The Games Begin
She'd technically heard a little from Amelia, but the woman was too busy to give her more than a rather vague note, and that was honestly more of a thank you note for everything.
The news had broken in more detail later. The Death Eaters had tried to attack Diagon a few days prior. Not only had they utterly failed to even breach the ward in a timely manner, but when they started trying to toss unforgivables at it to try to beat it down quicker that way, all they'd gotten for their efforts was their first taste of her golems as they summoned a squadron down on their heads.
Given they immediately deployed the same sort of temporary wards that the Aurors used to keep suspects from fleeing and were keyed to work around her ward breaker mirrors, it hadn't ended well for the Death Eaters.
At all.
Not a single one of them had gotten away, nor had they managed to cause any casualties, even towards the end where some of the crazier ones seemed to want to do some sort of damage before they were all captured or killed.
Which was why she couldn't help but feel immensely satisfied as she walked down Diagon Alley.
All around her, counter to what she's been told the previous war was like, people were not scurrying around nervously, rushing to get their business done and leave before a Death Eater attack can happen. Everyone was strolling around, almost as cheerful and happy as they'd been every year before her fifth, which had filled it with a grim atmosphere from those who believed her about Voldemort's return, and dirty looks and people hurrying to get away from her from those who didn't.
There was a undercurrent of tension in the air, people weren't ignorant to the fact that they were back at war with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, nor the fact that despite all of her precautions, there was still danger lurking that could slip through cracks to get to them, but that attempted attack had driven home that this time around would be nothing like the last. That undercurrent also has a smidge of grim determination. She still wasn't particularly sure where that came from, but otherwise people were happy and secure and assured that Voldemort would not have the same reign of terror he had last time. Particularly in conjunction with not only the reassurance the Daily Prophet had added into the article that similar wards were around the Ministry, Saint Mungo's, and Hogsmeade, as well as the fact they had noted that any attempts to use Imperius on people to breach any of those locations had let them in, but broken the spell in the process. The only notable exception to that being when the Death Eaters tried to get around them by placing one of their own under Imperius. At which point, the wards had just not let them in.
It didn't stop them from trying to attack people in their homes unfortunately, but with the ward breaker mirrors… Well, needless to say, the only major place people were vulnerable was when they were enroute, but with apparition and portkeys easily circumventing the majority of that danger, so far, though there have been plenty of attempted attacks, not a single casualty has occurred. Or, not any casualties that weren't Death Eaters that is.
She wasn't honestly expecting for it to stay that way, but the damage and casualties they can cause was significantly lower as things currently stood.
As she turns to enter Weasley’s Wizarding Weezys, she makes eye contact with a middle aged woman. The woman looks away, shame written over her face before hustling off. That's been happening periodically, and she can only assume that it's from people who didn't believe her and were calling her all sorts of things before.
She shakes her head and pushes the thought away as she enters the shop. It's pretty packed from people browsing, but with people actively moving out of her way, occasionally shamefully but usually with either wide eyed awe or a mixture of joy and gratitude in their eyes, it doesn't take her long to track down one of the twins.
He throws his arms wide and enthusiastically greets her, “Our lovely benefactor! What can we do for you today?”
She laughs, “Not much. Well. I am working on tweaking the temporary ward marbles that the golems can toss down to one that will deploy a temporary Patronus fire ward specifically to try to mitigate any attacks outside of the warded areas and people's homes, but that's not done so I'm not here to bring it to you guys for production yet. Just in Diagon for school shopping so I thought I'd drop by to see how things are going and make sure there aren't any problems with the ward breaker mirror production or anything. But other than that and maybe a suggestion that you guys could probably try looking into more general use protection items since while it isn't really you two's specialty, it'd both be helpful in general and something worth a profit, I was mostly just coming to check on things and say hi.”
He smiles, “Yeah, we know. We actually already have a selection.” Then his smile turns to a grin at her, “But seriously, you've done all of that and you're still looking for ways to shift things out of the Death Eaters’ favor?” His tone becomes dryly amusing, “I can see why your wand has Fir in it. Strength of purpose, strong minded, and focused indeed.”
She snorts, “If I have my way, they will not be able to continue the reign of terror they had in the last war.”
“That's pretty obvious.” Then he shakes his head, “But nah, we haven't had any issues with the ward breaker production. Well, maybe a little bit in keeping our stock up enough considering how quickly they're selling, but that was easy enough to deal with by vetting some more people with the skill to make them and making contracts to produce them for us.”
She nods, “That's good.”
He grins, “And since the Patronus fire ward keeps out people with harmful intentions towards innocents, neither those nor the temporary ward marbles you're in the process of creating will ever find their way to the hands of Death Eaters, since anyone with the intention to sell them off to less… scrupulous hands will undoubtedly be kept out by the wards.”
She smiles a bit smugly, “Since even if you didn't intend to sell them to the Death Eaters themselves, anyone who's looking to sell them to people who can't access the shops that sell them would be knowingly giving them to people who do mean harm? Yeah, the wards would keep them out by pure virtue of the fact they'd be knowingly endangering people by selling to people they know the wards are already keeping out, which it only does if they have harmful intentions towards innocents.”
