5,640Chapter 126
Eventful Morning
29 May 1995, Ca'Sforza, Venice
Yes, Alexandra groaned very loudly when fingers touched her cheek before withdrawing.
That said, when her eyes fell upon the large magical clock that occupied a corner of the bedroom, the Hydra Animagus really thought her reaction was completely justified.
The Champion of Death glared at the smirking Succubus who had taken a few steps back.
"I really hope you have a good reason to wake me up in the middle of the night, Lucrezia." Alexandra wanted to shout, but Susan was blissfully asleep. "And I think you have two minutes to appease me with a bountiful breakfast."
"Breakfast can wait for now," the currently black-haired near-adult smirked before her face became serious in a fraction of a second. "The Queen wants to speak with you."
Oh, great. At this hour, it was unlikely to congratulate her personally for her victory in the Tournament.
"Now?" the Ravenclaw witch asked, just to be sure.
"In twenty minutes," Lucrezia sighed. "She thought you would need a good shower and me personally giving you a brand-new uniform."
"Great," Alexandra rolled her eyes. "Wait for me in the dressing room, then."
Naturally, the Succubus whistled as she began to walk in the direction of the bathroom.
"You already saw everything of me, Desire." Part of the favour to pay had been to let the Succubus enjoy her desire during the twenty-four hours of celebration which had followed the Seventh Task.
"But it is such a nice view!"
Alexandra rolled her eyes, but did her best to hide her blush. Succubae. You didn't know if they were the greatest beings in the world or the most infuriating. It may be both...or neither.
"I was thinking about something green and black for the uniform."
"Just avoid the white and gold, please."
And she closed the door of the bathroom.
The shower was quick, but did a lot of good. Most of her torpor vanished, and her body began to really banish the exhaustion of having fallen asleep after midnight.
By the time she arrived in the dressing room with a towel around her waist, Alexandra was able to think properly, and she wasn't at risk of opening her mouth to yawn every couple of breaths.
This didn't stop her from groaning again when she saw the uniform Lucrezia had prepared her.
"When you said 'uniform', I wasn't thinking about the 'North Korean model', Lucrezia."
"I promise it is far more comfortable, Alexandra." The Champion of Water smirked. "Besides, it doesn't have the ungodly amount of medals they feel the need to place on them."
"There is that, at least."
Well, the black boots were nice, she supposed.
The rest...the rest had a lot of emeralds, dark green, and black. She would much rather stay in some 'classic' Wizarding robes.
The minor consolation was that Lady Zabini definitely could have found her something far more embarrassing to wear, if she was in charge. Was there a saying about counting some blessings and getting away with what you could?
"I would be happy to welcome you to a few other parties, you know. I did rather enjoy you and all your friends partying in the heart of Venice."
"I thought you needed Delacour's approval..." And yes, Alexandra was definitely smirking when she said the words.
"Our dear Champion of Life is getting more honest with herself now that she's regularly dancing with Romeo Malatesti."
"Is that what we are all supposed to call it?" Alexandra drawled sarcastically. "Dancing?"
"It is a horizontal dance," the Succubus smugly answered like she was delivering a pious truth. "Oh, and I suppose there was a lot of vertical dancing too. In a lot of positions and-"
"You're incorrigible."
Fortunately, this was the moment her uniform was now perfectly adjusted to her body, with her hair combed into a shield-maiden style braid.
Looking in the mirror, she had to admit, it gave her a rather aggressive look.
"Eighteen minutes top, I am really getting so good at it."
Alexandra sighed. Of all things to hear in the middle of the night, listening to a Succubus singing her own praises was not at the top of her priorities. If someone thought she was wrong, then that person could cast the first stone vaguely in her direction.
"You didn't tell me why the Queen wanted to see me so urgently, and why it couldn't wait until morning, by the way," she said as their boots went on to descend the fantastic stairs of Ca'Sforza.
"You know Knight Necromancer attacked some bases of our organisation as a distraction while the One-Day War raged."
"Yes." It was way more polite than saying 'I wasn't hit by an Amnesia Spell recently'. "The hordes of Inferi hinted something like that happened."
Lucrezia chuckled.
"What the Queen wasn't able to confirm until a few hours ago, for it took that long to inspect the vaults and other locations where priceless artefacts are stored, was that the traitor was not just using these sneak attacks as feints to make sure no reinforcements went to the Korean Peninsula. They were also assaults that made sure no one could intervene when her lieutenants went after her real targets."
The Hydra Animagus hissed in frustration.
"What did she take, Lucrezia?"
Somehow, Alexandra didn't think Arianna Dumbledore had engineered the whole thing for a Nimbus 2000 or some prank item the likes of which Fred and George created by the thousands for their future 'joke shop'.
"The Round Table, of course."
Alexandra abruptly stopped moving.
"The Round Table." She didn't know if her voice was grim, but if it was, she doubted one would blame her. "As in, one of the three most powerful Light Artefacts, one of the accursed things which with Excalibur and the Grail were the trinity of weapons the Light enjoyed using so much to decimate the ranks of the Dark before, during, and after each major battle?"
"Yes." Lucrezia grimaced in turn. "That Round Table."
"Formidable," the Champion of Death said acidly. "What else did she manage to get her undead hands upon while I was busy bringing down a rain of meteors upon her main horde?"
"You aren't going to like it," the Venetian Succubus warned her.
Alexandra groaned.
Today was really, really going to suck, it was more or less a certainty at this point.
27 May 1995, somewhere in an Exchequer Base in a desolate part of Asia
The wizard had a name, of course.
But very few had ever been friendly enough with him that he felt the need to reveal it to them.
For the Exchequer, he was Pawn Clerk.
And he was certainly the biggest evidence that the rumours of the hierarchy of the Dark organisation being inflexible and based on a domination of the King and the Queen with twelve Knights surrounding them were true, but those rumours were also far from describing the organisation in a neat and accurate manner.
