#mention: harold minchum

[dulce-dailyprophet]

FEBRUARY 17TH, 1980

B R E A K I N G  N E W S HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT & WIZARDRY TO CLOSE INDEFINITELY

By Rita Skeeter: Breaking News Reporter, Auror Beat Columnist, All Around Delightful Woman 

The wizarding community was shocked early Sunday morning after the Board of Governors unceremoniously announced they would be closing the castle’s doors indefinitely while it worked with the Ministry to procure better security wards in this dark and draining time after an alleged break-in. An unnamed source informed the paper that some of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s followers infiltrated the school under the cover of a Board of Governors meeting earlier this month, when the wards would’ve been lowered for ease of access. Garishly labeled ‘Death Eaters,’ they laid waste to Albus Dumbledore’s Headmaster office, to cover up their true intentions - an unknown proclivity toward his Pensieve & several cabinets full of his memories.

The realization of what was taken, harrowing to professors at the school & Aurors investigating alike, was the ultimate cause of the shut down, a small scale infiltration as described being a ‘painful reminder’ of how unsafe the school has truly become since The Curse went into effect earlier this year. With the loss of Albus Dumbledore at its helm, students, parents, & professors alike were all vocal about the concern of security, but were informed to press on by the Minister for Magic, Harold Minchum, for the sake of the children’s futures.

Acting Headmistress of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall, gave a formal statement in regard to the future of the school.

"Hogwarts has always been regarded as the safest place in the world since the turn of the century, not having closed its doors in times of strife or hardship, but opening them wider & welcoming those in need of our protection. We simply cannot provide, nor guarantee, that level of security to our students or their parents anymore. It was ultimately a decision left to the Board of Governors, who cited many fears, the most concerning of which being the idea of Hogwarts once again becoming a target of a large-scale attack at the hands of You-Know-Who and his followers. These are children and they deserve to be home with their families when the danger is so near to the castle walls.” 

Despite callings for the school to be closed earlier this year when the security wards were first deemed ‘flawed,’ the announcement was met with much backlash, by parents and students alike, over the validity of their futures when being robbed of the rest of their school year. 

Students who were unable to finish their seventh year or take their exams have been encouraged by the Minister of Magic’s Advisor, Lucius Malfoy, to apply for any and all entry level jobs being offered at this time, namely the Department of Magical Transportation and Wizengamot Administrative Services subdivisions, who are desperately hiring since the Curse came into effect. Positions will also be opening at the Ministry of Magic’s security hub & maintenance office, for students in their sixth year. When asked about a possible school system, grading system, or exam schedule to help make up for the loss in education for the rest of the semester, this reporter was met with a begrudging ‘no comment.’

It is unclear what the future holds for the wizarding community. What is clear is that Harold Minchum, as Minister for Magic, needs to come to stop maintaining such a polished appearance & begin to get his hands dirty, taking on this You-Know-Who nonsense head on - now that the ripples of the war have started to turn the tide on our children, we must act before we drown any hope of their future.

A U R O R  B E A T A NEW ERA OF JUSTICE: RUFUS SCRIMEGOUR PROMOTED TO HEAD OF AUROR HEADQUARTERS, ‘CHANGE IS COMING’

After three days of confusion, the Minister for Magic announced this morning that ex-Head Auror Alastor Moody has taken a leave of absence at this time, but remained silent on the abruptness of his disappearance. As a figurehead of the Aurors, the announcement sent shockwaves through the wizarding community, the lack of answers to the obvious questions more obstructing than the change itself. Rufus Scrimegour, a decorated Auror and long time compatriot of Moody’s, was seen as the ‘best possible option’. The Minister cited Scrimegour’s ‘willingness & determination’ as well as ‘utter ruthlessness’ as the main reasons for his ascension into a leadership role at this time.

Although having unofficially accepted the title & begun work, Scrimegour’s swearing in ceremony is to be held in the Ministry of Magic’s atrium on February 29th, as a formal welcoming of the wizard to his position. Insiders of the Auror department have leaked that the ceremony will be a limited attendance, with only press, Aurors, and other Ministry workers invited to witness the dawn of a ‘new era of justice.’ { continued on page 3 }

C O M M U N I T Y HOGSMEADE RECONSTRUCTION UNDERWAY, MET WITH PUBLIC SUPPORT & DONATIONS BY THE MALFOY FAMILY

Hogsmeade has taken a resounding hit over the last month; despite the Minister’s efforts to bolster the economy in Diagon & Knockturn Alley, his office has fallen woefully short in its attempts to reconstruct the barren town. After it was laid to waste during the battle earlier last month that took several lives, efforts to revitalize Hogsmeade were encumbered by the investigating Auror unit, as well as the general security warding put in place in an attempt to protect Hogwarts from attack. 

