A/N: Those reviews got my muse in gear, and honestly, thank you so much! Quite a bit happens in this chapter, and it really gets certain things rolling.

Chapter Twelve: The Unfortunate Minister Fudge is surrounded by Unprecedented Predicaments, and Must Offer up his Sincerest Apologies

1995

Minister Ryker was a large rotund man, with a graying beard, rosy cheeks, and a receding hairline that made almost all of the younger folk employed by the New York Magical Ministry be under the impression that he had a dollop of cream on his head. He wore a suit that looked very similar to that of a music conductor, and chewed on a toothpick.

*.*.*.*

"His wife wants him to retire because he works himself so hard; but he's such a nice guy, he enjoys his job, and everyone loves him…I feel guilty when I have to cover for him because he's spread so thin..." Ricky explained simply, a hint of remorse in his voice.

*.*.*.*

"There is a young man in the New York Branch who has been more than kind enough to assist me, although his methods are…unique. The New York Minister seems to have overextended himself quite a bit, so things slip under his nose," McGonagall shook her head. She obviously disapproved of whatever the guy at the N.Y. Branch did.

"Really?" Maiza asked thoughtfully. "That's rather unfortunate…"

"Pity, really. Mr. Ryker genuinely seems like a nice man." McGonagall replied.

A few days after McGonagall's unexpected visit to New York…

It had been a shame that Luck had missed Minerva while she had been in town, but she had understandably been pressed for time. After being informed of everything that was going on in Europe from someone who was experiencing it first-hand; the annoyance he felt towards any conversation that centered on whether or not Voldemort was even a concern felt almost trivial. Things certainly didn't sound good in Europe, especially if people were claiming that a healthy teenage boy inexplicably and unfortunately dropped dead with no real explanation given. At least, not one that satisfied him upon reading about it.

From what little Luck could gather from reading about Harry Potter, he certainly didn't seem like the type to keep his head down. It was both foolish and admirable. Plus, being able to lend a hand to Minerva when she really needed it wasn't something he minded doing.

Luck could only release a sigh as he approached the New York Ministry of Magic. He had unfortunately fallen out of contact with Eli Ryker over the past few years. Work for both of them had been a priority, and around the time, Eli was busy slowly transitioning Mundane and their technology into the Ministry. It was something that had been quite the undertaking, plus, he was dealing with various purists and having to defend his reasons for making such a bold move.

Months afterwards, things seemed to be running smoothly enough, and Luck had gone to go talk to him. But Eli had been busy, that time, and the next. And then there were various Family and territorial disputes going on, and Luck didn't exactly have the luxury to go and have a friendly chat with the Minister. It was made all-the-more unfortunate, because from what Luck had been told by Maiza, it sounded as if Eli was overworking himself to the point that his wife was concerned for his health, and the people who worked under him had to cover for him.

Approaching the girl sitting at the welcome desk, he greeted, "Good morning, I'm here to see Minister Ryker."

The girl blinked at him a few times before responding, "Do you have an appointment?"

"No, I don't. But it's important." Luck lost his smile. "Would you please inform Eli that Luck Gandor is here to see him?"

The girl made a face, and mouthed 'Luck Gandor' as if trying to recall something, but she did as she was told. Speaking into her headset, "Sir? There's a Luck Gandor here to see you…No, he doesn't have an appointment…Yes, sir. I understand, sir…"

She frowned at Luck when she said, "Well, he said he's busy…"

Luck smiled in a guileful way, and asked, "Is that so? Well, tell Eli that I have all the time in the world, and I'll happily plant myself out here until he has time."

The girl looked at Luck with wide eyes, before talking on her headset again. Luck couldn't really hear what was being said on the headset the girl wore, because she started muttering. She glanced over at Luck for a moment, and he overheard her say, "Sir, I really don't think he intends on leaving until you agree to see him…"

A minute or two later, she smiled and motioned for Luck to enter Eli's office.

