I own nothing.

Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum

-Chapter Thirty-Seven

Harry finished his scotch and sat back in his seat. He savored the heat of the roaring fire nearby, the softness of his chair, the warmth of his drink and the support of Amalie leaning against his shoulder. As interrogations went, this was a rather nice one. After a moment, he leaned forward to pick up the decanter. A hand landed palm down on it.

"I think you've had enough Potter," Minerva stated.

"You just heard everything I've been through tonight and you think I've had enough?" Harry asked. "As long as I'm conscious, I haven't had enough." Minerva stared at him for a long moment before picking up the decanter herself and pouring him a glass. Then she topped off her own.

"They have to find Sirius innocent, right?" Harry demanded. "That whole crowd heard Peter. They know."

"People are horrifically quick to forget things that inconvenience them and their world view," Minerva stated as she took a drink.

"I'll inconvenience them if they get in my way," Harry growled. "They can't imagine the hell I can bring." That drew a chuckle from his friends and a small smile from his teacher.

"You underestimate the memory of your mother," Minerva stated. "Try going by her maiden name and watch them imagine a hell you probably can't even comprehend." Harry had to laugh at that. "Though, to assuage your fears, I'm sure the people will remember this, if only so they can tell everyone how they knew all along and gossip about the injustice of it all."

"Sounds about right," Ron grumbled.

"So, once again," Minerva said, "why didn't you alert the teachers to your suspicions that the Third Task had been tampered with?"

"This whole thing has been tampered with from the start!" Harry insisted. "That's how I ended up here in the first place."

"I suppose," Minerva admitted, knowing him well enough to not question him about the willingness of his participation. Especially not with a twice dead Death Eater still on school grounds.

"And what could you have done?" Harry asked. "More teachers patrolling the outside of the maze wouldn't have helped me."

"We could have been more prepared, like your unnamed "ex-auror friend and his comrades," that joined you," Minerva growled. She didn't quite make air quotes, but it was a close thing. It was fortunate that at least one of her hands was holding her glass. "You know, the ones who somehow knew you were in trouble and were able to follow you."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, absently scratching his left shoulder and earning himself a glare from Amalie and Minerva. "Anyway, how would you have been prepared? No one could have known that the cup had been turned into a portkey by a Death Eater disguised as the Defense instructor!"

"I suppose not," Minerva agreed as she sipped her glass. Her previous refusal to drink with students had been suspended due to the night's shenanigans and threats of reprisals if any of them mentioned it.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'm exhausted," Harry stated.

"To your dorms then," Minerva stated. "If I find out that you deviated from that route, there will be consequences."

"At the moment, I would kill someone who got between me and a bed," Harry said simply.

"Good," Minerva replied. Harry and his friends finished their drinks before rising and moving to the door. "Potter?" Harry hesitated, one hand on the door, and glanced back at his teacher. "Why didn't you send up a signal when you noticed that the cup was a portkey?"

"Who said we noticed?" Harry asked simply. Minerva's eyebrow twitched. In answer, Harry calmly closed the door. Predators were always clued to quick movements. He turned to his friends, but Ron, Hermione and Luna were almost halfway down the hallway already. He grabbed Amalie's hand. "Run." If Minerva wanted a better answer to that one, she was going to have to chase him down. Hopefully he would have thought of a half decent one by then.

"Have you considered the truth?" Amalie ventured. She had stumbled for a moment as he dragged her, but quickly caught her feet and was running beside him. Oddly, she hadn't let go of his hand yet. "I'd rather like that myself."

"I don't even know what that is at this point," Harry admitted.


"Potter!" Albus and Amelia glanced up as a gaggle of students sprinted by them. A moment later, they were followed by Albus's deputy. She was surprisingly spy for her age. Such was the power of anger Albus supposed.

"Well, that's happening," Amelia stated.

"It's not unusual," Albus admitted. "Though, normally, they keep it a little lower key."

"Why do I feel like I, as the head of law enforcement in this country, am one of the least intimidating people in this school?" Amelia demanded.

"Well," Albus began, "you have yet to go toe to toe with Mister Potter. That seems to be the yard stick by which we judge intimidation in this school lately."

"You mean, Professor McGonagall has?"

