FicWad

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters, ideas, and situations created by JK Rowling and owned by her and her publishers. I own the original elements & characters. No money is being made by me, and no trademark or copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter XXI

Hagrid arrived approximately 10 seconds after he had left Dumbledore's office. As far as he could tell, he was standing near a large larch, facing an open field. "Good," he muttered, "no problems."

But about thirty seconds later, there was an explosion which blew Hagrid back into the tree. A lesser man would have been knocked out, and probably seriously injured. Hagrid managed to pick himself up within seconds. He was shocked to see the remains of a small house lay in what had been the open field. He threw down the portkey, and approached cautiously, his umbrella out and at the ready. He couldn't notice a large rat scurrying out of the opposite side of the wreckage and head into the woods.

At that moment, he heard a child crying. Hagrid tore through the rubble, tossing sections of wall as he did so. In less than two minutes, he had uncovered toddler Harry, who was clutching on his mother's robe. There was a jagged cut on his forehead. A few feet away there was a robe that Hagrid knew instinctively knew had been Voldemort's. "You!" he growled. Had Harry's crying not intensified, Hagrid would have torn through the rubble, looking for Voldemort's body and James'. He flipped another wall out of the way to make certain the rubble wouldn't fall on them, and he saw James' lifeless body. "Poor tyke," he said softly.

Hagrid started to carry the crying toddler out of the wreckage. As he did so, he heard another sound, and looked up, umbrella again at the ready.

"Oh, it's you," Hagrid said as Sirius Black landed.

"Damn!" Sirius swore. "The rotten bastard! I'll kill him! Did you see the rat?"

Sirius meant Peter, but of course Hagrid thought he meant Voldemort.

"'Aven't seen anyone alive but Harry."

"Give him to me. I'm his godfather. I'll take care of him."

"Dumbledore said I was to take him if I were to find him."

Sirius looked torn for a moment, then decided to go after Peter first, since Harry was safe. He would come to regard that as the second worst of idea of his life, after suggesting that Peter be the Secret Keeper in the first place. "Fine. Take my bike, then. It'll adjust for you. To ride it like a broomstick, the command is 'Snivellus blows.' To turn it back into a Muggle cycle, the command is 'Snivellus sucks.'"

Hagrid shook his head at that. "Go on," Sirius commanded. "Make sure he's safe, if you're not going to turn him over to me."

"Alright." Hagrid made his way over to the motorcycle. He turned to ask Sirius a question, but he had seemingly disappeared. He had, in fact, transformed into his dog form. He was already trailing Pettigrew's trail into the woods from the other side of the rubble, out of Hagrid's line of sight.

"Where'd he go?" Hagrid asked the still whimpering Harry, suspicious. Hagrid was about to mount the enlarged motorcycle a few moments later when he heard a deep voice say, "Move and you're dead."

"It's alright, Henry," a deeper voice said. "That's Hagrid, one of Dumbledore's people."

"Still, don't move." Four people came around to the front.

Hagrid recognized one of them. "Yer the American's," he said, his accent thickening.

"That's right," Tudor Myrddin answered. "Harry, Johnny, check the parameter. Tabby, check the bodies. Hagrid, tell me everything you know."



In less than five more minutes, fifteen members of the Order and nine more of the Americans. plus Dumbledore and Alastor Moody, had arrived. Hagrid had repeated his tale, and Dumbledore had told them about the Fidelius, plus the fact that the last he knew, Sirius Black was to be the Secret Keeper.

"So that's why he wanted Harry!" Hagrid roared, nearly waking the exhausted Harry up. He had refused to allow Harry out of his massive arms.

"Sirius Black? The spy?" Henry said. "That's hard to believe."

"Do you doubt it, too?" Tudor asked, confused.

"A little, but if he wasn't, then he certainly knows what happened," Henry retorted.

"Either he is guilty or he knows who is, and went after them," Tabitha stated. "Either way, we must find him. Either way, someone will pay for this. And there is only one treasure that this crime may be redeemed in!"

"Gwaed!" John Alden, one of the druids who had sworn to protect Harry shouted.

"Ni!" Tudor shouted. "GWAEDOLIAETH!"

"GWAEDOLIAETH!" John, Henry, and Tabitha all screamed. All four Old Believers then raised their wands, and again shouted, "GWAEDOLIAETH!" Four bolts of jagged lightening flashed into the sky. "/GWAEDOLIAETH/!" and all the Americans had joined in.