Closing the door after he had entered, Luck took in the appearance of Minister Elijah Ryker. He had gained some weight over the years, and had lost some of his now-white hair, but most noticeably of all – he looked exhausted, even behind that smile.

His desk was piled with stacks of paper and folders; the filing cabinets were slightly haphazard looking; the trash was overflowing and strewn across the floor. From the looks of it, someone had sorted through the trash, as if they had gone in looking for something, and hadn't bothered in putting the trash back.

"Luck!" the man greeted jovially, approaching Luck and slapping his arm. "How are you? When Beatrice said you were here, I couldn't believe it! Sorry about not letting you in earlier, I had a few tasks to take care of. But since I don't have another meeting for a…" he glanced down at his watch, "another…twenty…forty-five…wait." Eli walked over to his desk to check his calendar. "Two hours…? I could have sworn…Anyway," Eli smirked knowingly. "You look healthy, as if you haven't aged a day!"

"And you look tired." Luck replied bluntly, but with a friendly smile. Luck took a seat on one of the office chairs, and Eli sat down as well, and summoned a bottle of scotch and a couple of glasses.

"Oh, pshaw," Eli waved his hand. "I may not be as young as I used to be, but I'm still as spry as the day I got my Auror's license!"

"Yes, of course. You do realize that Aiyana is worried about you?" Luck asked, getting straight to the point. "I really think you two should take a vacation – at least for a month. You look like you need it."

Eli sulked. "Did you really come here to lecture me about work? Did Aiyana put you up this?"

"No. It was actually Minerva McGonagall who brought your overbearing workload to my attention."

Eli blinked a few times, and tapped his chin. "…Who? The name sounds familiar…"

"She was here visiting from Europe three days ago, Eli." Luck stated with a frown. "You met her, even if it was just in passing."

"…She didn't come through my office though," the Minister said slowly, a slightly perplexed expression crossed his features. "I was just checking off everything in my appointment book, and nothing about her was there…"

At that, Luck could only shrug. "Minerva mentioned that there was a young man who works here that helped her out using, and I quote, "unique methods." She also said something about you overextending yourself, because things slipped under your nose."

Taking a drink of his scotch, Luck added, "She thought it was a shame, because you genuinely seem like a nice man."

Eli slowly set his glass down, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why was she here?"

"Hogwarts needed a Defense teacher, and Firo took the job."

Eli sat up straight, looking at Luck with an expression of disbelief; his thoughts obviously bouncing all over the place. "What? A British witch came here? Really? Young Firo certainly has a lot of bravery…or perhaps recklessness would describe it. Sort of like jumping out of an airplane without a parachute – though, you could technically do that and survive. Not that any one of you has recommended it or tried it…" Eli looked thoughtful for a moment before asking, "Claire hasn't actually tried doing that, has he? At any rate, I'm genuinely surprised that Firo would even take it."

"Oh?" Luck simply gave a half-hearted shrug. "You know Minerva and our Families go way back. She asked for our help, and we obliged… Why would it surprise you so much that Firo would take it?"

Eli sighed heavily, and refilled his glass. "You're aware of the political tensions between the American and European – or more accurately, British Magical communities?"

Luck openly grimaced. "I know things are heated here, and Maiza informed me of what Minerva had told him about everything that's been going on in Magical Britain."

"Ah, yes." Eli nodded knowingly, sympathizing with Luck. "You see, British wizards are close-minded. They are radical purists – in the sense that they like the old ways of doing things. When I say that, I mean, quills, parchment, owls… they haven't even properly worked out how to get around the electronics and magical interference issue. Don't even have enchanted mailboxes!"

There was a hint of pride and bragging in Eli's voice as he said, "Even though what we have is rudimentary at best, we're leaps and bounds ahead of how magical Europe operates. Americans are driven by the idea of progression, while the British wizards are satisfied by their stagnancy.

