Chapter 124

May of Diplomacy

"In hindsight, it is extremely scary that in the last couple of years, tens of millions of souls owed their lives to Alexandra Potter and her allies. And it is beyond nightmarish that despite knowing this fact, plenty of people have decided she is an obstacle in the way of their goals." Words attributed to Gilderoy Lockhart, December 1996.

---

28 April 1995, the future Tiger Reserve, Cornwall, England

"I think the progress is kind of impressive."

Morag wasn't exaggerating here; it couldn't have been more than three days since the idea of the 'Tiger Reserve' was thrown around, and yet the location had been chosen, the wards emplaced, and tall walls built.

The 'tiger infirmary' where the mages and veterinarians were checking the health of the felines was half-way complete too, with several sections separated from the tigers by large glass panels that had been enchanted beforehand.

"Well, Lady Zabini has a lot of relationships. Many specialists in big animals owe her favours...and gold, as always, is a way to speed up the process."

Alexandra gave her a thin smile.

"Plus let's face it, compared to magical species, Korean Tigers aren't that difficult to deal with."

"Compared to a Dragon or a Nundu? Yes." The MacDougal Heiress shook her head. "I have to admit that at first, when you came with your pet in front of the Wizengamot, I thought you were doing it to prank me."

A large meowing came right next to her.

It was kind of hilarious, coming from such an enormous feline.

"I think he took offense at being called a pet, Morag."

"You think?" she drawled.

The tiger meowed again. Loudly.

"That, or he wants more food," the Champion of Ravenclaw snorted. "But I stand by my previous assertion: they are not pets."

"Yes, on that point, I think everyone will agree with you." Morag bared her teeth. "The disobedient idiots have learned that painful lesson the hard way."

Two had thought that because Alexandra could practically order the Korean Tigers around, the big felines were tame.

Several claw marks on their backsides and a precipitated escape attempt later, the 'paparazzi' had realised the hard way that no, these tigers were born in the wild, and behaved as such.

"How will the felines be dealt with in the long-term?" she asked. "I know the plan is to return them to their life environment, but it may be years before the battlefields are made safe for them. And while the amount of space just delimited is big, it's not sufficient for so many tigers."

"Once we have properly given them something looking like the habitat they had in the Korean Peninsula, the goal is to offer them more space."

Morag looked at her friend with a skeptical expression.

"There are villages in the distance, Alex. While I suppose a Tiger Preserve is a nice attraction, the non-magical citizens living here won't vacate their lands to keep you happy."

"In fact..." Alexandra rolled her eyes. "Some of the menagerie specialists who came from the magical world proposed to find that space by going upwards. You know, creating a suspended garden."

Morag scratched her head.

"I suppose...I suppose it is magically possible. I mean, Space-Expansion Charms exist. But the tigers will need water."

"You would be surprised what even non-magical engineers can do these days, Morag."

The Hydra wand was pointed at a great male tiger. The feline suddenly understood it had overstayed its welcome a bit, but too late. Its fur was sprayed by a powerful jet of water.

The ferocious representative of the Korean Tigers fled, all temptations of challenge forgotten.

"Let me guess: the answer is money. Money solves everything."

"Bingo," Alex said sarcastically.

Her friend kept her mouth shut for a few seconds, before continuing.

"To be honest, I don't regret it at all, despite all the complications it is causing. The Korean Tigers will be safe here; plenty of the young adults and the four kittens wouldn't have survived in the wild, not with all the unexploded ordnance."

"And they also have the opportunity to calm themselves after being traumatised by the One-Day War. I know. You're a good person, Alex."

"Sometimes, I am not so-"

"Alex, you're a good person. You aren't responsible for the awful deeds of that bitch of a Necromancer. You told them to stop, and they didn't want to. At some point, they have to be stopped. Blame it all on the Dumbledore blood; they seem to like creating disasters that we all have live with."

Alexandra chuckled.

"When did you get so wise, Morag?"

"Oh, I have friends who helped me, Alexandra."

For a few minutes, it was good to exchange jokes and everything.

"I expect I will come here a lot in the next years."

"Funny that, Hermione said exactly the opposite," Alexandra raised an innocent eyebrow. "Something about not giving Crookshanks bad ideas, I believe."

Morag tried hard to control her hilarity. She abysmally failed.

"I don't even understand why her cat decided to get so close to the adult tigers. It's like Crookshanks has a death wish, sometimes."

"Maybe that cat really has nine lives, you know."

"Trying to impose your dominance over baby tigers when their mother is in claw's range will ensure the loss of half of them in short order if nothing is done," the MacDougal Heiress commented with plenty of chuckles. "You may need to select him as your substitute for a Task!"

"Please, Morag," Alex feigned an injured expression. "Don't even joke about that."

The red-haired Ravenclaw imagined Crookshanks with a pirate hat climbing up the mast of the caravel, and the Exiled all having to chase him up.

"It would be very funny."

"Until one of you would be permanently assigned to keep an eye, or both, on Crookshanks," the green eyes shone with a mischievous smile. "Then I think we will call it something else."

"Too true," the young witch conceded. "I formally withdraw my proposal. On a totally related subject, do you intend to summon all of your loyal minions, I mean, dedicated substitutes for the last Task?"

Alexandra gave her a sardonic grin before sobering up.

"I admit I'm not sure."

In the distance, a tiger roared.

"It's true that the 'standard' of the Judges is that each Champion has the possibility of getting two substitutes for his 'crew' without getting any penalty. But if you want a third, you have to pay it with one point. And for the fourth, they remove two more points from your score."

Evidently, many Champions didn't have that option, courtesy of them being already limited to two substitutes with their losses in the previous Tasks.

"It isn't that, at all, Morag. Personally, I am more worried about it being a Task which will be fought on the deck of our caravel. If someone among the 'crew' discovers suddenly they can't for the life of them cast a spell to save their life, it isn't like having one more substitute will help."

Morag grimaced. Yeah, she had almost forgotten that issue.

"I suppose it's a very good thing we have navigation sessions planned, then." Her smile became a grin of incredible amusement. "And I suppose it is an incredible miracle that Champions of the same school can 'exchange' their substitutes for the last Task, no?"

To her satisfaction, Morag heard a loud groan of misery.

"For the record," the second groan was almost there, "Diggory asked first if he could get Cho Chang for his crew."

"And for the record," the Irish Ravenclaw retorted, "you didn't wait two seconds before accepting."

"Cho is specialised in flying on a broom, with some big qualifications in Potions, Herbology, and of course Alchemy."

The protest didn't fool Morag for a single second.

"It's honestly cute that you can rationalise strategically what you would have done anyway, whether it brought you a tactical advantage or not."

Alexandra sighed in fake despair, before conceding defeat.

"You're right. I would have done the 'exchange' anyway. But Susan really participating in the Seventh Task depends on her being able to be a strong source of battle and navigation support for the day, same as any of you. The rules clearly state that the 'crew' who begins the Task has to be the entire group which will cross the finishing line. Otherwise we get a zero."

"So training first, then the selection?"

Alexandra shrugged.

"The Judges clearly said we had until forty-eight hours before the Task began to announce to them our 'crew'. It would be stupid to not use that time judiciously."

"Nott doesn't share your opinion."

"Nott is a future catastrophe, and I am certain his performance during the Seventh Task is going to be a humiliation beyond even my imagination. Did you know he has picked the first spot available to sail on the Lagoon?"

"This, for once, doesn't appear malicious, Alex."

"No, it is just stupid. He should have checked perhaps the predictions of the Scuola Regina's weather wizards before..."

Morag began to chuckle...again.

"Do I want to know?"

"Let's just say, Morag, that while the desire for privacy has been noted, I urged Nigel to contact some local photographers, because I want to have something to remember that 'navigation session'..."

---

1 May 1995, the Venetian Lagoon, Magical Republic of Venice

Blaise Zabini thought he may have made a mistake.

Or a lot of them.

Yes, it was definitely a lot of mistakes.

When had it started?

In all likelihood, when he had agreed to participate in the Tournament preliminaries.

Was it a year ago? It felt far longer than that, honestly.

At the time, it had felt so simple.

He would go to the Scuola Regina, enjoy the food and the civilised atmosphere, and play the role of 'substitute' – which was honestly 'wait in the case the Champion and the substitutes ahead of you were forced to forfeit'.

At times, Blaise freely admitted he had been extremely worried he would become the Slytherin Champion, but in the end, Montague had surprised everyone, and lasted until the Sixth Task.

And yeah, Blaise had not cared.

Why should he? Theodore Nott was the next substitute in line to be named Champion, and there was a single Task left.

Blaise had thought he was saved.

Until he wasn't anymore.

"Alexandra Potter was absolutely right," the heir of the Black Widow grumbled. "The Judges are complete sadists."

Blaise grimaced.

"I SAID PORT! PORT SIDE!"

"YOU SAID STARBOARD, YOU SEA MORON! DO YOU KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOUR LEFT AND YOUR RIGHT?"

"I WON'T TOLERATE THIS! I AM THE CAPTAIN OF THIS SHIP! I AM THE SLYTHERIN CHAMPION!"

Blaise facepalmed.

In case you had any doubt, yeah, these were the screams of Theodore Nott and Lucian Bole.

Yes, they were fighting each other in the not-deep waters of the Venetian Lagoon, as the rain and the wind raged around them.

Meanwhile, Blaise was sitting on the hull of the caravel, which for reasons that shouldn't be explained, had capsized minutes ago.

"YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO USE THE RUDDER, YOU SORRY EXCUSE FOR A CHAMPION!"

"I KNOW WE HAD SAILS FOR A REASON!"

"YOU ORDERED US TO GO TOWARDS THE RED BEACON, BUT YOU MOVED US TOWARDS THE REEFS!"

Blaise supposed he could do the presentations again.

On the left, port side, if you felt you were a sailor, there was Theodore Nott. Thin, black-haired, pale-skinned and arrogant, the Nott Heir was a pureblood which had the big problem that his skills were a minuscule fraction of his ambition.

With Graham yet to come out of the hospital where the Dark Queen had sent him, Nott believed the time had come to recognise him as Lord and Master of House Slytherin.

Needless to say, plenty of people disagreed.

Beginning with the older near-adult that was on the starboard: Lucian Bole. Some people may be familiar with him: Bole had played Beater in the Slytherin Quidditch Team for a while.

Bole looked absolutely nothing like Nott, to be honest. He was big, muscular, and had this expression that looked like he was always an inch or two away from striking you.

To use one of Alexandra's quotes, Marcus Flint had not chosen them for their brains, when the Beater selections came around.

Today, Bole had reason to let his anger show, however.

What did he want to say again-

"I WILL LET YOU KNOW, I WAS SAILING BEFORE I WAS FIVE!"

"ON THE LAKE OF YOUR HOUSE'S MANOR, PROVIDING A SPECTACLE FOR THE DUCKS?"

Ouch, that one was...particularly vicious.

"DUCK BASTARD YOURSELF! I KNOW YOU NEEDED BROWN UNDERWEAR AFTER THE FIRST TASK AFTER A LOOK AT THE LEVIATHAN!"

"YOU ARE THE DISGRACE OF HOUSE SLYTHERIN!"

"HAVE YOU LOOKED IN A MIRROR RECENTLY?"

Words had been said that couldn't be taken back, and despite the magical life jackets hindering their moves, Bole and Nott tried to plunge each other's heads under the water.

"The Seventh Task is going to be a disaster for Slytherin, I just know it..."

Blaise was tempted to facepalm again, but the photographers were coming this way. For the first day of the 'sea training' offered for all the Champions, one had to admit, the small group of 'journalist-spectators' had gotten enough to justify their hours of waiting.

"Sorry, Alexandra. I won't need to sabotage Nott...between Bole and him, there is zero need for sabotage. If our caravel manages to reach the finish line, I will know the two of them are impostors using Polyjuice."

---

1 May 1995, Alexandria, Egypt

The ritual was hardly what anyone would call pleasant.

You felt incredibly cold, and it was as if a thousand bees were assaulting your ears at all times.

It was assuredly, a very Dark ritual.

Not for the power you wanted to obtain, but for the pre-requisites.

After all, it was only a ritual which allowed you to learn a language in mere hours.

Where the ICW and pretty much every organised government tended to frown was that for the magic to satisfy your wish, you had to have killed over seven thousand people speaking the aforementioned language in the last moon.

Alexandra wished she could say the pre-requisites would be a problem...but well. Her body count from the 'One-Day War' was so far above this that there had been no question the ritual would work for her.

"Did it work?" asked the black-hooded man who had served as the master of the ritual.

"I'm feeling very thirsty," Alexandra hissed in the same North Korean the Dark Wizard had used.