"Quite violently," Albus said. "No one says it outright, but everyone knows. That and Minerva has always been a touch terrifying. Scotts, I suppose."

"She's fought Potter?"

"She's fought all of them," Albut stated. "I believe they all refer to it as training."

"So, if I call it training, I can beat Potter and his friends until I get answers?" Amelia asked.

"Ah, excellent! I am in need of a new Defense professor." Amelia gawked at the man as she realized the trap he had laid. Damn. He was good.

"No," she stated flatly.

"Well, I can't expect the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to offer her own services of course," Albus replied grandly.

"Right," Amelia ventured tentatively.

"How about one of your aurors instead?"

"I am leaving before I end up agreeing to anything by accident."

"And here I was about to offer you a drink in my office," Albus lamented.

"Yeah, I bet you were." Amelia didn't quite flee, but she did remove herself from the castle at a brisk pace.

One did not simply argue with Albus Dumbledore and come out the victor. . .especially if they thought they did.


Amelia glanced up as the door to her office opened and Kingsley stepped inside. "Only good news Shack."

"I see," the giant man replied. They stared at each other in silence for a long moment before Amelia's forehead met her desk.

"There's no good news, is there?" she asked.

"There's. . .not bad news," Kingsley said helpfully. "Well, I mean, there's news that isn't bad as well as bad news. Do you consider the absence of bad to be good?" Amelia lifted her head just to glare at the man. He dropped a ream of papers on her desk and she couldn't help but notice the dull grey vambrace poking out from the sleeve of his crimson Auror robes. "I grabbed a couple of the old guard and followed the portkey like you asked."

"The old guard?" Amelia ventured.

"There are horrifically few of us left working here," Kingsley grumbled. Amelia put a pin in that one. Due to the destruction of their paperwork, she hadn't been aware of any other remaining SPIE officers other than the man in front of her. An uncharacteristic slip up, or subtly letting her know that she still had a few hatchet men at her beck and call?

"So, graveyard?" she asked as she began to speed read the papers.

"Just as Potter reported," Kingsley replied. "We found signs of a quick, down and dirty fight, signs that included a rather judicious amount of Pettigrew's blood sprayed about, and a large cauldron full of a currently unidentified potion. We found it next to a grave containing incinerated human remains. The gravestone was for a Mister Thomas Riddle."

"Exactly what Potter reported," Amelia translated, "or, at least, what his solicitors said."

"Yes," Kingsley reported. "We questioned a few local muggles. They reported a seemingly unnatural fog over the cemetery. They also reported a local man found dead of seemingly no cause in a house near the cemetery a few months ago. You probably won't like who the house is registered to."

"The Riddle family," Amelia guessed.

"I have a few people running down the story," Kingsley stated. "So far, the tale is that decades ago the son of the local affluent Riddles returned after having been missing for years. He told a story of being bewitched by a woman and giving her a son." Amelia leaned back in her seat. "You are more stressed than you should be about this situation."

"More stressed than proof that the Dark Lord of our time is still alive and, apparently, capable of carrying out operations to kidnap Hogwarts students and kill Ministry officials?" Amelia demanded.

"Yeah," Kingsley said simply. Let no one say he lacked the gift of brevity.

"The Minister has declared war upon a group of dark magicians," Amelia stated. The large man was quiet for a moment.

"Neat. Why are you saying dark magicians instead of Death Eaters?" Kingsley asked, always a man to pick up on the details.

"According to the Minister, they are not Death Eaters," Amelia said. "If they were Death Eaters, that would implicate several of his largest donors."

"Oh, no. Where is this going?"

"This new group is comprised of renegade Death Eaters and unrelated dark magicians," Amelia explained.

"Renegade Death Eaters?" Kingsley demanded. "As opposed to the good Death Eaters?"

"Yes. The good Death Eaters that paid the ministry mind blowing amounts of gold to prove their loyalty and that they were under the Imperius," Amelia explained. "In response to this situation, the Minister has created a task force with very vague and broad powers."

"Vague enough that he can get away with kissing Pettigrew?" Kingsley wondered.

"We're going to have to see," Amelia stated. "With the shocking reveal of Pettigrew being alive, the shocking reveal that Black must be innocent of killing him and You Know Who's name being bandied about. . .well, it might be easy to bury Pettigrew; after all, he's not dead."