Someone, after all, had to ensure the day-to-day administration of the Exchequer continued, that artefacts were properly used, and that experiments were indeed yielding proper results, or if the King wanted to cancel them, that the cleaning-up teams were obeying their orders to the letter.
For more than five hundred and thirty years, Pawn Clerk had successfully accomplished what Osiris wished of him.
It of course helped that Ra, the great enemy of the Dark, was extraordinarily focused on decisively defeating the Dark on a battlefield, and a colossal failure at exploring the issues caused by logistics and proper realm-building.
In Pawn Clerk's humble opinion, half of the reason Ra failed so often had nothing to do with a curse of Fate, and more with the fact that the Archmage was truly an awful ruler. The Lord of Light never understood that treating hundreds of thousands of people like they were slaves was always going to end with a slave uprising which would destroy everything he'd ever valued. There was a limit to how many men and women you could cast the Imperius upon, in the end.
Alas, Pawn Clerk acknowledged that being at war with Ra for so long had blinded him to many things, including the loyalty of certain members of the Exchequer. Ra, ultimately, had been the chief reason the Exchequer had been so successful in presenting a united front to the world. Now that the Archmage was gone, the unity had cracked...and Knight Necromancer had wasted no time betraying them.
"In hindsight, we should have kept the Round Table where we had hid it. I should never have allowed it to be moved."
This was galling yes, but some things had to be admitted out loud.
"At the time, Master, it seemed like a good idea. The Champion of Death destroyed the Grail, and the Round Table was clearly damaged by the backlash. With Excalibur no longer a problem for us, the Round Table didn't seem so important anymore."
"True," Pawn Clerk answered. "And yet I am unhappy. You were the one to examine the Light artefact, Autumn. Describe to me the damage again, if you please."
"It was a crack of precisely one point six centimetres-wide, running from the very centre of the table to touch the edge, straight into the direction where the Siege Perilous once should have stood. Knight Herald personally went to oversee my examination, and concluded the Round Table had lost between thirty and forty percent of all the Light magic that the Archmage had ever imbued the Round Table with."
It sounded like a lot of magic, and to be fair, it was.
"I see."
However, that was still enough magic, if properly focused, to annihilate the equivalent of a very big non-magical city. Assuming whoever was doing the ritual knew how to channel the Light magic without being incinerated by it first, but on that front, the centuries-old wizard knew Knight Necromancer wouldn't fail. The treacherous Lich was no amateur.
Pawn Clerk thought over it for a long time before speaking again.
"All signs indeed point to Arianna Dumbledore preparing some kind of grand ritual."
"I am forced to agree, Master. Her subordinates who followed her on this deranged path tried to erase the evidence, but we have plenty of experience. They were storing up plenty of Alchemical reagents, and over half of them weren't to create new undead. Then there was the revelation she had pillaged many ancient Ossuaries. And now the Round Table, whose request came from one of the traitors we were unable to take alive."
Yes, slowly but surely, all the pieces were falling into place.
Pawn Clerk wondered a brief moment if the betrayer would have made her move if the King hadn't imprisoned himself in the Black Sun to give them three years.
Regretfully, he shook his head.
There was no use musing about events which would never happen. The King was gone, and Arianna Dumbledore had broken her oaths in the most egregious fashion possible.
"The greatest problem, and one I will vigorously insist is so when making my report to the Queen, is that we don't know at all when her grand ritual is going to start. That's the biggest and ugliest problem, now that we know she stole one of the Time-Turner prototypes."
"I know it is not good, Master, but at least the security measures which were devised upon your command worked. It has been confirmed for good that the attempt was made against the Midnight Vault where the Time-Turners were and still are safely stored."
"I know." Though how, by the Power of Corruption, the treacherous Lich had managed to locate said Vault remained a frustrating unanswered question. Only half of the Knights had known the coordinates of this vital bastion of the Exchequer, and Knight Necromancer had not been one of them. Nor had her Inferi been stationed within a thousand kilometres of it, making a discovery by pure luck rather improbable.
"I know," Pawn Clerk repeated with hatred in his voice. "But we have to assume the traitor does know how to use this prototype, or at least she found someone who knows how to achieve it for her accursed purposes."
It wasn't good. In fact, it was frankly a disaster.
"Compile a list of the reagents the Lich stole, Autumn. Leave nothing out of it. We have been burned far too heavily by this betrayal. We need to analyse exactly what went wrong...and to purge all the traitors within our ranks."
As sad as the idea was, Pawn Clerk didn't believe they had caught all the traitors before and during the One-Day War. Arianna Dumbledore was the youngest Knight, and traitor or not, there were too many inconsistencies about recent events and actions.
"I hope they will be able to find her Phylactery, Master. It would certainly make our jobs easier."
"It would, eh?" Pawn Clerk allowed himself the shadow of a smile before seething again. "I just don't think we can expect such a gift to fall into our hands. The list of reagents first, then your estimates of how many hordes of Inferi were created. For all the undead which were destroyed for good this year, I am very confident there are far more of them out there. We need to have an educated guess about the size of the Inferi force which will guard the ritual grounds."
"Yes, Master, I should have the first figures for you before the end of next week."
29 May 1995, Ca'Sforza, Venice
The gardens of House Sforza gave you no choice but to breathe in the middle of hundreds of perfumes, despite the night.
The arrival of spring had transformed the flowers and the trees from what Alexandra had believed to be splendour during the pre-Carnival days, and now it was like trying to find yourself in the middle of honey, strawberries, peaches, and many other exquisite fragrances.
For better or for worse, the conversation at hand greatly helped her concentration.
There was nothing like a soon-to-come apocalypse to convince you to focus on what was important.