For those who maintain businesses in Hogsmeade, it was a death sentence - many shopkeepers and owners alike complained that their business bureau was being blocked by the Ministry itself from beginning reconstruction. All hope was seemingly lost until none other than Lucius & Narcissa Malfoy stepped in, having finally heard the cries of the common people. The Malfoy Trust is rumored to have immediately poured money right back into the pockets of those who had suffered, paying back whatever loss they had incurred over the past month of being out of business. 

Rumor has it that Narcissa Malfoy will be traveling to Hogsmeade on February 29th to oversee the reconstruction efforts personally, having banded a slew of volunteers, public support, & monetary donations to aid her efforts. In a formal statement from the Malfoy Estate, the couple cited an ‘overwhelming duty to our community to do what the Ministry cannot in this trying time’ as well as a ‘justified interest in the prosperity of wizarding kind.’ No comment was made, however, about the decision to begin reconstruction the same day as Rufus Scrimegour’s swearing in. Is it truly an act of goodwill, or a backhanded political attempt to undermine the Minister for Magic, in face of a public with a growing disdain? Only time will tell. { continued on page 6 } 

[dulcepericulum-rp]

CLASSIFIED INFORMATION: DEATH EATERS

NAME: Corban Yaxley AGE: 29 BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood { Metamorphagus } OCCUPATION: Advisor to the Minister for Magic, Head of the Security Detail PORTRAIT: UTP

IMPORTANT CONNECTIONS

Rufus Scrimgeour: Rufus had seemed like the perfect candidate, at first. Hungry enough and ambitious enough to be corruptible  — if anyone in the Auror’s Department could be persuaded to sympathize with a righteous cause and turn the ever-vigilant eyes of Moody’s Aurors away from the Dark Lord’s agenda, Corban had thought it would be Rufus. A whisper here and there in Minchum’s ear had set the stage and Scrimgeour had taken the bait, marching straight into Moody’s still-warm chair as Head of the Auror’s without hesitation when Moody had up and vanished, but Corban hadn’t expected him to turn all of that eerie focus right back on him. Rufus is like a bloodhound once he catches a whiff of something not quite right and he is getting far too close to uncovering Corban’s secrets. It had been his bid to get rid the board of Moody that had let someone so determined in, so now it falls to Corban to fix the problem. He has some big plans for the Minister of Magic that will require a little sacrifice and Rufus Scrimgeour seems like a perfect fall guy — if only he can keep it together.

Rodolphus Lestrange: There were always rumors about the Yaxley heir’s legitimacy, but when Rodolphus had found him paralyzed with fear before a mirror in their school dormitory, trying desperately to remember what his face was supposed to look like, Rodolphus had talked him down off that ledge and the truth had come out. Corban’s metamorphmagus abilities manifested just months after he was born, and with a damning lack of history of the gene in either his father or his mother’s lineage, his abilities were promptly hidden from sight upon pain of being disowned. Whispers of his mother’s affair continued to smolder through pureblood circles over the years, never quite being smothered out, and they drove the divide between Corban and his family deeper, his position within the Yaxley family so precarious it seemed that nobody would be sad to see him brushed off the family tree. Rodolphus showed him incredible kindness that day and every day since, becoming closer than brothers after taking him under his wing, seeing potential where everyone else only saw a reminder of his mother’s betrayal, and Corban owes him for everything he has today. Since Rodolphus’s disappearance, Corban feels like a piece of himself has been ripped away too. Without Rodolphus in his life, Corban feels old fears creeping back to him, the impeccable control he’s learned to exert over his abilities faltering with doubt over the face looking back at him in the mirror. A faceless man has stalked his dreams his entire life and now, Corban realizes, that perhaps his worst nightmare might actually be himself.

Antonin Dolohov: The man with the most to gain from Rodolphus’s disappearance by far (despite what Rabastan might have to say on the matter), Corban has dedicated himself to getting close enough to the man to discover what happened to his best friend before sending a well-timed Killing curse straight into his back. Corban understands the power of politics, how a well-placed whisper in the right ear can fell an empire, but he hates Antonin for involving himself in the silly affairs of Muggles when there was a real government to run that was being forced into hiding. They were supposed to liberate wizarding kind, but Antonin doesn’t have the makings for war, just elections; it’s that softness that will eventually get him killed. If Corban ever finds any evidence that Antonin was behind Rodolphus’s disappearance, then that death might just come sooner rather than later.