"No, he's worse," Kingsley growled.

"Potter said something similar," Amelia admitted. That threw the fact that the man advocated for a kiss versus an execution in a new light. Amelia put it aside for consideration when it became relevant at some point in the future, if ever.

"How is he doing this?" Kingsley demanded.

"Remember how we used to joke about him being in so many pockets that you could find him anywhere?" Amelia asked. "Well, bribery is a two-way street. Paying a bribe is illegal, just like accepting one."

"He's blackmailing all of the people bribing him?" Kingsley asked in shock.

"That's my guess," Amelia stated. She glanced at the clock. "The Parliment voted an hour ago. The Dark Magic Investigative Executive has assumed all responsibility for dark magical crimes."

"Who's on it?"

"As far as I know, Fudge," Amelia stated. "He just declared himself auror, judge, jury and executioner for anything involving, or thought to involve, dark magic." They were silent for a moment before Kingsley pulled out the chair in front of Amelia's desk and collapsed into it.

"If he's the country's auror now, what the hell are we supposed to do?" he asked.

"I assume, we keep doing our jobs and just accept it when the Minister swoops in and takes away one of our cases," Amelia stated. "God, I thought SPIE was bad."

"There were checks and balances, even for us," Kingsley stated, obviously annoyed at the comparison. "This can't be legal."

"I shanghaied Diggory, Davies, Doolittle and Babu and an unfathomable amount of tea, coffee and pepper up potions," Amelia stated. "They've been tearing through the ministry's law library at a disturbing rate."

"Does that have anything to do with them stepping in between you and Potter?" Kingsley ventured.

"I'm not that petty," Amelia countered. "They just happened to have put themselves in convenient proximity. So far, there are no laws that don't allow the Minister to declare himself unquestioned leader of the magical United Kingdom in times of threat, at least, not when he has the support of a numerical majority of Parliament. It seems that this is one of those things no one ever thought a Minister would try, so they didn't bother making a law about it."

"Oh," Kingsley grunted. "Why did the founders always fail to anticipate the complete assholes?"

"Asshole would be an upgrade for Fudge," Amelia growled. "Assholes tend to be smart. He is an impulsive idiot, desperately trying everything that isn't technically illegal to hold on to his power and avoid the consequences for what he did in a moment of panic. I think we are heading into a constitutional crisis."

"Oh shit." Kingsley leaned back in his chair. "All of Parliament can't be bribing him."

"Enough are, certainly most of the House of Lords and possible a few in the House of Commons," Amelia said. "Most of my current suspects are senior members of each. That means that a lot of other members, who aren't paying bribes, would vote the same way just to be liked by their party bosses. As for the rest, I think the Minister scared them with his talk of conspiracies and cabals of dark magicians."

"What do we do?"

"I don't have a clue," Amelia admitted. She pondered on that for a minute. "Who are your old guard loyal to?" Kingsley's eyebrow rose.

"At this point, they're as loyal to me as anyone in the Ministry," he admitted honestly. "Sorry, but you're just a symbol of peace time failings to them."

"And who are you loyal to?"

"I am loyal to the government of the Magical United Kingdom," Kingsley stated. "You, as my direct boss, are whom I take my orders and cues from. At least, until such time as you resign or are wholly, unquestionably and fully legally replaced." Amelia nodded. What she was about to do didn't feel right, but none of this did.

"Send out owls," she ordered. "Ask all the retired old guard if they would like to return to their posts with full pay and privileges." Kingsley's eyes narrowed and she could see his thought process. This sounded exactly like what it was. "With all this talk of Dark Magicians, I would feel more comfortable with some experienced personnel around. I'm sure I can convince the Minister."

"You know, most of them were forced out by people like you," Kingsley commented. "They aren't going to want to be micromanaged."

"And I have a little too much on my plate to micromanage them at the same time," Amelia countered. "Be persuasive Shack. The man leaned back in his chair. "If it's any consolation, I don't like this."

"That's my only consolation." They sat in there for a moment before the silence was broken by a tentative knock at the door.

"Enter!" The door creaked open and Tonks stuck her face in. "I said enter!"