Tudor turned to Dumbledore. "For the moment, we shall protect the child. None but us, save you, shall approach him without instant death. Henry! Tabitha! I charge you with his life!"

"Our lives are forfeit, should we fail," they answered.

"I want Hagrid with him," Dumbledore stated. "And this is only until Black is found."

Tudor stared at Dumbledore, who stared back. Tudor backed down, reluctantly. "Henry, fly that thing to your house. Hagrid, please carry Harry on the back. Tabitha, return now and guard. Contact Tom and Lloyd. There are to be two of you with Harry at all times."

"I obey."

"I obey."

Tudor turned to the other Confederation members. "You know who we are looking for. Find him!" As the motorcycle took off, all the Americans disapparated.

Alastor Moody turned to Dumbledore. "What was that all about?"

"They have been challenged to enforce what to them is a sacred contract. Their charge, Harry, has been orphaned and hurt. This act can only be paid for in blood. But not just blood, that is 'gwaed'. That is any blood. No, they swore by their blood, the blood of their families, their faith -- it is the blood of the killers or their own. Now, let me try and deduce what happened here tonight."



Monday, November 1, 1981

Dumbledore stood in the parlor of the house used by one of the Confederation teams. John Alden, Tabitha, and Henry were standing behind Tudor, ready to back him up. Tabitha held Harry in her arms. Tom and Lloyd came in to lend further support.

"The Ministry will not allow you to have Black, let alone allow you to execute him," Dumbledore repeated. "He is captured; Voldemort is disembodied. You are not foresworn. Now, let Hagrid have Harry. We need to take him to his relatives."

"Lily said her sister loathed her, and loathed magic," Tabitha stated. "How can you allow her to have custody of Harry?"

"You taught Lily the ritual that protected Harry," Dumbledore pointed out.

"Yes, the Mother's Sacrifice," Tom agreed. "I am not so certain that placing Harry with his mother's family will be as effective as you think."

"Especially not when we have a better alternative," Tudor added.

"And what is that?"

"Let us take Harry," Tudor said simply.

"What!" Hagrid roared.

"On the one hand, we do not believe Lily's sister a fit guardian. We base this on Lily's opinion. On the other hand, Harry needs to be protected. There are still uncaught Death Eaters, and we totally agree with you, Voldemort is more likely disembodied than destroyed. That means he will likely come back. Harry is now the symbol of his downfall, and so will likely be a target."

Dumbledore had still not said anything about the Prophecy. "Go on."

Tudor went on. "You believe the Sacrifice will protect Harry. We have doubts, considering Petunia's feelings towards magic. In addition, we agree that it would not be a good idea to raise Harry in the general British magical community. It could be dangerous, it could be almost as bad for his ego as being raised by his aunt, if in the opposite extreme."

"I believe you exaggerate his aunt's disdain," Dumbledore said.

"In any event, let me take Harry. I will raise him as my own. Only one person outside this room need know that Hari Myrddin is Harry Potter, and she would be my wife."

"I didn't know you were married."

"I had hoped to be a hit-wizard, and American hit-wizards do not marry. However, I do not need the job. Gwen and I would marry. She was here two years ago, and is currently in Ireland, doing solo support work for me. We would live deep in Old Believer territory. He would be safe from outside attack. He would be raised as a normal wizard. He will be loved. This I swear."

"Or Henry and I could do it," Tabitha offered. "We will love him as our own. Either way, Harry will grow up loved and strong."

Dumbledore hesitated. Then he spoke. "Petunia and her husband are the boy's natural and legal guardians. I could not just give Harry to you even if I wished to."

The Old Believers' faces hardened. Tudor fought an internal battle for several moments, but felt he could not go against the greatest wizard of the age. "Very well. We expect to be called should Voldemort return. If we are not, we shall be most displeased."

Dumbledore merely nodded his head. Tabitha kissed Harry, as did the men. She then handed him to Hagrid.

"I'll take good care of him, I will," Hagrid promised.

"Thank you," she said. Hagrid left.

"One last question," Henry said before Dumbledore disapparated.

"Yes?"

"Did you relay our offers to the Longbottoms?"

"I did. They thank you, but prefer to stay in Britain. I am certain they are in no more in danger from the remaining Death Eaters than anyone else."

"I hope you're right," Henry replied. Dumbledore disapparated.

"The Ministry will want us gone as soon as possible," John pointed out.

"I know," Tudor agreed. "If we're still here, they'll have to thank us. I'll tell Lloyd to get ready to pull everything out."