"I'm going to take that as a 'yes'," the other wizard nodded. "Please stay in the circle for a few more minutes. Meditation helps with dealing with the aftereffects. And remember-"

"No second ritual of this nature is to be done in the next six years," Alexandra recited faithfully. "Otherwise the risks include memory loss, schizophrenia, and plenty of nasty effects."

The last two parts were said in her own words.

"It is all of that. Be careful, Champion. Ah, and the Queen is on her way."

"I will wait for her here."

An additional nod came, and Alexandra was left alone in the cold room.

Despite what the Rook had said, no, meditation didn't help.

There were too many thoughts in her head; and no, it had nothing to do with the ritual.

It had to do-

Alexandra shook her head. Five minutes passed, and at last she left the circle, before going to pick up her robe and searching for the photos Nigel had delivered to her before she left the Scuola Regina.

Watching the magically-animated representations of Nott and Bole trying to blame each other for their atrocious sailing skills was truly something the Lady Protector regretted not being there in person to observe with her own eyes.

What a pity she couldn't have special devices pointed at the Slytherin ship during the Seventh Task! Alas, one had to make sacrifices. She would have to ask Luna to record everything properly so that they all could have a few hours of hilarity at her villa later.

"Alexandra."

She had been so absorbed by the images she'd not paid attention to her surroundings, it seemed. Oops.

"Lady Morgane," the Hydra Animagus saluted the legendary witch. "I was told you wanted to speak with me before I left."

"You intend to go to North Korea."

"Yes." She admitted. "I think I have...delayed long enough as it is. Order is completely collapsing. The country had little electricity, awful living conditions, and was already close enough to starvation before they decided to launch their suicidal offensive."

For it had been exactly that: a suicide. With the Inferi massacring the opposition, the North Korean army had had a chance to win. Not a good one, for the Exchequer would have intervened sooner or later. But they had one. However, the moment the Inferi threat was gone, the odds of victory had fallen so abysmally they might as well be null, for the sake of simplicity.

"I don't think the 'tricks' you hinted at in our previous conversation are going to be enough...at least that's my honest opinion."

"I happen to agree with you," the Queen replied serenely. "And I have spoken to several of the Knights how the situation might be solved in the long-term. It is not a situation we find ourselves facing often; most of the time in the past, the Light and Ra made such 'rescues' unfeasible and too dangerous to guarantee more than a spirited debate."

The green eyes of the Vampiri Romani stared at her with something akin to...regret.

"I was one of the last people who faced a situation having many common points with the one you are forced to face."

It wasn't difficult to know the 'situation' the Lady of Avalon referred to.

"Camlann."

"Camlann, yes."

"How did you solve the situation, just for the sake of my curiosity?"

"I let them die," the witch who was known in many countries as Morgana La Fay answered coldly and bluntly. "I could profess many lies and say I was still under the shock of my vampire transformation, but it would not be the truth. I had been told that most of the friends I cared about were dead, either by Excalibur's blade or the magic of the Light. I wanted revenge, and the sight of these crowds begging for food when they had all been too happy to acclaim the so-chivalrous Arthur when he mustered his army of assassins offended me. I wanted them to suffer for the evils they had cheered upon as long as the line of Uther Pendragon ruled and destroyed a millennium of magical lore."

Alexandra grimaced.

Well, she'd asked. And her curiosity had been satisfied. The worst part was undoubtedly the dark part of her heart telling her she might not react so differently, if Susan, Morag, Hermione, and all of her friends were brought before her, lifeless eyes and all.

"I..." Alexandra cleared her throat. "I, to be honest, don't wish to imitate the choice you made fifteen hundred years ago."

"In this, you are a far better person than I, Apprentice."

The green eyes met hers.

"And pragmatically speaking, the lands of North Korea are rather ideal to assess if some of our contingency plans might be useful."

"Useful in what way?"

"Useful to confirm that we can indeed rebuild a magical civilisation if the battle against the Great Enemy at Ragnarok ends up being a Pyrrhic one."

Sometimes, Alexandra mused in her head, she had a gift to ask questions that were the opposite of comforting.

"I see. Since I have gained a modicum of experience from the creation of the Tiger Reserve, I suppose the plans include politics, gold, magical resources, and hard-won expertise."

"You have indeed correctly learned the lesson," the Queen praised her before giving her a very severe expression. "I am not Osiris."

This was both a warning...and something else.

Thus Alexandra simply stayed silent.

"The Exchequer is willing to shoulder the costs of rebuilding the destroyed nation. While we have hardly a reason to feel guilty about Arianna Dumbledore, the reality is that with the benefit of hindsight, we should never have invited her to join our ranks. And there's no use pretending that she didn't play a big part in resuming open bloodshed on a giant scale."

That was the 'good news'. Unfortunately, the tone clearly hinted that while it was something positive, the final judgement was not the one some good people would love to hear.

"But plenty of these plans to rebuild a nation involve many powerful artefacts and secrets," Morgane Rys'Ygraine Avalon continued, confirming her first impression. "Several Knights will accept my reasoning, and yet dig their heels in all the same. They will need to be convinced."

"And the easiest way to convince them?"

"It is for a member of the Exchequer to rule over the country in question."

Yes. Alexandra could hardly be surprised by it, now that it was said.

Would anyone blame her if she admitted she had tried to find ways to not answer that call? Oh yeah, it had been fun to beat Romeo Malatesti for his 'cowardice'.

But in the last days, Alexandra had not exactly rushed back to the Demilitarised Zone, had she?

She had hesitated.

It was almost on the opposite side of the world, by the Morrigan's dark feathers!

"I just want to avoid millions of people dying for...for nothing."

There, she had said it.

"The feeling is admirable. But it has to be more than that." The vampiric sound was not one Alexandra managed to decipher. "The Exchequer can deliver rations for a few million during several months. But overall, without some massive changes, it is likely the effort would be like powering up a Ward Stone which is losing six-sevenths out of its magic due to poor understanding of Runes and Arithmancy."

"This means restoring some form of order, then winning the hearts and the minds." Alexandra bit her lower lip. "I don't think I can do it alone."

"You won't be. You will be surprised to know that even in the most horrible regimes, there are people who want to save the lands they've been born onto, no matter the evils they saw every day of their lives."

"I...see." She didn't, of course. Not really.

"But before they can help you, you also have to save them. There is a reason why the duties of the Champion of Death are often thought to be the most difficult to truly accomplish in our organisation."

---

1 May 1995, Kaesong, North Korea

Mun Cheol-su had been terrified when the bombs of the imperialists struck Kaesong.

Cheol-su was only a junior member of the party, despite his advanced age, and had long made his peace with it. Yes, he worked about twice as much as his superiors who were seated at the People's Assembly of the city, but that was how things were, and would remain.

Cheol-su had not missed the massive deployments before. Some had, but they were not the ones ordered to oversee the incredible logistics of feeding the many divisions that had been transported from the northern districts to the southern perimeter.

At the time, Cheol-su had thought it was a grand exercise, or one of those useless parades the Generals always ordered to flatter the Great Comrade. The junior administrator of the Party remembered thinking that this affair better end fast, otherwise the soldiers were going to eat half of the reserves of Kaesong before the good season.

And wasn't it a dangerous thought? His home city had more than one-fourth of its lands dedicated to agriculture, with its eighteen reservoirs providing the water required for the rice cultivation.

This had all changed when the bombs began to fall.

It had not lasted long.

At the time, yes, he had been relieved. The fields of Kaesong had been untouched; and yes, while the train station had been ruined beyond his ability or anyone's to repair, it was assuredly not that bad. Some of the sweaty hands which always confiscated the harvest would have real difficulties accomplishing it this year.

The relief had been short-lived, as tens of thousands of soldiers had begun to run northwards.

Same as every soul of these lands, Mun Cheol-su had dreamed of the green nightmare.

But he had thought it was something sent to test his loyalty to the Party.

It hadn't.

And no one had ever taught him how to stop a crowd of furious soldiers with words, either.

"RICE! WE WANT RICE!"

"WHERE IS THE FOOD?"

"Ancestors of the white mountains forgive me, I don't think the People's Secretary had a good idea!"

"No, you think, comrade?"

Mun Cheol-su had advised against this course of action.

He remembered all too well being a young boy in one of the 'special administrative gardens' watching when the soldiers arrived, and noticing how every smile disappeared.

It was one of the things you never mentioned out loud, and yet everyone thought about it.

Once you did your military service, you understood why the People's Army was that way. The beatings. The humiliations. The hunger.

Mun Cheol-su knew he had been particularly blessed by his ancestors. He was smart with numbers and logistics. His Songbun had not been high like some of the men who ruled Kaesong with an iron fist in the name of the Great Comrade, but it had been high enough to let him gain his current position and end three years of hunger and beatings in uniform.

This had told him to be prudent.

BANG!

"RICE! FOOD! WE LOST EVERYTHING TO THE IMPERIALIST'S STRIKES! WE NEED MORE FOOD!"

The sight of bloodied corpses was not unusual, Cheol-su knew, in certain special zones. But in Kaesong, it had been a rarity.

No more.

"They are out of control."

"If we call-"

"There's no one left. Pyongyang has made clear we're on our own since their last proclamation...what was this General Kang thinking, by the way?"

"That we had to admit defeat, comrade?" the man that was both his secretary and a member of the internal security supposed to check all his actions answered. "I don't see a single officer higher than Captain in this mob."

"TAKE THE PARLIAMENT, TAKE THEIR FOOD, AND BURN THE TRAITORS!"

"Now that's really going too far..."

"We should call..." it had been the well-rooted answer in his mouth to call an army detachment.

But here, it wasn't the solution.

"I think we need to evacuate the civilians of the western districts-"

Mun Cheol-su shivered.

It had been a warm afternoon season, and yet his body shivered.

Hadn't the sky been blue before?

Yes, it had been blue.

It was now black.

He heard the screams of alarm of the soldiers, who suddenly stopped stealing the Party's possession and food.

Then the lightning came.

It struck on the outskirts of the city.

It was no normal lightning.

It was an unnatural green, the kind that no grass or plant around the city ever took.

"It is...it is beginning again. What broke the People's Army...it is-"

He wanted to say 'here'.

"THROW DOWN YOUR WEAPONS," the words were hissed commandingly like the words of the Party's had never resonated, "OR DIE."

The sound of many weapons fired half the city away.

They were rapidly followed by screams.

Then there was silence.

On the square in front of him, Mun Cheol-su saw that the soldiers there were as surprised as he was. They didn't know what to do.

It didn't last.

More lightning roared from the skies, and this time, there was no hesitation anymore.

Rifles, grenades, pistols, bayonets, and many, many more weapons that had been agitated threateningly today unnaturally flew everywhere, before gathering into a large pile which grew as tall as a manure pile.

Lightning smashed many roofs, and soldiers fell to their deaths.

Then she appeared in the middle of the square.

Mun Cheol-su was struck by her young age. He had a granddaughter of the same age, and-

The eyes, the sheer presence of the eyes, even so far away, was the kind of thing you never, never forgot.

Mun Cheol-su didn't remember many things about the nightmare, but he remembered the eyes.

And in case there was some urge to believe all of it was some stupidity played by the higher spheres of the Party, there was the reaction of the soldiers.

Many immediately fell on their knees, begging for forgiveness.

Some fell into their habits and clapped their hands like the Great Comrade in person had returned from the dead.

Others were outright crying and prostrating themselves on the ground, Party's allegiance be damned.

"I have need of someone who can restore order in this city."

The eyes fell upon the location where some officials and himself had bunkered down, in order to stay away from the soldiers.

It took some time to unbar the doors.

Mun Cheol-su had his legs shake a lot, and he was sure his walk betrayed his nervousness. His hands and his face...were not able to hide what his lungs and heart felt.

It was not like presenting figures to the higher figures of the Party, even knowing they were bad.

It was-

It was like facing a tiger, and hoping it was not going to be hungry.

"You are one of the city's administrators?" the girl's words made sense, but were uttered in a manner no member of the Party would ever choose to use, and the accent wasn't of this land. Yet again, it was a certainty the green-eyed nightmare was not of Pyongyang, or any place Cheol-su had ever heard of.

"I am...Comrade."

"Good. There are rations and tents arriving in about five hours. I need someone to organise the distribution effort while I disarm the soldiers."

Having seen what had just happened, Cheol-su had a good idea of what the 'disarming' was going to involve.

Yet he felt himself nodding.

Organising. Distribution. It was logistics, and though it was for someone incredibly dangerous and that should by no right command his loyalty, it was at least familiar.

"I can do it...Comrade-General. But I must ask, with the trains gone, we have not enough cars. Where will the supplies come from?"