"Arianna Dumbledore has everything she needs to begin her ritual, then." It was hard to not scowl. "And here I wondered why she didn't act during the Seventh Task."
"The traitor knew we would be on high alert regardless, no matter if we noticed her thefts or not," the Queen of the Exchequer replied placidly.
"I suppose it is...rational." Alexandra breathed out, but the air being saturated with fruity essences didn't help. "Yes, she wants surprise on her side. As she can pull the trigger anytime between now and the Summer Solstice, I suppose she's not wrong about that."
"It is a bit more complicated than that." The legendary witch wandlessly conjured an apple in her right hand.
"How so?"
"First of all, this ritual is going to be extremely complicated, and involves artefacts that Knight Necromancer, no matter how much undercover help she received, was never able to use before."
That was a good point, admittedly. The Dumbledore Lich couldn't afford to cast the ritual a second time if she screwed up. With the Light magic of the Round Table, it was practically inevitable that a failure would result in Arianna Dumbledore's permanent death, phylactery or not.
"The second great question is the Arithmancy behind this ritual. That the traitor wants to create a pseudo-miracle is beyond doubt now, the Round Table's theft makes her intentions clear as day. But becoming a Champion is hardly simple when the Power doesn't choose you. And Fate is the greatest of the Powers."
"I assume," Alexandra began carefully, "that we don't have the hours left to explore all the possible rituals she might use for her ascension."
"Regretfully not," Morgane Rys'Ygraine of Avalon confirmed immediately. "We could considerably narrow down the array of choices if we knew what kind of magical being was buried in the Ossuary you found, but so far, we have found nothing."
"Her lieutenants didn't know?"
"No. For a young Knight, Necromancer has taken to heart the Exchequer discipline and cell compartmentalisation efforts."
The young Ravenclaw didn't need to be a Legilimens to hear the annoyance in the vampiric voice. The Queen really didn't enjoy having all the training and the teachings turned against the very organisation Arianna Dumbledore had been supposed to protect in the first place.
"Why did she join your ranks, at the beginning?" Alexandra asked with curiosity. "A lot of young Dark Mages came to you because they were hunted by Ra and his fanatics. But Arianna Dumbledore wasn't forced to stay when he brought her to your doorstep. Everyone believed her dead."
"She had a thirst to discover everything she could about magical lore," the Queen replied honestly. "There was an eagerness to embrace everything about her birthright that was quite remarkable. And she was talented, make no mistake. While she didn't use her birth name, the girl she was studied in the halls of the Scuola Regina, and graduated after only five years of school, and with some of the highest marks of her generation."
The Hydra Animagus wasn't really surprised by that. The youngest of the Dumbledore siblings had never attended Hogwarts. To reach the mastery of magic she had, another institution must have provided the training, and the Scuola Regina always was the highest candidate.
"In hindsight, the fact she was very much unwilling or unable to forge long-lasting friendships should have convinced us to be more careful with her. Unfortunately, plenty of us have been alone for a very long time."
Alexandra said nothing.
It didn't-
Okay, there were plenty of questions she wanted to ask right now, but in that instance, it definitely felt like curiosity would kill the cat.
"But the problems and the talents of the traitor we once called Knight Necromancer can wait. We have a very busy day ahead of us, Apprentice."
"North Korea first, I guess? The uniform Lucrezia had waiting for me is a pretty big hint."
"No. That was originally the plan, but an unexpected matter must come first. I want you to return to the British Isles, and deliver a warning."
That was not what Alexandra had anticipated.
On the other hand, if the 'recipient' was living somewhere that fell under her authority of the Lady Protector, she was the right person to deliver the 'message'.
"Where must I go and who has been a very naughty wizard?"
Morgane bared her fangs and smiled.
29 May 1995, the British Museum, London, England
Mundungus Fletcher was, in his expert opinion, the greatest thief and artefact appraiser of the Isles.
Yes, he could already hear the laughter of his opponents from here.
If he was so good, how were the Aurors able to arrest him so often in his career?
The answer was simple: Mundungus had in the early eighties drunk a bit too much, and committed the enormous mistake of giving an interview to the Quibbler.
The alcohol had loosened his tongue, and Mundungus had spoken of too many things only a true master of certain thefts should know.
Unfortunately, these were the days when You-Know-Who was declared vanquished, and that meant the DMLE had plenty of time for other activities besides listening to the ridiculous lies of former Death Eaters.
Of all the bad luck, someone in charge had decided a young Auror answering to the name of Amelia Bones was the perfect choice to stop his exploits.
Sadly for his ego, Mundungus was ready to admit the DMLE higher-ups had found the perfect hunting hound. Amelia Bones couldn't be bribed, and she was generally as relentless as ten of her peers added together.
He was an artist of escape, of course. The DMLE jails had hardly been enough to prevent him from enjoying his liberty every single week. Azkaban would have been an entirely different proposal, but Mundungus had always been very cautious about not injuring anyone during his splendid robberies.
Alas, in 1986, his luck had run out a final time, and for this instance, Amelia Bones' colleagues had learned from their previous mistakes. There would be no more escapes, and due to the long list of accusations he was guilty of, someone had decided a short stay in Azkaban would teach him a cruel lesson.
Mundungus had had to make a second deal with Albus Dumbledore, the first after this dreadful affair in 1974, and of course, confess. The Aurors hadn't been happy to let him go, naturally. In fact, Mundungus was pretty sure the enmity Amelia Bones felt for Albus Dumbledore was born on that very day.
That didn't mean Mundungus had gotten away with his hands clean, however. He had to return more or less all the artefacts the Aurors were confident he had in his possession, and due to the awful competence of Bones, that meant pretty much everything he had robbed from the Isles in the last two decades.
And evidently, he had been forced to sell the names of his clients and peers.
By the time the hounds were finally leashed, and Amelia Bones promoted, Mundungus' career was over, and he was a much, much poorer man.
