With the capture of Verandi Farley and several high-ranking Trossach members, the British wizarding world has finally caught a break. The rate of rogue werewolf attacks have started dropping at a steady rate and, hopefully, things will stay that way. The Ministry is starting to loosen some restrictions, like not arresting werewolves standing on the street for loitering, however there’s still an obvious power imbalance between wizardfolk and werewolves.
The Cotswolds pack are continuing to advocate for the rights of werewolves and petitioning to change the legislation that has been set in motion by the current Minister for Magic, whilst the remaining Trossachs members are trying to stay out of the spotlight and keep a low profile… for now.
Whilst the British wizarding world seems to have calmed down, the same cannot be said for over in Northern Europe where a rebellion of magical creatures has risen. The state of things has gotten so bad that the European Ministry has enacted protocols to protect those under eighteen whilst their adult witches and wizards fight to keep control of their countries.
Students from Durmstrang have been sent to Hogwarts to keep them safe and those not old enough to attend school have been sent to live with relatives or designated British Ministry officials outside of Europe for the time being.
Will the low rates of werewolf attacks in Britain continue? How long will Durmstrang students stay at Hogwarts? Will the creatures usurp the wizardfolk in Northern Europe? Only time will tell.
SEPTEMBER 2019 It's been a very long, eventful summer in the wizarding world. A baby was stolen, several high ranking Trossach members were imprisoned, and werewolf attacks have drastically dropped as a result. What will happen now school has returned?
MAY 2019 An attempt to capture the beta of the Trossachs has been launched. Were the Aurors successful in their mission? Go read more here!
when friends are thin on the ground, and they try to divide us/we must find a way
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Post by SAMANTHA BANKS on Jan 18, 2020 3:43:17 GMT
This time, Samantha could have Apparated into the Hog's Head Inn, but as she had no way to know if there were any customers this evening, she felt as if drawing attention to herself with any sort of odd popping noise would accomplish the opposite of what she was visiting Askold for. As it was, she felt a sense of déjà vu as she walked up to the wooden building for the second time, this time, however, without the protection of quite so many layers of coats and scarves. It had been months since the incident in Diagon Alley, she told herself--Hogsmeade should expect random witches, especially in a location like the Hog's Head--but she couldn't force herself to relax until she finally shut the door behind her.
"Chocolate cake, please," she called, quickly scanning the room for customers before turning to tap her wand to the door and the windows. Perhaps the fog didn't look as natural in this weather as it had in the winter--but it was most important that she wasn't seen more than she had to be; that nobody saw her as anything other than reclusive. If anyone revealed her identity, there would be no more money, no more Cotswolds, no more activism, nothing. That was why she had such concerns about Askold's ideas, even if she desperately wanted the members of the pack to be able to work.
Sighing, she sat down at a table near the bar. "Do you have some of the same tea you had last time, as well?"
Today, Askold was in a good mood. A very good mood indeed, as evidenced by his joyful humming of the Flower Waltz as he cleaned the bar counter for the millionth time. Why was he in such a good mood despite the fact that his Inn was void of costumers? Maybe it had to do with a certain school teacher who'd visited him the previous night. Maybe it didn't. It certainly didn't matter why, it was good enough to feel happy.
As the doorbell rang, he turned to face the potential costumer with a bright smile, ready to greet them. But instead of that he heard a voice he was already familiar with, asking for chocolate cake.
It was Samantha.
He watched as she fogged up the windows and locked the door. Askold tossed the wet rag aside and looked around for his wand before waving it in the direction of the light blue curtains, shutting them. That'll look right.
"Yeah, sure, just got to put the kettle to boil. How are you on this fine evening? How can I be of help?"
when friends are thin on the ground, and they try to divide us/we must find a way
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Post by SAMANTHA BANKS on Jan 21, 2020 1:42:12 GMT
"I'm well, thank you. As you seem to be." The baker's cheerful mood had not escaped Samantha, who was glad to see him far less nervous than he'd been the previous time they'd met. She didn't always do well with nervous people; they seemed to bring out the anxiety in her that often seemed to linger in her unconsciousness. And today, she was visiting for just one such uncertainty. She only hoped that the news she brought wouldn't ruin his happiness. He meant so well, a rarity among wizardkind these days. But after the newest laws--
"Go ahead, put on the kettle. I'll start with the good news, even though I told you earlier," she said with a smile. "Everyone enjoyed the food you were able to provide. I think anyone would get tired of hunting after a while, no matter how much of a--carnivore they were." A euphemism? Yes, but Samantha didn't need the risk of anyone recording her words, however they might do so.