"While a select few may not be the type to kill over it, they'd rather not have any Mundane involved at all, although they don't seem to mind the Mundane-born, too much. But they view Americans as pushing the laws of the Statute of Secrecy, while thousands of American magic-users such as myself view the laws as being severely outdated."

Eli took another large drink before adding, "And they view Americans as being violent, gun-and-wand-toting rule breakers who don't care about the safety of the magical community. Seriously, I really think they need to read about our early history in America to at least understand some aspect of the why of our motivations.

"They'll very likely view Firo taking a job there as an insult – twisting it around to make it either seem like he's indoctrinating children into a cult; or maybe he was desperate for a job, and only Hogwarts would hire him," Eli waved his hand out for emphasis, "insert bizarre reasons for hire here. They're bound to make it political, even if it was innocent."

Of course, a Deputy-Headmistress of a school coming to a Mafia Family for help sounded anything but innocent.

With that, Eli sighed again, and set his glass down. "The British Minister of Magic is bound to contact me soon… I don't like dealing with him."

"Then don't." Luck said, setting down his own glass. "Like I said, take a vacation. You have good people here, and they can keep things running until you get back. It'll help clear your head."

"You really aren't going to let this go, are you?"

Luck let a sad smile cross his features. "There are people who are having to fix simple mistakes and fill out various forms because you're overlooking them."

"…I've really let things go, haven't I?" Eli was forced to admit, as he glanced around his office. He truly looked tired and very much his age just then.

"Even our Families need to take a break sometimes."

"Fine…you win. Aiyana has wanted to see Florida for quite a while now…"

"Of course." Luck agreed. "While you're there, you should check out the Loro Lunar Cantina, in St. Peter's, by the coast. Mention to the owner that you're friends with the Gandor Brothers – we supply them with their alcohol and various rare and unique foods that can't be found down there."

"…Right then." Eli said, looking as if he were just remembering what Luck's profession was.

"See you in a month, then." Luck said with a smile as he patted Eli on the shoulder.

"A month?"

"Aiyana deserves all the attention you can give her." Luck reasoned. "You might as well announce that you're leaving and head home right now."

Eli simply nodded again, although a part of him looked as if he were considering taking some work with him.

As Luck exited the office, he reminded the man, "Don't take any of your work with you."

Eli had the expression of someone who had gotten caught with their hand in the proverbial cookie jar. "…It's really unfair that you don't have to read minds to know what someone is thinking…"

Most natural-born magic users shared that thought. Luck just smiled, and closed the door as he left.

00*00

IS DUMBLDORE TRYING TO CORRUPT OUR CHILDREN?

"The hell?" Firo skimmed the article. He barely registered Ennis coming up behind him. Firo was too busy reading about how magical parents should be concerned about a young, no-name American coming in and teaching at Hogwarts – Americans were impulsive and violent. How Muggles were employed by the American Ministry of Magic – what sort of dangerous ideals would this idealistic American attempt to leave on the poor, impressionable children? Of course, the writer of the article didn't forget to have a few stabs at Dumbledore's mentality and credibility. Apparently his being an American Muggle-born somehow played a huge role in his credentials.

-000-

Czes had been reading the newspaper and he let out a snort. "It seems that Minister Ryker hasn't been very forthcoming." The boy smirked. "Did youreallyread this, Firo? The stuff they're saying about you is all vague and pretty much generalized. It's all stereotypical American with a scathing magical flare." Czes tossed the paper onto the desk carelessly. "It's clear that they're pulling this right out of their asses, but because of the previous smear campaigns against the old man and the brat, these stupid magic users will believe it."

"Firo, they have no idea who you are."

"I can't believe you still aren't getting it, Firo." Czes smirked. "You havehow manyyears of knowledge in your head and you can't grasp how this is actuallyadvantageousfor us?"

"It's like this, Minister Ryker refused any comment to the British Ministry; totally understandable because Magical America and Britain don't really get along." A devious glint crossed Czes' features. "But, what if word got back to Minister Ryker that the papers reported one of the most talented young wizards from a very influential magical family that goes back roughly 300 years was said to be nothing more than a Muggle-born street rat?"

