Chapter 363: Peace, Not For Long
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The link is also in the synopsis.
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Sirius stood staring at the figure donned in black for a moment. His wand was already in his hand by instinct, ready for action, but it took him a beat to register what was in front of him.
". . . Are you mad?" Sirius pointed his glowing wand towards Quinn. "Or are you looking to surrender? If it is the latter, then I'll gladly take you in right here, right now. What do you say, want to come in? We're renovating right now, so it'll be a little rough, but I assure you, I'll put you in the best one we have."
Quinn would've good-heartedly laughed if he wasn't under his mask. But Noir wouldn't laugh in any situation, so he went straight to the point, "About the attack in the Ministry, what is the Auror Office's stand on it? How will you and your people handle the Death Eaters now?"
Sirius scoffed, taking one step closer to Quinn. "What are you, a journalist? Why would I tell you a single thing to a criminal like you?"
"I want to know the Ministry's stance on- criminals- like Death Eaters. Is the Auror Office going to stay still like cowards after the Death Eaters came into your house and bombed it? If so, I will lose all the respect I have for your occupation."
". . . Cowards?" Sirius' voice went as cold as a grave. "You're calling us cowards when you're then one who hides behind that mask? How dare you say that you fucking nobody. Unlike the rest of my peers back in the office, I respected you for rescuing Amelia from Voldemort— but to think I was giving respect to someone who doesn't respect it."
Quinn narrowed his eye behind his mask.
"I could not care less what you think of me, Sirius Black," said Quinn. "Get to the point. What is the Auror's stance on the Death Eaters? If you do not want to tell me, then say so, and I will leave."
"Do you think I'll let you walk away just like this?" Sirius, his wand taking on an angry glow.
Quinn didn't believe words were an appropriate response. So he turned to what he considered an appropriate response and flared up his market. The doors and windows of solitary street rattled, and even the dust on the ground floated to rise up.
"I am not a pushover," said Quinn. "I did not want this conversation to go this way. But if you want to go down this path, I will very willingly follow through with it."
"You didn't want to go this way? What did you expect would happen between an Auror and a wanted murderer?" said Sirius.
"A cultured conversation."
"Cultured conversation with a bloke who has taken body parts out of people? Yeah, right! Have some self-consciousness."
Quinn could tell this conversation was going nowhere. He wanted to get some information, but it didn't look like Sirius was going to give it to him willingly. He could take it out of the Senior Auror's mind against his consent, but that was something he was looking to avoid because of how messy it could get and become a rolling snowball. Right now, he was more willing to take a risk on a Junior Auror, who might or might not have the crucial information he was looking for.
"This was a waste of time," said Quinn and started to back away while keeping an eye on Sirius.
A wise decision as Sirius immediately shot a spell towards Quinn, who blocked it with a shield and returned with a magic-heavy spell. Sirius moved to block it with his shield and was sent back flying as the spell made contact with a shield.
"Oof!"
A blue glow appeared around Sirius, and all the momentum was killed, bringing him to a halt. The Senior Auror landed on the ground skillfully as if he had practiced a hundred times. But as Sirius regained his footing, another spell appeared in his peripheral. He raised his wand, and a hasty shield spell blocked the attack, but Sirius was sent flying once again. The same blue glow of Arresto Momentum cut Sirius' momentum and brought him to a halt, with Sirius physically maneuvering himself to land on the ground.
*Pop!*
Sirius looked up just to see the sole of a black combat boot smash into his shoulder and slam him to the ground, rattling his entire body.
"Gah!"
Even in this situation, Sirius' mind worked with perfect calmness and awareness of his situation. He channeled his magic through his wand, a dome manifested above him. Crack! But the next second, the dome was broken by a heavy blunt attack. Then Sirius saw the black sole come down, and this time instead of landing on his shoulder, it squarely pressed into his chest and rammed into the ground.
"Think about it before calling me a good-for-nothing, Sirius Black," said Quinn. He extended his gloved hand, and Sirius' wand went flying to the side of the street, in a shady corner, making it difficult to be seen. "I do not wish harm upon those who do not deserve it. You do not deserve to face the harm I inflict upon the deserve. I still respect the Aurors, and the country can not lose any more Auros, so I'm going to leave you, so make sure you lie here like a good boy."
Quinn passed a light vibration spell through Sirius' body which did not hurt him, but it didn't hurt but did heavily disorient him. When Sirius recovered from the spell that shook every part of his body, Quinn turned away and was already turning the corner of the street.
"War."
Quinn stopped and turned towards Sirius.
"The Aurors are at war with the Death Eaters."
'War. Now that is something,' thought Quinn. He didn't know what war meant in the context of the Aurors; they could be simply starting an arrest hunt for the Death Eaters, or maybe it was more along the lines of avenging their fallen ones. But whatever it was, Quinn knew that this was the advent of what was called in the canon as the Second Wizarding War.