But there was bad news, too. "The situation is, Askold," she said, her voice growing more serious, "I was reading over your letters, and I know I'd expressed some interest in having some people come and work for you, but I'm not sure if I can allow that at the moment." She sighed, placing her forearm on the table. "In truth, I'm afraid. This isn't some Knockturn Alley shop that the authorities turn a blind eye to--this is Hogsmeade. There are Aurors here, I know. And I can't let one of my people be found."
"Well, I've not much to complain about right now," he said, offering her a bright smile before hurrying off to the kitchen to put the water to boil. They'd had peppermint last time, right? Right.
While the water took its time, Askold returned to his place behind the counter, ready to continue the conversation. Compliments to the chef, now that was what he lived for, and his smile only grew greater. And the pun? That had him giggling.
But then Samantha broke out the bad news and Askold became silent, considering her words. Indeed, this wasn't the seedy Inn it had been before the baker had arrived -- this was a respectable establishment and the Inn's reputation mattered to him. And while he wanted said reputation to be positive in regards to werewolves, too, having the Ministry shut it all down wasn't in his plans.
And yet...
"I've only seen one Auror here, and he doesn't seem too keen on doing his job anyhow," he answered. The few times Richard Linwood had exchanged any words with Askold, the disdain he had for his position was clear, and he had a gut feeling that this particular Auror would turn a blind eye to a lot of things. "Plus, I don't get a lot of costumers as it is, and I don't let anyone in the kitchen. If whoever you send stays out of sight, it should all be good!"
when friends are thin on the ground, and they try to divide us/we must find a way
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Post by SAMANTHA BANKS on Jan 25, 2020 18:16:08 GMT
I've only seen one Auror here. One too many, in Samantha's opinion. She'd always wanted to respect the law enforcement; after all, where would society be if Dark wizards and Death Eaters and their ilk were all allowed to run free? Back when she'd worked at the Ministry, she'd always admired them, their intelligence, their dedication. But then...
Then she'd been bitten, and slowly but surely, they became her greatest fear. They became the greatest danger to the organization she'd set up to change the world, one smart and well-spoken werewolf at a time. Even just recently, they'd taken Teddy and interrogated him for no reason, and Samantha had been terrified for his life until the very moment he'd showed up at her door in one piece.
"I admire your enthusiasm." It wasn't a lie. She wanted Askold never to lose that heart, that kindness with a little fight behind it. If what she was telling him would dampen it--that would hurt. The Cotswolds' first official ally, backing out? No. She had to phrase things in a way that wouldn't cause him to distrust her.
"If an Auror shows up one day, though, and asks to see your kitchen, could you really refuse them, though?" she asked. "There's ways to explain away the food in your cellar, but hiding an entire person is so much harder." That was something Samantha knew well, always researching charms to help keep the Cotswolds' camp location secret. "The Ministry doesn't know every werewolf in the country, yes, but I think at this point they know most of them. They would know."
Samantha's praise made Askold stand up a little straighter, his chest pushing out. As selfless as he tried to be, he couldn't deny that it felt good when people realized that he had potential beyond being just a kind baker. He might have a kind disposition and a dislike for violence, but damned be anyone who thought it meant he was weak.
His posture didn't change even as Samantha expressed her concerns. Though Askold didn't quite want to admit these details hadn't crossed his mind, he took a few minutes to think it over, using the time to pour them both a cup of peppermint tea and finding a jar of honey.
"They've no business in my kitchen, it's against sanitary rules," he started, "So I could try and talk them out of it. And we could set an alarm system, a button or something that I can hit to signal that things are dangerous. We're all wizards here, shouldn't be too hard. And we can always transform the person -- Polyjuice potion would be far too much of a hassle, but simple transformations? Should be doable."
"I wouldn't let them search the place easily either -- they'd have to get an order for that." He finished, putting a spoonful of honey into his mug and stirring it, listening to the clanking of the metal spoon against the sides.
when friends are thin on the ground, and they try to divide us/we must find a way
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Post by SAMANTHA BANKS on Feb 2, 2020 17:28:54 GMT
Askold was right that the Aurors should have no business in his kitchen, but was that meant to stop them from entering it? If they ever had suspicions, they were allowed to search wherever they wanted. All they would have to do was get a warrant. And in these times, Samantha doubted it would be too hard to get one from the Ministry. She always wanted to work with the Ministry, the government she'd been part of once upon a time, but it was becoming more difficult. It was always that she had to send other people to speak with them, unable to let her own identity be revealed.
"All interesting ideas, certainly," she said, taking a sip of the tea that had been placed in front of her. "An alarm button--may I ask, did you grow up with Muggles at all?" Samantha, who was Muggleborn and still worked with Muggle banks all the time, was well aware of how often they had such systems. "The problem with that, though, is who would respond to the alerts? Would the person have to Apparate away right away, leaving all the evidence of their presence behind? Or would you be expecting someone to come and fight? Because that would be--it would simply not be safe. I would only allow one of my people to fight in self-defense. Anything else, and it gives the Ministry more fuel to think they are violent monsters." I am not a monster.
