Also the possibility that someone walks in. Even if George is quick enough to use his ring, his partially-eaten place setting would be suspicious enough for the intruder to ask about it. At that point, why wouldn't the elves say anything?Originally Posted by Skull Leader
The problem is that there doesn't seem to be a good answer here, so I guess I'll withdraw my vote while I keep thinking about it.
[x] Physical Blows Only
[x] Room of Requirement
(Signature credit to TheSpy in his giveaway store thread. He does avatars too)
Fate/Reach Out (Persona 4 crossover)
Precursors of Purity (Ni no Kuni crossover; two-shot)
[x]Fox only, Final Destination, No Items.No rules.
[x] Room of Requirement
It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open one's mouth and remove all doubt -- Abraham Lincoln
Join Mafia 5 - A great game for losing friends and making enemies!
[ ] No conditions - Fleur should cut loose with everything she has
[ ] Agrees, and summons Luna to the kitchens for a Stone Cutter dinner
47: If the wizards will agree to have a fistfight, why can't we suggest the other extreme and play a game of chess/shogi?
48: [x] Get Luna from the Kitchens. We haven't seen her in some time.
Binged All Of Gundam In 4 Years, 1 Week and All I Got Was This Stupid Mask
FF XIV: Walked to the End
Started Legend of the Galactic Heroes (14/07/23), pray for me.
It's worth noting that Luna would be using her fusion form granted invisibility to sneak about, which would make it harder to catch her, depending where they go at Durmstrang.
Last edited by alfheimwanderer; April 1st, 2016 at 03:36 AM.
Hello! Longtime reader, first time poster. Been reading your Matou Shinji series since it posted on fanfiction.net and somehow stumbled my way to this site.
[ ] No conditions - Fleur should cut loose with everything she has
I think it would be interesting to see the full breadth of her abilities, even if Shinji loses it would be quite a show.
[ ] Agrees, and summons Luna to the kitchens for a Stone Cutter dinner
It's been a long time since any of the stone cutters had a meal together and it should do some good for George.
47: [ ] No conditions
48: [ ] Agrees, and summons Luna to the kitchens for a Stone Cutter dinner
Choice 49: Shinji chooses to face Fleur with no restrictions, allowing her to cut loose with everything she has. But how will he approach the fight?
[ ] Cautiously, as he doesn't know her full capabilities
[ ] Defensive, but probing - trying to get her to play her hand, so he can get a better measure of her abilities
[ ] Aggressively, attacking quickly and viciously
[ ] (write-in)
Choice 50: After the dinner, George finds himself curious about how his new powers compare to that of Shinji's or Luna's, given that he is aware of their fusion-level abilities. He inquires if there would be a suitable place for a friendly duel, and which, if either, of his fellow Stone Cutters would like to face him...
[ ] Tower, with Luna facing George
[ ] Tower, with Shinji facing George
[ ] RoR, with Luna facing George
[ ] RoR, with Shinji facing George
[ ] Three-way-duel in RoR
[ ] No suitable place at Hogwarts, Shinji will face George at Durmstrang
Initial gut feeling says [X] Cautiously, with special emphasis on not showing any more of our hand than we already have - we're trying to let her blow off steam, so it's less important that we win. We don't need to fight her later, either, so we don't need to know everything about her. I'm concerned that in order to get her to show her hand, we'd need to show more of our abilities than we'd like.
I'm also inclined to say [X] Shinji at Durmstrang; we just got done voting against showing George the RoR, and everything about the Founder's Tower being unsecured is still true.
I agree with apsalar reasoning here.
[X] Cautiously, as he doesn't know her full capabilities
[X] No suitable place at Hogwarts, Shinji will face George at Durmstrang
Have to say, I really want to see a three way fight between them as it would be chaos with two of them capable of being invisible. But yeah no where to fight that with out using the RoR. I don't suppose we could get Lockhart or Flitwick to give permission for either Luna to visit Durmstrang or George to visit Hogwarts for a day so that we could legally have the duel?
[ ] Cautiously, as he doesn't know her full capabilities
[ ] Tower, with Shinji facing George (I want to see how much not training yin to be able to attack spirits can trouble shinji)
Between Cautious and Defensive but probing- we're helping her to relax, so overhelming assault isn't an option, yet some sort of response won't hurt, making the spar a bit more "realistic".
While Shinji at Durmstrang could possibly give Victor and Fleur some unnecessary hints about George's combat style, let's promote our Hogvarts Champion a bit - we need more Durmstrang points.
[X] Cautiously, as he doesn't know her full capabilities
[X] No suitable place at Hogwarts, Shinji will face George at Durmstrang
[x] Cautiously, as he doesn't know her full capabilities
[x] No suitable place at Hogwarts, Shinji will face George at Durmstrang
Duel her cautiously.