"The supplies are coming the same way I came from, don't worry about it," was the...terrifying and yet reassuring answer. "For the moment, this is not your problem. Prepare the distribution points. Clear the areas where tent camps can be placed. You are in charge, Comrade-Administrator. And if the soldiers know what is good for them...they will help you."

Cheol-su didn't know if he had to cry at the promotion or the difficulty of the task ahead, but one thing couldn't be denied: the men who had been minutes ago prepared to storm the Party's headquarters and burn it to the ground were now nearly suicidal at the idea of helping him accomplish his new orders...

---

2 May 1995, the Venetian Lagoon, Magical Republic of Venice

SPLASH!

"You see, Susan?" Alexandra tried really hard not to laugh. Yes, she really, really did. And she wanted a solicitor if someone thought he heard her giggling. "My idea to begin with a sloop was clearly the best idea of everything that was proposed."

"It is improper to gloat, Alexandra."

Suddenly, the young Champion realised her girlfriend had drawn her wand when she wasn't looking at her.

And their respective sloops were now separated enough for-

"You wouldn't dare."

"Depulso!"

Yes, with the benefit of hindsight, not having her wand by her side was...sub-optimal.

SPLASH!

This time, it was her, not Hermione, who went down 'verifying if the water was nice'.

And the answer was: no, it remained far too cold to her taste. Summer couldn't come fast enough.

Fortunately, being a Hydra nonetheless came with its advantages.

Alexandra had no need for life jackets, and honestly the beach where the sloops had begun was not that far away.

The Lady Protector was sure she looked like a drowned rat, despite her diving suit, when she came out of the Lagoon.

"That could have gone better," the Basilisk-Slayer sighed.

Obviously, the photo flashes had to light up at that very moment.

"Nigel, Luna, what have we said about photos?"

"Nothing," the former Gryffindor replied cheekily. "We said nothing about it today!"

Alexandra gave him a mocking glare. They assuredly hadn't spoken of it this afternoon, yes, but they had spoken of it before she left for Alexandria and North Korea.

"Sometimes I wonder if I am a bad influence on my friends, or my friends are just a bad influence on me," the Ravenclaw Champion declared dramatically. "The more time passes, the more the latter theory is gaining strength."

"That can't be so," Luna said with a big smile. "Your Crumple-Horned Snorkacks are just completely disorganised."

Alexandra merely rolled her eyes in answer, then walked to join Lyre and Scylla, who had accepted to be the 'Judges' of their sailing skills today.

"Well?"

"You should honestly change your substitutes," Lyre de Male-Foi inspected her nails, in a gesture which reminded her of Lucrezia.

"The thought honestly came to me when the Judges announced we would have to bring everyone for this 'mystery regatta', Lyre." Alexandra allowed herself a grimace. "But it's impossible. The substitutes we have are all the ones we get."

Scylla cleared her throat.

"I don't want to criticise you...but in my opinion, exchanging Susan for Cho was a mistake. I was there this morning, and believe me, Cho is rather good when it comes to sailing. It was her who taught Diggory everything, not the other way around."

"That's true when you are here with no other competitors," the Lady Protector replied immediately. "But-"

"No but," Lyre interrupted her, something which was rather rare. "Alexandra, in this Task, navigation and sailing skills are likely to be as important as your fighting skills. And at the risk of saying the obvious, so far, Morag is the only one who seems as much of a fast-learner as you are."

"Susan didn't-"

"No, Susan didn't go drinking the water of the Lagoon the hard way, but that's because you were helping her all the time. You won't have that opportunity during the Task."

Alexandra may have muttered a curse or two.

But there was more than a truth or two in what the Slytherin girl was saying.

"Continue."

"Roger Davies unfortunately is experiencing a massive amount of sea sickness," none of the girls chose to turn their heads when a very green Ravenclaw boy was recovering by a Healer. "I don't think this is a problem that can be solved by a Potion or two. Let's face it, the weather conditions are excellent today, and the Lagoon is really easy to sail compared to the conditions Nott got. If he gets sea sickness for that..."

"Formidable, really formidable," needless to say, it was anything but. "And Hermione-"

"Honestly, Alex, I think Hermione is the most promising 'substitute' after Morag. She just needs to trust herself more, and forget what she read in her books."

"Hmm..." The Hydra Animagus breathed out, bracing herself. "And Susan?"

"I don't think she's really good at it, and unlike you or Morag, she has used this kind of boat before with the personnel her Aunt kept her surrounded with." Lyre gave her an apologetic expression. "Sorry."

"We still have more than one month to train. Things are not desperate." Alexandra pointedly avoided looking in Roger Davies' direction. "Okay, I can do nothing for sea sickness, and you're right we never should take the risk, especially if the Judges put us in some kind of extremely violent current like in an adventure movie. But that leaves three 'substitutes'."

"Susan is often at London these days, Alexandra." Scylla chose this moment to remind her. "Since you put her Aunt into the Minister's seat, she is forced to assume more and more her duties as a Lady."

Damn it, why did everyone feel the need to use logic against her these days? It was completely unfair.

"I see."

"Do you, really?"

"I'm beginning to think...no I am not going to taunt Fate that way." She may have stuck out her tongue, however. "Do we have more time to test the caravel today, in your opinion?"

"No," Lyre de Male-Foi immediately crushed the idea. "The wind is gaining strength, and while the 'navigation handlers' have no difficulty getting Hermione out of the Lagoon, I think-"

SPLASH!

Yes, that was Susan losing control of her sloop.

"We think," Scylla told her neutrally, "that except Morag and yourself, no one will be really that eager to go out and risk a new visit into the Lagoon, oh Lady Protector."

"The perils of having disobedient subordinates, I suppose," the Champion of Death clicked her tongue. "Very well. But I certainly won't be here to test the caravels tomorrow. And I think all the rumours we heard are now very much true."

"Everyone has capsized his boat once or twice," Scylla shrugged the matter off. "Except Krum. Krum is..."

The new Lady of House Yaxley failed to find the appropriate words.

"Not as gifted as he is with a broom?" Alexandra had not been there to watch.

Lyre and Scylla exploded in laughter.

"Trust us, Alexandra," Lyre managed to calm herself, "if you think Nott was horrible when it came to sailing skills, you've seen nothing when it comes to Krum."

"Now that's a joke." The Champion of the Morrigan rolled her eyes. "I've memorised the photos from Nigel and Luna. Nobody is bad enough that they can make look Nott good."

Suddenly, the Hydra Animagus didn't like all the 'poker faces'.

"Anyway, you wanted us to tell you when it was four o'clock, and it is. You have some Lady Protector stuff to do with the Ministry?"

"It is not 'Lady Protector stuff' to do, no...but it requires a return to London for a few hours. Can I trust you to oversee the end of the regatta to make sure no one is trying to drown my poor substitutes?"

"We will make no promises!"

"Yes, that was what I was afraid of..."

---

2 May 1995, somewhere in Vauxhall, London

"I see the pranking business is booming," Alexandra noted as she closed the door. "Hey!"

She had to lower her head as a firework hit a good metre above her head.

"Is that an adequate welcome for your generous benefactor?"

"Oh, Alexandra! Sorry! These substances are a bit...ah...we're still playing with them, they're not commercial use!"

The voice of Fred was coming from one mountain of toys that seemed to have collapsed upon him.

"Give me a few seconds, I will...OUCH!"

Alexandra chuckled as several bubbles of a liquid that was certainly not soap erupted, before conjuring realistic illusions of pink-coloured frogs.

It was...rather impressive.

Then again, so were the rest of her surroundings.

The building outside was far smaller than the inside; one would never have figured that the place was the headquarters of the Twins now that Hogwarts was no longer available.

It was largely the size of Hogwarts' Great Hall, but it didn't feel like it, not with the sheer quantity of products arrayed in what felt like random and illogical patterns.

There were hats, gloves, and plenty of wizard and witches' objects, of course. Some of them had been imbued to be able to generate simple shields, while others were just 'prank-cursed'.

The rest...well, it would be far simpler to say what was not there. Between the absurd quantities of sweets, the enchanted perfumes, the cosmetic department, and plenty of spectacular toys, there was enough quantity to field several parties with a large margin.

And then there were the fireworks. Did she mention the fireworks?

Alexandra smiled.

"I see that while I was winning the Tasks of the Tournament, you were hardly idle. You must have multiplied your stocks by three, no?"

"Five times, in fact," George descended stairs that looked like they were made of solid smoke. "We had to, the owl-mail orders are on the rise. Then again, business is on the rise for everyone...even for Dark Ladies."

Alexandra grimaced.

"Sorry, Alexandra I just wanted to-"

"It's nothing you said," the Champion of Death shook her head. "It's just that yesterday, I spent most of day Apparating from one place to another that looked like they'd been ruled by a Dark Lord."

"Err...that's a bit...err...exaggerating, right? I mean, Muggles don't have the spells to make-"

"George, I killed plenty of guards and I had to open the gates of five camps which were literally hell on earth. Some of the prisoners inside looked more like skeletons than humans."

The Hydra Animagus didn't mention that one Knight of the Exchequer had had to intervene before she killed every guard. And yes, Alexandra had teleported back to Europe after that, it had been that bad.

"Okay, I withdraw everything I said," the red-haired Gryffindor spoke. Smart boy. "If you want-"

"Thank you, but at this moment, the best thing you can do is ensure that today, I don't think about this nightmare for as long as possible."

Praise the Morrigan, Fred chose this moment to dig his way out of the boxes that had trapped him.

"I saw you looking at the sugar-filled collection, oh great and generous patron!"

"Well, the acidic stuff that leaves holes on my tongue isn't exactly my cup of tea, but I see you have plenty of the strawberry gum..."

"One order for the benevolent Hydra! How much does her Ladyship want?"

"Place one Galleon's worth of it," Alexandra smiled while examining a red-coloured hat. "Nose transfiguration?"

"We're trying to build something that will be very useful for a game that...well, we called it the Liar's Game? And the more you say the truth, the longer your nose becomes!"

"That sounds like it does create possibilities. Yet I see you didn't formally open your shop."

"Well, unlike some, oh mighty and terrifying Lady, we didn't have a Tournament. We had something far more terrifying," the fake shudder was incredibly realistic, believe it. "School."

"But now after a brief reprieve," Fred continued instead of his twin. "It seems that our efforts to avoid destiny have come for naught; the OWLs are upon us. Professor Flitwick has made sure the standard exams will happen under his watch."

"We intend to leave school at the end of the year," George told her in a very no-nonsense tone. "We have lot of research to do."

"On which fronts?"

"Well," it was the turn of the Weasley Twins to grimace. "When we had this idea of selling funny pranks to people, we never imagined the end of the Statute. Some of our toys have ended in non-magical hands as a result...and the results are not always amusing when someone doesn't have a magical core."

Alexandra breathed out.

"Ah. I'd wondered why the last law Minister Bones demanded to come to a vote suspiciously looked like something that would apply to you, dear Twin Terrors."

"We live to complicate the life of the Ministry, your Ladyship!"

"That, I have no doubt," Alexandra grinned. "Thus the owl mail?"

"We have made lot of speeches and indicated which items must absolutely not be used on non-wizards," George confirmed. "There are plenty of items like the Shield Hats that work perfectly fine no matter who is using them...your cousin wanted one for every person in his band."

"But many people in the Wizengamot were aghast at the idea that non-magical men and women would wear enchanted items before they were given the privilege." Alexandra finished with a roll of the eyes.

"Thankfully, it didn't pass into law," Fred commented with a smile.

Alexandra snorted.

"If some people are unable to look at a hat and notice that it is a Weasley's hat, I think having one of their hexes hurled back at them will do them plenty of good."

Seriously, Hermione had listed to her a 'twenty-points method' to tell which was a normal wizard's hat, and which wasn't. It wasn't complicated at all!

"Completely agree with our benefactor here..."

"Forge, we are supposed to agree with everything she said!"

"Oh, my deep mistake, Gred, my deepest mistake..."

The Champion of the Morrigan chuckled.

"So the opening of the shop is not for tomorrow, I understand."

"Actually, it may be for next year," Fred told her. "We're not...exactly sure."

"This is kind of a problem," Alexandra walked along a new line of items that looked like flying brooms, except the main purpose here appeared to be that they were delicious-smelling. "Diagon Alley-"

She stopped at their expressions.

"You did decide on opening something in one of the magical alleys of the Isles, didn't you?"

"Yes," the first Twin reassured her. "But we're lacking assistants. And we need a familiar environment. That's why we thought about opening in a more...friendly environment."

"Let's not dance around the subject, my ugly twin," the other beamed. "We thought about opening the shop close to the Scuola Regina."

Alexandra raised an eyebrow. She was surprised...but the proposal made a lot of sense, now that it was mentioned.

Plenty of students there loved Fred and George's products.