She tilts her head, “Well, I suppose they may get their hands on them if they break into a house that was fled and find them or manage to get someone who had them but didn't get a chance to use the marble, but…” She shrugs, “It won't be much use to them since they only keep out people with harmful intentions towards innocents, so it's not like it would protect them from the Aurors or anything. I suppose theoretically if a Death Eater got their hands on one and was about to be killed by V-mort or other Death Eaters for some reason or another it, then the temporary ward would keep them out, but considering I'm trying to implement the ability to toss out anyone the wards would keep out anyway, so them being close enough to be enveloped by the temporary ward won't let them get their hands on the person deploying it to begin with… Well, except for maybe buying some time because of the surprise of it going up, it's not very useful to them.”
They both ignore the shivers and small shudders from her saying ‘V-mort’ that still happened a bit, even after her interview with the Prophet on her speaking out against the usage of ‘He-who-must-not-be-named’ and ‘You-know-who’, not because she didn't understand why it started or the necessity of it given he'd reimplemented the taboo, but by pure virtue of the fact that fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself.
She'd encouraged people to use alternatives. From more mundane things like ‘V-mort’ and ‘Voldy’ to more humorous ones, like ‘Voldy Moldy’, ‘Moldy’, ‘Tommy-boy’ which would never not be funny given she'd done a whole expose on his real past and the way he hated his given name previously, or a couple that were only funny to those with knowledge on non-magical media, ‘The Riddler’ and ‘Vader’ to name a few alternatives.
Though she personally actually preferred Tommy-boy, she hadn't said it in the interview to prevent Voldemort casting the taboo on that one specifically, but she had pointed out that as characters from rather popular non-magical media, ‘The Riddler’ and ‘Vader’ would be practically impossible for him to put a taboo on, since they're mentioned at least a couple hundred times a day just in the UK(1) from people discussing said media. Probably waymore, but that was low balling an estimate, and also meant that even if he tried to put a taboo on them, there would be way too many results for them to respond to in any meaningful way. Arguably the same was true if a good chunk of people just stopped with the fear of his name and started calling him Voldemort, but given the older generations were way too terrified to do so, they probably couldn't get enough people saying it to pull it off.
The younger generations had taken to it with gusto, and they seemed to prefer ‘The Riddler’ both due to the fact his real name was Tom Riddle and for the fact that whenever one of them unfamiliar with non-magical media asked about the character the name comes from, the fact that he was… kinda incompetent had lead to them picking it to double as an insult. That was actually also part of why they didn't like ‘Vader’ as much. Because Vader was actually powerful, competent, and also more than a little terrifying in what he was capable of doing, and none of them wanted to give him the satisfaction of being referred to by his name.
The older generations were trying at least, though a combination of habit and fear made them struggle with it quite a lot.
George, who she assumes is George by pure virtue of the fact he was wearing Fred's name tag and the twins love to swap to screw with people and while they sometimes use their own just to confuse those that know they do, but still tend to wear the opposite one more often than not, laughs lightly. Then he grins, “No, it really wouldn't be, would it? Anyway,” His grin widens, as he sweeps an arm out as he half turns away, “How about I show you around?”
She smiles back and steps over to him, “Sounds great.”
As he leads her around the shop, they do start with the general defense items so he can see what she thinks and get her opinion on any more they can make, but after he just shows her various products they've made, getting more than a bit of laughter out of her amongst telling her what things do as they chat in general.
Given he'd given her heads up about Dumbledore asking him to come back, she's not the least bit surprised when a nervous younger year enters their compartment with two rolls of parchment tied off with violent ribbons, staring at her with wide eyes, “I-I'm supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom and C-Calanthe Potter-Black.”
She holds them out and she and Neville take them before she smiles, more of her public smile then the kind she gives to her friends, not because she has anything against the younger girl, but out of habit from dealing with adoring fans over the years, “Thank you dear.”
She flushes as she backs out of the compartment, not taking her eyes off of her as she does, only doing so when she seems to realize she's outside of the door, at which point she squeaks, blushes bright red, then turns and hurries away.
Opening the letter, and reading it over quickly, she finds that much like she'd expected, it was indeed a letter from Horace inviting her to his compartment. He probably had more standard ones for the other students he invited, but hers was more personal, including some joking about her finally getting to see one of his Slug Club meetings her mother told her about, if only the first one as he started looking into interesting students.
She shakes her head, then climbs to her feet, “Come on Nev, and don't look so nervous, Horace is a pretty good guy in general.”
Her pseudo brother smiles a little hesitantly, “I figured as much, if you hired him to be your proxy. Guess I finally get to meet him, huh?”
She laughs, “Guess so!”
As they leave the compartment to head towards Horace's, she idly wonders who he'd invited. She supposes he ought to consider himself lucky that because of all her other commitments, she had turned down the Prefect position she'd been offered, since she wouldn't have been available to go otherwise.
She eyes the book, entirely unsurprised at the strange look Horace is giving her as he dismisses the class. Ron, who was in her class given just how small the NEWTs level potions class is, hadn't known that Horace had lower standards for who he let into his NEWT classes, so he hadn't had a textbook like she did, having purchased one the moment Horace had let her know he was taking back his old Professor job.