Okay, that got Firo to grin. Even Collera was smiling. Make the Ministry look incompetent, and make him seem more important than he actually was. Every convincing lie contained an element of truth, after all.

-000-

| "Can you believe what they're saying in the paper about me?" | Firo sighed, scowling at the newspaper on the table with disdain.

| "Clearly, their research lacks any merit." | Luck responded dryly.

| "Sorry to spring this on you like this Luck, but after reading today's paper, Czes came up with an idea to be even more of a pain in the Ministry's ass." |

| "Oh? Do tell." |

| "You're friends with Minister Ryker, right?" |

| "I've recently gotten back into contact with him. He was surprised that you even took the job. He honestly didn't think any American would want to work in Britain, much less Hogwarts." |

| "Yeah, well, I was wondering if you would talk to him for me. I'd owe you and him a favor." | At Luck's questioning look, Firo grinned. | "Czes had the bright idea to make it seem like at the news of me being 'Muggle-born' Minister Ryker would suddenly open up a bit with the British Ministry about how I'm from a magical family that goes back 300 plus years. I mean, a family like that would be insulted, right?" |

Luck burst out laughing. It was rare to see him do so, but when it happened, it was certainly a good sign. Once he calmed down, he grinned mischievously. | "I see. And by speaking Italian, especially with someone who looks the way I do, it further sets you apart. It certainly will start a rumor mill about you and the man you met – especially on the day your little tabloid came out." |

| "Yep! I know we're bullshitting our way as we go along, but anything you guys do will be a big help." |

| "Ah, isn't that what we do best?" |

00o*o00

The day of Firo's Daily Prophet Article:

After a month-long vacation, and spending that time with Aiyana, Ryker was now back to his usual self – cheerful, boisterous, and most of all, alert. He also managed his time better, ensuring that he didn't overwork himself. There was no tension of any kind on the people working under him – none of them had to worry about him overexerting himself anymore, and all in all, it was a good day.

But a dark cloud had descended over the happy mood, and that was because numerous times over the past month or so, one Minister Cornelius Fudge had tried contacting Ryker. Ryker easily had an excuse supplied for why he couldn't talk to him – and when he did talk to Fudge, Ryker had been so annoyingly vague that he ensured that he had wasted a good portion of Fudge's time.

The Floo calls – Floo – how outdated, honestly – mostly consisted of Fudge demanding answers about Firo Prochainezo, his wife, and the boy that was with them, and if the Americans were encroaching on his territory. Actually, Fudge hadn't been that direct, but it was implied. Fudge seemed to think that Firo was some sort of usurper out to get him. From his line of questioning, Ryker, and from what the people who answered the Floo calls for Ryker had told him; Fudge seemed to be more concerned with his position, and the "threat" Firo presented.

Ryker very much disliked talking to the man. Call him petty and childish, but a part of him enjoyed wasting the British Minister of Magic's time.

Fairly early that morning, Ryker had hardly been in his office for more than an hour, when his secretary's voice sounded over his com.

"Minister, Luck Gandor's here to see you."

This time, there was no resistance nor reluctance from Ryker when Luck came to speak with him.

"Oh? Let him in!"

Minutes later, Luck entered his now very clean and organized office, offering a friendly smile. "You look well, Eli."

Ryker nodded in agreement as he stood. "That's thanks in part to you, Luck. I can't tell you how relieved Aiyana was when I told her I'd be lessening my workload. Still, retirement's a long ways off."

"Of course," Luck said understandably.

"Now, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"This, actually."

Luck presented Ryker with a newspaper. A blatant headline read,

'IS DUMBLDORE TRYING TO CORRUPT OUR CHILDREN?'