He had his antiquity store left, but most of the gold and the artefacts that he'd been hoping to retire with eventually were gone.
"I thought this life was over for me, you know," he whispered to the silent halls of the British Museum. "Those were the good old days, but I am no longer that young, and the Aurors know where I live. If they see a spectacular theft, I'm pretty sure my door will be one of the first ones they will knock on before the week is over."
The good news, such as it was and what there was of it, was that Azkaban was no more, so Mundungus wouldn't be sent to it, in the case he was caught.
The bad news, and it was very bad, was of course that his personal nemesis Amelia Bones was Minister of Magic now, and was very unlikely to have forgotten him despite her exalted position.
"Let's get this done quickly, so I can return to sell my antiquities." And if the Aurors occasionally asked him about stolen goods, well, his ignorance that the young fools had stolen what was not theirs to possess was his strongest shield.
It was easier said than done.
The British Museum was bloody huge. Granted, it was not the first time Mundungus Fletcher visited it, but for all his attention to splendid pieces of art and historical artefacts, his memory wasn't as good as it once was.
And of course, since it had been a decade ago, plenty of things had changed. In a way, Mundungus had the curious sensation of being as much of a relic as some of the massive marble statues that were presented to unbearable children and their uneducated parents.
It had to be mentioned, last but not least, that Albus Dumbledore had given him instructions that were not worth the parchment they had been written upon.
For a Lord Mage that pretended to care about the Muggles, Mundungus had often noticed that the Headmaster of Hogwarts was utterly incapable of disguising himself to pass as one.
"Right. The Cathay...China Collection is there...did we steal half of East Asia while I wasn't looking? Bloody magpies..."
Seriously, Mundungus was a thief, but the people who had pillaged to enrich the British Museum with stolen artworks were in a class by themselves. At least when a Fletcher thief robbed some credulous pureblood, he wasn't selling it in front of the Ministry in the weeks after!
It had to be the audacity, in his expert opinion. The sheer brazenness of the entire Muggle aristocracy was so massive it must have shocked the other countries for decades.
"Here...no, not here...ah, honestly, whoever wrote these instructions should be cursed three or four times with humiliating hexes. I would have done better knowing nothing about the target."
In the end, this was the solution.
Not paying any attention to the 'clues' on the parchment, and using his intuition.
Fine, yes, his intuition and some passive Seeker Spells.
There weren't many magical artefacts exposed in the British Museum, when it came down to it.
"And here I was expecting something a bit more...impressive."
It looked like a scroll.
No, it was a scroll.
There were silk mounts, as in the silk was framing the 'painting'. Whoever had done it had some real talent, though unfortunately, the centuries had not been kind to it, and a lot of the colours had faded.
If not for the magic clearly imbuing it – something Mundungus could feel the warm touch of despite the glass separating him from it – it wouldn't have been different from any of the scrolls presented in this middle-sized museum room.
But the scroll was magical.
"I really wonder why the hell you want something like that, Dumbledore. I know you have some strange ideas sometimes, but it looks ridiculous, even by your standards."
"I admit I feel the same," an amused voice announced to him.
Mundungus jumped and cast a Stupefy in reaction.
The red jet of magic hit absolutely nothing, and a second later, he was disarmed.
Then the Invisibility Cloak fell, revealing a person that Mundungus had never been introduced to personally, but recognised instantly nonetheless.
"Err...it is not what you think, Lady Protector." Mundungus cleared his throat. "It is not my fault."
"Oh?" the green eyes flashed, and Mundungus shivered, for he saw his Death in those irises. "I am extremely interested to listen to your fascinating apologies, thief."
Amelia Bones must have hit him with several Misfortune Curses the first time she had arrested him, there was no other explanation possible...
29 May 1995, Hogwarts, Scotland
Albus often wished he could wake up late in the morning.
Some of his political opponents over the years assumed he did so anyway, and as amusing as it was to prove them wrong, he didn't have the vitality of youth anymore, and drinking some Alchemical rejuvenating Elixirs always carried a price.
It was not getting easier, year after year. Albus still woke up most of the time before dawn. The year of 1995 was far worse than the previous one, as he now needed to lead the Order of the Phoenix. In the meantime, despite no students, he needed to keep Hogwarts as normal as the castle could be...and it was more difficult than he had imagined.
Plenty of teachers had never come back, and the members of the Order of the Phoenix he had put in 'acting-replacement' duties didn't have the skills of other people. And of course some who remained caused problems just by their personality alone...Severus being the name who came at the top of his mind.
Challenging the Ministry was not without costs.
Albus had calculated the outcome would be worth it for a short campaign, but he had not thought Amelia Bones would be so willing to ignore him for several months.
Yet she had.
She had, and all his allies had confirmed that next September, the Ministry would open its alternative for Hogwarts to all students of magic. The only scenario where they wouldn't was if he happened to be expelled from Hogwarts before that deadline.
The former Chief Warlock caressed his silver beard.
He had underestimated the cunning of the new Ministry administration, he could now admit to himself.
Albus had envisioned an era of brutal changes that would shake England to its foundations, and provoke strife between Muggles and Wizards. With so much chaos, with Dark Wizards pleading for atrocities and vicious purges, the Aurors and Hit-Wizards would desert in great numbers, allowing him to bolster his Order by the hundreds.
That wasn't what had happened.
The first attempt to remove the Black Witch styling herself 'Lady Protector' had failed thanks to an absurd lack of support in the Wizengamot.
In the aftermath of this defeat, most of his allies had outright refused to abandon their positions and publicly side with him.
This had been particularly galling, and it wasn't getting any better.
It was getting worse, honestly.
Keeping the Order mustered on the Light's resources was expensive. As regrettable and costly as it was, inaction was worse.