No preference for the other one seems like my vote wouldn't do much anyways.
[X] Defensive, but probing - trying to get her to play her hand, so he can get a better measure of her abilities
[X] No suitable place at Hogwarts, Shinji will face George at Durmstrang
[]Defensively
[]No suitable place, Durmstang
[ ] Defensive, but probing - trying to get her to play her hand, so he can get a better measure of her abilities
[ ] No suitable place at Hogwarts, Shinji will face George at Durmstrang
[x] Cautiously, as he doesn't know her full capabilities
[x] No suitable place at Hogwarts, Shinji will face George at Durmstrang
[X] Cautiously, as he doesn't know her full capabilities
[X] No suitable place at Hogwarts, Shinji will face George at Durmstrang
Chapter 16. Time of Troubles
As the Hogwarts Express pulled away from Platform 9¾, bound for Hogsmeade, with King’s Cross falling away into the distance, Pansy Parkinson found herself sitting alone in a compartment, looking out the window and thinking about how strange this year seemed compared to those that had come before.
In the place of the usual excitement about the beginning of the year and the adventures that awaited, there was a palpable sense of grief and apprehension, in the place of joy, a current of frenzied rage and grief – things one might expect when the nation was still reeling from the death of half their citizens in a single night, at the hands of an unknown enemy.
She’d heard as much being voiced by workers at the Ministry when she’d reported there after returning to Britain to claim her inheritance as the sole remaining member of the Parkinson family, as the rest had perished in the World Cup Massacre. While it was known that the slaughter had been committed by werewolves and giants, no one really knew who the guiding intelligence behind them had been – or why they had chosen that night to attack.
Some genuinely believed it was Bulgaria, given the underhanded actions of other Eastern European countries at the Quidditch World Cup over the years, but others were not so sure. After all, every prior incident had been a crime of passion, conducted by members of a national team acting without official sanction, aided only by unscrupulous locals who weren’t averse to making a quick Galleon.
Everything about the Massacre, however, screamed of deliberate malice aided and abetted by the highest levels of a hostile government, from the fact that an entire army of werewolves and giants had been smuggled into Britain, to the interdiction field preventing escape from the area, from the cold-blooded assassination of Minister Fudge, other high ranking members of government, and Britain’s Quidditch teams, to the utter destruction of the World Cup stadium.
This was no crime of passion – it had been a cold, premeditated attack intended to break the British as a nation and as a people, to show them how helpless they were in the face of a serious threat, when facing an enemy that would give no quarter.
And it had nearly worked.
Had the acting Minister of Magic not risen to the task by rallying the citizenry and calling them to arms, Magical Britain surely would have collapsed into anarchy, but rally them Lucius Malfoy had done. Through fiery rhetoric and decisive action, he fanned the flames of rage, uniting a confused, frightened people against those who sought to destroy them or undermine them as a nation – against all enemies, foreign or domestic.
For the first time in its long history, Magical Britain had closed its borders to dangerous, unscrupulous foreigners, and had begun raising an army – a force dedicated not to keeping the peace, but the subjugation and utter destruction of its foes, with hundreds volunteering for service, in addition to the conscripted 7th years.
…a formidable force indeed, given that Britain’s remaining population amounted to perhaps 6000 wizards, and that most countries had fewer than a hundred peace officers – and little to nothing in the way of a defense force.
The vast numbers that came out – and were coming out – in support of the army and the Minister’s policies, were only partially due to Malfoy’s skill at rousing the passions of the people, however. Rather more, especially the younger volunteers, were moved by the account of Percy Weasley, who had been the very first wizard to offer his wand to the Minister’s cause, even though his family was traditionally opposed to the politics of the Malfoys.
His actions – and his talk on the Wizarding Wireless Network on the heroism of the Aurors who had laid down their lives to hold off the giants long enough for the refugee column to escape, and how it was their duty as a people to honor the sacrifice of the fallen by stepping up to fill their shoes, becoming the protectors and ensuring that no one would hurt their people ever again – had galvanized his peers.
And of course, the tacit support of the Boy-Who-Lived, who had accepted the position of Britain’s Youth Representative and thus stood with the Minister in the fight against the darkness, hadn’t hurt either.
Platform 9¾ had actually been as packed as it normally was, but only a third of the people gathered there had been Hogwarts students. Over half of the student population had died in the massacre, and then a seventh of what remained had been conscripted, meaning that there were only about 400 students in a castle that usually accommodated over a thousand. The other 700 or so were recruits for the army, grimly determined youths dressed smartly in black and silver robes, bound for the training facilities in the north.