"Take care of yourself, Sirius Black," said Quinn. "Wars do nothing but damage to everything involved. Stay alive; the world needs more people like you in it."
After throwing some pleasant words, he turned the corner and apparated out, leaving behind a relatively unharmed Sirius Black.
. . .
Quinn dropped the Noir patch on his bed and plopped down beside it flat on his back.
"War, he says," muttered Quinn.
He was expecting some big news today, and what he heard was right up the alley he was expecting. And it did bring him some nervousness and a little bit of anxiety. As he had said to Sirius, wars brought good to no one involved. There was destruction, loss of life, and distress on the entire spectrum of emotions.
"War," Quinn muttered again.
It was already here. Quinn knew that it would come sooner or later, but now that it was here, it seemed that there wasn't enough time to prepare. There had been things he had been preparing for a very long time, and they still weren't complete.
'Especially, the main part on which everything depends upon.' His hand went to the chain around his neck where the Ressurection Stone lay. He hadn't had enough time to work on it and desperately wished he had gotten his hands on it sooner.
But there was no use complaining. All he could do was move his plans faster and hope that they had progressed enough to work.
Quinn stood up from his bed. Picked up the Noir patch and walked down the stairs of his suitcase.
If he wanted to make his plans move faster, he needed to put in the work to make that happen.
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The door opened, and Sirius entered the room as silently as possible.
"You're late, Auror Black."
Sirius looked a bit embarrassed as he looked at the table of important people sitting at the same table— the Minister of Magic, Amelia Bones. . . Head of DMLE, Rufus Scrimgeour. . . Head Auror, Gawain Robards. . . Head Hit Wizard, Cillian Parry, among many other important personnel from the DMLE.
And Sirius was late to that meeting.
"I'm sorry," Sirius said to Scrimgeour. "I encountered two drunken parties fighting each other in the street about Quidditch, creating problems for everyone. There was no Junior in the area, so I had to take care of it."
He sat down in a seat near the walls of the room.
"Welcome to the meeting," James Potter whispered as he leaned toward Sirius.
"Don't start," Sirius sighed.
"Did you really find people on the street?"
"No, I met the Invisible Vigilante," said Sirius. "He beat me to the ground. I got late because of that."
James tried to hold back his laugh, but it leaked out, gathering eyes from everywhere in the room.
"Is there something you find funny, Auror Potter?" asked Amelia.
"No, nothing Minister," James said hurriedly with a serious face. After he was sure no one was looking at him, he whispered to Sirius, "Seriously, what happened?"
"I met the Invisible Vigilate."
"Did you meet a girl and lose track of time."
"I met the Invisible Vigilate. He asked me what had happened. We got into a fight. He barely beat me to the ground, barely. We agreed that I could've won if he didn't get a drop of me and then parted ways like civil gentlemen."
James wanted to scoff, but it died in his throat when he looked at Sirius. The smile drained from his face, and he grabbed Sirius' arm, "Did you really? How did that happen? What happened?!"
Sirius nodded.
"You are fine, right?" asked James.
"Yeah, I'm fine," sighed Sirius. There was a silence before he said, "He was strong."
"What?"
"He was strong. I made sure to charge up my shield plenty, but I was still blown away. And you know what? He blew me away twice at that. I couldn't adapt the second time as well. It was like there was a gulf of power that I couldn't cover."
"What did you say to him?"
"Nothing much, but then he didn't kill me. . . so I just said that we were going at war."
"You did what?! That's not supposed to go out! What happens if Scrimgeour and Bones shut down Robards proposal?"
"Like that's going to stop him."
"I know it won't, and that's why we have to keep it under wraps. You shouldn't have told him even if this goes through."
The two stopped talking when Amelia got up along with the other bigwigs.
"I have listened to what DMLE Head Scrimgeour and Head Auror Robards had to say. . . and given the circumstances, I have come to a decision," Amelia looked around the room and spoke after a pause,
"We are going at war with the Death Eaters. This is going to be a covet operation, so whatever we discuss here moving forward is not to be talked about outside."
Sirius looked at James, "Well, there you have it. It's not as bad as before, is it?"
James opened and closed his mouth before shutting it and looked ahead, his expression covered in shock.
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Quinn West - MC - Just a few days, I was talking about getting lazy. . .
Sirius Black - Senior Auror - I did nothing wrong, per se.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - I'm back. Not a fracture, but serious ligament damage(tore 'em up pretty badly.) 5 days of bed-rest. After that, if the swelling and pain have improved, I can commute carefully with a support splint without worsening the injury. Then with care and DIY physiotherapy for 1-2 months, I will be able to regain full mobility. Not going home, at least not as of now; let's see how I'm doing on Monday.