"With muggles?" Askold's brows furrowed for a moment, trying to piece together what had prompted Samantha to ask such a thing. "Well, my father is muggleborn, and my mother is half-blood, so, in a way you could say that yes? We did live in a very rural place, in a small town in Karelia, that's up in the north. We had to hide that we were wizards, and that my uncle was-,"he stopped himself abruptly.
You fool! He is a werewolf, still! He's alive, and don't you even dare to think otherwise! You've still to go back and find him!
"That my uncle is a werewolf. He didn't have a wand when I was growing up, so when my parents left me in his care to go to work, we lived like muggles. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, why is it that everyone always considers violence the only option?" He scoffed, yet offered Samantha a smile. "No, no, the alert would just, uh, alert them of what's coming. We could decide a story and an identity that they'd have to stick with, and I'd be there to make sure the Aurors don't get too close. And if it comes to fighting, the only one who's allowed to trash my kitchen is myself." He took a sip of his tea, placing the mug back down with a little more force than was necessary. "Your person would apparate away. I'm willing to face the consequences."
when friends are thin on the ground, and they try to divide us/we must find a way
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Post by SAMANTHA BANKS on Feb 2, 2020 17:59:51 GMT
"Well, yes. An alarm like that seems like such a Muggle thing to me--I'm Muggleborn myself, I would know." Samantha smiled, although it didn't quite reach her eyes. She was so worried. With what had happened with Teddy and the interrogation, she didn't want to cause any sort of disturbance among the Aurors. Not even if it couldn't be traced back to her--she was worried about that, certainly, but she cared about her pack. She wanted to keep them safe, to house them, to give them the chance to use their skills among each other when they couldn't be employed elsewhere. To create a little society that proved that their condition didn't change how human they really were.
She drank a bit more of her tea, trying to absorb Askold's words without letting any reaction show on her face. So that was the reason he cared so much--could be expected, she supposed. It seemed like those who had werewolves close to them had a far easier time understanding the truth of the condition. The way forward had to involve educating those who didn't, to show them how perfectly normal they could be without having to victimize anyone else.
"Violence should always be the option of last resort. I'm glad we agree on that." Samantha sighed, setting down her teacup. "It's your security I'm concerned for, too, though. How are you going to help us if you're in Azkaban? And we can always come up with stories, but I don't want you to have to stick to them under interrogation. It's better if it's never necessary at all."
Askold's train of thought paused for a moment. The only people who ever expressed any concern about him in the last...Hell, half a decade, had been his parents. And then there was Zoe Savage, but most of their conversations were about things nowhere near as dangerous as confronting Aurors.
He was engulfed in a wave of cold -- the realization of just how lonely he truly was. And then a wave of heat that made him stand up even straighter, if that was even possible, full of determination.
"Well, I've got rights to a lawyer, don't I? And I could always reach out to the Russian ambassador? I mean, my government wouldn't be too keen on helping me, uncle and all, but, by all accounts, there is quite a lot of tension between Russia and Britain right now... I'll admit, I don't really like these political games, but if all else fails," he took another sip,"I'll start an international scandal just to draw the attention away from our colleagues."
"And it's not like they torture people during interrogations here, right?" He could take a grilling session under a bright lamp, surrounded by stern faces and loud voices. He could just...Not answer. Surely they'd have to leave him alone if they couldn't get anything out of him.
when friends are thin on the ground, and they try to divide us/we must find a way
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Post by SAMANTHA BANKS on Feb 2, 2020 18:28:11 GMT
"Torture? Not that I'm aware of, no..." This was not a country that did such things. Not after fighting a war just twenty years ago against those who would use torture, who would use Unforgivable Curses. Samantha felt as if she would lose quite a lot of hope if Teddy had come back to her after being tortured. "You do have the rights to a lawyer, and to a fair trial, but I'd remind you that Veritaserum exists. And unless you are an Occlumens..." The potion was not always reliable, not always admissible in court, but it could certainly be used outside of court to lead the Aurors right to her doorstep.
"I don't know enough about the Russian Ministry at the moment to know if there's much they could do for you if you got into that situation. I used to work for the British delegation to the International Confederation of Wizards, so I knew more about it back then, but I haven't had contact with any other countries' governments since 1993. I can tell you that I wouldn't have trusted them to be able to do much in 1993, though." Not that the British Ministry at the time had been competent at much, either, but then she wouldn't have tried to start an international incident. She had never had much of a desire to cause chaos--it was uncomfortable, it was unnecessary.