The 'ignorance' of the Ministry would only last as long as the Order caused no significant trouble. If that changed, the arrests would begin. This was what had been announced in many sessions of the Wizengamot, and Albus had no reason to doubt it.
"As it stands, the Ministry has all the advantages. There is no support for a powerful counter-coup, and the number of young wizards and witches willing to give their vocal support in public is far too sparse."
Speaking like that was assuredly a bit trying to convince himself of the argument he was making, because with Fawkes asleep on his perch, there was no one who would or could answer here.
"I need a Champion to lead the armies of the Light."
That had been true during the Tournament, in fact-
"I need a worthy Champion," he amended his words with a grimace. "And one who hasn't had their mood soured when it comes to the ideal of the Light."
Unfortunately, that was the entirety of the former Champions who had survived the Fourth Task. While some may return to the fold in time – the Boy-Who-Lived was young and easily impressionable – they were unavailable right now.
This was the moment the large Hippogriff feather in front of his desk began to transform into a large mirror, the pre-conditions he had made for the Enchantment finally being fulfilled.
"And I believe Mundungus' efforts will go a long way into answering this need."
Albus cleared his throat as the mirror solidified and the communication magic forged the link between the two feathers.
"I was getting a bit worried, old friend. While I know I gave you a free way to acquire the artefact, you should have-"
Albus' words failed in his throat.
Because the person standing in front of the other mirror was not Mundungus Fletcher.
Green eyes flashing with the intensity of a Killing Curse.
A long black braid which reminded him of the ancient Battle-Mages.
And above all, a satisfied smirk relishing in his surprise.
"I am afraid I intercepted Mundungus Fletcher before he could accomplish the mission you gave him," the most powerful Black Witch of Britain told him in a tone that was insulting as it was prideful. "Now, Albus Dumbledore, rejoice. For tonight, I am only supposed to deliver a warning."
29 May 1995, the British Museum, London, England
It shouldn't feel so satisfying to see the Defeater of Grindelwald gape.
But it was.
"Alexandra Potter," her enemy uttered her name like she had added venom to his tea. "I suppose you killed Mundungus, to satisfy your murderous urges?"
The Ravenclaw wandlessly cast a Wingardium Leviosa, and the thief came to levitate right by her side. She had bound and gagged him ahead of contacting his patron, of course. Alexandra was the Champion of Death, but getting distracted and leaving a potential threat behind you didn't sound wise at all.
"I am the Champion of the Morrigan, but I don't slaughter every idiot you're using for your countless misdeeds." She rolled her eyes, not bothering to transform them into those of a Hydra. "If I tried to achieve it, I wouldn't even have time to sleep."
"Mundungus Fletcher is a good and principled wizard who is on the side of the Light."
Alexandra had to stop her from exploding into giggles at that. As it was, she couldn't help but give out an undignified snort.
"I'm really impressed you can manage to say that with a straight face." Susan was very familiar with Fletcher's case, since arresting the wizard in question had been one of the longest investigations in her aunt's career. "Aren't you going to add next that you're going to restore peace and justice in the Kingdom of Great Britain?"
The eyes narrowed, and the aura of power grew to a frightening intensity. The office of the silver-bearded wizard was an entire island away, but magic was magic, and Albus Dumbledore's leash on his own magic was getting dangerously frayed.
For all his stone-like expression, she was definitely annoying him.
Good.
"How did you know Mundungus was going to be infiltrating the British Museum tonight?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" she eluded the question with a predatory smile.
In all bluntness, the intelligence arm of the Exchequer was a really, really frightening thing. They didn't have too much information on what was happening inside Hogwarts right now, but they had an enormous spy network in and outside London.
"You were given the information, then," the former Chief Warlock guessed – accurately for once. "You do not have any idea who you're allying with."
"Says the man who decided that allying with Ra, the Archmage of Light willing to kill billions to usher in the never-ending reign of the Light, was the principled thing to do."
This time there was a flinch.
Oh, look, it appeared there were a few things that were too much for the man who had once invented the philosophy of the 'Greater Good' on the magical side.
"Anyway. Like I said in my introduction, I have come to deliver a warning, Albus Dumbledore. This mission to recover this latest copy of the Xia Heroic Scroll won't be tolerated."
"You have no idea what is at stake!" This time, the anger was perfectly clear. Yes, Albus Dumbledore had been perfectly willing to jump on the next wagon of stupidity.
Why wasn't she surprised?
"You intend to use the Xia Scroll to sacrifice someone, likely one very Dark Creature like a Lethifold, to summon a paragon of the Light in this reality. In other words, since all the current Champions of the Light are dead or are busy pretending you don't exist, you want to bring another one to this reality so they will lead the Order of the Phoenix to victory."
Alexandra paused just long enough to catch her breath, and continued.
"The Exchequer is very displeased by this, and to be honest, I am too. I won't say I am completely surprised by your willingness to force some other Champion to bloody their hands. It was exactly what you did with Henri de Condé and all the others with the Grail-"
"I played no part in that!"
The defence was wrong on all fronts. This kind of hypocrisy was sickening.
"You played no part, or were you content to stay far away from the battlefield when you realised what your 'ally' truly intended to do to the very children you as Headmaster were supposed to protect?"
Facing the Lord-level wizard, it was extremely easy to guess what the correct option was.
"The Light has returned to a single Power and Champion, Albus Dumbledore. The Archmage is no more, and your faction has been defeated. At the moment, the Exchequer and the Ministry are both willing to regard you as a mere pest which can wait a few more years to be dealt with, unless you die of old age first. But if your arrogance and your goals once again go beyond the pale, you will be eliminated."
"I am protected by the finest wards of the Isles, Black Witch! If you dare muster your hordes and launch an assault against Hogwarts, you will fail and perish like every Dark Creature did in the last centuries!"
"There is no ward powerful enough to protect you against an artificial meteor, Dumbledore."