At Hogwarts, actually.
Using existing Department of Law Enforcement training areas had been deemed impractical given the sheer volume of recruits, and there was no time to construct something new, so Hogwarts had been selected as the natural choice. After all, it already had the living space – and culinary considerations – to accommodate large numbers, unused classrooms and extensive grounds on which recruits could conduct drills, train with tactical exercises, and practice eliminating hostile creatures.
Such a facility needed protection and administration, however, as well as skilled instructors versed in the art of war, and thus, much like in Pansy’s second year, there was a contingent of Aurors and Hit-Wizards on board the Express as well, as well as support staff.
…Deputy Headmistress Minerva Mcgonagall had strongly protested collocating the Army’s training facilities with the school, noting that Hogwarts was not a military facility, but a school, with all the information leaks that implied, as well as citing concerns about the effects of an armed, autonomous force on campus – but she had been overruled by Ladon Greengrass, Head of the newly-created Department of War, as there was no location that was as well secured.
He had acknowledged her point about security, however, and as such, Hogsmeade visits for students and staff at the school had been suspended indefinitely, meaning that once one set foot on campus at the beginning of the school year, one would not be leaving it until its end – or unless there were special considerations in effect, and that mail going to and from Hogwarts would be screened by the Ministry to ensure no vital information would be released without authorization.
This…did not outrage as many as one might think, given that Hogwarts’ 4th – 6th year students would not have had the chance to go to Hogsmeade anyway, that they would be heading to Durmstrang on Halloween for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. The younger students had never been to the village anyway, and so to them, losing something they’d never had wasn’t really a big deal.
The ban on Quidditch, with the school Nimbus 2001s appropriated by the army for aerial maneuver and combat training, might have provoked more of a response…except that the older students – and thus the bulk of the House teams – would be away in any case, with the younger students more used to Capture the Flag anyway.
(While the entire existing stock of Firebolts had indeed been nationalized following a country-wide embargo on foreign trade, the Department of War had deemed those too valuable to be used in training.)
Given the military presence, it wasn’t really surprising that there were many murmurs about striking back at the Bulgarians, with some wondering openly whether the Unforgivable Curses would be authorized for use against their opponents, as it would be useful to have spells that their enemies would not be able to easily defend against.
Pansy herself didn’t know, though she suspected that the answer was “yes”, given that during the First Wizarding War of Britain, Bartemius Crouch had done just that, fighting fire with fire, using the same ruthless and brutality against the Ministry’s enemies as they used against it.
…and no matter what the government authorized, it would be hard to lose the moral high ground when the enemy’s first move had been to slaughter thousands of innocent civilians.
‘…the world has gone mad. Or maybe it was mad to begin with, and I just never noticed.’
Even if nothing had changed from how it used to be, she reflected, Britain probably would still seem strange to her, since she was very different from who she used to be. As a British Pureblood, there had been a time when Pansy Parkinson’s entire world had begun and ended with the boundaries of Britain, with her country part of a great (but homogenous) wizarding world, but that was before she met Matou Shinji – and before she had become one of Gilderoy Lockhart’s disciples.
In their own way, each had opened her eyes to a part of the world’s truth.
The truth that wizards in different countries had different traditions, different arts, different things they valued. The truth that there were humans other than wizards who could use magic, with some serving as channels for beings with vast and illimitable powers, some born as children to the Earth, and some who bore that which Lockhart called the Gift of Solomon.
“The Gift of Solomon?” she’d asked after a particularly grueling training session at Alamut, ending with her leaning against a wall from exhaustion. “But who then, was Solomon?”
“A man who created a new form of magic and left behind many treasures,” Lockhart had explained, looking out the window at the barren lands outside the fortress. “Or so the djinn say.”
“Djinn?” Pansy had pressed.
“You will learn about them in time,” was all Lockhart said on that matter. “The important thing you should learn about Solomon is that the Templar Order discovered a number of his relics and writings. They have studied these extensively and believe themselves to be the true successor to his will.”
“I see…and what was his will then?”
“Solomon wished for a world where the mistakes wrought again and again by humans in the course of their long history are finally expunged. A world where humanity was no longer threatened by the endless cycle of chaos and upheaval that befalls civilization now and again.”
“…that actually sounds admirable,” Pansy had remarked, as Lockhart turned to look at her, shaking his head sorrowfully.
“It would be, save for the means they use. To achieve this utopia, they are willing to pay any price. To slaughter those who do not agree, to exterminate those whose practices conflict with their ideals and their beliefs. To them, the Church’s desire to purge heresy, to persecute users of magic, or to invade the Holy Land were things they found convenient – things they leveraged towards their own ends, justifying the cost as simply what was necessary.”