"I did not see it coming, but I suppose it is an idea which has plenty of good points," the Lady Protector replied honestly.

"Even with you being Mistress of the Isles and everything?"

"I have spent several months at the Scuola Regina, Fred, and I did not fall ill from leaving Hogwarts," the Ravenclaw Champion joked. "Though I suppose there are other reasons?"

"We want skilled assistants," George admitted. "We have a few Gryffindors who helped this year...but honestly, with just two, there aren't enough hours per day to do everything we want."

"And?" Alexandra inclined her head.

"And we may want to be a bit away from our mother. Every time we're at home...to be honest, she's incredibly unhappy you are our benefactor."

Yes, that was a problem. A significant percentage of the Weasley family wasn't in the 'Dumbledore loyalist' category, but the ones which were left...ugly facts hadn't opened their eyes.

"But we will solve all our family problems in due time, oh noble Lady Protector! We have faith in our genius!"

"And in our pranks!"

"Enjoy the show! Err...by the way, we haven't even asked what led you to our door today!"

"I came," Alexandra tried an inoffensive expression, which didn't seem to fool the Gryffindors. "Because I am a witch who thinks a specific group of people deserves a good pranking session."

"You've knocked at the right door, my Lady!" George assured her within a second. "Who are the ruffians who make your life unbearable?"

"The Judges," Alexandra admitted honestly. "These twelve Judges, or as I prefer to call them, the twelve sadists. They have decided, you know, to give us all these caravels which are rolling like their only purpose is to propel us into the water."

The Hydra Animagus made sure her green eyes flashed.

"For this sin, and many others, I believe they have stepped well beyond the red lines where they should expect no retribution. Obviously, since I am to participate in the Seventh Task myself, I will be unable to intervene decisively."

Fred and George grinned together.

"Besides, a Champion taking revenge might be a bit against the rules, no?"

"Oh, just slightly," Alexandra answered, "just a bit. But I told myself, what if someone, or a duo of students, who are neither Champions nor substitutes, happened to begin a pranking lesson they will all remember?"

The Hydra bared her fangs.

Vulpine smiles were there, approving.

"Did we tell you, oh Honoured Lady, that you will find no greater knights determined to slay sadism than us?"

---

3 May 1995, Phanmun Pavilion, Joint Security Area, Demilitarised Zone, Korean Peninsula

Life had not exactly conformed to the ideals of the Party, but General Kang Sung-chul had still been very surprised that the main buildings of the Joint Security Area had survived the fighting intact.

Yes, the soldiers of both sides had had the days to evacuate – the years had been filled with tensions and as such the buildings had been empty for months.

But he had assumed some of his former Comrade-Generals would have directed their guns against it.

They hadn't.

And once he asked, it appeared the enemy had done the same.

This could have changed if the war had lasted one more day, but it hadn't.

As a result, the Joint Security Area looked close to intact, a very strange sight as the landscape around it had clearly suffered from artillery damage and more.

The General of the People's Army felt some kind of...familiarity with the concept. He was still breathing too, while the ranks of the Generals had been slaughtered.

He was alive, when the upper ranks of the Party weren't.

And thus to no one's great surprise but his own, Kang Sung-chul had found himself commanding the surviving forces of the Joseon People's Armed Forces.

A year ago, it would have taken several years of political infighting and the total support of the Supreme Leader to achieve it.

Today? Today all the superior officers had quickly abandoned the 'honour'. It had been their idea to surrender to the girl who had been acknowledged as the Incarnation of Death...and they had immediately nominated Kang Sung-chul for the 'honour' of being her direct subordinate.

To say they had decided to test the depth of the mud about to swallow them all was about as truthful as you could get in that sort of military plans.

"You should look less tense, Comrade-General."

Kang Sung-chul hid his exasperation behind a mask of pure loyalty.

Unlike him, Park Hyun-woo had volunteered to be here.

Then again, the diplomat knew that if heads rolled it was unlikely to be his. The short bespectacled man had been little-known outside of the ranks of the negotiators bargaining with China, and if he succeeded, his prestige and influence would significantly rise.

"I find myself...wondering how much Joseon has already changed from the war."

This was assuredly something he could not have told the deceased Supreme Leader.

It was also something he believed.

Behind the smile, though, the mask of loyalty to the Party had dangerously cracked.

"How fares the Army?"

"We're beginning to reform it into something that any Supreme Leader would be proud of." Kang Sung-chul hesitated. "Thanks to the...actions our new Comrade-Marshal took at Kaesong and the other cities close to the frontline, order was restored and the People's Army remembered its discipline. And with the Comrade-Marshal's presence at Nampo and Wonsan, the efforts could be directed at searching through the destroyed buildings for survivors."

If the Incarnation of Death hadn't, it was entirely possible that within one month or two, there would have been no Army left. Without the guns to enforce terror and fear, without their officers, without the different internal services to oversee the punishments, everything had collapsed.

"We can show some strength in front of the imperialists. But it is like one of those buildings the Party built only the facade of." It would have been an unthinkable critic before; it was now uttered with reluctance. "The Army is leaderless, and save a few aircraft hiding in some secret airbases, we don't have an Air Force anymore. The same is true of the Navy. We can only thank the Comrade-Marshal we have the ration deliveries and all these tents, in addition to the fuel to keep everyone warm."

The eyes of Park Hyun-woo and Kang Sung-chul shifted to the tall woman in red robes who was paying them no attention at the moment.

She looked Chinese...but Kang Sung-chul knew appearances could be mistaken for something else.

This woman had directed the efforts when it came to rations and emergency operations in several cities, and it had been her direct intervention at one of the camps which had stopped the Incarnation of Death.

This woman was what the imperialists called a witch, and she was extremely dangerous, of this there was no doubt.

"The imperialists brought many, many people for this moment," the General commented, shifting away from a subject that was in plenty of ways too painful to speak of.

It had the merit of being a safe remark. From the Phanmun Pavilion, you could see the crowds mustering. And the soldiers were definitely outnumbered by the civilians.

"This is-"

The entire land felt as if it suddenly trembled, or more simply, the Phanmun Pavilion shook.

About half of his soldiers knelt within a heartbeat.

All the others saluted like their life depended upon it.

Kang Sung-chul was one of them.

"Well, this is a surprise," the Incarnation of Death said, turning towards the red-robed Chinese woman. His subordinates had not lied; this was indeed an understandable form of Joseon noble language...though atrociously butchered. "Knight Summoner."

"The Queen wanted a Knight to keep one eye on her Apprentice."

"You realise they don't have the firepower here to stop me, right?"

"It is not your survival the Queen was worried about."

Kang Sung-chul was not the most brilliant General of the People's Army, but he wasn't that slow.

Some parties, clearly represented by this witch, had been worried the Incarnation of Death would continue to cull the hierarchy of Joseon and more.

"I will behave," the voice was rather cold...and the fangs that were shown not reassuring. "As long as they played no part in the crimes committed in the concentration camps."

"I did not," Kang Sung-chul swore with every shred of his dignity. "It is... we tried our best to protect our soldiers from them. At least I believe I did."

The green eyes stared at him, and it was like everything Kang Sung-chul was and ever would be was laid bare before the Incarnation of Death.

"I will hold you to your word, General."

The tension decreased, and with it, the General realised how young the young woman who had defeated them truly was.

If Kang Sung-chul had had a granddaughter – he didn't, his wife had died long ago, and so did his only son – the Incarnation of Death would be the right age.

The long black robe, with long sleeves and a high collar, made her look older by one or two years, but it wasn't enough to hide her youth.

The same could be thought about the other red-haired witch who had accompanied her here; though this one didn't seem to create the same terrifying presence.

The green eyes rapidly refocused on Park Hyun-woo.

"You volunteered to lead the negotiation in my name."

The diplomat made a simple apologetic bow.

"I was unable to secure a favourable site, Comrade-Marshal. The negotiations will take place at the House of Peace."

Kang Sung-chul, same as plenty of soldiers – most of the ones who had fallen to their knees and had been ordered to rise with an impatient gesture – had thought the bad news would be poorly received.

The reaction...was not the one he expected.

"Comrade-Marshal?"

"As we couldn't summon the People's Assembly on such short notice and with so many members missing," Park Hyun-woo declared with all the skill a senior diplomat could bring to the table, "it has been decided unanimously to give you the title of 'Comrade Marshal Incarnating the Will of Death'. It places you in command of the Party and the People's Army."

"I see."

Kang Sung-chul couldn't exactly tell if the Incarnation of Death was displeased or not. The witch behind her, on the other hand, coughed violently, as if trying to stop her laughter.

"Err...if your consort behind you desires-"

This time the red-haired foreigner exploded into genuine laughter. It was a very...surprising, if joyous sound.

"Lady Morag MacDougal is not my consort, diplomat. She is my friend and advisor for today." The green eyes suddenly didn't look so old or so threatening anymore.

There was some unintelligible grumble, and the new Marshal shook her head.

"But these introductions will have to wait. I was informed you wanted to speak with me before the negotiations properly began, Chief Diplomat."

"I did." Kang Sung-chul was going to give it to him, Park Hyun-woo had nerves of steel; plenty of his men had tried to decline the 'honour' of being in the same room. "I have here documents summing-up what our agents in the other Republic discovered-"

To his temporary fear, the green-eyed army-killer didn't take up the papers.

"I used a difficult magical ritual to give me understanding of your language, Chief Diplomat. But it only gives an oral understanding of the different dialects of Joseon, in addition to some...cultural knowledge. It isn't good at all when it comes to your written information."

"Ah," relief was evident for...everyone. Park Hyun-woo, naturally, recovered first. "I had made a faulty assumption, then, Comrade-Marshal. But there is one hour before we are supposed to leave the Phanmun Pavilion."

"Am I going to be happy with the information you have learned about?"

"No," the short bespectacled official said bravely. "You won't."

Kang Sung-chul expected the storm to be-

The Incarnation of Death opened her mouth, and the fangs had disappeared, replaced by far more normal human teeth.

"You at least mark points for your honesty. General, please give the soldiers some time out of the room, I don't think this is information they have the need to know. The Chief Diplomat requested one hour of my time, and he will have it."

"At once, Comrade-Marshal!"

---

3 May 1995, Joint Security Area, Demilitarised Zone, Korean Peninsula

"He thought I was your consort!"

"I was there when you heard it too, Morag."

"Yes, but I think this is bloody funny."

Alexandra wondered why all her friends had suddenly discovered a sheer need to embarrass her.

Were they trying to see if she was going to slam her head against the nearest wall if a certain threshold of embarrassment was reached?

"Susan is going to be amused to learn that."

"Oh, I'm sure she will." The Hufflepuff sense of humour was going to have a field day with this one. "I'm sure that once we return, it will be common knowledge within a few hours or so."

"You're likely optimistic."

"Yes, I am."

They left the 'Phanmun Pavilion' at a snail-pace, and Alexandra was very glad to have insisted when Lady Zabini prepared her garb that she preferred her black boots over black heels. The distance to walk wasn't that long...but there were steps. In addition to this, the ground had not been kept in mind for a festival or something like that.

"It feels strange...the place is surprisingly...normal, but the devastation is incredibly close."

"I feel the same thing." To their right, there had been several bridges which were nothing but ruin. On their left, this part of the Demilitarised Zone looked like it had burned, and burned hard. "I suddenly understand the proverbs about the eye of the hurricane, and all of that."

"Your work?"

"I wish, but no, it seems like it was the result of the artillery forces throwing everything they had at each other."

Alexandra had regretted that killing so many people was necessary to stop Arianna Dumbledore's plan from coming to fruition, but the more devastation was displayed in front of her eyes, the more the decision to bring the war to an end by any means possible felt right.

One day of war had caused an amount of carnage that was properly nightmarish. What would have happened if the war lasted several weeks, maybe one month, and an Inferi horde was participating to make everything more murderous?

"So! How bad was the 'bad news' the diplomat wanted to give?"

"You don't feel like learning the language to have an answer?" Alexandra smirked back as rank after rank of North Korean soldiers formed a giant honour guard on both sides to precede her until the Military Demarcation Line.

"Maybe I will," Morag said seriously. "But I have the feeling that even with the Language Potion, it's going to take me months to learn it. And I have you to play translator. So! Spill your secrets, oh, Grand Marshal."

The Champion of Death rolled her eyes, and promised herself to delay as long as possible the revelation that it wasn't 'Grand Marshal' but 'Comrade-Marshal' for the proper address.

The irony was breath-taking, given how many times Vernon Dursley had ranted about the evil of communism for as long as she could remember.

"I hear and I obey, Lady MacDougal," Alexandra snarked in a low tone. "The bad news...it is as bad as what was hinted at by people like the Prime Minister of Great Britain. I have a feeling we are going to make history, you and I, and not just because we are underage witches representing a country that neither of us were born into."