The fall of Hogwarts wouldn't happen that way, of course. There was no way Alexandra would annihilate the school and all the land around it. It could cause a catastrophic magical backlash, just to start with.
But Dumbledore didn't know that.
"I have delivered my warning," the Lady Protector of the Isles finished her declaration. "If you fail to heed it, I will make sure you will be the first Dumbledore to die this year. I do not wish you a good day, for you certainly do not deserve one."
And with one slash of her hand, the mirror construct broke into a thousand pieces.
29 May 1995, Hogwarts, Scotland
For several seconds, Albus Dumbledore desired nothing more than to Apparate to the British Museum of London to punish that insolent child for her insults.
It took him more time than he would ever acknowledge to recover some semblance of control and realise it was a reckless idea.
Before all other considerations were considered, it would tire him. Fawkes was soundly asleep, and unfortunately, you didn't wake up a Phoenix like you did a dog or a cat. That meant using nothing but his magic, to a place he knew very little about.
Yes, the more he thought, the more the move looked foolish.
He didn't even know what kind of trap had caught Mundungus.
Some kind or argument could be made that the Black Witch of Death didn't need much support to take down someone who had failed to get a passing grade for his Defence OWLs.
Unfortunately, that wasn't exactly a reassurance.
The Dark Lady could wait for him alone, or she could be supported by an entire expeditionary force of the Exchequer.
And Albus couldn't know one way or another without Apparating and checking in person.
A small part of his very being whispered the risk was manageable compared to the potential gains.
If he could kill her-
Of course, the reverse was also possible, as much as it was an appalling possibility.
One year ago, the very thought would have seemed ridiculous.
But one year ago, the Black Witch had not yet killed Ra, found the Tomb of Alexander, or survived everything Galahad could throw at her before shattering some of the greatest Light Artefacts to ever be forged.
No.
A duel in these circumstances, without the magic of Hogwarts to bolster his natural abilities, would be foolish in the extreme.
The battlefield was in the middle of London too.
Remembering the devastation that had been created after he cornered Gellert, the idea of replicating it with the capital of England replacing Germany's was...ill-advised.
No.
Alexandra Potter would die by his wand, but today was not the time, and the British Museum was not the place.
Sighing once more, the Headmaster of Hogwarts cast a Patronus and sent it to one of his oldest friends.
Dawn was still one hour away, but Albus was sure he was already awake.
As the gargoyle was given the password less than fifteen minutes later, this could even be amended to 'was doing patrol when the Patronus found him'.
"Alastor, we have a problem," the silver-bearded Light Lord spoke after greeting the other member of the Order of Phoenix.
"The Xia scroll was a fake or Mundungus' retirement dulled his skills?"
"Neither," Albus answered. "The Lady Protector was waiting for him."
Alastor grimaced, which did emphasize once again all the ugly scars he had gained over the course of his long and distinguished career.
"Someone spoke in presence of beings he shouldn't have."
"That was my impression as well."
The magical eye swirled at an ever-increasing pace before stopping as its owner gave it a mental command.
"Do you want me to mount a rescue operation?"
"I thought about it," he began truthfully, "but no. If the Black Witch didn't kill Mundungus before she activated the feather-mirror to gloat, there's no reason for her to execute him. In all likelihood, the alliance between the Bones Ministry and the Dark is sufficiently strong that the Lady Protector will deliver him to the Ministry's cells before dawn."
They may have enough evidence to put some accusations on him, assuming they knew of some missions the Order of Phoenix had paid for in the last month.
"Yes, Amelia is going to love that." Alastor snorted. "Ordinarily, I would say someone would not get more than a slap on the wrist for a first robbery, but this isn't Mundungus' first...nor was it his thousandth. And the Muggles won't like it either."
"Do you really think it is a possibility they will let the Muggle Ministry deliver the sentence?" the headmaster asked, feeling more alarm than he had until now.
His friend rapidly shook his head, however.
"I very much doubt they will, Albus. Mundungus didn't manage to steal the scroll, after all, and most of his thefts and embezzlement were done pre-Statute on our side. Plus Amelia hates the guts of that scoundrel. The only time she might request the Muggles' involvement is to build him a very special jail so he can't possibly escape until his sentence ends."
The retired Auror tried to smile, something that ended up being more frightening than anything called a smile ought to be, in Albus' opinion.
"No, Albus, Mundungus should be fine...or at least as fine as someone facing a vengeful Amelia Bones can be. But if Potter delivers Mundungus Fletcher into her custody, she will follow the law. And Azkaban is gone, so any prison she sends him to won't be that arduous for his health. I don't know if we will be able to arrange a break-out, but the scoundrel won't be in much danger until then."
"And we have lost the possibility of using the scroll." Albus wasn't a gambling man, but it was a sure bet that when the Museum would open to the public, the scroll wouldn't be present to be observed by thousands of eyes.
Alastor Moody didn't seem that bothered by the loss. Then again-
"Albus, I told you the idea of summoning a Champion that has no stake in this quarrel was a bad idea, to begin with. If this was Voldemort in power and taking measures to consolidate a reign of terror over Britain, things would be different. But there's little fear or discontent at the moment. And the current Champion of the Light is perfectly fine with how things are going at present. Bringing someone from a different world without asking for permission sounded like a really, really bad idea when I listened to you the first time, and I haven't changed my mind."
Albus Dumbledore winced, but said nothing.
The arguments of Alastor were still as good as the first time they had been uttered.
And in the end, the whole plan was in tatters, so it wasn't like it really mattered anymore.
"What are we going to do?"
"I don't know, Alastor. I really don't know."
29 May 1995, British Museum, London, England
Minister Amelia Bones, Alexandra thought, looked very much the cat about to devour the canary.
"Ah, Mundungus Fletcher," Susan's aunt could have terrified many men, "I mentioned to the senior Aurors the other days that it had been too long since we last caught you doing something illegal."