"Not everything," Henry said.

"What do you mean?"

"We'll be coming back. Maybe in ten years, maybe in twenty, maybe in fifty, but we'll be back."

"You're right," Tudor agreed. "I'll make the arrangements. I don't think Lloyd here will mind having the option of staying."



Monday, November 23, 1981

Henry stretched in the small bed in Tabitha's spare room. All the tensions of the past sixteen months had hit Tabitha and him shortly after they had arrived Friday afternoon. They had left Britain nearly two weeks before, but had undergone a ten-day debriefing.

They had worked hard Friday, getting Tabitha's house back into shape. Fortunately, she had ordered things like wood before she had left. A house elf from Salem had shown up the day before they had arrived and given the place a thorough cleaning. They had only staggered out Saturday afternoon because they needed food. They had barely stuck their noses out of their respected beds Sunday.

A short rap on the door distracted him. "Come in!"

Tabitha came in a sat down a covered tray. Henry sat up and she placed the tray on his knees. Henry just looked at it in amazement.

"Don't get used to it," she warned, whisking the top away.

"Wow," he said. A small Turkish coffee, an omelet, ham, toast, and a large orange juice sat there.

"I've noticed you tend to feed me best when you think I'll be angry at you or you want something," he said, buttering the toast. "Which is it?"

"You were told you could have at least a year off to decompress, right?"

"Right. Then off to hit-wizard training."

"Would you like to spend that year here?"

"Here? In this bed?"

"I was thinking about the big bed. I know . . . hit wizards can't be married. I love you, but I can't follow a traditional life-style anyway. Stay. We've seen too much death. We've had to cause too much death." She took hold of Henry's hand. "Let's create a life."

"Really?"

"Really."

"A baby? Really?"

"Well . . . yes."

"When?"

"Let's go grocery shopping again first. We need to find a turkey. Maybe we'll have lots of things to give thanks for."

"Good idea." Friday, June 30, 1995

On a Muggle map, the area would look blank, a rocky wilderness in western Ontario between Lake Nipigon and Hudson Bay. No roads were marked, and low-flying aircraft were routed around the 27x60 mile oblong area.

In reality, near the center of that area, on an unmarked lake, the capital of the wizarding Confederation of North America has stood since 1848. With a permanent wizarding population of over 6,000, sometimes swelling to over 15,000, it was far and away one of the largest magical settlements in the world, aside from a few others in North America.

In an obscure conference room, a formal but secret meeting was being held. The twenty-seven wizards and twelve witches formed the various leaderships of the North American communities. Some were in the white robes of Druids, some in robes of Celtic tartans that pre-dated the Muggle tartans by thousands of years. Others were in dress robes of European design; three were in the buckskin or buffalo hide regalia of Native shamans. Two wore colonial costumes, from New Amsterdam and Revolutionary America. One, proud of having all Muggles for his great-grandparents, wore a Muggle business suit.

The meeting was unofficial, and so there was no one there to take the minutes.

"Do we know yet what happened at Hogwarts?" a Druid demanded.

"No," one of the robed figures stated. "The British Ministry denies this Voldemort has risen. A report from the Minister's Office, sent by a Dolores Umbridge, reports that Dumbledore agrees that Harry Potter is mentally unstable, or at least unreliable. Dumbledore's report is more ambiguous, but he clearly claims that Voldemort is back."

"And will he, as head of the Wizengamot, call in the International?" another Druid asked.

"No," the wizard replied. "There seems to be a struggle between Dumbledore and Fudge. If Dumbledore wins, hopefully the International will be called in."

"And if Fudge wins?" a witch dressed in an Old Believer tartan demanded.

"We hope that he will not," the robed wizard stated.

"But if he does?" the man in the Muggle suit demanded. "Can we interfere?"

"We cannot, in any event. Only the International can."

"Must we wait for that?" the witch asked. "The British and other western Europeans made a total hash of their fight against this Voldemort last time. If it hadn't been for Dumbledore's secret resistance and any number of volunteers, we might have had an out-right war! If we wish to stay hidden from the Muggles, that MUST not happen!"

"Surely we can rely on the British Ministry to do the right thing," a different robed wizard almost purred.

"According to whose lights?" a different Old Believer demanded.

"I resent. . . ."