Harold Minchum: The Minister selected Corban personally for the job of his security detail, high praise to his talents and an even higher honor among the sycophants of pureblood society. His word to the minister’s ear, or so they say, and lately, it seems that all the people who’d once whispered behind his back now want to be Corban’s friend to get their shadow closer to the most powerful man in country ( well, the government ), and it’s his job specifically to keep them from getting there. Corban’s been playing a dangerous game, setting all the right dominos up to fall at the Dark Lord’s bidding, but to say that Corban is distracted lately would be an understatement. Playing such a delicate game requires focus; one slip up and everything comes tumbling down, and Rodolphus isn’t around to shield him from the storm these days should all his plans collapse.

MENTIONED CONNECTIONS: Rabastan Lestrange { x }, Rodolphus Lestrange { x }, Christopher Travers { deceased }

FREQUENT LOCATIONS: UTP

CURRENT MISSION: UTP

STATUS: O P E N

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

Can you do like a ficlet of what would happen if Remus HAD killed Snape during the prank and he found out the next morning that he is basically sentenced to life in Azkaban because of Sirius being an asshole?

Certainly! This gets dramatic and sad. We gotta realize that Remus wouldn’t be the only one affected by this.

Tags: Sad, Bullying, Drama, Murder, anti-Werewolf BS, Dubious-Dumbledore, 

Remus came to slowly and painfully, like always. It was a process he’d come to be familiar with. The change was never easy and his bones ached for days afterward.

This time though…

He found himself not in the Shrieking Shack. Not in the tunnel leading to it either. Remus was laying in the Hospital Wing, and his limbs were shackled. Feet together and then hands together. And other than physical shackles, there were magic-binding shackles meant to essentially render him to the common power of a muggle, all up his arms in black, spiraling tattoos.

It was daytime but the sun was not out. The sky outside the windows was stormy and dreary. Rain poured down and thunder boomed in the distance. It was ominous.

There was no one immediately near him. In fact, beyond the large, white curtain set up to give him privacy, he could only hear somewhat muffle voices. When he focused especially hard, his hearing cleared and he could pinpoint two voices at once, in heated debate. One being the Headmaster.

“I can’t believe you went against the law and allowed a Dark Creature into this institution, Albus!” the unfamiliar voice of a man hissed, making Remus stiffen in fear.

“Now Harold-”

“Don’t act familiar with me, you sodding, old fool! Your actions have lead up to this atrocity and we now have a crisis on our hands!”

It got out that Remus was a Werewolf. How?

“I assure you I meant for none of this to happen,” Dumbledore explained, seemingly more frantic than before.

“I severely doubt that,” the man countered in a snide tone, voice tight. “Horace Slughorn has sent many complaints to the Aurors about your precious Gryffindors. You know very well because you’ve also sent letters explaining his supposed dramatics away. It seems we should have listened because any group which half consists of a Dark Wizard from the Black family and a Dark Creature, going around attacking students and disfiguring them without punishment, should be taken to task.”

Oh Merlin! What had happened? Remus could feel his heart practically choking him by now, and the irregular beat made him even more unnerved. His breathing was uneven!

“They’re just boys being boys, Harold. No one has died or been irreparably damaged,” Dumbeldore tried to reason and honestly… it made Remus wince. That was not the right defence to use to the Minister’s face, since Remus was certain it was Harold Minchum who was chewing Dumbledore’s ear off.

“Maybe physical injury won’t last but what about mental trauma, Albus?” Minchum demanded. “Reports about the so-called Marauders attacking Slytherins of all years have increased this year alone. Reasoning for such actions involve ‘because they’re Death Eaters and exist’. You’ve once again, allowed your Gryffindors free run of the castle to mete out punishment to those they deem deserving of suffering for what their loyalties might be. 

“Punishments such as: dangling from the Astronomy Tower for hours outside, being hogtied and left defenceless in the Forbidden Forest, tripping someone while they’re walking down the stairs, and even cursing students’ bodies to alarming degrees that take too much time and magic to fix for a single Medi-Witch. Not to mention that some victims are first years and some of those first years are muggleborns who don’t know about Slytherin’s unfortunate reputation. You’ve done a swell job at breeding a band of bullies. Again. And what’s worse, is one of them is a bloody Prefect who’s supposed to stop these things from happening!”