"I've done nothing illegal!" the bald wizard squealed.
"Lady Protector?"
"His fingers were mere inches away from the scroll, and he had deactivated all of the alarms in the room." Alexandra sighed theatrically for one second before delivering the final blow. "I don't remember the Prime Minister transferring the paperwork to tell us that he hired a wizard to protect the collections of the British Museum."
Several pairs of eyes turned towards Mundungus Fletcher.
"I was...hem...testing the security, yes! Yes! You can't prove otherwise!"
"I took from you an enchanted item whose sole purpose was to communicate with Albus Dumbledore," the Champion of the Morrigan said drily. "Try again."
"I...I..."
"I think it is time for me to write a Minister's Executive Order which will allow the Aurors to search your antiquity's shop for the better part of a day," Amelia Bones intervened.
"I am an honest businessman!"
"Half of your clients are known to the DMLE, to the point they're the main suspects in a considerable number of robberies," the former Director reminded him acidly. "It is only because some of the people who buy artefacts are from Wizengamot-seated Houses that you were given the benefit of the doubt."
The Hydra Animagus had already heard of something that echoed strangely with this situation.
Her green eyes watched Mundungus Fletcher with amusement.
"You're one of the people Albus Dumbledore gave a second chance, right?"
"He is, yes," Susan's aunt replied before the thief could.
Alexandra couldn't help but snort.
"I should have expected that, I suppose."
"Hey, I have never injured someone in my dissipated youth!"
This was worth rolling your eyes to show a modicum of exasperation, seriously.
"I was more thinking about how easily some of you so-called 'defenders of the Light' seem to get pardons and forgiveness from the man, while plenty of students will never get a second chance. The legendary Defeater of Grindelwald seems very much to decide on a case-by-case basis who is worth a redemption story, and who isn't."
"Aren't you doing the same thing?" Mundungus Fletcher bit back.
Okay, the man had some backbone. She could give him that.
"I try to follow the letter of the law, if not its spirit," the young Champion of the Morrigan said calmly.
The thief coughed violently, whispering afterwards something about warships.
"For this one, I used a loophole of a recent law crafted by your colleague Arthur Weasley, in fact." Mundungus Fletcher looked as if he had been slapped on his cheeks. Several times. "Anyway, as fun as this conversation is, I'm afraid I will have to end it. I have a very busy schedule today. Minister?"
"I will accompany Mr. Mundungus Fletcher to the Ministry," Amelia Bones didn't add 'with pleasure', but everyone present heard it nonetheless. "Though the Wizengamot will likely have to do a debate about the problem of magical artefacts found in non-magical Museums. For the moment, two of my Hit-Wizards will stay here until the Museum personnel place it in a more secure location, but the Ministry can hardly afford that on a long-term basis."
"Maybe we can indeed make legal a job which will allow wizards and witches to examine art collections and inform the non-magical curators of any prized possessions that have magical potential?" Alexandra shrugged. "I suppose it will be an interesting debate on the floor of the Wizengamot."
"That it will," the Minister of Magic agreed, and on this, two Aurors stepped forwards to put manacles on the wrists of Mundungus Fletcher.
Alexandra whistled a Venetian tune and began to march out of the China-themed gallery.
The day was really beginning well.
One thief had been arrested. She had had the opportunity to mightily annoy Albus Dumbledore. The Order of the Phoenix wasn't going to get any opportunity to summon a Champion to help in their disastrously-prepared anti-Ministry crusade.
And all of that had been accomplished before breakfast.
"Yes, this is a nice way to begin the day-"
Magic pulsed.
Alexandra opened her eyes wide.
She had been on her way to leave the British Museum.
Now she was not, not anymore.
There was a gallery of Indian artefacts ahead of her, and the air was distorting, crumbling as crimson-purple magic was spreading in massive clouds.
It felt like a cousin to the metallic taste of Strife, but it was not.
And with every breath, the world seemed to lose all colours.
From nowhere, a crow arrived and landed on her left shoulder.
"I shouldn't have opened my big mouth so fast," Alexandra admitted honestly to the bird right as on one of the walls, a gate materialised.
It could have passed as a mirror, except mirrors were made of glass; where said material should have been, here it looked as if the space was replaced by boiling blood.
The world was fading all around her, except some of the statues. The statues, including one giant one with four arms, were beginning to move and appear more and more sinister with every breath.
"All right. Let's see what the hell this is about."
The Realm of Kala, beyond this world and beyond Time
It took only a few seconds to know where the Gate had led her to.
The absurd number of weapons which were spread out across the entire plain...it was a big clue, of course.
There were spears, sabres, and even bayonets.
Axes were next to artillery pieces.
There were skeletons on horses waiting near immobile next to grenade launchers, and damaged tanks standing vigil in the shadow of war golems.
It was all the instruments ever invented by Mankind to wage war on a colossal scale.
It was the Domain of War, much as Pandemonium was of Death.
Alexandra felt very much a stranger in this place, and the contact of her boots with the ground didn't help.
It wasn't any earth; it was spongy, and horribly crimson.
If the Hydra Animagus had to take a guess, she was in a Domain where War was going through a metamorphosis while being imbued with the Power of Blood.
It should be impossible.
Yes, Alexandra knew that the word was kind of 'elastic' every time magic was involved, but here it really was impossible.
War in this world was now Strife. And Strife was the Power of Metal.
Reversing that was not completely out of the realm of possible, since Ra had done it once, but right now, when there was no Archmage left on this earth? No.
The only explanation left was that much like Dumbledore had tried to use a ritual to drag a Light Champion into this world, someone had tried the reverse, but focusing upon her.
This was not her world's Domain of Strife; it was one of the many, many Domains of War which existed at all times beyond the ability of normal wizards and witches to reach.
At least that was her theory...and she had none better to give now.