"SILENCE!" The elderly leader of the Tuatha, the three person executive of the Old Believers, demanded as he stood. "We must wait upon events, it seems. However, if Dumbledore says the Dark Wizard is back, he is back. They will likely need our help, sooner or later, no matter if they ask for it or not. Our own security forces are well-trained, but need new, young leadership. Our diplomacy may also need some work -- we may have to lead the International to take action. Let us prepare for both. If it turns out to be unnecessary, it will still be a useful exercise.

"I object," the smooth-talking wizard stated.

"Then let us take a vote," a different wizard demanded.

"The Assembly will not approve," the once-smooth talking Pure-Blood stated, beginning to get desperate to halt this idea.

"The Assembly passes laws, not policy," a shaman stated. "You are here more as a courtesy than out of need. Let us vote."

The vote was 36 - 3.

Friday, July 21, 1995

No one small group totally controls the policies of the wizarding Confederation of North American. However, if a certain group of twenty-four wizards and three witches happened to totally agree, it would be hard for the other power blocks to stand up to them.

Of course, since this rather impromptu group contained twelve who were Old Believers of various view points, six who were major manufacturers with ties as close to the Muggle world as to the magical, six who were Old Colonials who generally disliked each other almost as much as they disliked the other groups, with a Native American and two opportunistic political operatives who were mostly interested in winning than their actual position on any issue, they had rarely all agreed.

They hadn't agreed this day.

Yet.

"But why would we interfere? Wait," the wizard said, "I know, we technically couldn't. Fine. Why would the International interfere?"

"We don't have an excuse yet, but I'm sure we will long before the next rounds of elections."

"Before October, 1996. . . . And until then?"

"We'll start moving our people around."

"Who do we need to put into place?"

"We need Tudor Myrddin in as head of the MLES."

"But he's a hit-wizard!" several voices yelled. "And an Old Believer," another voice added.

"He is also a true Myrddin and a Novice in the River sect, and when he leaves service, he will be high in the Councils of the True Faith. On a more practical level, he also served twice in Britain against Voldemort."

"You mean the Confederation volunteers that the British have always denied were there?" a businessman asked.

"Exactly. He led the fight in the last year or so, or at least he led our people who were involved in it. And, and this is not to leave this room, he has maintained a small network there. His sources say that Fudge will try to discredit Potter rather than investigate his claims."

"If Fudge goes that route, it means he's hoping Potter is wrong, not that he's sure the boy is," one of the pure politicians stated.

"Agreed."

An Old Colonial spoke up. "Normally, I would say Myrddin is far too young to head the MLES. He's only about forty-five. The MLES head is usually at least in his sixties when he gets the job. Does this mean he's going to hold the job for at least sixty years, instead of forty or so?"

"That depends," an Old Believer said. "If the International agrees it has to interfere, that means we'll have to send people over to run Britain. If Myrddin is head of the occupation Council, he would be over-qualified to come back and head a department here."

Those who weren't keen on someone as strong and independent, yet as tied to the Old Believers as Myrddin, in long-term control of the MLES looked at each other. Finally, one looked up. "It's been almost a hundred years since an Old Believer had this job. Would he be willing to give it up to fight this Voldemort again?"

"Seven of our people swore an oath at an Equinox ceremony to protect Harry Potter and another young boy Voldemort was after. Myrddin stood as blood protector."

"Then why make him head of the MLES?"

"Because it could easily be six months to a year before we can get the International to move, unless Voldemort strikes early. We'll need to organize our resources, and that will work best if he is in charge of the MLES."

The wavering members looked at each other again. Each man nodded. "We agree," their spokesman agreed. "We want this Voldemort crushed if he's back before he can cause too much trouble in general and especially with the Muggles. You want to get him for the same reason, and for his attack on your ceremony. If you say Myrddin is the best way to do it, well, I don't have any better ideas. Does anyone else?"

No one spoke.

"Deal?" the Old Believer point man asked.

"Deal," the others agreed.Friday, August 11, 1995

The twenty-four wizards and twelve witches who had approved a more active stance earlier met again in August to consider a very disturbing news story. "Have we all had a chance to read over the transcript of Harry Potter's hearing?" an Old Believer asked.

From the rumble of comments, it was clear that the group had, and thought little of it. "Comments?"

"It's a disgrace!" one Pure-Blood stated, standing. "What game is Fudge playing at? Every bit of evidence our Intelligence has collected states that this Dark Wizard was reborn in a very Dark ceremony!"

"Some might say that the evidence mostly comes down to one boy's word," a shaman stated.