"That bad, huh?" her friend commented drily. "Let's see the positive side."

"Oh?"

"You didn't bring Nigel and Luna for this one, but I believe the other side brought one thousand journalists to compensate for it. By the way, if you officially become their leader, what will we rename the newspaper? The Pyongyang Duck?"

Alexandra couldn't help it, she laughed loudly.

"I think we are going to stop this conversation here, Morag. Otherwise we're going to ruin all the solemnity of the moment..."

"Bah, they're way too serious..."

The Champion of the Morrigan whispered a humble prayer to give herself strength, and she continued to advance.

This time, she was alone on the 'avenue' of the Joint Security Avenue...in a manner of speaking.

The blue buildings on each side were assuredly not empty.

The man who waited for her one foot away from the Demarcation Line was not the President of South Korea. By the previous negotiations that had been done by the diplomats, it was one junior Minister, or some position like that.

And yes, her magical abilities had apparently become world-famous, and some people were very afraid...or concerned. Alexandra honestly wondered why. To the best of her knowledge, all the people she killed were slain on the battlefield, not when there were diplomatic meetings around.

"Marshal Potter," the South Korean man must have made a big career in the military or something which allowed him to do some wrestling, because his arms were twice as big as hers. But at least they could converse in proper English. "It is my greatest honour to-"

A tiger's roar interrupted him.

Morag, oh Morag. Why the hell did you bet on a 'tiger intervention' this morning?

"My apologies, Minister, it seems being here for an hour has...attracted some attention." She turned towards the North Korean soldiers. "Don't use your arms. Don't intervene. I have the situation under control."

The Korean Tiger didn't take long to arrive.

Ironically enough, her command had been perfectly useless, because the big feline arrived from the south, making sure all the journalists and soldiers dispersed in a hurry.

As for the tiger...first, it was a tigress. And second, she was in quite a lamentable state.

The poor animal was clearly starving, and at least one of her paws had been injured by something that in all likelihood was shrapnel or something created by the war.

Sighing in exhaustion, it simply half-collapsed when its paws were upon the Demarcation Line.

"Is it...is it tame?"

"No," Alexandra replied. "But she is starving and exhausted. Accio!"

One of the large military hats of North Korea arrived in her hands, and it took only a minor effort to change it into a large bowl.

"Aguamenti!" Alexandra was sure the tigress' eyes shone with joy the moment the water bowl began to fill from the jet of water. The tongue began to lap the water not three seconds later. "I am going to have to bring her to the Tiger Reserve later today. She's not in good health."

"I see...hem...I see the rumours of tigers flocking to you weren't that exaggerated, Marshal Potter." The South Korean diplomat really had a gift for understatement. "Will you need a recess to-"

"No, that won't be necessary. My friend Morag will take care of the tiger's needs."

It was her fault, after all. Morag had taunted Fate by making that bet, there was no other explanation possible.

"We will just have to avoid this location, since clearly this tigress has decided to stake her claim for the Demarcation Line."

---

3 May 1995, House of Peace, Joint Security Area, Demilitarised Zone, Korean Peninsula

The arrival of the tigress had brought some moment of happiness, and within twenty seconds, the journalists had wanted some photos of her in the position 'petting the feline'.

It had created a few minutes of delay, but it had enormously decreased the tensions.

And when Alexandra had crossed the Demarcation Line, the tigress had been far more focused on salivating before the steak that was presented to her. Seriously, by the way, how the hell had they found a steak in mere minutes? Did the United States or the South Koreans have a fast-food service delivering steaks no matter the hour?

Needless to say, the ambiance inside the 'House of Peace', was, at the risk of being sarcastic, not very peaceful.

There were some people smiling, but the smiles hadn't reached their eyes. And most of the people who didn't smile...yeah...they looked very much like Longbottom when he was still trying to realise the Judges had suspended him for the rest of the Tournament.

Seriously, if you were unaware of it, you wouldn't believe North Korea had lost this war. Diplomat Park Hyun-woo looked positively stone-faced, but it had to be his 'diplomatic face'. Several people on the other side were outright glaring at her, like she had murdered a sibling or something.

Alexandra had the urge to open her mouth and politely query what sort of 'victory' they would have been on the receiving end of if the war had been fought with one side having an Inferi horde at its disposal.

Sincerely, there had been far more happiness after she went to Seoul the first time, right at the end of the hostilities.

As for the surroundings...the conference room on the second floor of the House of Peace was really huge.

This was for the better, because while North Korea had brought a small delegation, the South had not, and it was accompanied by about ten officers of the United States.

Yes, there was Morag on her right, and then General Kang Sung-chul with two of his officers. On her left, Park Hyun-woo sat, with two other diplomats. Then there were five translators. That was all. By comparison, there were over thirty Southern Koreans.

From what Hyun-woo whispered to her, it was extremely unusual for diplomatic meetings like this one, but then everything in this diplomatic meeting was unusual.

And yes, five of the South Koreans were wizards, and all looked at her like she was a moment away from drawing her wand and cursing them.

Plenty carried some sort of talismans too around their throats.

Morag made a sign with her hands as a silent question.

The Champion of Death shook her head. No, these heirlooms wouldn't stand up against a serious Curse, never mind a truly powerful Lightning Battle-Spell.

It was more...ah, it was to protect themselves from Mind Magic. Okay...why in the hell did they think they needed it? Alexandra had never manifested anything like Legilimency abilities, were they that jumpy? That was a level of paranoia that seemed really, really ridiculous...

Once everyone was properly seated, the conference truly began. You couldn't miss the fact that neither Alexandra nor anyone on the 'North side' had brought papers or anything to refresh their memories – and yes, it was deliberate. On the other side, on the other hand, the South Koreans looked like they had several sheets, though in many cases, the paper was perfectly white.

The American officers, however, looked like they had the desire to compile bloody novels, given how huge the piles were.

It began with long and tedious presentations.

Yes, the other side was responsible for it. Alexandra's introduction was the longest; all the North Koreans said was their names and their affectation, which were limited to 'Diplomat', 'Envoy', 'General', or 'Colonel'.

Alexandra honestly forgot most of the names that were said the moment they were given. She was more interested by the positions the South Koreans had. Most of them, honestly, were not the kind of 'senior diplomats' one expected. Yes, the North Koreans had the same problem, but in their case, it was because plenty of them were already in their graves. Pyongyang had been rather spared at first by the war, but nothing had stopped bloody internal reprisals when it became clear the war was lost and the Supreme Leader was dead.

Anyway.

It was clear even to someone like her who had no experience in these meetings that there were two factions here. It felt like they were of two different political parties; the 'information report' she had been briefed upon had certainly hinted at something close to that.

The officers from the United States weren't junior at all. They did not have as many medals as General Kang Sung-chul upon their uniforms, nor were they as big, but Alexandra was pretty sure that 'Seventh Air Force CO' was a pretty big deal. The man was called Lieutenant-General Matt Smith, apparently.

And yeah, needless to say, by his glare alone, he wasn't Alexandra's greatest admirer. Once there was a moment to get some fresh air, the Champion of Death promised herself to ask Hyun-woo why the hell the man looked at her like she had murdered one of his sons. Yes, it was that hostile.

Part of her wanted to be amused. Fleur Delacour's young sister glared far more threateningly, and at least the girl had personal reasons to be angry with her, like watching her beloved sister get nearly killed during the First Task.

They spent almost a good hour doing...boring things.

Like agreeing who was going to speak first, then second.

There was a fierce debate from a South Korean about some tedious precedent in...1953? Ah, they were speaking about the previous war, then. Or at least the active phase of several decades ago, since it was still technically the same conflict, just under a different name.

It took a disturbing amount of time to agree that yes, the South Koreans as the hosts were going to speak first. Then the North Koreans. The representatives of the United States' military would have their slot next-

Yes, it was boring.

Yes, Alexandra was sure she missed half of the historical references that the diplomats knew by heart. To make things worse, the South Koreans had spoken in...well, Korean, but it took only seconds to realise that the dialect spoken by the North Koreans had evolved so much it was an altogether different tongue – assuming they had been one and the same in the first place.

Had she mentioned it was boring?

There was some good news. The representative from Seoul voiced his pleasure to see peace return, and affirmed the 'unbearable separation' had to end as soon as possible.

Park Hyun-woo, after receiving a nod of agreement from her, vigorously pursued that path, emphasizing how disastrous of a mistake this conflict had been, to turn brothers against brothers, and so on.

For a few seconds, Alexandra really wished her previous beliefs had not been naive; that there was a chance for everything to work out.

This thought crashed hard the moment Lieutenant-General Matt Smith opened his mouth.

"North Korea made a clear unprovoked and murderous attack upon South Korea!" The words were so opposed to the 'diplomatic-boring atmosphere' that Alexandra swore several diplomats of Seoul almost jumped on their chairs. "It is evident that the upper leadership and the senior Generals of the North had planned this attack for weeks, allying themselves with terrorist actors!"

Hyun-woo gave her a surprised glance. She returned it. This was...well, glad to see she didn't see the point of this.

"Yes?" She cleared her throat. "I mean, it is kind of the reason I killed them. Well, that, and they were refusing to stop the bloodshed. Plus I frankly took a personal disliking to him. They didn't respect Death, and the troops tried to kill me several times while I tried to convince them to throw down their weapons."

Several Koreans, on both sides of the table, chuckled.

Plenty of Americans were visibly angrier than they'd been minutes ago. Some were redder than tomatoes.

"The entire leadership of North Korea must be judged for its war crimes by an Allied tribunal!"

Alexandra honestly wondered how the hell the US Air Force General had found his way to this diplomatic meeting. She was here because she killed her opposition until they were so terrified and out of options that she was offered the keys to the palace.

"I am the Champion of Death, General. I swore my vows to the Morrigan, and the Goddess is not going to allow me to let their souls come back from the other side of the Veil. Death is final."

The greying-haired man sniffed at her in derision.

"You can't possibly expect us to believe you have slaughtered every personnel of a rank of General and higher of the North Korean military!"

Alexandra was kind of...tired of this posturing. Come on, didn't they kind of notice the rout of the entire North Korean Army, or the sudden screams in every command centre?

"For the Generals, counting General Kang Sung-chul who is present here, I believe they are four other Generals who are still breathing. I admit I didn't spend my time hunting the ones who have left active service."

Plenty of South Koreans seemed very satisfied by her words. The Americans, however, weren't.

"You expect us to-"

"I killed about ten percent of the army, targeting deliberately the order-givers who wanted to make this war a bloodbath, yes, General. I also spent several hours for several days hunting everyone who was more or less responsible for several abominable deeds that I found unforgivable."

The concentration camps were a stain upon anyone's soul. One had almost hoped the 'never again' after the images of the Second World War would have taught everyone a lesson, but watching the awful scenes of misery and cruelty in North Korea, it was obvious Mankind had learned literally nothing.

"Evidently," the Hydra Animagus continued, "someone could conclude that yes, the officers under the Generals, the different secret polices, the administration services, the People's Party, and nearly everyone was involved in this war to some degree. But I think that unless you want to sentence in front of a tribunal some twenty million men, women, and children, it is best to stop here. The main culprits are dead, and their souls will have the time to regret everything in the realm of Death. They are gone, and good riddance. It is the living who must be saved now. Too many people of Joseon have suffered. Many are in a worse state than the poor tigress of the Demarcation Line. And speaking my humble opinion, I think that war has gone on for way too long. Let us have peace, and rebuild. The Demilitarised Zone should be a Great Animal Reserve, one where the animals should be able to live their lives without being blown up by unexploded ammunition. The families on both sides of the frontier should have nice houses and not be forced to live on the equivalent of military rations. I realise the irony that it's effectively the aggressor nation asking for help because its people are starving, but it is the unpleasant truth."

"Humanitarian help, we can send," one of the junior representatives of South Korea said, and out of turn, given the glares that were sent his way. "We can add to your own efforts, which we understand have already begun. The damage to the railway network-"

"The People's Republic of North Korea must surrender first!" You had two attempts to guess who had near-shouted this, and the first didn't count. "It is the agreement of the Alliance that North Korea must accept the terms of an unconditional surrender!"

Okay, was he serious?

"Fine," Alexandra shrugged. "As long as a single condition is respected: the Democratic Republic has been defeated by its neighbour, and as such will be reunited with its separated sister-Republic."

It was a depressing thought that there were so many grimaces or displeased expressions that Alexandra couldn't count them all.

"You seem to have a little problem with the definition of unconditional surrender, girl!"

One might have hopes that bringing artificial meteors upon an Inferi horde would have been enough to get some respect, but life was filled with disappointments, it seemed.