With every example the man gave, Remus could just feel himself sinking further and further into despair. He’d been there for each example and they’d all happened during their fifth year alone. He’d chosen not to involve himself in them. He thought he wouldn’t be considered a part of the pranks if he personally didn’t help. But he was a Prefect. It was his job to hold his friends accountable and he wasn’t doing that because he was scared they’d abandon him. So he gave detentions to everyone else instead.

Minchum was not finished it seemed. “The amount of reports Slughorn sent me over the Potter/Snape issue are even more numerous. You had ample opportunity to do something and never did. I understand that you hate every other House but Gryffindor but you honestly couldn’t be bothered to put aside that hatred and do right by the other students? You did this even when I was in school! It’s been over thirty years since then, Albus, and you haven’t changed a damn bit!”

“Things aren’t as bad as you think they ar-”

“Not as bad!” the Minister hissed, voice rising to a more normal tone. “A boy is dead because of that thing you’ve been illegally hiding, in the presence of other students no less!”

Dumbledore’s automatic defence of Remus fell on deaf ears, because he finally understood what was going on. Remus had somehow gotten his hands on a student and now they were dead. And Dumbledore couldn’t save him from the backlash of this.

“I find it so very interesting that the Marauder’s common target was the victim as well, Albus. And that the Dark Wizard is the one to send him into the jaws of their pet Dark Creature. It screams of a set up.”

Snape.

Remus had killed Snape.

Because of Sirius?

“I’m certain Mr. Black merely thought of it as a simple prank,” Dumbledore reasoned, making Remus shake his head in resignation. Of course Sirius would. Rarely did he think about others. It was his biggest fault that they chose to overlook because there was more to him than that.

“Mr. Black’s record is not a good one, Albus. He’s been in more detentions for skipping class than any other Hogwarts student has ever served. He’s known far and wide as a rule-breaker. He’s very vocally abusive toward Slytherin students. I don’t care if he thinks he’s in the right because in his mind they’re all followers of You-Know-Who, it is not his job to determine who deserves punishment. Dubious intentions aside, he’s a damn bully and you letting him and his friends do what they want simply because they’re Gryffindors, has lost a promising young boy his life.”

“You’re not seriously going to blame Mr. Lupin for this?” Dumbledore asked, sounding horrified.

“He was not the boy I meant. I talking about the Halfblood Snape boy, Albus! That thing is in part responsible for his death and if the Wizengamot doesn’t call for death in return, they’ll have him in Azkaban for life with periodical visits from the Dementors for good measure.”

“Mr. Lupin was completely unaware of what Mr. Black planned to do!”

“The Werewolf has had the power to stop his friends’ actions for months and has chosen to remain neutral while they commit their injustices upon others. He’s taken his side and shown us what he’s truly like,” said Munchim with cold finality. “You should have done your job and this wouldn’t be happening to you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you! When it goes public that you’ve failed as a Headmaster, your support base will crumble. You were our best chance against You-Know-Who and now this is going to ruin everything! We can’t keep his death from his parents! They have the right to know and his Pureblood mother, despite being disowned by the Prince line, can and will wreak all hell on us. The Princes might even help her just to tear you down because they despise you.”

It was all very clear what was going to happen.

Sirius had used Remus in a very callous way, because his immaturity couldn’t allow him to see things from outside his own perspective. He liked to act as if life was a big game and didn’t care to pay attention to others. Sirius was a rebel in all meanings of the word. He hadn’t built up the best of reputations and by extension the Marauders hadn’t either.

And because of that, Remus’ future was ruined and all those efforts to overcome his illness were destroyed. And nothing either he or Dumbledore could say to the Minister, would prove that Remus was innocent in intention. The bigotry against Dark Creatures, Werewolves in particular thanks to Fenrir Greyback, was terrible. Remus’ inaction when he should have stopped his friend’s from going too far, spoke volumes of his attitude to the Minister who was a muggleborn and a former Slytherin and a very anti-Dark Creature activist.

It was all a mess.

And by extension, this would impair Dumbledore’s efforts in the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

And Sirius would not be walking away unscathed either. No matter how much he tried distancing himself from his family’s image, his actions just made him appear like any other Black. Like a condescending, bullying madman.

At present, all Remus could hope for was a death sentence. He didn’t want to be in Azkaban for the next several decades. He didn’t want to be constantly reminded of what he’d done while unaware. He didn’t want to have nightmares constantly over what Severus Snape’s body must have looked like when Moony was done with him.

Remus bowed his head and cried, tuning out the continuing argument on the other side of the room.