She'd let him borrow her book, purely because while there were spares in the back, they weren't in great condition, and she knows his family's financial situation makes him a bit… sensitive and easily embarrassed when it comes to things like that.
She waves him off as he hesitates after realizing she wasn't getting up with him and the rest of the students when Horace lets the class out, “I'll catch up with you in a little bit Ron. I wanted to talk to Professor Slughorn.”
He nods, then turns to head out with the others as she climbs to her feet and makes her way forward. Horace leans against the side of the desk with a slightly confused smile, “Where on earth did that come from? If you don't mind me asking. While you've done decently well after all of my tutoring, no offense my girl, but you've never done that well.”
She shrugs and holds the book out, flipped to the page for the potion he'd had them brew in the competition for the Felix Felicis, “I let Ron borrow my book because the spare ones in your class aren't in the best shape and he's easily embarrassed by those kinds of things. There were all sorts of weird notes in this one though, bad enough that there are places where the original instructions are outright scratched out, so I figured I may as well follow the ones the writer had written in. That was… just the result of that.”
He accepts it in interest, looking over the page for the potion, his eyebrow steadily climbing, then he starts flipping through it, “Huh. Well, none of these notes are wrong. Honestly, these feel like the work of a potions master in the making.”
Then he flips it closed and holds it back out to her. Her eyebrows raise in surprise, “You don't want to confiscate it?”
Horace grins a little, “No. Perhaps I'm being a little sentimental, but I can't help but find myself hoping you'll learn a bit more of your mother's old talent from it. I've given you a solid foundation from our tutoring lessons. Let's see if you can't take it up a notch, hmm?”
She laughs, “I can try my best! Just don't blame me if any of my potions go wrong because of it!”
He laughs as well, “Certainly not Calanthe! Now, you'd best get going to your next class.”
She smiles at him as she slips it back into her bag, giving him a wave over her shoulder as she heads out. If nothing else, Ron will be happy when she tells him he can just keep her new book because she's fine with the old one.
She had to admit, though it saddened her, she wasn't surprised that there was a rather… noticeable decrease in how many pureblood children went to Hogsmeade ever since it was announced that the very same ward that had halted the Death Eaters in their tracks in their attempt to attack Diagon was on it as well. She hopes that more of them just weren't going because they weren't sure if the wards would keep them out because of the way they were raised and didn't want to basically announce it to the world, when in reality they would be let in just fine because their parents hadn't sunken their claws in them yet.
She has no way of knowing whether that's nothing more than pure fantasy of course, but she can hope.
Even though it feels selfish, pretty much everyone she knows keeps harassing her about how important it is to take breaks and let loose, even Misaki for all that she usually comes across as a workaholic, so she's trying her absolute best to forget about the war and what move Voldemort will attempt and just focus on spending time with her friends relaxing and having a good time at The Three Broomsticks.
It was hard though, especially since she knew full well that Hei was taking full advantage of officially being her Enforcer, a title given to select trusted individuals that were capable of enforcing their will, protections, and even acting in their stead. As she had a prophesied destiny to slay Voldemort and since Hei was her Enforcer, the Ministry had no grounds to withhold any information they gained from the captured Death Eaters from them. They weren't particularly inclined to from the get go, not with the fact Amelia had taken the Ministers office, first as an interim replacement then permanently after Fudge had been kicked after the stonewalling from those that either desperately believed or were taking advantage of his insistence that Voldemort wasn't back was dealt with. Though honestly the man was lucky to just be removed when things got moving regarding his appointment of Umbridge at Hogwarts. His only defense was that he'd only asked Umbridge to make sure Dumbledore wasn't trying to build an army at Hogwarts and try to dismantle it and put a stop to it if she did find evidence of one. He hadn't expected her to take drastic action.
Especially not what had been revealed under Veritaserum of what she would have done if she hadn't set off the powder keg that was the students’ low tolerance of oppression after everything that came before.
There was quite a good amount of dark humor in it actually. In the irony that she'd been among the group that had accused her of being a tyrant, while Umbridge had practically been planning her own tyranny at Hogwarts.
It makes her all the more grateful that it hadn't lasted long, that her plans had not survived contact with the student body.
The very same student body that was currently filling the streets of Hogsmeade and livening up the Three Broomsticks around her and her friends, laughing at a story Ron was telling them of when the twins were younger.
She can almost forget for a moment that Voldemort is back and with him, the war that had plagued the older generation.
Or she could, right up until someone comes bursting in the door, silencing the Three Broomsticks in an instant while looking both alarmed and confused. He's a younger man, probably someone attending the Mastery University, and someone calls out to him almost hesitantly, “Benji? Something the matter?”
He shakes his head as he starts towards the table of the lady who had called out, “There was a Death Eater attack on the Knight Bus.”
She purses her lips in displeasure as the woman's expression falls, “Oh. How… How many casualties?”
He shakes his head again, “That's the confusing part. There were none.” The woman looks up at him, expression stupefied, and she's far from the only one, “The people who were on it said they stormed it, cast some sort of spell on all of them, then ran off. They were thoroughly examined, taken to Saint Mungo's and everything, but no one could find anything wrong with them.”