"I know what the definition of unconditional surrender is, General. I also know I am not going to let you take what you want at the negotiating table, and then spit out the bones of North Korea you don't like. If you want to disband all the regiments north of the Demilitarised Zone and melt the thousands of abandoned guns, you have to participate in the rebuilding. I am not going to let you parade for two days in the streets of Pyongyang only to turn your back when ten million men, women, and children will starve!"

"You are in no position to make demands!"

Alexandra wished she could say the exchanges grew more polite in the next hours.

But it would be a massive lie.

---

4 May 1995, Phanmun Pavilion, Joint Security Area, Demilitarised Zone, Korean Peninsula

"It was not funny, Morag."

"I disagree completely," her friend of course had to give a cheeky grin with the retort. "You diplomatically insulting an Admiral of the United States Navy is never going to get old."

"You're incorrigible." Alexandra shook her head as the sun set over the Phanmun Pavilion. Thankfully, the Exchequer had brought a lot of furniture and added several modifications to make sure it could be used as a base while the negotiations took a pause.

"And you, you're really passionate when you feel strongly about something."

The Champion of Death groaned loudly.

"If only they weren't so...so..."

"Jealous," her friend proposed.

"Jealous?" the young Lady Protector repeated with a large dose of incredulity. "Why in the name of the White Tower would they be jealous?"

Morag gave her an amused look.

"I'm pretty sure several of them considered it the goal of their life to crush the North Korean Army. They couldn't know for sure it would come in their lifetime, but they prepared for it. They knew it was going to get hard. And then the moment it truly begins, you arrive and snatch victory in a single day. I could be wrong, but I think it's indeed jealousy they feel right this moment."

The Champion of Ravenclaw took another bite of the Scuola Regina-made pizza while thinking over it.

"I admit I never thought about it like that."

"Of course not, you're a nice person."

Alexandra raised an eyebrow.

"Did you hear that bastard of an 'Air Force General' threaten to resume the plane-launched bombardments? It felt like he was enjoying the idea of razing cities one by one, despite them being crowded with homeless refugees."

"Yeah, I did." The Basilisk-Slayer grimaced. "And, at the time, it didn't sound like a bluff."

"It likely wasn't one. Let's face it, as long as you're on the Korean peninsula, the only thing that is largely out of reach of your magic are the non-magical planes fighting kilometres above the ground."

"And missiles fired from beyond the Korean Peninsula," Alexandra added with a sigh. "Still, your point is correct."

"Well, it's not all bad," Morag grinned as she finished her pizza. "I think the South Koreans respect you. Your insistence the people shouldn't starve made it clear you cared about the civilians of both sides."

"Yes." And Alexandra didn't rejoice at that. Because seriously? When you said 'I don't want the civilians to starve' and it made you instantly immensely better than your predecessor, there was something frankly rotten and evil about the aforementioned previous regime.

"It's not all bad news, but I expected...I expected something more."

Two days of not-so-boring negotiations had made it clear that no, annexation wasn't on the table, and likely wouldn't be this year.

"I will admit, their stubbornness is something worth a story by itself. It's almost as impressive as yours, Alex."

"Ha. Ha. Ha." Alexandra rolled her eyes. "Jealousy or not, at least some American officers don't like me. Fine, I've never pretended to want universal love, though it's the first time I've faced hostility from people I've helped. Seriously, if I didn't know any better, I would almost believe I had killed one hundred thousand soldiers from the United States, and brought South Korea to its knees."

"The North Koreans have tied their fate to yours. And unlike the previous bastards, you don't kill anyone when they arrive with something that displease you."

"Something that proves how much of a monstrous situation existed before I decimated their army." But then, the decision of resuming open hostilities, it appeared, was not just Arianna Dumbledore's fault. It seemed millions of people had begun to starve before the first shot was fired, and a 'quick, victorious war' was the solution that had been chosen by Pyongyang to solve its problems.

"The problem is that in many ways, now that we have the figures" Alexandra swallowed one more part of her pizza. "It's clear that some of the proposals the Queen made to me aren't going to work."

"How so? I had the feeling it had been tested before."

"Oh, there's nothing wrong with the magic itself." Alexandra reassured her friend. "In basic terms, it's a hyper-fertility ritual. I, as the Champion of Death, offer all the dead to the Earth, and in the next months, you get a super-large harvest. But with so many dead being in the Demilitarised Zone or close to it, well, there would be huge problems harvesting the crops. And of course, in the end, it solves nothing. The Queen wasn't aware of the specific problem that North Korea pushed several other nations to give away food for basically free in the last decades. The starvation isn't an anomaly for this year, it's a perfectly 'normal' situation now that its neighbours aren't willing to give away the food for free."

"Stupid," Morag commented. "I suppose they are to be complimented; they are so stupid they have even surprised the Exchequer."

"Yeah."

"Let's see the positive side of things; the soldiers appear to love the pizzas you ordered. So in addition to being the Champion of Death, you're going to be the Goddess of Pizzas."

Alexandra raised her eyes to the skies.

"Morag, I'm sure North Koreans have eaten pizzas before."

"Some may have, but certainly not the ones you gave the pizzas to. You can't fake that level of gastronomic pleasure, Alex."

The Ravenclaw Champion let her knife drop on the plate.

"I wasn't going to let them eat one more meal with those rations when I ate something different. The stuff fills the stomach, but the taste..."

"It lacked salt and spice."

Now Alexandra knew Morag was laughing behind the innocent expression.

"Morag, the taste is awful. Once I had eaten half of one, my fondest desire was to avoid it for the rest of my life." That the North Koreans had devoured them without showing any grimaces or making any protest said very bad things about how their government had treated them on a daily basis. "What in the name of the One Ring was in them, anyway?"

"Mushrooms."

Alexandra turned her head. Sure enough, Mulan, better known as Knight Summoner, had arrived while their conversation was going on.

"Mushrooms?" the young Champion replied, not believing the answer.

"You saw the proficiency many of our Herbology specialists have at cultivating rare breeds of mushrooms during the Sixth Task," the red-robed witch gave her a mocking smile. "I assure you it was only a glimpse of the talent some of our members have developed to create new mushroom breeds."

"Okay, but..." Alexandra was not finding the words, seriously. Maybe it was because she was tired by the second day of hard negotiations. Or maybe it had to do with how she had hoped the Sixth Task would never come back to haunt her.

Mushrooms. It explained so much and so little at the same time.

"Unfortunately, as you have noticed," Mulan continued in a teacher's tone, "while about six breeds of mushrooms have been developed by the Exchequer, their taste makes sure plenty of people do not appreciate the advantages."

Alexandra scratched her jaw.

"I suppose that given that they were transformed into rations, one of the advantages is that they preserve for a long time?"

"Astute," the Knight of the Exchequer told her. "Yes, it is one. There are several others. We could cultivate them in underground bases, away from the spies of the Light. These particular breeds also boast a significant size, and can be harvested three times per year."

Morag cursed.

"How many rations do you have to begin with?"

Mulan didn't seem offended. In fact, she seemed very pleased.

"We can deliver enough rations for a million people for a few months." The Chinese-born witch admitted. "Though naturally, the rations are not for everyone. Children need vastly different foods, and even for adults, it is not good to keep eating rations."

"And anyway, North Korea can't rely upon that every time."

Because the Exchequer might be able to alleviate and possibly diminish the starvation this time, but within a year or two, they wouldn't be here to save the day.

"No," Mulan agreed without a trace of apology. "You know what is coming, Champion."

Yes, yes she did.

Ragnarok.

The Twilight of the Gods.

The Final Battle.

The war that they couldn't afford to lose, because if they did, there would be nothing left of the world of Men.

"I know, yes. How long?"

"Several of my peers have insisted that we begin to stockpile for the final effort starting December of this year."

It was...rather sooner than she had expected, but it wasn't exactly surprising.

Morag cleared her throat.

"Well, I mean, we hadn't been prepared to spend more than ten days here-"

But Knight Summoner interrupted her again.

"It is the Queen's wish you take one more day to participate in the negotiations, and then you let the professional diplomats take care of it. The process is going to be long and complicated; you have other things to do that will be far more useful for your skills."

Alexandra wasn't exactly convinced.

"Such as?" the Champion of the Morrigan asked with a touch of defiance in her voice. "I believe the Seventh Task is next month."

"No, it isn't anymore. Due to political complications, issues that are not our organisation's fault, I might add, several Ministries have pushed for a Task in May. Only the Summer Ball is to remain at the date it was originally scheduled for."

"That...they can do that?" Morag called out. "Come on, we've just begun our incredible regattas!"

"I'm sorry," Mulan didn't sound sorry at all, it must be noted. "But the Seventh Task will begin on the twenty-seventh of May. I advise you to dedicate plenty of hours to preparations if you want to win it."

---

5 May 1995, Joint Security Area, Demilitarised Zone, Korean Peninsula

Having someone higher than you in the military hierarchy willing to listen to your arguments politely was quite a novel change.

The Party had never encouraged this kind of policy, for evident reasons, and General Kang Sung-chul found it far better than the old method.

The new Marshal may be young and perfectly willing to kill him if he did something that truly displeased her, but she wasn't forbidding him from defending his ideas, something that would have assuredly earned him several sessions of auto-criticism and a long period of jail if he had done it a year ago.

That didn't mean he approved of all the ideas that were negotiated at the House of Peace, far from it.

But at least he had explanations why.

"I still think, Comrade-Marshal, that you have conceded too easily to the demands of the other side. The decrease of the People's Army effectives had to be done, but to concede to them in the first hour that we are going to let the total size fall under half a million..."

Their feet crossed the Demarcation Line, where no tiger was present today. This didn't mean there had been none; in three days, eight of the big felines had come, and they weren't the only species to have decided to find a refuge and crawl before the Incarnation of Death. Deer, eagles, goats, otters, and many other animals had come. Each time, they were sent to a reserve to be healed, until their former habitat was safe for them to return.

"General." The green eyes stared at him. "Unless the people who send me all these flowery numbers from Pyongyang arrive to different conclusions, I am going to downsize the Armed Forces significantly. With the Russian and Chinese governments already sending back all the people the former regime used as slave labour for foreign parties, I will already have to 'loan' thousands of men to the Exchequer, albeit with far more humane conditions that respect the workers' dignity. I can't possibly justify keeping most of the population under arms for so long."

"I understand what you're trying to say," one thing Kang Sung-chul had learned in the last three days was that the new Comrade-Marshal knew when you were trying to not deliver the bad news. Therefore he didn't say he was pleased by it. "But there's only so much we can do if the number of men falls too quickly."

There were going to be massive changes both in doctrine and equipment; their defeat and surrender had proved that magic was a mighty force which changed everything on the battlefield.

"You want several things, General. Go ahead, I will tell you if they are unacceptable or not."

"It would be best, both for morale and reliability to bring back the survivors of the 105th Guards Armoured Division, and rebuild them with other battle-hardened regiments."

"One of your elite formations?"

Something the diplomats had liked very much was that the Incarnation of Death didn't try to pretend she was unaware of some things. Then again, the foreigners which were distributing the rations were the same in that regard.

"Yes."

"Very well, you have my permission to do so...until I have the time to review with you the entire order of battle of the Army."

Some other proposals weren't accepted so readily. With dams and other electricity-generating infrastructure destroyed, the Marshal was unwilling to commit any more resources to war production. The artillery factory was authorised to finish some of its production, but it was because there were foreign orders in the first place.

"My priorities haven't changed from the first day, General. Food and water comes first. Then there is shelter, and generally making sure people have a home that they can live in while feeling happy. And of course, there's Energy. Today, clean water is very much a problem, food is extremely scarce, and there's almost no energy left. And I think that the number of tents my allies have handed to the administrators of Joseon speak for itself as to the sheer needs of rebuilding proper houses and shelters."

Kang Sung-chul hid his unease. He had been there when the Marshal was informed that most of the construction efforts had gone to building new military facilities, tunnels, and more depots. To say the Incarnation of Death hadn't been amused was like saying the tigers coming out of the Demilitarised Zone were a bit hungry.

"I understand, Comrade-Marshal. Yet once all those things are fought, the People's Army and all the people will need duty. For many decades, our duty was clear: it was to be on the path of Songun. We had to be self-reliant, and we had to be ready for war. If we don't have that duty, people will begin to doubt their purpose."

"This is...not unreasonable." The answer came as they approached the Pavilion of Phanmun. "I will need to think about it as I am away."

The green eyes stared at him again.

"The other measures proposed today, however, are not negotiable. The families which were separated by the 1950-1953 war are to be allowed to meet again. I understand there are massive problems with the railway line, but you retain a reserve of men here."

The orders were not ambiguous, and Sung-chul saluted.