Perhaps this was what happened when one chooses to stand for nothing.

A/N: Poor Remus.

I liked doing this! ^-^

[lxcxndatlkalct]

The flash of cameras was nothing new to her. The flickering of lights that might have blinded someone less certain of where they’d come from. Lucinda had long since understood it best to look above them, than directly at them. So often before, she’d been on the other side of the lens, with the lingering familiarity of a camera in her hand, she found it near impossible to ignore a sliver of envy flicker at the tips of her fingers. She’d given Kingsley and the myriad of aurors time, as he’d asked, but the facts remained that the people of their world deserved to know the truth; not the half arsed attempt at it that the ministry could so often offer them before now.

Their world built on secrets, founded on lies that were warped and twisted to suit those in power, and while she wasn’t completely against that for the greater good and the magical legacy of their world, she was neither opposed to the truth. Especially if it would further satisfy the belief she shared with so many. The ministry was as corrupt as it claimed their enemy to be.

True, that she’d bent the will of those that came before the shatter in their hierarchy that he’d left in his wake, twisted words to suit her her own goal, one entwined so deeply with that of the Dark Lord that it was often difficult to decipher where one thought began and another ended. As she neared the dias, the makings of a certain manic happiness burst within her chest while the stoic features of Lucinda Talkalot showed everything but to the public as she had many times since her appointment in public relations. While the Ministry spared the face of the minister himself unless the time truly called for it, she’d become a waypoint, a public figure over night despite her timely discomfort. Like the second skin she wore with the mask and hood adorned by those deemed the enemy, she slipped all too easily into a facade that she’d upheld for far too long and that perfectly placed veil had rendered Lucinda as Tom’s first choice in infiltrating with so much risk.

Right beneath the nose of all those who might have known better, she’d been on the receiving end of every detail, every slip of information that would never reach the public and while she’d been sworn to secrecy on all things that would never move beyond the walls of the ministry’s most private spaces, there were now far more people that knew than those she’d sworn herself to, were aware of.

This, however, wasn’t a ply for more information. The cracks had shattered the earth beneath them, the death of the minister at the hand of her Lord were just a stepping stone in ripping the ministry apart from the inside out. He’d been clear. Crystal. She was not to leave a single detail out. And so, with the blinding flash of cameras, a blur of voices that soon dulled to nothing but white noise as the protective detail she’d been given quietened the growing plethora of media vultures. A momentary pause, a memory that wasn’t her own, placing Rodolphus Lestrange right where she stood, moments before he was executed. While she certainly had no intentions of setting a grenade off at her own feet the way he had just to open the eyes of those too scared to look willingly, she certainly wasn’t shielding any single person willing to listen. Her poison was much less blinding, a subtle sting that would reverberate slowly through the veins of the wizarding community and with any luck and favor on her side, she’d play her part in tearing the foundations of this world down to start anew.

“Three days ago, we released a general statement alerting you all to the untimely, tragic death of our beloved minister, Harold Minchum. The passing of our leader, ---” She paused, the corner of painted lips drawing in a near impeccable smile filled with a sadness that didn’t belong in her heart, “-- and to some, our friend, --- has without doubt shocked us all.” Like a wave, the somber reminder that the fact they were there at all stemmed from a tragedy that those too naive to see was without a doubt a necessary evil in the minds eye of those willing to fight for the betterment of their world. One that didn’t allow the lessening of power through the continued allowance for those muggle born to share in any of it. A disservice to themselves, to their ancestors. “Perhaps it’s now that we need to remember that it is in times of great sorrow and change that we must consider our choices more than ever. Some believe that you do not need to understand what happened, just that it has. That the Ministry has it under control, that we’re mending out defenses, that we’re working to find a way to give you the government that you so greatly deserve. That is what Minister Minchum would have wanted you to know and believe in his stead. In a strong front, unwilling to break or bend to loss and confusion, a community that begs for the betterment and development of those that need it the most and perhaps that is what you will believe, regardless of what you’re told.”