“And so you fight them. Have fought them. Will fight.”
“Indeed,” Lockhart had explained, a grim expression on his face. “For we believe that the ends do not justify the means, that certain means preclude certain ends. We desire peace in all things as well, but we believe there are prices that are far too dear, and that through infinite diversity and infinite diversity, we become stronger as a people.”
“Even so, you kill when you deem it necessary. Isn’t that the same justification the Templars use to justify their actions?”
It hadn’t been a question, really, just an observation, given the deadly arts her mentor had introduced her to.
“It is,” Lockhart had acknowledged with a slight nod. “But unlike our foes, we are called to a different purpose. Solomon may have desired a world where people would be at peace, but more than that, he sought true wisdom. And so our common creed calls us to be wise, to understand that we are the architects of our actions, and that we must live with their consequences. When we act – when we kill – we do not do so lightly, thinking that in the end, our purpose will absolve us of our sins. We do so knowing full well that we will bear the weight of our deeds – that the choices we make shape the stories we tell, to others – and most of all, to ourselves.”
Since returning to Britain and hearing the speculation on who had been behind the attack, she’d started to understand what Lockhart meant, and how that truth was valid for the political as well as the personal. The public certainly suspected Bulgaria had been involved at some level, but the underlying motive whispered about at the Ministry was not Quidditch, but old history.
In the end, many feared that this was long delayed retribution for what Britain had done – and hadn’t done – during the Grindelwald’s revolution. After all, what other nations remembered quite well was that Grindelwald had been a British wizard (if one trained in the arts of war by Durmstrang)…and that during his long campaign, Britain had taken no official action to even attempt to stop him, implying that they had tacitly approved of his reign of terror. And while it was true that Albus Dumbledore had eventually fought and defeated the man, he had been acting in his capacity as a private citizen, not a British representative, something that most of Europe had never forgotten.
Magical Europe had been rather cool to Britain after that, even though Albus Dumbledore, as head of the ICW, had been a respected and well-regarded figure. And now that Dumbledore was dead…
…the more paranoid analysts at the Department of War were forced to consider that the countries that had suffered most from Grindelwald’s actions might be looking for long-delayed revenge – and that they would accept nothing less than the utter destruction of Britain as a power, as Grindelwald had sought to destroy them.
And yet in these analysts’ minds, the others were afraid to embroil themselves directly in case there was another Grindelwald level wizard waiting in the wings, so the first strike had been to use werewolves and giants so that those involved could claim ignorance.
‘They know how history sees them, and they worry that their actions are finally meeting with consequences…'
Pansy herself didn’t agree with the analysts’ conclusions, as she liked to believe that wizards – that humans – were better than that.
As a British Pureblood who had been raised in the Magical World, she had once bought into the propaganda that Muggles were somehow…less than wizards, that they were silly fools whose lack of magic made them inferior to wizards – that they were forced to use strange, inconvenient contraptions to try to ape what even the least adept wizard child was capable of.
In seeing the world, however, her eyes had been opened to the truth: Muggles were not inferior, simply different, and that the only reason some wizards tried to diminish their achievements was out of fear. Fear of what Muggles could do – and had done – to them, and fear that if magic became known to the world at large, what made them unique as a culture – as a people – would be lost forever.
‘There are nearly 6 billion Muggles in the world – and maybe 1 million wizards. The sheer disparity in numbers would reason enough to maintain the Statute of Secrecy, even without hostile factions like the Templars…’
But her thoughts were interrupted by a rapping at the door.
Who could it be, she wondered?
“Come in, it’s not locked,” Pansy said quietly, as the door slid open to reveal the wan face of Draco Malfoy, who stiffened for a moment at the sight of her, but forced himself to relax. The boy seemed more tired than she’d ever seen him, and there was something haunted in his eyes, like—
‘Like he’s seen something he wishes he could forget…’
“Parkinson.”
“Malfoy.”
The initial exchange completed, the two were silent for a few moments, before the boy forced himself to speak.
“Would you mind if I joined you?” Draco asked, eying the seat across from her.
Pansy raised a long, slim eyebrow at this, as the corners of her lips tugged upwards into something resembling a smile. There was once when she would have given the world for him to notice her, but that seemed a lifetime ago now…
“I thought you would be with Crabbe and Goyle,” she remarked quietly. “Or trying to make amends with Potter.”
“Crabbe and Goyle are dead.” Malfoy’s voice was flat, as the boy shook his head. For a moment it seemed as if something sharper was on the tip of his tongue, but the moment passed. “And I’d rather not deal with politics right now. Not after…everything.”