The woman shudders, “...The Death Eaters have to be up to something.”
He nods, “Yeah, I know. So does everyone else, but.” He shrugs, “I suppose we'll just have to wait and see.”
Things slowly start picking back up, but things are subdued now, a grim air about them all as she looks down at the table with brows furrowed, trying to figure out what the hell they were up to. She doesn't get very long to think before a well manicured finger flicks her in the forehead. One belonging to Daphne when she looks up, “Get that intense look out of your eyes right now missy. You're supposed to be forgetting about the Riddler for a bit and just relaxing.”
She frowns at Daphne as she rubs at her forehead where she'd flicked her, but before she can say anything back, about how it was rude but also that given he was clearly planning something she needed to try to figure out what it was and maybe use a Patronus Inventiones vision to possibly get a glimpse of things, Ron stubbornly continues his story, and even after he's done, the others continue to drag her into their stories and antics.
She appreciates her friends and their refusal to let her work herself too hard in general, but sometimes it's harder to remember when she actively has something else she feels like she needs to be working on.
Like figuring out what the hell Voldemort is planning now.
She's panting heavily as she works at regathering her Patronus fire.
The spell was already fairly tiring, though not so much anymore, whether that was because she was getting used to it or because of her magical core growing faster as she approaches her magical majority, she couldn't say, but it was getting more and more manageable.
Which is why she had turned to trying to gather her Patronus fire into a corporeal Patronus, treating it like the fire itself was the misty form of a Patronus prior to a corporeal one.
If she'd thought the Patronus fire on its own was difficult, it had nothing on getting it to become a corporeal Patronus.
She honestly has no idea if it'll even have a worthwhile result, but given she can't think of anything else except just straight up regular combat training, she figures it's worth a shot, particularly during times she can't work on combat training for some reason or another. Because for all that she doesn't know if it'll have a worthwhile result, she also doesn't know that it won't have a good result.
The spell flickers out as she lets go of it, needing a few moments to recover. She slumps against the couch her Trunk had created tiredly, though she doesn't sit, just leans against one of the arms.
As she does, her mind drifts to her combat training. She was progressing decently, though she still wasn't satisfied with the results, but there wasn't much she could do to make it go any faster.
She just has to keep working at it. Both her combat training and her corporeal Patronus fire.
Taking a deep breath, she straightens up as the couch disappears to get back to work.
Hei watches with a slight smile as Calanthe, back for winter break, continues to talk with Misaki's coworkers and his old team, relieved to see her laughing at something Kōno was saying.
She hasn't… been in the best of spirits, since the revelation of what exactly that spell Voldemort's little lackeys that attacked that bus did.
It was… honestly a bit brutal, even by his standards.
A few days after the attack, one of the people that had been cursed on the bus suddenly seemed to go a bit crazy. They hadn't tried to attack anyone or anything, but despite their deteriorating condition making them more and more ill, they had completely ignored the people that were wanting them to stay home and take it easy. They'd gone to somewhere with a fairly dense gathering of people, Diagon specifically, and it's assumed that it was an instinctive drive spurred by the curse itself, as after a bit they had exploded, showering more than a few people in their blood.
No one had made the connection to the bus attack just then, it was just one of the people from it after all, but the connection had been made when it kept happening to the people from the bus attack.
That would've been bad enough, but he, and more than a couple others, had wondered why on earth they had used such a roundabout way to kill them.
Because yes, Calanthe had put a taboo on their favorite curses, but there were still much easier ways to kill people. He wasn't the only one who's conclusion was that it was just a way to continue with their reign of terror that Calanthe had so thoroughly cut off. And maybe that was part of it, but by and large, people had quickly learned the hard way that it was far from the only goal.
A lesson that had been driven home when people who weren't on the bus, but had quickly been traced back to people who were that had exploded and showered them in blood started also exploding.
It was some sort of… blood plague curse, as far as anyone could tell. The healers were still struggling to find a way to identify it in the… infected, as no matter what they tried, it wasn't popping up on their scans.
The best they could do right at the moment was just try to isolate anyone that got covered in blood and wait to see if they start presenting symptoms, but they'd almost immediately run into another snag.
Namely, there wasn't really a rough time frame for it, because how much magic a person had absolutely affected how long it took for them to turn into a living plague bomb. As a disease -if you can even call it that since the only infectivity seems to be from the explosions- that was inherently magical, the more magic a person has, the harder their magic would fight it off and the longer it would take for them to explode. And the bigger the explosion when a more powerful victim went boom.
The best they've been able to do so far was to establish a rough graph of how things progressed depending on magical power level to gauge whether someone was infected or not, and try their damnedest to slow it down as much as possible while they scrambled to try to find a cure.
Keeping it contained wasn't made any easier by scared people hiding the fact they'd gotten splattered with blood.
The whole thing had hit Calanthe hard.
She'd practically broken down on him and Misaki when she'd been gently bullied into coming back home for winter break, wondering if it had been a mistake of some sort to cut off Voldemort's previous methods as thoroughly as she had. It was only because of that, that he'd turned to such methods after all.
Misaki and he had done their absolute best to dissuade her of that notion. She was only doing what she could to protect people. That Voldemort had turned to such despicable methods after he was robbed of his usual ones was entirely on him.