She cast hues that echoed the sentiment of every word she spoke out across the growing mass of people. For years she’d remained silent, in the background of all that she could. Once an observer more than one to take action, however, the long continuous study of the people around her gave her more leeway to bend her own features, to replicate those she’d seen, the sounds she’d heard in the depths of voices she knew all too well. A mockingbird with wings clipped as her orders to speak slivers of the truth embedded themselves in fingertips that traced the wooden dias with a slow tenderness that might have been one detail too perfect for one such grievance as reporting the death of one they’d thought so mighty, now only temporarily replaced by an even mightier coward. “Barely a week has passed, and it is already becoming alarmingly clear..--” Hues traversed the crowd, some barely listening while others clung to every word she spoke as if it were already law. “That for so long now, you have all been fooled by the blinded trust you held in those deemed to protect our very real right for justice, for the truth, and I have been no better informed than you. Beaten into submission by a government that would not have you hold the ability to question us in return. For so long you have been made to believe that our democracy was just that; while slowly but surely they took your ability to live well from you, in any which way they could. Your right to the truth was torn from your very fingertips as Rodolphus Lestrange was murdered before your very eyes without an offer of explanation like so many before him --- and like so many that came after, dusting every truthful word he spoke under the rug even when it screamed to high heavens the depths of corruption behind closed doors. Your very right to your own truth, to justice and your own health and well-being has been unknowingly compromised by a government that refuses to accept that you’re owed as much.”

Luce wasn’t a fool, the shock that would come with even the mention of one so many deemed a traitor would ripple through the crowd and likely paint a target on her back that none knew she already held. She wasn’t here to start an uprising, she wasn’t here to erupt chaos amongst them; but the seeds of doubt could run deeper than most imagined, rooted miles below the surface and near impossible to later remove. All she needed was this moment to plant them. “I will not keep the truth from you.” But she would twist and manipulate it in a way not unlike the ministry at all; though her hand would turn the tables and place every misconception their society might have had about the stability of their own government, foundations must be broken to rebuild.

“Three days ago,” The breath in her lungs seemed to catch with the facade of breaking such an oath to the now fallen minister, darkened lips pursed and after a few long passing moments of near silence, she lifted her shoulders and caught the reflective effects of every camera head on. “The Dark Lord walked past our every defense, slipped right in through those doors,” emphasized only be her willingness to gesture to the grand Ministry building, “Attacked dozens of people and murdered your minister without anyone knowing what how how it was happening, much less who it was, until it was much too late to do what we promised we would. He was not forced to claw his way in, we did not fight to stop him. Our confidence became our greatest weakness, our pride in a world that couldn’t possibly be so threatened became a gaping vulnerability that he was able to manipulate to an advantage that we will feel the weight of for longer than we will ever realize. The safety that we were so sure of failed because we were too blinded to see the faults that etched cracks in our system by our inability to see what was really going on.” The unsettled shift of the crowd before her was more than enough indication that Lucinda had already hit her own target, the smallest seeds of doubt already burying themselves in the ground. “This happened, because we have spent far too long clinging to the idea that this was as good as we were ever going to get. We cannot be fooled into thinking that we will never be more that we are through the timeless act of refusing to hear the truth when it is right there in front of us, hidden and manipulated into more lies by those who have deemed you, our public, our community, unworthy of hearing it simply because it paints us in a less than flattering light. If we want to be better, if we want to protect what is ours, what we love the most, the truth is the only way we will ever be able to do this. As your government, how can we expect you to protect one another without knowing every detail we know too? We are only as strong and as knowledgeable as you allow us to be.” It was near impossible not to feel the weight of those clinging to her every word, a somber speech turned to something build of revolution and yet brought to them in the confidence that she willed no uprising, just another chance. One chance, it was all they needed to rot the system from the inside out. “We failed you, but it will not happen again. This will not happen again. The Dark Lord will not succeed in flooding fear into our veins, neither will he tear us apart so easily without a fight.” The heaviness in such a statement brought her to a pause, a long trying moment for it to sink in, to stick with those teetering the edge of loyalties. It mattered little to her in which way they showed their favor, but failure did not deem favorable with Voldemort himself, and she’d yet to truly fail at all. “The minister is gone, and though he may now be at rest, we have a chance to change how we fight a war most of you didn’t know was here purely out of the cowardice of those now perished. You deserve the opportunity to make your mind up for yourselves, to fight and protect our world with everything we have, of which you can only do through knowing everything. You all deserve the truth.” Each word enunciated to near perfection as she lifted her head a little higher, dark tresses shifting to fall down her back as the every intense hue with an ever familiar regality to it that only few could truly manage. “And I will make sure you get it.”

[kyubicled]

Sample...

"Have you heard the news?" she asked Graham, who shook his head. "Apparently, the aurors found another two muggleborns yesterday – Ellis and Smithson, from the year below us. God, keeping up a cheerful act has been a bastard today." Jessica and Graham had both been in the same year at Hogwarts, and had planned the move to Oxford together; their relationship, the motive for this joint move, had quickly petered out into a much more comfortable friendship.