Ryker's expression went from a concerned frown to a disapproving scowl the more he read. The article presented Firo as being uncouth, practically criminal, and without directly saying it; a Mudblood, a fact that disgusted Ryker. Plus, it was questioning whether or not Dumbledore was of sound mind, considering his decision to hire Firo. As if Dumbledore was actually hiring someone who would come in and do unspeakable things to schoolchildren; such as torture.

It was a ploy to make Firo look like a villain, and Dumbledore was willfully sending vulnerable children into the lion's den. Surely with this…people would be outraged, and be demanding that the Minister do something about this atrocity to their society.

"Has anything happened yet?" Ryker asked, now focusing on Luck.

Luck wasn't really smiling as he answered, "Actually, Firo got into a confrontation with some wizard. He tried to walk away, but the man wouldn't let him go. And then when Ennis came along and they tried to leave, the man grabbed Ennis. Both Firo and Ennis ended up punching him and injuring him."

Ryker must have had an expression on his face, because Luck quickly added, "No need to worry; he's not dead and they're staying with friends over there."

Visibly relaxing, Ryker sighed. "That's a relief," taking up the newspaper again, he then asked, "So what do you need from me?"

A mischievous smile crossed Luck's features as he responded, "Would you mind telling Minister Fudge that Firo is from a very influential family of wizards, and they're insulted by this article? In fact, perhaps you could even mention that the Gandor Family, is equally insulted?"

A scheming smile crossed Ryker's features. It was honestly a rare sight to see. In fact, if anyone other than Luck had seen such an expression, they would have thought that Elijah Ryker had been replaced by an imposter.

"How about we get more in-depth with your plans over coffee? I still haven't had my daily fix, yet."

"Of course," Luck took a seat.

It was time to make the Gandors and Martillos sound like the two most influential wizarding Families of New York.

0000

Call Maiza boring, but he found he enjoyed his menial desk job. It brought a sense of normalcy, and filled his days with purpose. Plus, after hundreds of years, he had found ways to multitask even without magic. Sometimes, doing things the Mundane way was nice, because it let him contemplate.

Maiza was doing a bit of paperwork for Destino and Alveare, when the phone rang. Not taking his eyes from his work, Maiza answered the phone.

"Maiza Avaro speaking. How may I help you?"

A voice he hadn't heard in well over 200 years; just 35 years after the events on board the Advena Avis:

"It's been awhile, Maiza."

That was what got Maiza to stop what he was doing. "…Adorjan? You…you're alright…?"

Adorjan had suffered the same as Maiza – his younger brother had been "eaten" by Szilard decades after they had all gone into hiding. The news that Szilard had been "eaten" had eventually made its way around the Immortals' various circles, so it wasn't really surprising that Adorjan would be contacting him now, feeling that it was safe enough to do so. What was surprising though, was the fact that Adorjan was contacting him.

Way back then, Adorjan had blamed Maiza for the death of his brother, Kristian. It was a moment of heated arguments and accusations against Maiza for something that he had had no control over, but he had accepted the blame all the same. After all, if he hadn't created the Grand Panacea, then Szilard never would have been able to do what he did. The only reason that Szilard even had the knowledge that he did was because he had forcefully consumed it. Others and Corazza who knew what had happened had insisted that it wasn't his fault, but Maiza begged to differ.

Adorjan had cut himself off from the other Immortals, absolutely refusing to have anything to do with them.

"I've heard that Firo Prochainezo was hired on at Hogwarts."

Frowning slightly, Maiza had to ask, "That's correct… How did you know? Why are you interested?"

"You haven't heard what the Daily Prophet is saying about him? He and that family of his have an entire front page article; which goes on for at least two more pages. It was nice to see that young Czes is still alive."

"What?" Maiza was honestly feeling a bit lost, and a bit worried. "What article?"

"Shall I read you a few lines that the esteemed reporters of this newspaper have written?