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Chapter 364: Ten Galleon Bet
If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @
[ https://www.patreón.com/fictiononlyreader ]
The link is also in the synopsis.
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If there was one thing that brought joy to the magical community of the British Isles, it would be the magical sport of Quidditch. If someone went out looking, they would find a Quidditch fan before they exited their home street. The singular sport had grown the level of religion in the lives of people who loved to play, talk, and watch the sport with more passion than any other thing in their lives.
The sport was almost like a drug. People couldn't get enough of high-speed flying, high chances of collisions, and the guaranteed promise of thrill and excitement. International matches with national teams were events that the people were extremely attached to and felt a lot about— but they weren't enough; people wanted more Quidditch.
To remedy that almost insatiable demand, regional Quidditch leagues were started— not only giving the people a chance to enjoy more Quidditch but also allowing more players a chance to play and make a living out of it. And such a pressing need was met, it was bound to make money, and when things made money, people who owned them wanted to make money. So, the business of regional leagues and sports teams grew to the point that they became household names.
People would gather up in the stadium every game to support their teams and have an evening of Quidditch fun full of screaming, shouting, booze, and stadium food. Even in Hogwarts, people would follow the game through commentary on the magical radio— every game night, people would gather in the common room to tune in and have a jolly communal time.
And today, Quinn had come to one such game. He sat down at his chair in the VIP box situated inside the stadium's prime location with his big glass of iced tea. He was at the optimal height and could see the action without straining his neck.
Unlike most people in this country, Quinn wasn't a big fan of the game. He had only been to a couple games in his life, and while the energy of the people in the stadium was enjoyable and a unique experience when using Legilimency on the people, the game itself didn't excite Quinn.
But today was a special occasion.
Today, at The British and Irish Quidditch League, Puddlemore United vs. Appleby Arrows— Eddie Carmichael was making his professional debut as part of the Puddlemore United, flying since 1163, the oldest club in the existence of English Quidditch.
Quinn couldn't keep the smile off his face. Eddie wasn't supposed to debut today. A young athlete like Eddie, who didn't have any prior professional experience, wouldn't play in the top league; instead, they build up experience in a secondary league playing in a junior team owned by the club; when he showed results, he would be called up to play on the big scene.
But Eddie was Eddie. Quinn didn't know what he did, but Eddie had somehow convinced the management to let him play in a game. In a sport where a team only had seven players, it was a considerable risk to replace one regular out with a fresh-out-of-school rookie. But Eddie had done it.
"Puddlemore must be really desperate to have a kid play. They've been falling the past years today; they're going to be wiped out by the fucking Arrows," said someone sitting beside Quinn in the VIP booth.
Puddlemore United had been a successful franchise for centuries; even now, it was standing at number two in the season rankings. Unfortunately, the team failed to show results where it mattered the most. The club had entered a long championship drought that didn't look like it wanted to end. The oldest team had already dropped down to number three on the rankings of the most championships won by a club. Because the team was still strong and successful, the loyal long-time fans supported it wholeheartedly, but it had seen a slight dip in attracting a younger, newer fresh blood who supported the team.
Quinn stared at the old man and raised his index finger, lying flat against the armrest, and silently and sneakily cast a spell. The old man would feel thirsty no matter how much he drank for the next twenty-four hours.
A loud horn marked the entrance of the players. Quinn got up and leaned against the railings to see as Puddlemore United came flying out, dressed in navy blues emblazoned with two crossed golden bulrushes. His smile turned toothy when he spotted Eddie, flying behind everyone else but was applying what he had learned to create a positive first impression.
Or the version of the positive first impression that Eddie believed in. . . as just after the first whistle of the game, he showed another team's Chaser in an attempt to get to the Quaffle.
'Well, that's the image he wants,' smiled Quinn.
Quinn felt someone take a seat beside him. He looked away from the game to glance at the man briefly. For a second, his mind didn't pick up who he was looking at, and he turned back to the game, but then it hit, and he turned to look at the man properly.
The man seemed to notice Quinn's gaze and look at him.
"Good evening," said the man and then introduced himself. "Rufus Scrimgeour, Auror, and an Arrows fan. I think they're going to beat Puddlemore today."
Quinn shook Scrimgeour's hand as he replied, "Quinn West, Puddlemore fan. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Scrimgeour. I disagree with you; I think Puddlemore will run Arrows down."
". . . Oh? Why is that?"
"Because my friend is playing in the game, and he's very talented."
"Your friend?"
"Eddie Carmichael."
"The young Chaser making his debut? You think a rookie will be good enough to meaningfully contribute to the game?"