"Seriously? God, what a shame. Did you hear what happened to them? Actually, never mind - I really don't want to know." The horror of more muggleborn deaths had become more of a dull ache than any particular shock; the fact that Philip Smithson (and, given how close the two had been, probably Charles Ellis as well) had been so eager to work for Dumbledore's cause had effectively rendered it a question of how long they had before they ran out of luck; Death Eaters tended to injure or capture half-bloods and purebloods, and to leave just about enough muggleborn behind for reassembly with the help of a forensic expert. Given how small the wizarding population was, it was a sensible procedure; after all, any conqueror needed someone to rule, and, if they killed all wizards with the fervour they used to pursue muggleborns, that population would rapidly evaporate.

They walked in contemplative silence until they reached their flat; once they were inside, Graham drew his wand and gestured to summon a bottle of Firewhiskey and a pair of shot glasses; as she returned from checking the flat's wards, Jessica accepted the glass which had been eagerly poured for her by the animated bottle, and sank onto the sofa next to Graham. The two sat in silence for a moment as they sipped their drinks; another gesture from Graham lit an unfueled fire.

"It's just so disheartening." murmured Jessica. "I know that there's a good number of us that went into hiding, and there are a few muggleborns that've stuck around in the wizarding world, but – well, do you actually know anyone who's still able to live a proper life there?"

"Well, there's Evans," Graham offered. "She's still published in the charms column of the prophet now and then, isn't she?"

"And she's been the personal target of You-Know-Who twice, for Christ's sake! Not to mention the fact that she's probably working with Dumbledore behind the scenes along with Potter. At least she's standing up to him at all, I suppose."

It was an old argument, if it could even be called an argument. Both Jessica and Graham knew that their decision to go into hiding had probably saved their lives. There had been eleven muggleborns in their year, and they knew that four of them were dead; another one had "disappeared", as a brief notice in the Prophet had noted a few months earlier, and the remaining six, the two of them included, had sought out new lives. Graham had been able to get some support in transitioning back to the muggle world from his parents, who had moved to New Zealand in his third year; but for Jessica, who had been orphaned at the age of eight, the pain and frustration of being rejected from the new world she'd made her home to return to one which seemed to have rejected her long ago still resurfaced from time to time.

After a brief pause, Jessica spoke again. "The thing that really bothers me more than anything else about the Vol- sorry, about the You-Know-Who situation is that I can't imagine anything is really going to change, even if Dumbledore eventually manages to defeat him. Just look at Minchum; he was elected with sixty-five percent of the vote and he's hardly any less popular today!"

Harold Minchum had been appointed Minister for Magic in 1975 after running on a ticket which promised to restrict the occupations which muggleborns were allowed to occupy on the basis that certain institutions of magical life – chief among them the ministry, spell creation, and healthcare – could be irrevocably transformed by an influx of wizards not raised in the magical world. He had decried such 'barbaric' muggle inventions as operating theatres and IV drips to prove the destructive and terrifying effects which muggle influence could wreak. His campaign, carried out amid a time of rising anti-muggle tension and terrorist attacks, proved a resounding success: and, true to his word, in his first weeks in office he quickly passed legislation which included the banning of muggleborns from the profession of Healer. Just like that, as Madam Pomfrey had frankly, though kindly, informed him, his ambition to work as a healer had been scuppered; his decision to study muggle medicine was as a direct result of that disappointment.

There was another silence, which the bottle used to refill both their glasses.

"The problem's one of demographics, in the end." said Graham. "I mean, if you think about it for a minute, there were, what, seventy or eighty people in our year? And the average wizard can live to be a hundred and twenty, hundred and thirty. So you end up with perhaps a bit under ten thousand wizards in the UK. And there are probably seventy-odd muggleborns in Hogwarts at any one time, so perhaps one or two thousand in the whole country?"

"And that's not even counting the number of muggleborns that leave the magical world, emigrate, or get killed." Jessica interjected.

"Yeah, exactly. So you end up with this situation where the muggle-born population is small enough that they have very little political power, but significant enough that they're always ripe to be scapegoated. Even if Dumbledore were to win the war, it'll just mean that we'd be living in a state controlled by someone who doesn't mind sending muggleborns to their death instead of someone who actively wants to kill them."

Jessica snorted at that; she'd lost most of her sympathy for Dumbledore's resistance movement long ago, and it was eroded a little more every time she heard that another of her friends had "vanished". She took another sip of her Firewhiskey.