"Your orders will be obeyed, Marshal. I will personally intervene with the Bureau to find out what happened to all the letters they confiscated. And the discussion on the...financing solutions?"

"I don't intend to deliver the gold reserves of Pyongyang to the Americans, if that's what you are worried about. The people will need them far too much to buy food, if other plans fail. But there are other stocks of metal."

"If the 'Alliance' was willing to trade oil during the negotiations, I would take the deal in a heartbeat." Oil was something Joseon had found nowhere on its soil. They had plenty of mines, oh yes: uranium, chromium, gold, and many others. But they didn't have oil. And without oil, fuel was always a luxury, and it had become even rarer since they had used most of the reserves for the war. "But they aren't."

There were a few angry hisses in a language he didn't understand.

"Do your best, General. For the civilian problems, let Chief Diplomat Park Hyun-woo lead the debates. If you aren't sure about a problem, or if the conditions are unacceptable, stall the debate until I give you an answer."

"And the humanitarian help that has to be delivered by the enemy's military?"

"As insufficient as the proposal is, every little bit of it helps, especially for the children. Accept everything."

---

9 May 1995, the Venetian Lagoon, Magical Republic of Venice

Nigel had been a journalist.

Now he was a sailor-journalist.

The young boy didn't know if he was truly ready for that.

Correction: he was not ready for what was about to come!

And yes, the ropes which were slithering on the deck and against the main mast were clear indicators that-

"VENTUS MAXIMUS!"

In the last days, Nigel Wolpert had been at first reassured.

Why? Because one Alexandra Potter had way too much raw power to cast a reliable wind that wasn't the strength of a tornado.

Many sails had been shredded before the Judges told them to train on something that wasn't going to be used in the Tournament.

Unfortunately, all it meant was that Hermione Granger was casting the wind-aligned spells now!

"WOOOOHOHOOHOHOHO!"

Nigel braced himself and held on to...yes, he was holding on to the large bell that was part of the decoration.

"IT'S TOO FAST!" Nigel screamed as the caravel launched itself forwards like a mad horse on an unending gallop. "SLOW DOWN!"

"No! We must go faster! I think the Arithmantic calculations support it!"

"Hermione? Hermione! Oh, no, she's become as crazy as the rest!"

"She's not become crazy!" Alexandra laughed, from where she played the role of helmswoman.

In Nigel's opinion, the mad grin wasn't exactly encouraging.

Worse, there was a certain white bird on her shoulders which seemed to be hooting in encouragement.

"The wind is with us!" the Champion of Ravenclaw laughed, her black hair dancing behind her. "We need to be the best navigators and sailors! We need to be the best in all weather conditions! Forwards! The adventure is here, my friends!"

Nigel whimpered.

Maniacs. They were all maniacs, on this caravel.

It was bad enough the ship was as instable as a barrel on a sea in fury, but now all his friends seemed to have gone completely crazy!

Morag was giggling from the top of the mast, announcing directions, Hermione was powering the wind that was engulfing the sails, and Alexandra...was Alexandra.

"Luna? Tell me something. Luna?"

"Go faster, in the name of all the super-rabbits!"

"Am I the last one to be sane aboard this...this..."

"This super-rabbit?" his co-journalist proposed. "We could call the future caravel of the Seventh Task that too!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Luna," Hermione Granger had this manic grin in her eyes that often only came when answering ten teacher questions in a row. Or reading half a library. Or-

"The name of our future caravel will be The Triumph of Arithmancy!"

"Hermione," green eyes began to glare at them, while a sparkle of lighting danced around the stern of the ship. "I love you like a sister, but the name of my future caravel will obviously be Atalanta!"

Naturally, a certain snowy owl victoriously hooted her approval.

"You're all in error!" Morag said joyously. "My proposal will topple all of yours! It will be the Sea Bolt!"

"Oh great, even when on a caravel, she can't stop thinking about Quidditch..."

"I heard that!" the red-haired Ravenclaw, who for some reason had decided to dress like a pirate for today's regatta. "Well? What do you say about it?"

"Nope."

"No."

"Your choice is disastrous."

"My proposition was far better."

"You all suck!" Morag pouted from above. "Oh, and Alex, I think we're going to need to change course soon."

"Why? I've checked the maps, and I assure you there's no reef there!"

"No reef, but unless my eyes are betraying me, I think Nott's caravel has once again rolled over like some tortoises do sometimes!"

The Lady Protector of the Isles exploded in laughter.

The sound suited her, Nigel thought.

Since she had returned from Korea, Alexandra was wilder...freer.

Their friend wanted to forget the burden of duties she had accepted, it was rather obvious. But they had all discovered that Morag and Alexandra, while they had never really used a sail-powered ship before, were really enjoying themselves on one.

Yes, all of the Exiled were willing to sail for long hours...Nigel was the one who was the most afraid of their insane ideas of speed and complicated manoeuvres. Well, no, Nigel was only the second. It seemed Susan Bones wasn't really liking the Lagoon or sailing it...at all.

But it seemed that had not discouraged Alexandra.

"Bah, this will only be the ninth time it will have happened." The Champion of Ravenclaw snorted at the disastrous performance of her Slytherin counterpart.

"Alex," Nigel pointed out hesitantly, "today is the ninth of May. This means Nott in real conditions would sink one ship per day!"

Luna was the first to giggle.

The blonde witch was soon joined by everyone aboard.

"I pity Blaise," Morag told them seriously. "He really didn't deserve that."

"If he couldn't take the joke, he shouldn't have joined, no?"

"Hermione is truly unsheathing her claws today, isn't she?"

"Oh, come on, Alex! Do you really think there's a way to make that trio worse?"

"Absolutely! Just replace Blaise Zabini with the hero of House Gryffindor. I of course speak of Neville Longbottom!"

There was a couple of seconds of shocked silence. And then-

"That's truly evil," Morag vigorously nodded her head. "Can we do it? PLEASE!"

And they all exploded in laughter again. This time it was uncontrollable, and watching Nott and Bole fighting each other while looking like drowned rats several minutes later didn't help at all...

---

12 May 1995, Cedric's Villa, Lands of the Scuola Regina, Magical Republic of Venice

To Cedric's relief, Potter was in a good mood.

The Ravenclaw Champion was humming a song between her lips, and while there was magic on her fingertips, it was almost exclusively basic Charms that were used to remove sweat and dust from her blue-bronze Quidditch robes.

"I almost thought I would see more of your friends by your side," the Hufflepuff began. "If you want-"

"Cedric Diggory," the eyes were half-closed, and the tone was gentle. Yet there was a warning. "I don't ask what you do with the lovely Miss Chang every evening. By simple reciprocity, you won't ask me anything about what I do when I retire to my villa. Fortunately for you, I went flying with my adorable dragon this evening. I am in a good mood. And I am going to assume you wouldn't have written this morning's invitation without a good reason."

The older Champion of the four Hogwarts students currently preparing for the final task cleared his throat.

"Yes. Well. Please note I am just a messenger here."

"That sounds auspicious," the top scorer of the Tournament mused. "Fine. Let's begin this conversation. What is the first point?"

"Nott," Cedric thought he might as well begin with the most unpleasant part of the 'duty'. "He's asking for our help."

"You can tell Nott to go screw himself, if he can even find his backside with his hands, that is."

Cedric winced.

"Are you sure you were involved in diplomatic negotiations?"

"Oh my mistake," the young Champion bared her teeth. "You can tell Nott to diplomatically go screw himself."

"He's one of our fellow Champions."

"He's a disaster-in-the-making and a very unpleasant soul in general. If Voldemort was on the rise and not dead, I would gamble one thousand Galleons that he would have a Dark Mark branded on his arm before the end of 1995. As it is, I had to teach Blaise Zabini several spells, because I don't trust him to not stab anyone in the back while we are busy with other things."

You couldn't accuse Alexandra Potter of not making her opinions clear on certain subject.

"You don't think we can win the School Competition, then."

"Cedric, if you really wanted us to win the School Competition, maybe falling for the charms of Eleonora da Riva during the Sixth Task was not the most brilliant idea of the year."

The other Champion was in a fine mood today.

"And no, I don't expect us to be able to win the School Competition," the levels of sarcasm decreased, as did the humour. "It's far too late for that, honestly. With Eleonora da Riva, Lucrezia Sforza, and Romeo Malatesti in the game, we're not going to be able to win this one. They've participated in every Task, got excellent scores, and two of them have had their Seals activated, with Eleonora da Riva having a rising mastery of the Light. It isn't out of the realm of possible exploits to beat them and win a Task. I've done it before. But three of us beating three of them by a large margin, enough to compensate for our massive losses of points in several Tasks? No."

This put an end to that idea, then. Johnson had already voiced her refusal, and with Potter refusing too, the grand plan of unity was never going to work.

"And the substitutes? I was thinking about having four on my crew..."

The Ravenclaw...shrugged?

"Personally, I won't choose that option. Roger Davies gets sick for several hours the moment we move him aboard the caravel, and he doesn't exactly have sailor's legs."

"More wands still mean more spells to cast at the other Champions."

"We're not going to fight on land, Cedric Diggory. We're going to fight on the decks of our boats for the better part of the last Task, or at least I imagine the challenge will include plenty of navigation. It is not enough to call to you all the substitutes and call it a crew. You have to make them work like one. I very much like Nigel and Luna. Yet when I invited them aboard the caravel, I didn't ask them to participate in making the magical winds to fill the sails. Nor will I ask for their expertise in the future modifications I will use for my personal ship's customisation."

Alexandra Potter breathed out.

"But none of this, as interesting as it is proving to be, is the real reason you invited me here this evening. So out with it, Cedric Diggory."

"Err...right," the Champion of Diggory coughed. "Angelina Johnson humbly requests your help in order to lift Neville Longbottom's suspension for the last Task."

Cedric had expected a lot of reactions. Cho had bet the Hydra would be roused in fury. Tamsin had joked that he may be cursed ten times before he would be able to raise his wand.

The green eyes merely glared at him for a couple of seconds before snorting.

"That wasn't exactly something I expected to hear this month," the Ravenclaw girl replied calmly. "I suppose it has to do with the fact she has a shortage of substitutes?"

"Yes." Cedric answered, hiding his relief. "Leo-Galahad is dead, of course. And Geoffrey is out of the race, his wounds are making him suffer too much to risk participating in a Task again. That leaves-"

"Ron Weasley," this time, there was definitely a smile on Potter's lips. "Yes, I can see why Angelina Johnson is a bit desperate for assistance. But seriously, is Longbottom a true solution?"

"According to what she told me," the Hufflepuff knew the same thought had erupted in his head, "she thinks Neville has potential. And Ron and he know how to work together. I don't think Angelina used the words 'perfect' or 'we're going to win this one with several miles of advance', but she wanted to give it a try. The problem is-"

"The problem is that Longbottom is suspended, and I, as the one who was his chief target during the Fourth Task, am the one whose voice matters the most when it comes to a possible return."

"Yes." The favourite student of Pomona Sprout didn't feel like telling her that being the Lady Protector and having several Heads of School listen to you wasn't a drawback either.

"I don't know." This didn't mean 'no', but it was far from a 'yes'.

"Longbottom got in second place during the Third Task."

"He was the Champion of Fate then. He isn't anymore. If you think he is going to usher miracles once again, I advise you to banish that idea from your mind." Potter scowled. "I really don't know, Cedric."

"But you're going to think about it?"

There was a loud sigh.

"Yes, yes I will."

---

13 May 1995, Alexandra's Villa, Lands of the Scuola Regina, Magical Republic of Venice

Alexandra woke up with the sun, completely rested.

Fingolfin, on the other hand, despite having a direct view of the sunlight on the balcony, apparently decided the hour was way, way too early.

Much like the tigers who had slept in the same location for a single morning.

It seemed some of her 'guests' had a good opinion of the space next to the swimming pool, and her bringing them their breakfast was indeed extremely enjoyable.

"But now that I think about it, nothing stops me from eating my breakfast here, no?"

Alexandra went on to fill a bowl of cereal, took a bottle of orange fruit juice under her arm, and levitated a lounge chair.

All of it was moved next to Fingolfin's head, who by that point was regularly trying to keep the scaly eyelids closed for as long as possible.

"I think it is going to be a pleasant day," the clouds had left, and the wind was a nice breeze. The air had been getting far warmer in the last days, though it remained far, far short of the suffocating temperatures of summer.

Hopefully, they were going to get the sun and more for the Seventh Task. It would be kind of hilarious to have the Task be fought under a horrible weather conditions because politics had intervened.

Okay, hilarious for the spectators; not so much for the Champions. The only good point Alexandra could find was that they would never have a problem going overboard, since they would already have 'enjoyed' a long, cold shower thanks to the weather.