"Some might, but I don't think they were invited this time! Not all of us have strong ties to the Pure-Bloods who supported Grindelwald and Voldemort on his last attempt."

"That is true, for which we are grateful," one of the Council of Druids said in a pacifying manner. "Still, at this point, can we actively interfere?"

"No," one of the leaders of the Confederation broke in, "we still can not. However, I can tell you there are a number of other concerned Ministries around the world. It appears as if we must allow Voldemort to strike the first blow. We must be prepared to actively interfere, and by that I mean the International in name, even if it is mostly us supplying the money and muscle. Unless any one objects, I shall be directing all the behind-the-scenes diplomacy to that end."

No one said anything.

"Then we are agreed. We will meet slightly more formally tomorrow to allow the new head of Law Enforcement to address us before his installation Monday."

"When will the announcement be made?" the Muggle-dressed wizard asked.

"In perhaps two hours. I expect our three missing colleagues are writing a complaint about the new man even as we speak."

"Well, that gives them something to do, I guess," another wizard commented.



Monday, August 14, 1995

"Daddy, you look very nice."

"Thank you, Princess. I'm just glad your mother allowed you to attend."

"Well, it's not every day that my godfather is made Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Services."

Henry Dorff pretended to frown. "I thought you were here to see me sworn in as the Chief Hit-Wizard!"

"Oh, I am, but Uncle Tudor is ever so much more important than you," she teased.

Henry smiled and looked at his daughter. Her hair was a few shades darker than Tabitha's, and she was a little taller and a bit broader in the shoulders than her mother had been at thirteen. She had his jaw-line, as well. But the eyes were the same shade of bright green as her mother's, and her personality was all her own. She was bright, athletic (on the Blue Quodpot and Quidditch teams and the dueling team as well), and a House leader, even if it wasn't for the Greens.

"How's she doing?"

The girl shrugged. "She and Joy lived together for over five years and the bitch dumped her without warning. . . . "

"Sabrina!"

"What else can I call her? I thought she loved Mom, I thought she loved me! and it turns out she's been having an affair for almost a year?"

"We all make mistakes. I just need to know how your mother is recovering." He knew it was partially his fault. He could have married Tabitha. He had preferred pursuing his dream of becoming a hit-wizard, thinking she would be content to be his lover whenever he could make it to Boston. In retrospect, he was surprised she had put up with the arrangement for so long. It had been the one major error he had made in their relationship. It had taken three years after their breakup before she would allow him to even kiss her cheek.

"She seems better. She's worried about something, but it's not Joy."

"Sabrina. . . ."

"Yes, Daddy?"

"Did your Mom have any special message for me?"

She frowned. "You know, she did say something odd. I asked, 'Any messages for Dad,' and she said, 'Just that Harry is waiting.' But that doesn't make any sense, since you're Harry. She wouldn't explain, though. She just said you would understand."

"She meant a different Harry, sweetheart." 'Yes,' Henry Dorff thought, 'Harry Potter is waiting for us to help him. Neville might be as well. And we will, if Tudor Myrddin and I have anything to say about it.'

"Come on, Princess. You can recite your lessons from druid camp with us. Your godfather and I are Novices after all. You can tell us if we make any mistakes."

Sabrina rolled her eyes.



Thursday, January 11, 1996

"Mister Myrddin?"

"Yes?"

"Mister Dorff is here."

"And our Ten o'clock appointment?"

"Not yet."

"Send Harry in."

"Yes sir."

Henry Dorff came into the office. "Tudor."

"Harry. Sit down while we wait."

Tudor was obviously not happy about waiting. "Be reasonable," Henry said. "How can a Hidden be on time, when they can't have watches?"

"Why are you always so reasonable whenever we have to deal with these people?"

"Because I'm Henry Dorff, new to the faith, and you're Tudor Myrddin, heir to Merlin. I have to put up with a bit more than you."

"I guess. I just wish I knew who we were meeting."

"Mister Myrddin? the druid Cadfael ap Tudur ap Mawrth ap Rhys, speaker for the Danadl clan and representative to the Confederation for the Hidden Faithful for this quarter year."

Myrddin and Dorff stood, and Henry bowed. Myrddins bowed to few powers, and then only to keep harmony.

"I thank you for this meeting," Cadfael said in Welsh.

"And how may we be of service to the representative of the Hidden?" Myrddin asked politely in the same language. The Hidden sent a new spokesman every three months, to make certain he didn't become corrupted by Outside ways. They wouldn't be the spokesman again for at least five years.

