKS LIKE A RIGHT GAME OF THIMBLERIG SHUFFLE WITH MORAN TAKING THE LEAD!"
Breaking from their Hawkshead Formation Moran dropped back so she, Mullet, and Troy were in a row as they began shuffling frontwards and backwards whilst passing the Quaffle amongst themselves. Troy suddenly hurtled upwards and forwards towards the center goalpost, as Moran and Mullen were forced to break apart as Beaters Volkov and Vulchanov smacked both Bludgers in their direction.
"OH HO! AND THAT'S A PERFECT PORSKOFF PLOY TROY AND MULLEN JUST PULLED OFF!"
Timing it just right, Troy lobbed the Quaffle straight past Levski and Dimitrov and right into Mullen's waiting hands, who sped straight to the goalposts.
"SHE'S HEADED TO THE LEFT AND…NO! MAKE THAT DEAD-CENTER! ANOTHER 10 POINTS FOR IRELAND!"
The Irish faction went completely wild as they roared their team's anthem at the top of their lungs, almost enough to drown out the Team Bulgaria's boos. Said boos increased as Mullen reacquired the Quaffle and Back-Passed it to Moran who successfully lobbied another goal.
"BLOODY HELL! WHAT A SHOT! NOT EVEN ZOGRAF'S STARFISH-AND-STICK COULD STOP THAT!"
Krum snarled at Macmillan's commentary and his opponent's 150-point standing, before pausing as a speck of gold caught his eye.
It was the Snitch, finally revealing itself after an hour of uninterrupted gameplay.
In a blink Viktor redirected his Firebolt and zoomed in the golden orb's direction, which continued its erratic upward trajectory.
Aidan Lynch noticed his opponent's move, and immediately began following him at breakneck speed.
As one, the two Seekers zoomed up, down, and side-to-side all over the arena, nearly crashing into Referee Mostafa a few times. Lynch was able to use a choice Wollongong Shimmy to breakup the Bulgarians' Hawkshead.
Not bothering to react Viktor pressed on, forcing Aidan to ratchet up his speed to catch up.
"THEY'RE LOCKED IN PEOPLE, IT'S A RACE FOR THE SNITCH!"
The Snitch suddenly broke sharply towards the Top Box, forcing its pursuers to alter their course accordingly.
Suddenly, Krum registered a keen whizzing incoming from his front and his back. They were Bludgers, levied at the Bulgarian Seeker from Connolly and Quigley, who'd timed it perfectly.
Lynch was forced to momentarily peel off, but his opponent was not so easily deterred. Maintaining his Firebolt's speed, the Bogatyr crossed his arms in an X-formation and leapt off his broom. He then somersaulted mid-air, landing feet first on his Firebolt which he then surfed upwards at breakneck speed, right past his pale and wide-eyed mother as his father and sister whooped delightedly at his riveting display.
"SON OF A BLUDGER! BRILLIANT AERIAL ACROBATICS BY BULGARIA'S STAR SEEKER, YOU DON'T GET SEE THIS EVERYDAY LADIES AND GENTLE-WIZARDS! ONLY HERE AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP!"
Even the referee looked stunned, gawking dumbfoundedly in Krum's direction whilst the Irish Beater duo gaped in matching amazement.
Regaining his seat Viktor continued his chase, ignoring the sudden wave of cheers from the Winged Clover fans as their team scored yet another 10-point goal. He registered Lynch reemerge to flank him and as one, the two Seekers raced upwards to heights of almost 10,000 feet. The sounds of the arena faded ever so slightly as their brooms pressed forward before the Snitch, in its standard sporadic manner, alley-ooped and zipped downward, forcing its Seekers to rapidly change course.
Just before it reached the ground proper, the Snitch lightly braked before racing forwards, perfectly parallel to the ground.
Viktor noticed but didn't reduce his speed, knowing Lynch would follow.
Downward…downward…downward…
SSSKKKGGRRRTTT!
"GAAA-"
Aidan crashed directly into the ground with a distinct thud , but as for Viktor…
He pulled a sharp brake in the nick of time, tilting his Firebolt at a perfect 45-degree angle that allowed him to cruise perfectly parallel to the ground in pursuit of the Snitch.
"MERLIN'S MAJESTICAL MATAGOT! THEY DON'T MAKE WRONKSI FEINTS LIKE THAT ANYMORE!"
Another whoop sounded throughout the stadium but the Bogatyr paid no heed, closing in on the Snitch.
A beat passed…
Before his hand closed around the golden orb in victory.
"THE MATCH HAS ENDED! VIKTOR KRUM HAS SECURED THE SNITCH AND GIVEN THE BULGARIANS 150 POINTS!"
Viktor thrust his fist into the air as the Bulgarians roared their approval.
Unfortunately, it would be very short-lived.
"HOWEVER IRELAND HAS SECURED 170 POINTS TO BULGARIA'S 160, MEANING IT'S TEAM GREEN'S VICTORY! IRELAND HAS WON THE WORLD CUP!"
8:44PM
Chancing a glance behind her, Lily smiled at the sight of her two sons exchanging friendly banter about the thrilling match they'd just witnessed.
As a mother she'd dreamed of moments like this, when her two sons could just be as brothers are meant to, unencumbered by acrimonious drama borne of their parents' divorce, their respective Sortings, and the Damocles Sword of two prophecies hanging over their heads.
"Mum!"
Lily turned in the direction of Harry's voice. "Yes dear?"
"We're heading over to Molly's for a bit!" His arm was looped through a wind-ruffled and beaming Hermione's, whose other arm was looped through Theo's. Neville shuffled a bit awkwardly by Jim's side, but nonetheless looked hopeful.