Alexandra walked.
Staying immobile, for some reason, felt like it would be a very bad idea.
As for the destination?
There was only one which made sense.
Beyond the battlefield, beyond the hundreds of thousands of weapons surrounding her, there was a gigantic monument that could have been a copy of some Indian fortress Padma Patil had once shown to all Ravenclaws when coming back from the summer holidays.
Of course, if her memory was correct, that fortress had been rather red.
This one was a sinister black, and felt like it was-
It was of the Dark, all right.
Blood was leaking into this realm, but the Dark still held sway for now.
Somehow, it didn't feel like a coincidence.
This happened at a moment when mere days ago she had really decided to embrace Lightning instead of the Dark.
The Queen and she had not discussed it, but Alexandra had read some tomes of the Library of Alexandria which described some 'transition' processes that former Champions had written long ago.
Assuredly, there were things the Powers didn't control.
But here, it really felt way too big to be a coincidence.
The only good news, as far as she could see, was that the 'Blood Gate' which had served as her entrance into this Realm of War, remained open and visible, generating some kind of baleful aura under the onyx sky.
It only became stranger from there.
Every ten steps, suits of empty armour began to appear.
Alexandra wasn't a specialist, but each and every one of them seemed to have been forged in India, or at the very least, South-Eastern Asia.
This fit the theme of the gallery of the Museum she had been teleported to, but it didn't exactly answer one pressing question: why her?
Sure, the Maharaja of Mysore was the ICW Representative that had been assigned to her for the entirety of the Tournament.
But that was more or less her entire connection to the Indian sub-continent. She wasn't Parvati or Padma Patil, who had plenty of family living there.
Save when she slew dangerous beings as the Champion of the Morrigan, Alexandra hadn't even truly visited any part of India, officially or unofficially.
If there had been fewer weapons and more pranks, the Ravenclaw could have envisaged the possibility of a giant joke from Fred and George...but it wasn't to be.
The giant bridge that she was forced to cross in the next seconds looked like it was made from millions of blades, and that was way beyond anything the Twins could do, illusion or not.
All in all, Alexandra was really happy War had no control over the souls of the departed.
Because one thing that felt certain was that the Domain would have had thousands of corpses fighting together for all of eternity, if it was within the abilities of War to do so.
Thankfully, she was almost at the black fortress.
The details began to get increasingly clearer with every second.
Like the fact there was a giant throne before the titanic gate in front of her.
Or how the two towers on each side were bristling with weapons which were definitely the definition of lethality itself.
Most of her concentration went to the occupant of the throne.
Alexandra was absolutely sure she had never seen her before.
There was a lot of resemblance with Padma and Parvati, it had to be said, beginning with the chocolate skin and ending with the long black hair.
Of course, neither Parvati nor Padma had ever chosen to wear so many jewels, rings, and bracelets at the same time. This applied to the Winter Ball of the Tournament too.
And speaking of age...it was only a vague guess, but Alexandra thought the other girl was slightly younger than her.
It didn't mean that she wasn't dangerous.
The magic of War was definitely empowering her.
Romeo Malatesti wouldn't like to hear the words, but this girl was definitely far more dangerous than him.
Champion she was, and clearly, unafraid to spill an ocean of human blood.
If it was to make a statement, well, the message was acknowledged.
"A strange invitation," Alexandra spoke in English. "But since Death didn't punish you for it, I suppose I can hear what you have to say."
"You should work on your courtesies, dear."
Alexandra didn't like the repartee.
"The last time a Champion of the Light tried to oppose my goals in a similar stunt, he very much regretted it mere seconds after that."
This wasn't a boast; just the reality. And honestly, Alexandra hoped this kind of situation wasn't going to become the norm in the future. Asgard should have been an anomaly, not the prelude to far stranger events.
"I am not a Champion of the accursed Light," the hatred when the word was uttered was overwhelming and resonated across the entire realm.
Well, Dumbledore and other Light Lords had a gift for angering powerful witches, right?
"No, you aren't. Who are you?"
"Ah yes, sorry to have not introduced myself first, it was rude."
The Indian-looking girl gave her a seductive smile, one which created the flickering thought to never present her to Lucrezia Sforza.
"I am Rani Potter, Champion of Kali." Suddenly, the minor illusion which had been around her eyes flickered and died, and her irises began to burn crimson red with the intensity of an inferno. "Last Heiress of the House Potter, by virtue of being the only child of Lord James Potter and Lady Swati Potter nee Patil."
It had been a while since Alexandra was speechless.
In this instance, though, the Hydra Animagus had to admit she gaped for long seconds, unable to say anything coherent.
"All right, I hadn't seen that coming." So there was a possible timeline where Lilian Evans and James Potter hadn't married. That was kind of something, uh.
Okay, the presentations had been done on one side, courtesy demanded she returned the favour.
"Alexandra Potter, Champion of the Morrigan, and obviously death. I was born from the union of James Potter and Lilian Potter nee Evans. And like you, I am the last Heiress of House Potter, though I also happen to be Lady Protector of the British Isles at the moment, and Marshal of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea."
"What?"
There was really something extremely satisfying about one of your counterparts gaping in surprise.
"Your Power didn't reveal that kind of minor information?" Alexandra added innocently before laughing.
Author's note:
If Alexandra received a Galleon for every alternate version of herself she met, she would get two Galleons. It's not a lot, but she is going to acknowledge it is weird both cases happened in such a short amount of time...
This is the first chapter of what should be the latest arc of Fourth Year (I hope). Enjoy!
The other links for the story:
On P a treon: ww w. p a treon Antony444
On TV Tropes: ww w. tvtropes pmwiki / pmwiki .php/ Fanfic/ TheOddsWereNeverInMyFavour
On Archive of Our Own: archive of ourown works / 51222748 / chapters / 129428554