It was honestly part of the reason they'd thrown the party they were throwing. She was on good terms with both his old team and Misaki's office as well as Kanami, there was absolutely a mutual fondness between her and them, and while they may have thrown a party anyway, both for the holidays and to celebrate her being back for them, it probably would've been limited to the dinner they were on their way back from, rather than the follow up at their apartment they were heading to. He can't speak for the others, but he wouldn't hesitate to admit that a good chunk of it was them all trying to distract Calanthe from the heavy weight of everything going on.
Well, he wouldn't admit it to Calanthe herself, if only to avoid it reminding her of the very thing they were all trying to distract her from, as well as her inevitable guilt at taking some time to herself instead of once again focusing on fixing the damage and hurt Voldemort was causing, but he would shamelessly admit it to anyone else.
Just as they're heading up the final stairs to their apartment, he notices a figure standing in front of their door. He recognizes him immediately. How could he not identify the man who had tried so hard to control Calanthe? Even going so far as to be willing to leave her with abusive relatives.
A moment later, Calanthe clocks Dumbledore too. He's seen it before, but he still isn't used to it. To her going from open and genuine to closed off at the flick of a switch, as swift as a portcullis slamming down, and just as fortified against showing her inner thoughts and feelings as one protects a castle.
She eyes the despicable man, “Dumbledore. What has brought you to darken my doorstep?”
He twitches slightly, “My dear girl-”
Calanthe gives him a hard look as she cuts him off, “I am not ‘your dear girl’, and for the record, as we are neither on good terms nor at school, where titles unrelated to the school itself are dropped as people are meant to be on equal footing, I would insist you refer to me in a more formal manner. That is to say, it's Lady Potter-Black to you Dumbledore, as even if you are here as the Headmaster of Hogwarts, as we aren't at Hogwarts, it is what manners dictate, seeing as per what I stated previously, we are not close, nor have I ever given you permission to refer to me casually.”
His eyes narrow slightly and briefly, looking more like another twitch than anything, “My apologies Lady Potter-Black, as we usually see each other in the school where such formalities are dropped for my students, they escaped me by habit.”
He isn't entirely sure, but it feels like an attempt at a power play to him. That mention of the fact they usually saw each other at the school that he was Headmaster of…
Calanthe doesn't hesitate a second, “Do make sure to keep them in mind. While I suppose it's somewhat understandable that they may escape you given you spend most of your time in the Headmaster's office of the school I attend,” That's absolutely a dig at him, he's sure of it, “given you do interact with other Nobles and other people of stature on official business, it could very easily have significantly more disastrous consequences for you from less understanding individuals.”
Dumbledore gives a small little twitch again, “Quite right Lady Potter-Black. I thank you for your magnanimous understanding.”
She smiles, but it's very much not one of the smiles he's used to, and there's something sharp about it, “Of course. I'm a generous and understanding person. I'm not the sort to make a big deal about an innocent blunder.” He has to apply every bit of his training, because he's pretty sure she just called him incompetent straight to his face, which makes him want to laugh his ass off, “However, it is the winter holiday, so if this has anything to do with school, I fail to see why it can't wait until it's back in session.”
Dumbledore's return smile is equally as fake as Calanthe's, “Oh, I'm not here on school business, Lady Potter-Black. I was wanting to speak to you regarding some of your projects to deal with Voldemort, but as it has nothing to do with school, it would've been inappropriate to call you to my office, and I can never seem to find you otherwise around the school.”
It's not fully a question, but there's definitely a faint questioning tone to that last part, and he can only assume he's trying to get her to tell him where she disappears to. Calanthe just tilts her head, replying vaguely, “I'm a fairly private person. Also, while I do stand by what I've said before against using the monikers people have come up with to circumvent the taboo V‐Mort placed on his name, it isn't wise in general to refer to that foolish name he took for himself, and I would ask you not to use it outside my home, even if we do seem to be outside of the taboo's range. Please either use a different nickname for him, or if you must use his name, his birth name. Anyway, what did you want to speak to me about regarding my projects?”
Dumbledore's gaze drifts over to them, it seems almost absent, but he wasn't semi-indoctrinated into a world class assassin and walked away with skills only directly related to killing people, so he easily notices the hidden sharpness to his gaze, “Perhaps such a sensitive topic shouldn't take place out in the open?”
It takes everything in him not to react to this piece of trash trying to get alone with his Xiǎolóng, but he does manage it. Impossibly, his Xiǎolóng's smile only seems to get sharper, “Certainly not, but you can at least tell me in what capacity you wish to speak of them in, so I can gauge whether I have the time today or not. Were you wanting to suggest some sort of improvement? Or perhaps had an idea that my projects have made you think is in my area of expertise?”
He gives her a look of disappointment, “If you must know the topic before we speak, I was wanting to speak to you in regards to the fact I have concerns regarding the possibility of your projects being triggered falsely. The possibility of someone just angry at the Death Eaters being barred by your wards for instance. Potential shortfalls like that which could've been avoided had you consulted me.”