"Sure! Come by the tent when you're done!" She would have preferred to stay and supervise but her sons were not babies anymore, especially Harry who was now a full-fledged Lord. He deserved a measure of privacy and discretion in regards to personal matters.
Even from her.
Waving at his responding nod, Regent Wilkes turned her attention back to Lady Greengrass, the two Slytherins resuming their previous chat.
"Oh come on Lily! It's merely a puff piece for Witch Weekly, and I'm personally handling the interviews and the write-ups. A young school-aged Lord is unprecedented, Ancient and Noble no-less. I think it would be a wonderful way to introduce Harry to a younger wizarding audience and help shed some of the…um… Toymaker's reputation. He's not the Lord Wilkes of the recent past, and I think our society needs to learn and appreciate that fact in a relatively approachable and…non-politically charged manner that Witch Weekly provides."
That gave Lily pause as she chewed over the younger witch's words; she and Harry had discussed some strategies in revitalizing the sordid reputation of House Wilkes, and part of that involved publicly divorcing Erasmus Wilkes' murderous notoriety from Harry's own. Though both were Slytherins, Harry was a halfblood with infinitely more progressive ideals than his predecessor's own, a firm supporter of muggleborns given his mother's parentage and his friend circle. There'd already been talks with Tom and Lucius in opening up a ward in St. Mungo's, with Sirius expressing eagerness to contribute.
"Excellent!" exclaimed Winnie. "If it helps, I am doing the same for Justin in his stead as Lord Peverell, I've already gotten his approval and both pieces can run together in the upcoming September edition."
'Yeah, and the boost to your own publication's profile wouldn't hurt either.'
Seneschal Wilkes kept her inner thoughts to herself, already aware of Winnie's true intentions. Plus, she hadn't missed the significant looks she'd leveled her son's way when witnessing his amicable interaction with Tori…or any of his other witchling friends.
If Lady Greengrass thought she was to squeeze a marriage contract out of her son she had another thing coming.
A burst of laughter ahead interrupted Lily's internal dialogue.
A lively Eurus was being twirled around by the giggling pair of Tracey and Daphne, all three singing some song by The Weird Sisters at the top of their lungs. Trailing them were the equally excitable pair of Luna and Astoria, leading each other around in an improvised waltz as the blonde - in typical Luna fashion - happily whistled Waltz of the Flowers as she and her fellow Consiliarius danced merrily.
The mothers giggled in unison, with Winnie producing a small wizarding camera from her robes to capture the moment. She'd already taken plenty of photos she intended to use in her upcoming article, regarding the World Cup. If she could secure the two aforementioned interviews, Witch Weekly would make publication history and she would be at the helm of its glory.
Upon reaching the B.M.W. tent the mothers settled into a chesterfield, watching fondly as the girls continued their singing and dancing about.
The remainder of the B.M.W. group (save Harry, Hermione, and Theo) were currently split between Champion's Tent for the Cup's Finalists and the M.Y.L.P. Tent. The remainder of Prince Potter's Administration were in the former under joint supervision of Sirius and Lucius alongside Lords Parkinson and Greengrass.
Greg, Amy, and her friends were in the latter tent so the Gryffindors could catch up with some of their Housemates, with the sole Slytherin in attendance to watch over his baby sister.
"You girls in the mood for karaoke?"
At their responding cheers, Lily unholstered her wand and cleared some room on the westernmost wall, transfiguring a side table and chairs into a large-ish stage and accompanying standing megaphones she charmed with modified Sonorous . Another wave of willow saw the Jenga blocks float and blur into three vintage silver microphones which were also charmed with modified Sonorous .
"Have at it then!"
"Thank you!" "Thanks Lily!" "Thanks Miss Evans!"
The girls hopped on and began whispering to themselves about what song they should start with.
"How about a Celestina Warbeck classic?" suggested Lady Greengrass.
"What?!" "Mum, no way!" "Yeah… a bit too old school there."
"Old school?!" sputtered Winnie indignantly, exchanging a look of disbelief with a snickering Lily.
"What about something more modern?" suggested Eurus. "We could do something by Scarlet and the Wundagores? Or we can go muggle with Eternal? TLC? Ooh, or Shakespears Sister!"
Tracey's eyes widened. "You know TLC, Eternal, and Shakespears Sister?!" Her smile grew wider at Eurus and Luna's responding nods, not having expected either pureblood witch to be in the know of her three favorite muggle girl groups. Daphne and Tori looked confused, not at all familiar with anything either had said.
"I say we do Stay!" declared Luna, leaning into the central microphone. Before the first lyric could leave her lips a series of impossibly loud explosions boomed all around them, accompanied by bellows of " MORSMORDRE!"
Then came the screaming.
AN 1: I'm a sucker for a good Quidditch match. The final score between Ireland and Bulgaria aligns with canon; Krum caught the Snitch but the Irish had more points.
AN 2: 'Zaebi' is Bulgarian for 'Fuck that!'
AN 3: In AD, Karkaroff was not revealed/exposed/captured as a Death Eater. That will factor into the plot development for the latter half of Book 4 and a major-ish plot point in Book 5.
AN 4: The role of Daphne is played by Anna Popplewell in her role as Susan Pevensie in The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Astoria is played by Georgie Henley in her role as Lucy Pevensie (The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian), whilst Tracey Davis is played by AnnaSophia Robb in her role as Leslie Burke (Bridge to Terabithia). Lady Greengrass is played by Rebecca Ferguson in her role as Elizabeth Woodville (The White Queen).