“Just wanted a familiar face then?”
“Something like that,” Draco sighed, a strange expression flickering across his face. “I got tired of sitting by myself. So…?”
“You may as well come in,” Pansy said. “Better than having you stand in the doorway, after all.”
The boy nodded gratefully and made his way inside, closing the door behind him.
“Sorry to hear about your parents,” the boy remarked, as he sat down heavily. “Holding up alright, Parkinson?”
Pansy blinked. Was that actually…concern she heard in his voice? The Draco Malfoy she’d known had never really been concerned about anyone else, or about anything save his own ambitions.
“I’m managing,” she said after a beat. “I’m still dealing with the strangeness of being back in Britain. And with all the shocks from adventuring, and everything I’ve seen, I’m just not sure if this recent bit has really sunk in.”
Draco grunted.
“Heh. I’ve seen that enough at St. Mungo’s,” he replied simply. “We all have a lot we’re dealing with.”
“True,” Pansy conceded. “Sorry about your mother.”
“Thanks,” Draco whispered, shaking his head. He was silent for nearly a minute as he turned to look out the window, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft. “Parkinson?”
“Yes?”
“You ever think the world’s gone mad?”
But Pansy only chuckled at his words, causing both of Malfoy’s eyebrows surge towards his hairline.
“What’s so funny?” Draco demanded, thinking she was laughing at him.
“It’s not you I’m laughing at, Malfoy,” Pansy said quietly. “It’s just…I was thinking the same thing before you came in. About how different things were back in first year.” The girl shook her head. “I think that’s the last time we sat together, right?”
“…you might be right,” the boy noted. “Things were different then. Hogwarts, houses, everything was fresh. New. We were all…innocent then.” He frowned as he glanced at his companion. “Even second year was better than…this…”
There had been heightened security then as well, due to the escape of Sirius Black, with Aurors and Hit Wizards patrolling the platform and stationed at Hogwarts, but the fundamental assumption they’d all held to was that as normal people, they were never in any real danger to begin with, certainly not at a school some called the safest place in Britain. Danger was something that happened to other people, people like Professor Quirrell or Mad-Eye Moody, people like the Boy-Who-Lived or the Stone Cutters – people who were different, who went looking for trouble instead of worrying about their own lives.
That assumption was gone now.
“I know what you mean.” Pansy found herself sympathizing with Malfoy, something she’d never really expected to do. She shook her head as she looked him over, thinking he seemed more mature than he’d once been. “…you’ve changed, Draco.”
The boy’s answer to that was a chuckle.
“I’m not the only one,” he remarked, noting that Pansy herself seemed more confident, more sure of herself than before. “Tell me, Parkinson…what was it like, seeing the world with Lockhart?”
“I couldn’t even begin to tell you,” the girl replied, sighing. “I mean, I could, but nothing I say could really do it justice, you know?”
“Heh. Fair enough,” Draco allowed, a small smile settling over his lips. “It’s kind of the same for me and being an orderly at St. Mungo’s.”
“Oh?”
“…I was there the night after the World Cup, Parkinson,” Malfoy explained repressively, his body shuddering as he recalled the many, many patients and having to choose. “I saw things that…that…” He wanted to say more, but his voice failed him.
“That bad, huh?”
Draco just nodded.
“Was there anything good that happened while you were there?” the girl pressed, now quite curious about what had so changed the boy. “I’ll tell you a bit about my travels if you tell me something of your summer.”
“Spoken like a true Slytherin,” Malfoy remarked as he shook his head. “Well, I guess the most memorable thing was seeing Professor Weasley wake up from his coma.”
“Coma?” Pansy echoed.
“His family was at the World Cup,” Draco related. “He wasn’t injured too badly, but he saw his wife and his two oldest children die before his eyes, which I think sent him into shock.”
“I see.”
“He was my patient, since they didn’t know when he would wake up. I worked in the long-term ward, seeing people like…”
“…like?” Pansy prompted.
“…people like the Longbottoms, the ones tortured into insanity.”
“Oh.”
“Still, unlike everyone else I took care of, at least Professor Weasley recovered.”
“Were you there when he…?”
“Yeah. I was there.” Draco smiled a bit at that. “So was Ginny, I mean, Ginevra.”
“Ginny, is it?” Pansy echoed, raising an eyebrow. “After fighting with her so much while you were part of the Ourea, you’re on a nickname basis with her now, Draco?”
“She visited the hospital every day,” the boy protested, somewhat defensively. “Besides, it would be confusing if I just kept calling her Weasley, when there are so many other Weasleys.”
“Heh. That much is true.”