Amusement seems to join that sharpness in her smile and gaze, “I tested for that. It only triggers if you have harmful intentions towards innocents in particular. Given we have very different… styles of doing things, between your preference for a… hands off approach and my preference for direct action, I saw little reason to consult with you, particularly as I already had others to confer with regarding potential drawbacks and shortcomings.”
Dumbledore tilts his own head, “Be that as it may, it is always wise to expand and be careful of who you get advice from. It is difficult, particularly in these times, to be certain of who is trustworthy, and even for those who are, it paints a target on their back they may be ill equipped to handle.”
Her gaze starts to burn with well concealed rage that he only picks up on from knowing her so well, “I wouldn't concern yourself with it Dumbledore. I have taken extensive precautions against the disloyal and hazards to those that are loyal.” Her gaze turns molten, “Thank you for your concern, but I do not require the assistance of a false light lord.”
Dumbledore goes very, very still for a few beats, staring his Xiǎolóng down with a frigid and hostile gaze, “Is that so? Then I suppose I'll be taking my leave.”
Calanthe tilts her head again, “Have a good day Dumbledore.”
He disappears in a loud ‘CRACK’ of apparition. Yūsuke starts to ask something, but Calanthe quickly shushes him, then pulls her phone out and starts recording and her wand out and starts casting when she is. As she does, different parts of the area around the door glow in different colors. She shakes her head and takes a step back, then holds her phone out to Hei. He accepts it and with a glance to make sure it's still recording, quickly brings it up to record her fishing a small bag and a case full of neatly arrayed marbles out.
Then she starts pulling the various glowing spots off of where they are and attaching each to one of the marbles, which she drops into the small bag. When she's gotten all of them, she casts a few more spells, unearthing a few more glowing spots as she does, which she swiftly transfers to the marbles and drops into the bag as well. When she's done casting, she tugs a notebook and pen out, which she sets on the guardrail to write a quick note, before retrieving her mail pouch from a pocket and dropping both the note and bag full of glowing marbles into one of the slots.
She turns to Hei to retrieve her phone and stops the recording before she seems to send it off to someone from what he sees of her screen.
Finally, she shakes her head with a sigh, “Jeez, that control freak really doesn't know when to quit.”
Yūsuke speaks somewhat hesitantly, “Is it okay to talk now?”
She nods, and as she turns to them, to his incredible relief the metaphorical portcullis lifts, “Yeah, sorry about that. Those glowing spots were things like listening spells and the like. He's rather… fond of putting monitoring spells all over the place, even where he has no right to. I just wanted to make sure no one said anything important that they'd pick up.”
Kōno makes a noise of anger, “But spying on people like that is illegal!”
She sighs a bit tiredly, “Yeah, I know. Never stopped him before. That's why I was sending it all off to Amelia for evidence to press charges though. The recording so no one can try to say I took the spells from someplace he had every right to put them, and transferring them to the marbles instead of just getting rid of them as evidence of what spells he used and his own magical signature on them to prove he was the one who placed them.”
Matsumoto shakes his head, “I truly don't understand how people can hold him in such high regard. First his involvement with your… history,” He says the last delicately, even knowing that Calanthe isn't that bothered by it nowadays, he probably still didn't want to bring up something so painful when they were supposed to be having a party, “and now this.”
She shrugs, “Decades of carefully crafting his image have made it difficult for people to question him, even when he's put in a bad light for one incident or another. They're more inclined to just brush isolated incidents off under the no one is perfect excuse banner.”
Misaki tilts her head, “I am somewhat surprised you're pressing charges though. I mean, he totally deserves it, but up until now, you've been biding your time, first because you weren't sure you could counter the image he's created for himself, then because you had V-mort to worry about, so you wanted to pick your battles.”
Calanthe's grin turns a bit feral, once again reminding him of just how accurate his nickname for her was, “That goes out the window when he starts threatening people I care about.”
Mao, currently in Yin's arms, tilts his head, “Threatening people? When did he do that?”
Calanthe shakes her head in mild amusement, “I suppose you're more used to more straightforward threats as a contractor, but not every threat is ‘do this thing or there will be this consequence’ Mao. What do you think he meant by that whole ‘painting a target they may not be able to handle’ line? That was basically Dumbledore-speak of a blanket threat towards everyone I care about.”
There are a few sharp breaths sucked around him, and his hands twitch, wanting one of his knives and for that garbage to be back in front of him so he can plant one in his god damned heart for all the pain he has caused and tries to cause his Xiǎolóng. Misaki crosses her arms, tucking them a bit tighter than her usual casual posture in her own upset state, “So you're going after him then?”
Calanthe grins at her, “What do you think I meant about that ‘false light lord’ bit? I don't think I ever actually said what the prophecy about me and Tommy-boy actually says when I got back, just that it didn't say much of anything beyond the fact I was the one who would defeat him, but there was also a second part about a ‘false light lord’ I'm supposed to ‘dethrone’, as it put it. Considering Dumbledore was the one the prophecy was made to, that was me serving him notice that despite what he may have thought, it absolutely was referring to him in my opinion and his days are numbered.”
Kanami tilts her head, “Was it… wise to give him warning?”