"Well, there's not much to be done to increase it, is there? I'm sure that you'd be a wonderful parent, Gray, but I've certainly not got any plans to pop out sprogs "for the cause" any time soon -" (Graham couldn't help but laugh at that) "- and even if I was, even if every muggle-born was – it's not like it'd be fast enough to make enough of a difference to the wizarding population at any real pace, let alone the fact that I have no interest in consigning my kids to life as second class citizens."

Once more, silence descended on the two; as it always seemed to do with wizarding politics, the conversation had come to a dead end. After some time, though, Graham had an odd thought.

"Jess," he said, "have you ever heard of BPAS?" Seeing her shake her head, he carried on. "Basically, they're a gynaecological organisation I learnt a bit about in my Ob/Gyn module – so they do birth control, and so on. But they also do, uh, sperm donation." This was, understandably, not a conversation that Jessica had expected.

"I'll have you know I've no problems in that regard, thank you so very much!" she retorted, but Graham was quick to mollify her. "No, no, it's not that, I didn't mean to – but just imagine if it was a wizard that donated to them. In fact, imagine if you were able to replace all of their donations with, ah, magical offerings. A bit less than a thousand children last year were born from donors; and I know that most children of muggleborns are magical themselves. The odds would be pretty good that most of them would have the spark! Or whatever selector it is that gives people magic, anyway. As far as I can tell, it's not as if there's a limited number of magic kids that a given wizard can have."

"Hah! I've got no idea how you'd even do that, but it'd be a shock to the magical system, wouldn't it? Imagine how long the Sorting would take with ten times as many pupils – or how high Flitwick'd have to pile his books so that the whole class could see him!" Both wizards found this a highly amusing concept, and, as the bottle decided that they'd had enough to drink and floated back to its shelf, they agreed that this was enough silliness for the night; after one final toast to the memory of Smithson and Ellis, they retired to bed.

[morsmordre-promo]

1970 ━ Grindelwald escapes Nurmengard! The Daily Prophet article doesn’t offer much more information, but the wizarding world understands, while they are on the verge of war with the dangerous Lord Voldemort, another evil wizard has escaped, and despite the Elder Wand being safely in Albus Dumbledore’s possession, a free Grindelwald is a major threat upon itself.

1973 ━ Grindelwald and Voldemort target St. Mungo’s, dozens dead! This time, the article spreads three pages. First, it mentions details of the attack, including a list of the 64 victims, which were all either Muggleborn or considered blood traitors. Second, it discusses the immense force that had attacked the hospital, Death Eaters and old members of Grindelwald’s army. Third, it discusses what everyone has been dreading. Cooperation. Grindelwald and Voldemort have joined forces, combined ideologies, and goodness knows not what terrors they might inflict on the wizarding world.

1975 ━ Harold Minchum replaces Eugenia Jenkins as Minister for Magic! A new player on the chessboard, Harold takes drastic measures to improve safety, including more dementors around Azkaban and appointing the ruthless Bartemius Crouch as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The article also mentions the Dark Lords using the Imperius curse to make advances in infiltrating the Ministry, as well as several attacks.

1976 ━ Voldemort & Grindelwald duel! The beginning of the end? Again, a vague article due to the lack of information accessible. It covers the eyewitness reports of a duel between the two wizards, apparently over a disagreement or clash in ideologies. The article also reports hints of the Dark Army having a lot of conflict between both sides, often with lethal repercussions.

It’s late August 1977, and Hogwarts students are preparing themselves for the upcoming school year. For a couple of them, their last school year, even. Tensions in the wizarding world are at an all-time high, especially in the Dark Army’s ranks. It seems like the two are going to split into different factions, Grindelwald’s supporters believing in an open-minded, wizard-led society, where they govern the Muggles due to their superior nature, where Muggleborn witches and wizards were also part of the superior race. Voldemort’s supporters, however, believe in simply oppressing the Muggles and Muggleborn wizards, terrorizing them however they see fit and gaining full and complete control. The only faction opposing them is The Order of the Phoenix, the Ministry too busy fending off attacks on their own. Slowly but surely, these tensions will drip into the castle walls as well, turning student against student. Fear is the dominant emotion, but many are convinced not to let it win.

MORSMORDRE is an AU Marauders Era skeleton roleplay coming to you near August, based of the first wizarding war and the second rise of Grindelwald. Interested? You can check out our trailer HERE or wait until 23:59 GMT, 9/1/17 when we’ll post the official link to our main blog.