"A rookie. . . maybe not. But Eddie is the perfect mixture of talent and hard work. He's special. Give him a couple years, and he would be outscoring every other team in the league and beyond. And today's going to mark the start of it."
"Hmm. . . even if your friend stays in the secondary league for a couple years, he will still need a couple more to come up to speed with the top talent, and if he is what you say he is, it will be a couple more years before he gets to the summit."
"Secondary league?" Quinn smirked. "There's no way Eddie will go down to a secondary league," he pointed at the field, "he is having the taste of what the top professional scene is, and after that taste, he will refuse to have anything inferior. This chance he created for himself, he will grab on to it and never let go."
Above the field, Eddie flew with the ball and threw it past the goalkeeper's fingertips into the goal hoops, marking Eddie's first professional goal.
"So, Mr. West," Scrimgeour continued the conversation, but on a different note. "How are you doing these days? Have you been fine after your abduction event?"
Quinn sipped on his iced tea through the straw before speaking, "Thank you for asking, Mr. Scrimgeour; I'm thankfully fine," there was no use hiding that he didn't know who Scrimgeour was, "I have to thank you for bringing my abductors to justice. Your department did a very swift job handling my case."
"We strive to handle every case with care and urgency. . . I heard your grandfather is busy these days. How is he doing these days?"
"And I heard that you guys are going to war with the Death Eaters. Why don't you tell me how's the going on?"
Scrimgeour slowly turned to Quinn and gave him a slow stern observing look. "How did you know that?"
"People at my status are privy to some privileges, Mr. Scrimgeour. But I have to say, I'm loving the direction all of you're going. It brings me great confidence in the ability of DMLE to protect us."
Scrimgeour dropped the look and sighed, "It's not complete yet."
"You mean the lethal sanctions?"
"Yes, the lethal sanctions."
The Minister of Magic and DMLE couldn't just sanction lethal actions against a specific group of people. Such measures had to go through Wizengamot for approval. The last time lethal sanctions were ordered, it was on Death Eaters during the previous wars, spearheaded by Barty Crouch Senior.
"Do you think you can replicate what Barty Crouch Senior achieved?" asked Quinn.
"Right now, I wish nothing more than that to happen."
"You will need support for that. The Dark Faction will oppose you. A portion of the Light Faction will oppose you. The Grey Faction may or may not support you. If you want this to happen in the current political landscape, you'll need a lot of support."
"Are you implying something?"
The crowd screamed in cheers, and the two Seekers chased after the snitch. Quinn and Scrimgeour watched the game for a bit before returning to the conversation.
"I might be. I can help you gain the support you need."
"I suppose you can."
"Yes, I can. I can give access to my grandfather, and something tells me that he will be interested in listening to what you have to say."
"Will George West really support our action?"
"That depends on you. If you can keep your point in front of him clearly and convincingly, there's no reason he won't support you. . . but don't expect anything other than political support. If you try overreach for stuff, he will shut you down, so be careful what you ask for."
"I will keep that in mind."
"I'm glad that you understand," said Quinn with his eyes on the game. "Things will turn much worse from here on out, won't it."
"It will. . . who knows, this might be the last Quidditch game we get to see in person."
Quinn sighed, "Eddie will be pissed if that happens."
". . . That's what you take from that?"
"That's what I take from it. Now, Mr. Scrimgeour, I would love to talk to you, but I would like to watch the game. It's the reason I came here. No small talk from me."
"I would also like that."
"Puddlemore is going to win."
"I bet Arrows are going to win."
"Ten galleons."
"Just ten?" asked the Head of DMLE with the very lucrative pay package. "I was thinking more like a hundred."
"It's not the money that makes the betting fun. Money will make a difference if the amount makes a difference for us. It's the bragging rights and the satisfaction of living that makes it fun. If you want to bet money, how about we bet a half a year of your salary— that'd be appropriate."
"Bragging rights and satisfaction it will be."
"And ten galleons."
It was Puddlemore who won at the end of the game by the capture of the snitch. . . and by the points scored by the Chasers, including Eddie, who put on impressive numbers for a rookie. After a week, it was announced that Eddie won't be going to the secondary league and would be placed as a reserve for the Puddlemore United to be brought off the bench in the later parts of the game.
Quinn won his ten galleons and the bragging rights of beating the Head of DMLE in a bet. Though Scrimgeour was the one who left with the most gained that day.
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Quinn West - MC - One of the sweetest ten galleons I ever got.
Rufus Scrimgeour - Head of DMLE - Already preparing for the meeting.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - [Written on May 07, 2022] I'm sorry for the typos that have been happening in the past few chapters. It's just that I get sleepy after dinner, but I can't afford to sleep because I have to write— so I end up dozing off while writing, and that's when the typos happen.
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If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
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CREATORS' THOUGHTS
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