“They were nice, her visits. They made St. Mungo’s seem a lot less grim, even if we mostly talked about her father.”
“You probably kept her from falling into despair, you know,” Pansy commented. “Having someone who knew what was happening, and who was there – even if there wasn’t much you could do.”
“Mm. I remember how happy she was when her father finally woke up,” Draco murmured absently. “The way she smiled – the way her face lit up…it was the most beautiful thing in the world.”
Pansy blinked at Draco’s words…and the boy’s eyes went wide as his mind caught up to his lips and he realized exactly what he’d said.
“I, uh, that wasn’t what it sounded like,” he backpedaled, looking very much like a cornered animal. “I just mean that…”
“Don’t justify yourself to me, Malfoy,” Pansy interrupted, leaning forward and silencing him by putting a finger to his lips. “It’s not my business who you fall for.”
Draco reddened and flinched backward, turning his face away as he looked out at the quickly passing countryside.
“I thought your business was finding out everyone’s business,” he muttered sourly, crossing his arms. “Wasn’t that why you were picked for the Ourea to begin with?”
“I tend to be concerned with things more important than your love life. You’re not the center of the world, Malfoy.”
“…true,” the boy conceded, seeming truly put upon as he turned back to his companion. “I’m not, I suppose. Speaking of the world…”
“Yes?”
“Do you know anything about Durmstrang?” Draco asked, genuinely curious. “Since we’re going to be spending most of the year there, I thought it would be good to know something about it.”
“You mean other than the fact it’s well known for teaching the Dark Arts, and that Grindelwald went there.”
“Other than that, Parkinson,” the boy drawled. “Father wanted me to send me there for schooling, so I know that much.”
“Oh? So if your father wanted you there, why weren’t—“
“Mother,” Draco interjected tersely, his body visibly tensing, before he forced himself to relax. “She wanted me closer to home,” he explained.
“I see. Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” the boy said, waving his hand dismissively. “So, did you learn anything about it?”
“Not much more than you know,” Pansy commented. “I know who their Potions Champion is, and that they’ve never won a single Tri-Wizard Tournament, but other than that? I couldn’t begin to say.”
Draco was about to reply when a knocking sounded at the compartment door, with Pansy looking over curiously and wondering who this might be.
“Come in,” she said, as the door slid open, revealing a young girl wearing a pale silver dress, with waist-length, dirty blonde hair, very pale eyebrows, eerie silvery eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look, a wand tucked behind her ear and a fox perched upon her head.
Without another word, Luna Lovegood – the youngest of the Stone Cutters, and considered the most enigmatic member of the group (even more so than Matou Shinji) – walked in, closed the door behind her, and sat down beside Pansy, opening up a book on youkai.
“Hullo,” she said dreamily, her silvery eyes looking over both of them as if she could see into the secrets they held. “Pansy Parkinson. Draco Malfoy.”
“Lovegood,” Pansy responded, with a nod. She knew, from the last Kobayashi Maru, that the girl was capable of far more than she let on, most of the time, but then, that was natural for a Stone Cutter. “I’m surprised you’re not with Matou today.”
The two were known to spend quite a bit of time together, after all, with the exact nature of their relationship a subject of much speculation.
“He’s not here,” Luna noted absently. “Won’t be, till Halloween.”
“Oh?” Pansy asked.
“…ah, that’s right, he is a foreigner, and with the restrictions…” Draco noted, his eyebrows knitting together as he considered the ramifications of this. “But isn’t he the Hogwarts Potions Champion? Wouldn’t the Ministry offer him British citizenship?”
“They did,” Luna replied in her sing-song voice. “But he said no.”
“Huh,” Draco said, nonplussed. “I…see.” He supposed he hadn’t heard about this turn of events mostly because it would be an embarrassment for Britain if it was known that their Champion had turned down citizenship. “But how do you know about this, Lovegood?” he asked curiously.
“Dad and I travel,” the girl answered simply enough, a secret, dreamy smile playing across her lips. “Matou and I ran into each other during my travels.”
“Anywhere interesting?” Pansy broke in. “I did a bit of travelling myself, so…”
“Tahiti.”
“…never heard of it,” the Slytherin girl noted. “It’s not…in Africa or South America or something, is it?”
“It’s an island in the Pacific.”
While Lockhart’s teaching had been comprehensive in some ways, the geography of the Pacific had unfortunately not been part of it, given that neither the Assassins nor the Templars really operated there. He had been much more focused on Eurasia, given that North America was the domain of the Illuminati, among others…
“I see,” Pansy managed. “Must have been nice.”
“It was.”
Luna went quiet after that, turning back to her book, but neither Pansy nor Draco were about to let such a potentially valuable source of information get away from them.