"Three things. First, you know the secret we have Hidden in our Hearts?" Cadfael asked.

"The Scouring? Yes."

"You mean it's true?" Henry asked, shocked.

"Yes," Cadfael said. "Look at the Muggles. They will destroy their culture, built on their technology, sooner or later. We, and some others, preserve the True Harmony, and you know it in your heart. When that happens, we will scour the Muggles from our ancestral homelands and any of the wizards who stand in our way."

"With the help of the Hidden back in Europe," Myrddin added.

Cadfael looked at him in surprise.

"Remember who it is you're talking to," Myrddin said softly. "Merlin, Myrddin if you prefer, helped reenforce the wards that hide the Great Circles." He looked at Henry. "There are ancient circles, as great as Stonehenge, that have never ceased to be used as they have for almost five thousand years. The Hidden hold the Heart of the Faith. Only Hidden of acolyte status or higher, full druids, and a few of us outside that circle, know the full truth. Even what I have just told you is just a fraction of the truth."

He turned his attention back to Cadfael. "Yes? What about it?"

Cadfael took a deep breath. "Some are wondering if this Voldemort might not be useful in our quest."

"Anxious are they? Or just bloodthirsty?"

"A bit of both. Grindelwald would have been a better bet for us, but it wasn't time then, and it isn't time now. I just wanted to warn you if case we need some help from the dragons."

"Is that likely?"

"Possibly, not likely, since this is a small bunch and they wouldn't know how to find Europe, much less conquer it." He shrugged. "There are idiots everywhere."

"Second?"

"Second, well, you do know we maintain agents of our own around the world."

"I do. I could probably name you most of them."

"Well, many of them, perhaps. I looked into which of them might have been involved with Tabitha's mother. I have narrowed the list to twelve. Could you please ask Tabitha if I should pursue it?"

"I will," Henry answered. "I don't know if she will wish to pursue it or not. I suspect she won't."

"Nor do I know. I thought she should have the choice. I shall not unless she asks. If she wishes me to look into it, I need to know before the equinox." That was when his term as speaker for the Hidden would end.

"Understood," Henry agreed.

"Third. . . ." He turned more serious. "Most of us do not believe this Voldemort is likely to pose a threat beyond the British magical community. However, in studying the material provided on his last attempt, we did see one thing which could cause the International to be brought in, no matter how much they may fight against it, and might even touch on our interests." He handed Myrddin and Dorff each a small piece of quartz. "If you call me, I shall come -- and the Hidden will follow."

"Under what circumstances?" Myrddin asked.

"The defection of the dementors. Let us discuss terms."

***

Monday, June 24, 1996

While the 39 member Committee debated policy, the North American Confederation's actual executive was a 12 person Leadership Council. Six members were selected by various constituencies dating back to the Confederation's formal creation in 1785 -- four Old Believers (two religious and two secular), a Native shaman, and a representative of the Old Colonial Families. The Confederation was divided into six equal regions, based on the wizarding population. Each region elected one member of the Council and 20 members each to the 180 person Assembly (45 others were selected by the Old Believers, 15 selected by the Shamans).

The Executive currently therefore consisted on a member of the Tuatha and a member of the Council of Druids, two Old Believers selected by the Old Believer sects, three Old Believers elected by their regions, a Shaman, the Old Colonial representative, two Pure-Bloods elected by their regions, and a Full-Blood who had been elected by her region.

This Monday afternoon, they were meeting in emergency session. "There is one thing on the agenda," the chair for the day stated. "Formally asking the International to put the British Ministry into receivership, and taking the lead in fighting the returned Dark Wizard who calls himself Voldemort."

The Colonial Representative stood. "I have read the reports and am appalled at the British Ministry's mishandling of this. However, many of my fellow Colonials dislike the idea of active interference in another Ministry. Can anyone give me one major reason we should not object?" He sat.

The Tuatha member stood. "The dementors. We have all been against their employment by the Europeans at the prison the British manage for them. Now these abominations, grown strong by European coddling, have gone over to this wizard. They pose an international problem. The International must take charge as soon as possible."

A Pure-Blood stood. "And I suppose we will have to finance this adventure?"

The chair for the day answered, "The personnel, yes, for the most part. The rest will be more evenly divided."

"So it's all decided, is that what you're saying?"

"Except for the voting, yes."

"Then we might as well vote," the Pure-Blood said with disgust as he sat.

The vote was 11 - 0, with the Pure-Blood speaker abstaining.