"'Dumbledore's authority must be called into question, seeing as how he has turned to America for a Professor when there are plenty of capable witches and wizards of Europe who are far more reliable and most certainly more skilled. I have done my research on this 'Firo Prochainezo' and was unable to find much of anything. His unknown lineage should be a call for concern…'

And there's more where that came from."

"I haven't heard anything about this…" Maiza started. "I'll have to call him!"

"As far as I know, he's alright. But it wouldn't hurt to check up on him. Apparently he and his wife attacked some radical Blood Purist. Although nearly everyone is saying that the "violent American" started it, I have my suspicions that it was the man who started something he couldn't finish."

Maiza sighed, as he realized what sort of trouble this could bring. "May I ask…why are you telling me this?"

"Because I owe the boy for what he's done. He finally ended that bastard. I wish to help him."

Maiza was silent, completely understanding where Adorjan was coming from.

"…Another thing, before we continue with this plan. I don't blame you for Kristian's death, Maiza."

Maiza straightened up, gripping the phone tightly.

"It was wrong to blame you for someone else's actions, for that I apologize."

"I…" Maiza's voice hitched. An invisible weight lifted off of his shoulders, but still. "I never thought you were wrong to do so. I might as well have created Szilard."

"Szilard alone carried out his actions. We all had the same power, but he's the one who abused it."

Some part of Maiza was relieved at hearing that. "Even so…I'm never sharing the formula ever again."

There was a soft, humorless laugh on the other end of the line. "Understandable."

A comfortable silence passed between them.

Getting back on topic, Adorjan continued, "…Anyway…Circles here are saying that there was a man with Firo and his family today – one that he spoke Italian to. Who might that have been?"

"Luck Gandor. He's one of us."

"Is that so? Interesting. I'll have to contact him sometime. Alright. Here's what I intend to do…"

00000

The day of Firo's article, at the British Ministry later that same day…

Fudge had been hoping to remove Firo Prochainezo as soon as possible, and replace the boy with someone from the Ministry; namely, Delores Umbridge, but their attempts hadn't been successful. Even though Prochainezo had left the Leaky Cauldron, he hadn't returned home. Otherwise, he would have heard from Dumbledore about any change of plans. It was also bothersome that Prochainezo's records had been sealed by a powerful mix of various security charms upon their transfer to the Ministry so that only Dumbledore, McGonagall, or Firo Prochainezo himself, could access them.

Of course, the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress saw no reason why they should unlock their American professor's files when they very likely could be used against him simply for being American or "Muggle-Born". Plus, it wasn't like Prochainezo was going to come down to the Ministry himself and intentionally risk his job. Another factor was that they didn't have strong enough grounds to go over the heads of either Dumbledore or McGonagall and force the file to be pulled. They had to have reasons beyond, 'he's American and he's dangerous'. Even if they treated it as if he were a terrorist, as per the conditions of the security spell, they had to have actual, physical evidence that incriminated him without a doubt.

It actually wasn't illegal, and the N.Y. Branch had enchanted the files out of numerous "security concerns" as they had put it. Because of the rumors of some absurd war, the Americans had every right to make sure that their witches and wizards traveling internationally had some form of protection from false accusations, invasions and exploitations of privacy. But Fudge had heard about Prochainezo assaulting another wizard earlier that morning, and thus he hoped that he would be able to use that ill-mannered attack against him.

Just then, there was a knock on his door and Delores poked her head in, and smiled. "Hem-hem. Do pardon me, Minister…but there is someone here to see you concerning Mr. Prochainezo's article."

Finally! He hoped this would be an ally.

"Oh! Show them in, show them in!"

Delores stepped in so she could welcome the unexpected guest in with some flourish. The guests actually, strode in as if they owned the building; and considering who they were, they might as well have. Adorjan Bako and his wife, Evangeline Garret, were a powerful and influential couple within the wizarding community in Britain, and had been for several decades.