Calanthe grins, “Considering he'll undoubtedly be running around trying to do damage control when he isn't even certain of what I'm going to do just yet, and could very well end up starting to dig himself into the proverbial grave for me? Especially given that even if he tries to make people question me right now, with the fact Tommy-boy's return is out in the open now and everything I've done to mitigate what he can do? It honestly works in my favor to do so. For all that he doesn't act in a timely manner on… literally anything else, he sure moves quickly to try to circumvent anything that can damage his oh so precious reputation and public image. But as I said, even if he tries to beat me to acting, well, given what I said before, that I've been gathering evidence against him for years, and that one of the most vicious reporters over there is kinda at my beck and call and I'm sure she's more than eager to tear him to pieces? If it makes him make a mistake trying to stop me, great. Otherwise, it doesn't really matter.”
Her smile turns a bit mean as she glances at him, and he tilts his head in question, “Well, it doesn't matter as far as him benefiting from knowing it's coming. I suppose arguably it matters for those of us that are a bit meaner and find satisfaction in the fact he's going to be panicking at the possibility of fate and his dues for everything he's done finally coming for him and running around like a headless chicken trying to save his sorry hide.”
A grin of his own spreads across his face at the thought. Calanthe isn't wrong, that is definitely a… satisfying mental image.
Misaki shakes her head at them with a helplessly amused smile on her face, “You two are terrible.”
He shares a look with Xiǎolóng, but almost immediately has to look away to keep from bursting out laughing. Calanthe doesn't quite hold it all in, letting out a small laugh before she speaks, “Maybe we are. I do believe we had the rest of a party to get to though.”
Misaki laughs and turns towards the door, unlocking and opening it as she comments over her shoulder, “And here I was tempted to suggest we play some Uno since you've been so good. Guess not anymore!”
As everyone else starts laughing, all too used to their antics when it comes to playing games in their household and Calanthe immediately starts trying to cajole Misaki into them playing a round or two, he smiles. Despite pulling his usual bullshit, Dumbledore had not managed to derail the mood or their plans.
He can't help but feel proud of Calanthe. She's not the scared little girl he met eight years ago. Scared out of her mind of someone so powerful pulling the strings on her life, of catching his attention while she's trying to get away, but so determined to break free of his control and take back her life.
She certainly wasn't that scared girl, so determined and so brave anymore. Now? Now she was a confident young woman, ready and willing to go toe to toe with just about anyone she has to.
He's so unbelievably proud of her and the woman she's grown into. And he can't wait to see how far she'll go.
She sighs tiredly in frustration.
Yet another bust.
The spell still can't detect that stupid blood plague curse, and if she can't do that, she certainly can't try to develop some sort of tweak to the wards or scanning ability to attach to the golems that will tag the infected and portkey them to the isolation ward at Saint Mungo's.
Or hell, even something like a bracelet that will change colors if you're infected, since it does take a bit of time even for the magically weak to explode, and the only infectivity comes from that, so it would give people time to say goodbyes and get their affairs in order for those unfortunate souls who are infected while they still don't have a cure. Or for those who would prefer, it could let them head to Saint Mungo's immediately and have them do everything they can to try to slow it from the get go while one is searched for. There's a possible additional benefit in the form of it making it harder for people to hide their infectivity as well, if they can get them issued in force.
All of that however, relies on her being able to detect it to begin with, and she still hasn't managed that any more than Saint Mungos’ healers have.
She's dragged from her thoughts by an advanced copy of tomorrow's Daily Prophet being delivered, given she's the sole owner nowadays and has final say, so it's for final approval.
She grins lightly as she opens it and sees what it's about.
It's yet another article from Skeeter tearing Dumbledore to shreds.
She's been feeding the woman both the dirt she's been digging up on Dumbledore over the years as well as details on the crimes being brought against him, as much as she can anyway, given the way active cases were not necessarily under gag orders, but there was that whole thing about evidence of ongoing investigations being barred from being printed about, so while she can tell Skeeter and others what's going on since she's not under a gag order, she can't back it up with the evidence the Ministry was using.
The funny thing was, she didn't really need it. Dumbledore may have spent years carefully crafting his image, but first of all, with everything she's done to try to mitigate Voldemort's reign of terror, things Dumbledore had never come close to with his ever slow responses, and even with his newest despicable methods, no one's been holding it against her, and the general consensus was that compared to the last war, things were still far better at the moment, she was held in rather high regard. Between it, the revelation that she was telling the truth about Voldemort, which Dumbledore had done little to back up, and even with how poorly some people were treating her and that portion of the public's terrible opinion on her she was still preparing all of the countermeasures currently employed, as well as her previous fight to get Sirius’ name cleared, which had itself thrown some dirt on his name given Dumbledore himself had sealed their wills and therefore had to know their contents, including the way they had cleared Sirius’ name… Well, even Dumbledore's decades long entrenched lies have been faltering against the sheer weight her word carries nowadays.
That being said, she didn't give Skeeter everything in one go. For one thing, she didn't want the woman picking through it and choosing not to mention things at her leisure, since while not all of it particularly mattered beyond painting the picture or how reprehensible Dumbledore is, there was no guarantee those were the only things she'd cut if she got access to everything at once. For another, keeping it to a steady stream means that Skeeters articles will be a steady stream instead of a few big information dumps before she moves on.