He heard Samantha's concerns, he really did, but there was a flame in his heart that made him antsy and unable to look for a better way to do things. If they never risked -- if they always tried to find a foolproof way of action, they'd never get anywhere!
"Not an Occlumens, no, but if they'd use...What you called it? The Truth Serum, whatever you call it here -- that would be reason enough for a scandal. It doesn't bring me any joy to even be considering it, but... Know that I'll do anything to keep our colleagues safe, come hell or high water."
He took another sip of his tea, licking his lips and enjoying the notes of honey he could feel in the hot liquid. Ah, peppermint tea...Was there anything better to lift his spirits?
"A lot has changed since 1993, Samantha. I know a few people I could reach out to. And at the end of the day, it would be my problem. If it ever gets heated, I expect of you to abandon me for your safety. I demand it, even."
"Say, why did you stop working there? Second Wizarding War get in the way?"
when friends are thin on the ground, and they try to divide us/we must find a way
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Post by SAMANTHA BANKS on Feb 2, 2020 19:14:32 GMT
If you only knew how much has changed since 1993. Had Askold even been born at that time? Samantha realized that she wasn't even sure how old the man was, just that he was quite a bit younger than herself, maybe even young enough to be her son. If she'd had a son in 1993, maybe she wouldn't have gone on that trip, maybe her life would have been so very different from what it was now--but that would never have been an option for her life. There was no use wondering about it now, so many years later.
Trying to explain why her life was that way, though, left the words feeling caught in her throat, like she was about to choke on them. Askold was the kind of person who should understand, with how freely he'd talked about his own uncle just a few moments before, but it felt different when it was about her. She didn't tell people. Not people who weren't already in her pack, who she'd already had Teddy or someone screen to make sure they wouldn't run to either the Trossachs or the authorities about who and where she was.
"I had to leave," she started to explain, simply, the words coming out far less smooth than she wanted them to. "Something happened to me--I was abroad, I was attacked." The story was so much more complicated than that, with her parents and her inheritance and going out in the woods alone, with having to turn her silver necklace into little flakes to save her own life, with her cottage and her secrets. The thought of spilling it all--it was too much. Not even Teddy knew the details of that attack. He certainly hadn't been born in 1993.
It was apparent that Askold had stepped on a landmine of sorts. The usually so composed and elegant Samantha was at a loss for words, and for a few moments Askold wanted to interject, to say that she didn't have to tell him, but there it was.
A few words.
A few stifled words that said it all.
She'd been attacked.
Of course. Only a werewolf would be willing to go as far as to let others live on their property and spend all of their time and money to keep them safe, trying to shield them from harm. Only a werewolf could go to such lengths without asking for anything in return. It should have been obvious from the start, but since the Ministry didn't know about Samantha... She'd fooled him, too.
No amounts of 'I'm sorry' could ever ease such pain -- Askold had learned that the hard way. Empty words couldn't change a thing. So, he didn't speak.
Instead he took off his fake glasses, getting rid of the transparent barrier between their gazes, released his mug -- his hand was very warm -- and reached out to take Samantha's free hand, giving it a soft squeeze.
"I understand," he said after a while, drawing away and busying himself with placing a few pirozhki on a plate before sliding it across the counter towards the older woman. If she'd want to talk, they'd talk.
when friends are thin on the ground, and they try to divide us/we must find a way
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Post by SAMANTHA BANKS on Feb 3, 2020 4:47:11 GMT
I understand. He understood, and Samantha wasn't sure how her heart felt about that. Her first thought was for it to sink. She must be so obvious, with the isolation, the secrecy, the lack of any career beyond her investments--the thought nagged at her mind that maybe she wasn't as good at hiding as she thought she was. There was only so long that one could write it off as quirkiness. What if someone knew already--what if the Ministry was just waiting to find concrete evidence of what she was? Would they be able to tell the Muggle banks and cut her off that way?
They were the thoughts that occupied her mind so, so often, brought to the front by her admission, but there was the warmth of Askold's hand reaching out to rest on hers for a moment, too. He wasn't her enemy. He was human, and yet he didn't draw away from her when he figured it out. It was unexpected, but perhaps it was because she'd never experienced it before. The only people she ever told were other werewolves, who had no reason to fear her when they were already in the same situation.
Maybe it wasn't so bleak. Maybe the Cotswolds would be able to change minds. If someone who had no obligation to care about her reacted like this--because Potter had a duty to Teddy, but nobody had ever made any such promise to Samantha--then perhaps there was hope.
"So you understand why I--why I'm so concerned with security," she said, her voice still quiet. "I have resources that others do not, and if I don't have them, then no one does. You can tell nobody. Promise me that." She looked at the plate of buns being passed over, reaching for one and taking a small bite. It was just as good as the last time, far better than her own attempts. A simple food, but something filling, something comforting.