Alexandra ate slowly, and let her inner Hydra bask in the growing warmth caressing her skin.

And then someone knocked at the door.

The Champion of Death wasn't particularly alert, but she recognised the magical signature.

Why would she-

Ah yes, it appeared Angelina Johnson had not been discreet enough when she went to meet the Judges.

For every action, there was a reaction, as the proverb said, and once again, it was confirmed.

"Enter. I am on the balcony."

It took a few seconds for the older witch to arrive.

When she did come into view, there was a slight expression of surprise, more about the presence of Fingolfin than anything the Hydra Animagus did.

"I'd heard Krum mention he saw a dragon flying over the Lagoon yesterday. I should have known it was yours."

"By deduction, it should be, Eleonora. There are not exactly a thousand dragons around, these days." The Celestial belonging to Mulan was still at large, but Alexandra had her doubts the massive dragon was anywhere near the Scuola Regina, especially with his 'mistress' answering to the crises in Korea and Japan.

"True," the Champion of Innocence smiled. "You don't seem that surprised by my arrival this morning."

"I had a short conversation with Diggory playing messenger for Johnson last evening," the Ravenclaw commented drily. "Based on nothing but my imagination, I think you coming here...you have a lot of common points with him."

"And those are?"

"You want to lift the suspension of Henri de Condé, and take him as your substitute, or should I say, sail-master for the Seventh and Final Task."

To her credit, Eleonora didn't try to bluff or to sprout the kind of nonsense Nott would likely try once he heard she had refused to help him.

"Yes, yes I did," the Champion of Innocence said truthfully. "Is it going to be a problem?"

"Yes, it is," Alexandra replied. Pretending otherwise would be the height of hypocrisy.

"According to the rumours, you didn't reject Longbottom out of hand."

Evidence number one million and one: rumours in any school travelled faster than the speed of sound, and may approach the celerity of light.

"If I accepted, something I want to make clear I haven't done, Neville Longbottom would be part of Angelina Johnson's crew. Based on her rankings, Angelina is a skilled Champion, but she's not my main challenger for the Individual Tournament Victory. Besides, a lot of the danger Longbottom represented to me personally was the problem of him being the Champion of Fate. Something he lost several Tasks ago. With Fate not there to hand him improbable victories, the miracles will be nowhere in sight and I may be able to tolerate his presence. Longbottom and I probably won't ever be friends, but if Johnson performs well in the Seventh Task, she will owe me a favour."

Eleonora da Riva crossed her arms.

"Except if you lift the suspension of someone, I think you lift all the suspensions."

"Is that how it works?" Alexandra asked sarcastically.

"I can make a convincing argument of it." The student of the Scuola Regina smirked, and Alexandra groaned. "Come on! Don't you want a fair competition for the Last Task?"

The Champion of the Morrigan looked at the Chosen of Vesta with an expression of disbelief.

"Eleonora. Remind me how I won the Third Task?"

"You placed large trebuchets around the Coliseum, I believe."

"And the Fifth Task?"

"You called your dragon to help you."

"Hello!"

Yes, Fingolfin had decided to stop pretending he was sleeping.

"Hello, beautiful golden dragon," Eleonora smiled and naturally, Fingolfin swallowed the praise. "I believe we were-"

"What strategy in these two Labours suggests that I wanted a fair competition to begin with?"

"Good point," the Champion of Innocence admitted. "But you're not going to be able to bring more dragons and catapults to help you."

"That's because the Judges have an appalling sense of humour," Alexandra said with a virtuous expression. "In addition to being complete sadists, of course."

"Of course," the last Champion of the Light repeated drily. "It may not have anything to do with the fact that given the chance, you would have used your giant Dreadnought to sink the competition?"

"Do you think so little of me?" Alexandra sniffed disdainfully. "I wouldn't have used my Dreadnought."

Eleonora sent her an incredulous look.

"I would have brought a U-Boat submarine to sink all your caravels. It would have been far more efficient...and you wouldn't have seen it coming until the first torpedoes began to smash your hulls."

"I suppose it is a cunning plan. But since you just informed me of it, may I take it you've decided against it?"

"Well, as you yourself noted, the Judges decided to make rules against it, for some reason." Alexandra added the last three words with all the irony she had in her. "But that's fine. I have other plans."

"And those plans involve giving us as little chance to win as possible, I suppose? It's not going to be-"

"Lyudmila is doing her best to scare us with some kind of dread illusion spell coming straight from the Viking-era each time she and her crew sails."

"I withdraw my argument," Eleonora grimaced. "I am going to have to negotiate a hard bargain with you, am I not?

"Now, now, oh Sweet Lady of Innocence...it is called diplomacy, I believe."

"Are you sure you're not just replacing another word for revenge?"

Why, yes, Eleonora. Did she think she had seriously forgotten everything about Sixth Task so soon? The intervention of Arianna Dumbledore wasn't Eleonora's fault. But a lot of the other 'complications' could be thrown at her feet.

"I gave my oath to the Morrigan, not Nemesis."

"Could have fooled me..." Innocence grumbled.

"Just for that, the price went up, you know..."

---

17 May 1995, the Art Wing, Scuola Regina

"Alex!" It was an annoyed whisper, and Alexandra couldn't help but chuckle.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"You aren't listening to me."

"Yes, I am." Why did people think her ears were malfunctioning when she didn't use her Hydra eyes to glare at them? "You were expressing concerns about our crew."

"Right," the bushy-haired Ravenclaw huffed. "You can't continue to have these disputes with Susan."

"We have disputes?" her claws went to methodically strike the stone in front of her. Sculpting wasn't that tedious, now that she tried it her way. "That's new to me."

"She hasn't been to your villa-"

"Or to my bed since, no," the Lady Protector rolled her eyes. "It is an unfortunate consequence of her Aunt calling her back to London, you know. It might have escaped your attention, but neither Susan nor any witch I'm aware of has the ability to be in two places at once."

"Very funny, Alex. You should apologise to Susan."

Alexandra gave her an innocent smile.

"She's right behind me, isn't she?" Hermione sighed.

"Yes, she is." An amused Badger announced her presence. "I wasn't aware sculpting was to replace mapmaking in your priorities."

The young green-eyed Champion clicked her tongue.

"I wasn't really in the mood to make maps today, and I wanted to see if sculpting was more something that I could do for a few hours. I didn't really try to combine my magic, my claws, and my sensing abilities the last time."

The result was better this time, needless to say. Using only her instincts, she'd been able to sculpt very realistic scales, which were now emerging from the grey stone.

It had cost her a few Sickles, the sculpting materials were not available for free, and to be honest, Alexandra wasn't sure she enjoyed it more than map-making.

But it was a correct hobby to pass time.

"Anyway, my relationship with the red-haired Badger here," Susan predictably stuck out her tongue in retaliation, "is not the problem, Hermione. What is bothering you?"

"Do you think...in your expert opinion, Alex, is it too late for me to learn how to be an Animagus?"

Hermione hadn't surprised her many times in the last months. The Champion of Ravenclaw figured today was to be a massive exception to the rule.

"No, of course not. It is never too late to learn something, never mind this skill...though past mid-age, as I understand it, the body gets less and less...magically flexible, and the benefits do begin to be slowly outweighed by the problems. But you are very, very far from that point."

Alexandra sheathed her claws by reflex before looking at her friend.

"Evidently, if you ask me if you have the time to master the Animagus transformation before the Seventh Task begins, I will say it is a hard 'no'. Morag began far earlier than you, and she's still finding it extremely difficult to revert back on her own when she goes full-tigress."

"I wasn't asking for the impossible."

"Good to know." The Basilisk Slayer chuckled. "But yes, I see no reason why you couldn't try to become an Animagus. You have the potential, we tested it before. From there, it's only a question of will and dedication."

Alexandra didn't ask why this came now, instead of several months earlier. In her humble opinion, it was a combination of Hermione dating Krum, while at the same time discovering an attraction for being near water.

Since the inner animal of Hermione Granger was an Antarctic Fur Seal, well...

"Could we have...some lessons?"

"Sure. But not today." One look at her watch informed her it was way too late to begin something of that importance. In twenty minutes, it was going to be time to find their way to the Dinner Hall of the Scuola Regina. "I think we can brush off the subject and brew a few things to help tomorrow!"

"Thank you, Alex!" The hug felt good, and not just because she could taunt Susan a bit with the embrace.

Ironically, this time, it was Hermione who blushed like a tomato. Seconds later, her bookworm was running away from the Art Wing like the legendary Cerberus was pursuing her.

"One new Animagus."

"I thought she had abandoned the idea, honestly," Alexandra replied while using a pencil to remove all the stone fragments that were unwanted from her 'art'. "Obviously, Hermione has the talent; she's been in the top of the Transfiguration class for four years. I just didn't think she was interested anymore."

"Speaking of the lack of interest...I came to apologise. I was rather...rude."

Alexandra snorted.

"You were unhappy with me. I accept the apology, of course, as long as it includes my Hydra form being suitably bribed. She didn't like at all being referred to as an 'overgrown sea snake'."

At least this moment had allowed her to confirm she had a good control of her Animagus form. It was a known fact that young wizards and witches lacking any tended to transform when feeling powerful emotions.

"I shouldn't have said that."

"You were angry."

Susan chuckled.

"When did you grow so diplomatic?"

"Let's see...in the last hour, I believe. I may have insulted Nott and Bole a few dozen times on my way here. And yes, they completely deserved it."

"I still wonder if it wouldn't have solved a few things to bribe a competent Slytherin into entering this Tournament," the niece of the Minister of Magic mused. "But enough of these imbeciles. Where does it leave us?"

"To use a sailing metaphor, at an anchorage point?" Alexandra tried a joke, but it fell miserably flat, and she winced. "I like you a lot, Susan, but I am not going to...err..."

"Close your eyes on my weaknesses?"

"I would rather say 'fail to notice you don't like sailing on a caravel at all'."

The beautiful Hufflepuff grimaced, but didn't argue back.

"I would love to have you on board the caravel I will name Atalanta, for my owl diva. But as I told Diggory before, for this Seventh Task, we will need to act as a single force, not a discordant orchestra. If we're not missing all the steps, maybe, just maybe, we're going to win. In all likelihood, however, we're going to screw up, and we will end up just sinking, much like Nott will the moment a serious obstacle arrives."

"You don't care about losing your points, then."

"It is only one point, oh Great Badger!" Even for the second substitute – which she was not going to ask for, since Roger was beyond miserable when he was seasick – there were only two points to pay for. It was well worth the trade...assuming you had a substitute that felt the waves were his or her realm. "I would gladly pay the price for you, even if it had been fifty or one hundred."

Alexandra attentively watched the future Lady of Bones, and there was something different. Susan was looking at her, but not...perfectly. Ah.

Suddenly, the unease and the absence of several days made far more sense.

As did the way Susan had reacted when she came back from Korea.

"Your Necromancy sight activated."

"Had someone already told you that you would make a great magical detective, oh Hydra Queen?"

"It may have been mentioned once or twice, yes," the Lady Protector said smugly.

"It...it was horrible." Susan swallowed heavily. "How are you able to endure it so stoically? The Veil...it is...oppressive. And I see the blood, all the bones piling up."

"The bones?" Without uttering any bad pun, it had never happened to her before. And she was the Champion of the Morrigan. Logically, her sight went far beyond Susan's when it came to the depths of Pandemonium.

"Yes, great bones, bigger than the bones of a Giant. When I lay my eyes upon them, I feel just...I feel afraid. It is like these bones are part of the things that will usher the end of the world."

"No way," Alexandra shook her head. "The Great Enemy can't stir that early..."

But a lesser enemy could. If Arianne Dumbledore had stolen something redoubtable enough that Susan could feel it, despite the ritual being at least over a month away...

The shock must have been visible in her eyes, because Susan grimaced.

"You couldn't feel it."

"No. No, I couldn't, Susan. And suddenly, the fact no one has seen or heard from the treacherous Knight Necromancer since I defeated her in Korea seems more and more like very bad news. The last black sheep of House Dumbledore is preparing something, and judging by the evidence, she has done her utmost to make sure I won't see it coming until it is too late."

"You have armies to accomplish your will."

The Hydra hissed in despair.

"Please don't joke about that." She had to breathe out...and send a letter to Alexandria as fast as possible. "Sailing lessons are tomorrow morning at nine, if you want to be part of them."

The kiss came unanticipated, long and irresistible.

"Oh."

"I was thinking we could get another kind of lesson before that."

---

Author's chapter:

The title of the next chapter is to be Seventh Task.

Yes, all the Champions had plenty of fun, but it is time for the Tournament to end.

And it will end with a lot of spectacular stratagems, of course.

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