"Yes ma'am!" The younger woman scrambled in and stood at attention. "I checked the logs. Remus Lupin did come to the ministry just before Hogwarts let out last year with the written purpose of speaking with the DMLE. Our department has no records of him coming here. The duty officer was Morgan and he does match the description given by Lupin."

"Perfect," Amelia hissed. There was only one way to improve a bad day and that was to make sure someone else was having a worse day.

"I'll get the cross," Kingsley chirped. Apparently, he had the same opinion.

"And that is why you're my right-hand man," Amelia stated. Tonks let out a loud, overly forced laugh at that. "Oh, did you want to handle the nails, Tonks?"

"What?" the younger woman squeaked.

"The hammer is pretty heavy, but I have faith in you," Kingsley added.

"What?" the pink haired woman managed.


Draco fought to keep his face neutral as he sat at his father's desk. When Severus had appeared in the early hours of the morning and told him that he was required for emergency family business, he had been somewhat less enthusiastic than he would have been just a few months ago.

Family business, or at least Lucius's version of it, had grown tiresome some time ago.

Despite that, Draco had committed to hearing his father out. Well, he had until the man opened his mouth.

"That worm!" Lucius howled, any thought of propriety and stoicism being lost as he stormed about his study. "How dare he turn on me? Me? I own him!"

"Bribery is a two-way street and it seems that many would lay claim to owning him," Draco stated. His father turned on him furiously, but he kept his face calm. "What do you plan?"

"He thinks he can do this to me," Lucius growled.

"He has already done it," Draco pointed out. "What do you plan, father?" He glanced away from his father and continued reading the minutes from the emergency session of Parliament. "He holds a slight majority in this. Will you partner with those who opposed him?"

"That band of mud bloods and muggle born?" Lucious hissed. A frown broke Draco's fa├žade as he contemplated that. Even if his father could force himself to consider such action in the face of someone blatantly taking advantage of him, it wasn't likely that they would even accept the man. His blatant and well-known discrimination would be just too much to stomach on their part.

"You personally lack too much support from the pure bloods in the House of Lords," Draco commented. That was another problem. Too many of the traditional families were aligned with the light, if only for appearance sake, especially after the last dark lord. They would never support the follower of a dark lord, even if they shared some of the more traditionalist views on purity. Siding with the half blood and muggle born in the House of Commons would do Lucius no favors with them either.

"I am still in contact with those who can handle these kinds of problems," Lucius sneered.

"Fudge dies," Draco stated, "he does so on the cusp of a new war with dark magic, whether real or perceived. That is martyrdom. They will hunt the perpetrator to the ends of the Earth."

"The House of Lords would stand with me," Lucius stated.

"Or they would happily turn on you as the mastermind and feed you to the masses as they bayed for blood," Draco countered. "You would need to tie yourself to all the other Lords for protection." And there was the rub, again, they wouldn't support a follower of a dark lord, not when such support could become public. Even the other ex-followers would not support him for fear of being turned on themselves. Lucius had isolated himself several times over from any support. It was a fascinating problem and, unfortunately, far beyond the scope of Draco's abilities. "The next election is in two years. That gives you time to plan." Lucius scowled and continued to rage about his study.

If Draco really believed that he had been called here for his father to vent, he would have given the man the benefit of the doubt again.

Except, he could see the wheels turning in the older man's head. He was desperately seeking a way to exact immediate vengeance on those who had wrong him.

Draco had been forming a low opinion of anyone who rushed into dangerous situations for years now. Even Potter had finally learned to slow down and think in the long term.

"This would never happen if the Dark Lord was alive," Lucius growled. Draco's frown increased. Discussing hypotheticals was never helpful, although that statement did lead to a curious situation.

"You don't believe the Dark Lord is alive?" Draco asked.

"You believe he is?" Lucius sneered. Draco's head cocked to the side as he considered that. His ever-growing network in Hogwarts had keyed him into some interesting information in the short hours since the champions' return.

Potter believed that the Dark Lord is alive. Draco despised the man. He hated his stupidity, his ignorance, his self-righteousness, his preferential treatment from the professors. Did that mean that he thought the man was wrong or a liar?