The constant stream keeps it at the forefront rather than a couple big info drops before it's forgotten about and possibly swept under the rug in light of other news distracting people.
Dumbledore has indeed been running around like a chicken with his head cut off trying to put out the proverbial fire, but he's only made one attempt directly against her so far. He'd tried to throw shade at her for being willing to kill people, since if necessary the golems she made would not hesitate, but that had backfired spectacularly. Given the people her golems were willing to kill if necessary were terrorists and even then they didn't immediately go for lethality, no one had taken kindly to him trying to decry her methods. Combined with the high regard she was currently held in… Well, it had really just driven people to her side even harder.
She's sure that wasn't the end of it, that he'd try something else, probably learning from that mistake and going for people she cares about, but even then, she's already taken precautions against him doing anything. First and foremost, she and her friends at Hogwarts had formally requested that their Heads of Houses handled anything that would normally involve the Headmaster and act as a go-between if necessary. It hadn't been hard, she had every right to ask Flitwick seeing as she was actively pressing charges against Dumbledore, and there were rules in place letting her do so to mitigate any potential retaliation or attempts to pressure the student in question by the member of staff they were pressing charges against. The only real difference in the rules between teachers and the Headmaster was that in the case of the former, the school was obligated to pay for a different teacher so the student in question didn't have to attend the teacher’s class.
Considering she'd fed Skeeter things about his tendency to use the loved ones someone cares about early, it hadn't been difficult for her friends to request the same either. They may not actively have cases against him pending, but there was precedence to such behavior from Dumbledore making it perfectly reasonable to request.
She shakes her head as she continues reading the paper, seeing what's fairly obvious to her as him desperately trying to shift people's focus to other things. Considering the article itself was on page five, even for people who read it, she sincerely doubts it'll amount to much more than a few passing thoughts from them.
She absently skims the article with a sort of amused satisfaction, her hand pressed to her face, fingers mostly curled, with her cheekbone resting against the back of her fingers, but her pointer finger straight and resting lightly against her temple. She murmurs quietly to herself, “Don't you know Dumbledore? A house of cards collapses with the slightest pressure. You may have been guarding against anyone really touching it for years, but the moment someone does, it's game over.”
Hei tilts his upper body out of the way of the curse heading towards his neck even as he tosses a knife into the attacker's knee, though the dodge was mostly by a mixture of caution and habit since his mask and coats’ protections do cover his neck, but there was always a possibility of something getting through.
They go down fairly hard, and he quickly turns his attention to the two other magicals still up off to the side.
It's the seventh base he's hit since this mess started. It's very, very tempting to stick knives in people's hearts, cut their throats, or just electrocute them with enough voltage to kill them, and in his opinion, they'd certainly deserve it, providing they aren't under the Imperius, but doing so would leave him with no one to drop some Veritaserum on to pick their brains for more intel, so as much as he hates sparing these monsters, he takes as many of them alive as he can.
He has to admit it's significantly easier with the condensed magical education he's been getting, focused primarily on magic useful in a fight after he got the hang of using magic in general with the intention of covering the rest later, and the fact he can use spells. It certainly makes subduing people non-lethally easier.
He got the hang of using magic in general faster than Misaki, much to her annoyance. Xiǎolóng's current theory was that the contractor power he gets from Bai had unintentionally prepared him for it, giving him a bit of an idea of how to summon up magic and manipulate it. It makes sense to him, since contractors are some type of magicals and their powers are inevitably magical in nature themselves, but it doesn't stop Misaki from being a bit pouty.
All that being said, his training still makes him more inclined to dodging rather than trying to block, so for all that he theoretically could try to shield the spells being hurled at him, he still prefers to duck and weave through them. He snaps off a quick avis spell, which while not combative on its own certainly helped in combat in general as a distraction which his Xiǎolóng had insisted on adding to the spells he was learning. Not that anyone had argued between his usual preferred combat style and the showcase of the usefulness of the spell she'd unintentionally performed in the first task of the tournament. It buys more than enough time for him to wrap up one of the two left in ropes and close the distance on the other to knock them out in a more physical manner.
He's only just fired a stunner at the one tied up when he feels a sting on his ankle. Turning quickly, he finds the one he'd thrown a knife into the kneecap of giving him a nasty grin, wand pointed at him.
He quickly stuns her too, and looks down at his ankle. There doesn't seem to be any damage, but it had hit low enough that the small aura of protection that extends past the end of his coat couldn't block it, so whatever spell it was, it clearly wasn't meant to do immediate damage.
He still can't help but feel a trickle of unease despite the lack of immediate effects though.
The Death Eaters weren't the sort of people to waste that free shot. He'll have to get checked over by someone to try to figure out what it was. The only relief he has is the very fact he'd felt that sting of it landing indicates that it's not that blood plague curse, since they're thoroughly checked the memories of everyone still alive for even the slightest hint of how to help when it became clear that the victims from the bus attack were the ones exploding, and there wasn't anything like that sharp sting he felt.
He'll need to get someone to check him over when he gets back for sure to try to figure out what the hell he just got hit with, but for now he needs to finish cleaning up this Death Eater base.