“I heard the other Stone Cutters were in Japan this year, learning the arts of the East,” Draco commented, trying to make conversation. “Anything you can tell us about that? Aside from the obvious, like the fact that a Weasley will probably be the Hogwarts Tri-Wizard Champion?”
The boy paused as he reflected on what he’d just said.
“You know, three years ago, I wouldn’t have believed that was possible.”
“Things change,” Pansy said.
“Or people do.”
“Or that, yes,” the Slytherin girl allowed, eyeing the enigmatic Ravenclaw who sat beside her. “Though I like to think that it’s as much one as the other. Or that some of us just keep parts of ourselves hidden. Anyway, any thoughts, Lovegood?”
“I can’t say,” Luna replied softly. “After all, I wasn’t there.”
“I suppose you weren’t,” Pansy allowed. “Though, I am curious, why join us, instead of the other Stone Cutters or someone else?”
“Ginny wanted to see her brothers, and Harry is with Miss Greengrass,” Luna answered. “And I don’t know most other people that well. The Ourea…”
“…yeah, that’s something else entirely,” Pansy noted. There were so many among their ranks that had fallen – very few remained of the original group now. She turned to Draco, a wry expression on her face. “With everything that’s happened, who knows, we might even invite you to join us again.”
She was half-joking, but only half.
“…tempting. But we’ll see, Parkinson,” Draco replied in all seriousness. “I’m not even sure Durmstrang would allow us to run such an organization there anyway, so it would have to wait until next year.”
OWL year, which under the new legislation, would be the last year of schooling before one either joined the army or learned a trade.
“Speaking of next year…will you join up when you graduate, do you think?” Pansy asked him. “The army, I mean.”
“…I don’t know,” the boy said honestly. “I think I much prefer putting people back together to taking them apart.”
“It’s the same for me,” Luna commented, with Draco’s head snapping up and around at her words, while Pansy simply nodded, as she remembered the Kobayashi Maru.
“You know healing magic?” Draco asked, more shocked than surprised, as healing spells were said to be quite difficult. Even during his time at St. Mungo’s, he’d not learned any, as he had been an orderly, not a mediwizard or a Healer. “Would you…would you be willing to teach me?”
Pansy raised an eyebrow at this.
“I would find that useful as well, actually,” she interjected. After all, in her new life, it might be useful to heal as well as hurt.
“Mm, it would be good to have a sparring partner in the mornings,” Luna murmured dreamily.
“You don’t spar with the other Stone Cutters?” Pansy inquired, curious as to the dynamics of the mysterious organization. On the surface, they seemed united, but underneath…
“Only sometimes,” Luna answered. “They’re often busy.”
“Hm. Interesting,” Pansy noted. “Well, I suppose I wouldn’t mind being your sparring partner. Can’t be a bad thing to learn from a Stone Cutter, kind of like you learned from Matou, right?”
“Mm.”
“It must be difficult, without him here,” the Slytherin girl continued.
“What do you mean?” the Ravenclaw questioned, her silvery eyes focused wholly on Pansy – which the older girl found slightly unnerving.
“With you two being lovers, I mean,” the Slytherin girl clarified, thinking out loud. “Not being to see each other for months, and now not even being able to mail each other or communicate at all, with the restrictions on foreigners. Missing someone that much, without being able to see them, hear them, to know they’re alright…frankly, I don’t know if I could do that.”
“We manage,” was all Luna said in reply.
“Better you than me, Lovegood. Better you than me.”
Back in Mahoutokoro, Matou Shinji watched as the sun rose upon a new day. His fellow Stone Cutters had departed for Britain the night before, and were surely off at Hogwarts already, and while he would be spending the next two months in the City Beneath the Earth, he didn’t find it much of a trial.
After all, in this place of power, he had the opportunity to learn more of the arts of his homeland from people like Sayjou Ayaka and Kaiduka Shiosai, the Champion of Mahoutokoro and the old kitsune who served as her master. And it wasn’t as if he was forced to spend every waking moment in the city – after all, thanks to his purchases the year before, he had a network of Vanishing Cabinets set up – with one connecting his British Estate to Mahoutokoro.
…which meant that he could check in on Tohsaka and see how she was doing, as well as meet with Luna and spend time with her on the weekends, as they’d agreed.
‘It will be a long few months, but I will make the most of it. This is the path I have chosen, and I will walk it to the end.’
When they arrived at Hogwarts, Harry was somewhat surprised to see an escort of Aurors waiting for him, but he supposed he shouldn’t be. After all, he had chosen to become Britain’s Youth Representative, and the people here – students and recruits alike – looked to him as both an inspiration and a pillar of strength in these uncertain times.