"Potter says that the Dark Lord is alive and I believe him," Draco said finally.

"You side with Potter?" Lucius demanded, his lips curling in disgust. Draco felt his head tilt as he considered the man. A curious interpretation of Draco's statement.

"I do not side with him," the younger Malfoy growled, his irritation eking out his attempts to remain disaffected. "I do not need to side with him to believe him."

"That will be all Draco," Lucius stated.

"As you say, father," Draco replied as he stood and made his way out of the study. He found his mother waiting for him on the other side. The woman waited for the doors to close before speaking.

"He will calm down," she stated. "His passions, once triggered, burn hot, but fast."

"Will he, or will he appear to calm down?" Draco asked. It was an important distinction. The tips of his mother's lips twitched. "May I have a copy of the minutes?" Now her lips stretched into a smile. She handed him a role of parchment, having had it already prepared.

"Have fun," Narcissa stated.

"I'm not sure what you mean, mother," Draco replied.

"Of course." The woman planted a kiss on his forehead and directed him to the sitting room where a portkey was waiting to take him back to Hogwarts.


"You guys do not look well," Cedric stated.

"Long night," Harry grunted.

"Me too, but I don't look that bad," Cedric pointed out as he sat down and began loading a plate with breakfast stuffs. "At least, I hope I don't."

"You didn't have to put up with Scottish Fury," Ron growled. "How does she have that much endurance?" He turned his glare on Harry. "And you could have ended it at any time if you had just told the truth!"

"I didn't know the truth at the time!" Harry insisted. Minerva had been surprisingly agreeable after he had realized that, perhaps, his actions had been a possible result of a very slight, practically insignificant amount of blood lust. The woman had ended her assault and walked away, grumbling about how they could have avoided all this mess. This mess being Harry and all his friends, including Amalie for the first time, being laid out across one of Hogwarts many trophy rooms.

"Do I want to know?" Cedric ventured.

"No," Harry stated. "Hell, I don't want to know." He was still processing the possibility that, maybe, he just wanted to really hurt certain people. "Is this what you feel like?" he asked Hermione.

"I have no idea what you mean," she said primly.

"Well, at least I'm not in denial, I suppose." Harry stuffed a forkful of eggs into his mouth as Hermione stumbled through trying to defend herself. She finally gave up to pout and glare at him. "How's the school, Cedric?"

"Well, everyone's a little annoyed that you got rid of another good Defense teacher," Cedric stated. "They understand that it needed to be done, but they liked Mad Eye."

"That wasn't Mad Eye!" Harry insisted, "and what do they mean, another good Defense instructor?"

"You know, after you turned the last one into a werewolf," Cedric replied. Harry's fork hit the plate after it tumbled out of his fingers."

"You're kidding," he ordered.

"Yeah. . .mostly," Cedric admitted. "Well, I mean, most of the students just say that as a joke."

"They think I turned Remus into a werewolf?"

"Rumors vary and what he did to you in order to receive such a cruel fate when you could have just killed him or wiped his mind like the first two," Cedric answered. Harry's forehead hit the table and he let out a groan of irritation. "Also, Fleur and Viktor's headmasters are basically sitting on them. I'd give it a day or two until they calm down enough to let them out."

"Oh," Harry grunted into the table. "Poor Fleur."

"You look how I feel." Harry perked up at the new voice and found himself staring at the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The woman was glaring at him with bleary, heavily bagged eyes. Beside her Amos was in a similar state. "I take it Professor McGonagall caught up with you?"

"It wasn't a question of if, just when," Harry stated. "One does not simply escape the inevitable."

"The Inevitable," Amelia mused, "good name for Professor McGonagall."

"Huh," Ron grunted. He caught the eyes of the group at the table and they all nodded. Really, Scottish Fury had been a little blatant. Might as well just call the woman out by her name.

"Morning dad," Cedric said. "Join us?" Amelia's mouth opened and she stared at the true Hogwarts champion for a moment before plopping herself down next to Ron and beginning to pile a plate high with a full English. Amos followed along, though he seemed more interested in coffee and seized a whole carafe of the stuff for himself.

Harry allowed them a respectable amount of time to try to replace sleep with sustenance.

"So," he began.