He could feel it in the air around him: people were scared by what had happened, shaken by the death and suffering and loss unlike anything they’d ever known.
There had been too many lost friends, too many buried family members, too many empty chairs and empty tables, where youths would dream no more.
When they arrived in the Great Hall, he was asked to make an impromptu speech – something he hadn’t expected, but really should have. This much he could not refuse, as both the Boy-Who-Lived and the British Youth Representative.
With all eyes upon him as he walked to the front of the Hall, he wondered what should he say? And really, if anything he said would be enough to reach the hearts of people lost to grief and anger.
Taking a deep breath, he looked over the crowd, catching the eyes of his brothers in arms, of Gilderoy Lockhart, of his girlfriend, and the others who looked to him expectantly, taking comfort in the fact that he – their symbol that everything would be alright – was among them again.
They needed him. Needed someone to look to.
And he would become that someone, as he had promised to, long ago.
“You all know my legend. The legend of the Boy-Who-Lived,” Harry began, his green eyes meeting the gazes of those in the vast multitude. “You’ve heard of how I fought off a Dark Wizard my first year, and how I stopped You-Know-Who when I was only a year old. But tonight, I don’t stand before you as the Boy-Who-Lived. I don’t stand before you as a hero who can set everything right, or a champion who can fight in your place. I stand before you as one of you – someone as scared and angry and desperate for answers as any one of you, someone who wants nothing more than for everything to be alright, just as I was when I fought the troll during my first year at Hogwarts.”
A hush fell upon the crowd as Harry brought up the incident that had made the Stone Cutters what they were – that to them, simply reaffirmed that the Boy-Who-Lived and his peers were above them,
“That night, I was scared – more than I had ever been in my life. And I’ll be honest, there’s a part of me that wanted nothing more than to run away, because I didn’t think I could win. Not with the skills of a first year, or even some of the Eastern Arts. Not with every skill I had. But I fought anyway.”
He paused, noting in the back of his mind that he had the full attention of the audience.
“I didn’t fight because I wasn’t afraid. I fought because I was afraid. Because that Halloween, I thought I was about to lose everything I cared about again. Yes. Again. The night Voldemort died was the night my parents were taken from me. The night I became an orphan and my godfather was unjustly imprisoned in Azakaban. The night you celebrate was the worst night of my life. On Halloween of my first year, I thought it was going to happen again – and I didn’t want to be the Boy-Who-Lived if it meant everyone around me would die.”
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again.
“And so I fought – and I survived. No, not because of my power, or because I was somehow destined for greatness, even if my wand shares a core with that of You-Know-Who. I survived because there were others with me who were also afraid – but who were willing to look past their fear so no one else would have to die.”
“Robert, Fred, George, Shinji – none of us had to fight the troll. Any of us could have chosen to run – to leave, to let fear stop us, but instead we stood with each other, placing our trust in one another as comrades. As brothers-in-arms. Alone, we might have survived, but survival wasn’t enough – we wanted more than survival. We wanted victory.”
“You know what happened next. We beat the troll. We became the Stone Cutters.”
“But the story doesn’t end there. Tonight I stand before you, and once again, I’m afraid. Tonight what looms over us seems as big and vast and deadly as a troll did to a first year. And tonight we have a choice: to run away and hope we survive, or to stand and fight together as comrades – as brothers-in-arms – as heroes. We have a choice to give in to the hurt and loss and fear, or to stand together and fight it with every breath we have, every drop of magic inside of us, pushing back the darkness so that not one more innocent will be forced to die. Together, we can do more than survive – we can win. Wizards. Witches. Comrades. Are you with me?”
The answering roar was deafening, with nearly every person in the Great Hall surging to their feet – students and recruits immediately, the Aurors and Hit-Wizards next, and staff last of all, for they knew things were not so cut and dry.
‘Malfoy was one thing. But I did not expect Mister Potter to join in,’ the Deputy Headmistress thought with a heavy heart, knowing how many would be swayed by the earnest words of the Boy-Who-Lived. ‘And so a generation is lost to war, and our way of life dies. To thunderous applause…’
Choice 51:We've been spending a lot of time on the Potter side of things lately, haven't we? Perhaps it is time we turn our attention to the other parts of the world. Or perhaps not - the choice is yours.
Who would you like to see an interlude from? (choose two)
[ ] Luna Lovegood
[ ] Tohsaka Rin
[ ] Aozaki Touko
[ ] Severus Snape
[ ] Matou Zouken
[ ] (write-in)
Last edited by alfheimwanderer; April 11th, 2016 at 12:53 AM.
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