"Sirius Black has been pardoned," Amelia said flatly, her mouth not entirely devoid of food as she did. She snatched the carafe from Amos and downed a good half of it before handing it back to the man where it instantly began to refill itself. "If I give you the letter, will it find its way to the man?"

"Harry, as your solicitor, shut up," Amos stated, killing the entire carafe and watching it like a hawk as it began to refill. "You can leave the pardon for Harry to peruse out of curiosity while you continue to try to find the man. There is no guarantee Sirius Black will see it because Harry Potter has not been in contact with the escaped felon who, until recently, was believed to be the one who betrayed his parents and murdered Peter Pettigrew. To say otherwise would be slanderous and implicate my client in a felony. Right Harry?"

"Right Mister Diggory," Harry said quickly. "I have nothing more to say on the matter and all questions are to be given to my solicitor."

"Perfect," Amos said before stuffing three whole fried eggs in his mouth and washing them down with the entire carafe again. He shuddered in pleasure for a moment. "Why is a child the best client I've ever had?"

"Because children are used to getting stuck doing what they're told?" Harry ventured. Amos stared at him blankly.

"Huh. If I end up doing any more of this, I am going to be the children's solicitor. I will no longer work with adults who hire me, but then try to tell me how to do my job."

"This all seems a little quick," Ron commented. "Dad is always telling us that the Ministry can't get a thing done in a day when they can take a year."

"Well said," Amos stated. "Arthur has his way with words and he's rarely every wrong. This was railroaded through with shocking speed, but that's not too surprising when the murder victim shows up alive and committing other crimes. You can argue with a lot of evidence, but dead men being alive isn't one of them. Also, the Minister is on something of a PR rampage at the moment, so we got very lucky."

"Is that why you two look almost as rough as I feel?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Politics," Amelia stated. "I wouldn't worry about it if I were you. Once you go down this rabbit hole, there is no return."

"Ah," Harry replied. Politics were a big issue. They had nothing to do with him. He was just a schoolboy.

"And Potter?"

"Yes?" Harry asked.

"If I see you within the next year, I am going to have you arrested and chucked in a cell where you can't make more work for me," Amelia stated.

"Uh. . ." Harry began, glancing at his solicitor.

"Yeah, she can absolutely do that," Amos stated. "People are doing a few things they can do, but probably shouldn't do right now."

"I feel like that's. . ." Hermione began.

"Politics," Amelia interrupted. "It's all politics.

"Thank God we're just students and don't have to put up with that," Ron stated.

"I know," Harry agreed. He glanced at one of the nearby tables. "Uh, I think Susan has been struggling with whether or not to come up and say "hi" to you for a few minutes now."

"Susan?" Amelia slurred. Her eyes widened and she stole Amos's carafe again before slugging back the whole thing and scrubbing her hands over her face. "Right. Thanks, Potter."

"No problem," Harry replied with a pleased smile. "You should always enjoy your family. You never know when they might get ripped away from you." The older woman and Amos both stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes for a moment. Then Amos slung an arm around his son and gave him a tight hug.

"Thanks Potter," Amelia admitted, before rising to go join her niece.



-Author's drunken rambles. And some of you thought this was done! Trust me, when I finish a story, you will know it. The author's notes will be never ending. Also, just a joke at the end, or a scathing response to all the people who think politics is a big issue, so they shouldn't get involved in it. You decide! Just remember, there are countries in the world where people are still fighting and dying for the right to be involved in politics. So, you know, maybe just vote every chance you get. What the fuck does it cost you to participate in the government of your own country? A few lost hours in an afternoon? Perhaps hours driving to a polling place and more hours standing at an over-crowded polling place if some people get their way? Afterall, just because you make voting borderline impossible, you aren't actually subverting democracy because you aren't actively blocking people from voting.

You're just doing it passively and that's okay, right? It's not like fascist governments play this same game around the world, right? America is a democracy and that means that whatever you do must by democratic, right?

Anyway, will you always win when you vote? No. Should you think of voting as a win/lose deal? No, unless one party is actively sabotaging the democratic process. Then you can think of it as whether or not democracy won. If you want to get technical, I'm fifty/fifty on presidents. I've voted federally four times and I've only "won" twice. Did that mean I didn't support the other guy? Only once! Mostly cause the winner proved himself unfit before he was even elected.

I'm only human. I can be hypocritical if I want!

I'm also a veteran. You insult veterans at the risk of earning my never-ending ire. I don't care if you insult wars. Wars are fucking dumb and the people who start that shit should play Russian roulette with a chambered semi-auto. Yeah, war is necessary, but only when someone decides that they are going to make a run at being the worst person ever and they need to be ended. So, insult wars. Don't insult veterans. Some people feel differently. They only care about veterans when they can stand in front of them for a photo shoot or behind them to protect themselves.

Kind of like cops! Kind of wish cops would pay more attention to who stands behind them, if only because the people standing behind them are only there to protect themselves from protesters. Take away the protesters and watch those same people start talking about police brutality and government thugs and start attacking cops themselves.

Ah, the knife in the back. Weird how so many people are so eager to let people they don't know behind them just because those people spin a pretty verbal web. Personally, I don't even like my own brother being behind me. Though, as stated before, me and my own blood have issues.

So, VA had an actual living and breathing strawman on TV. How can a strawman be real? A strawman is a target that knows nothing and can be easily argued against because they don't exist.

Then some chick being interview by Fox news said that her son was being taught CRT.

What was Critical Race Theory to her?

It was her son being taught that Columbus and his buddies murderized the shit out of the locals because that is what conquerors do. Killing made her feel awkward because she couldn't accept that history is made on a tidal wave of blood.

History is not Critical Race Theory. Critical Race Theory is not any history that makes you feel awkward.

Critical Race Theory is a post-graduate socio-economic theory.

I don't care how smart you think your middle schooler is, they ain't getting taught CRT, so stop whining about it.

You are being led around by your nose and I would appreciate it if you could actually study shit before you complain.

The dumb bitch on the news went the "Well, we're just going to have to agree to disagree" route. Otherwise known as, "I don't know anything about what I'm talking about, so I'm ending this argument before I accidentally say the N-word."

How can so many Americans just accept this shit without studying it?

Or, are they actually just racist and trying to hide that?

If you're racist, just own that shit. Don't be a bitch and try to hide it. Are you scared of being socially reject? Good! You should be.

Now, either stop being a racist bitch, or start accepting that no one will publicly support you.

Yeah, mother fuckers! I'm drunk and feeling fighty! Make of that what you will.

Anywho! So, I'm pretty much basing the government in this story on my understanding of the UK government. Most fanfiction seems to kind of go with some weird combination of feudal and fantasy government. That's fair considering the OG writer's government was never described other than being basically too incompetent to actually work.

Yeah, Harry Potter is a libertarian wonderland where the government can't get it's shit together enough to actually do anything.

Hey, there's a statement that's probably never been typed before.

Also, how the fuck do you people have an official group called a Shadow Cabinet? How can you make politics sound interesting? Why the fuck does American call them the minority when they could call them the Shadow?

I had a black Scottish medic in middle Delaware explain that to me. . .and that is the silliest sentence that has ever been typed. No, he was not a cyclops. At least, not when I knew him.

Love you. Fuck you. Take care of yourselves and each other.

-Uncle Jack

P.S. So, as previously noted, I've been reading RWBY fanfics. It's a little weird how so many modern authors have pateron. Like, a lot. And, not to be mean, but the quality of a lot of the work is not great. Like, a guy has a single, kind of unoriginal story with kind of shitty grammar and spelling with single digit reviews, but he has links to his pateron.

It's just weird to me. I mean, I've been doing this a long time and there have always been ways of getting paid, but it was the top tier guys and gals. I mean, I remember at least one guy who stopped writing an Evangelion fic because he was turning it into a published novel. Oh my god that was definitely over a decade ago. Maybe over a decade and a half. No. Definitely over a decade and a half. Maybe two decades? Fuck. How do I keep doing this to myself?

Anyway, I would actually consider e-begging for beer and bullet money for this story, but that is after a decade and a half of continuously improving. I mean, I think this story is pretty god damned good, but it should be after almost twenty years.

If you want to make money writing fanfic, please, get good before you start a pateron. Also, so you can't spell pateron right or this site wipes it.