Bako wore a modern pinstriped blue Muggle business suit, and even Fudge could tell that it was of the highest quality. He wore a classy tie-pin that had what looked to be a three-eyed raven that had a single, red ruby as the third eye. Evangeline had her long black hair pulled to one side of her head; held in place with a silver hairpin that also had that odd, three-eyed raven; allowing thick black curls to cascade down over her shoulder. She wore a modern and very fashionable Muggle woman's dark blue pantsuit with a silvery-white fox pelt wrapped around her shoulders.

"Should I have the elves prepare tea for our guests?" Delores asked.

"No need." Bako replied, his tone of voice firm.

"No, thank you," Evangeline said with a smile as she ran her hand along the nape of her fox pelt and tickled its chin briefly with a manicured finger. Odd…but the woman was always eccentric – not to the levels of the Lovegood family, but eccentric none-the-less.

"I'll have some, thank you, Delores." Turning back to the couple before him, Fudge waved a hand. "Please, have a seat."

Bako chose not to take a seat, while Evangeline took a seat with flourish as she smoothed her pant leg and picked at invisible lint. Skipping formalities, Bako pulled a folded newspaper out of his pocket and tossed it onto Fudge's desk.

"I want to talk to you about this." Bako said coldly. "I demand an explanation."

The headline, 'IS DUMBLDORE TRYING TO CORRUPT OUR CHILDREN?' glared up at Fudge.

Fudge questioningly looked from the newspaper headline and back to Bako, with confusion on his face. "This is an article about that American, Firo Prochainezo – he came out of nowhere, and thus has no credibility." Fudge pulled at his collar, not liking the hardened gaze that Bako was sending his way. "This is the…attempt to alleviate everyone's worries about an American taking up a teaching position at Hogwarts. It is-it will be the first of many articles to get him-to-to encourage him to leave…and…well, we…we, uh…will-will r-replace him with…one…of…"

Fudge trailed off because Bako was looking at him with a full-on glare, now. Not even Evangeline was smiling. Fudge dabbed his face with a handkerchief. "So, you do not have to be concerned! I—!"

"He's my nephew."

Bako's voice was like ice, and Fudge went pale. He openly gaped at Bako very much like a codfish, and barely choked out a weak, "W-what?"

"Before his untimely death, my younger brother married into the Prochainezo Family. Thus, that makes Firo Prochainezo my family."

Fudge couldn't believe it. The room was suddenly very hot. Had someone turned up the heat? It felt like Fiendfyre had enveloped the room.

Bako wasn't yelling, but his voice echoed around Fudge's office as if he were. Plus, it felt as if something rather large with scales was skittering behind him, but it happened so quickly, that Fudge thought he had imagined it – not that he could really think about it. From Fudge's seated position and Bako's height, he easily towered over the diminutive man.

"Were you aware that Firo and his wife Ennis were assaulted by a wizard because of this drivel? That they had to leave the supposed safety of Diagon Alley and go elsewhere, just in case someone tried to attack them again? They have a child with them. What if he had gotten hurt, or worse? I demand that you rescind these utterly absurd false claims of yours immediately.

"Know that I'm being considerably generous when I say that you have five days. I initially was only going to have three, but Evangeline convinced me to add a few extra days so that you can hopefully repair this insult to my family."

Fudge nodded weakly. Nodding was in no way professional, but the Kneazle had Fudge's tongue in its clutches.

"As for the one who wrote that nonsense, I want her suspended for six months. If I find Alnora Kinnaird's name anywhere near a published article within that allotted time, I'll have her fired and blacklisted."

Still, Fudge could only nod.

Evangeline's fox pelt suddenly lifted its head and let out a hissing laugh, seeming to take pleasure in Fudge's plight. He flinched back violently, blinked at the thing, seeing that it had three sets of eyes and far too many teeth – several rows of them in fact. He didn't like how that thing looked at him; as if he were a piece of meat to be devoured. That creature, in no way, shape, or form, seemed to have the usual life-charms that wizards and witches would use on various objects. It legitimately felt as if that thing was looking at him – with every intent to devour him.

"Hush, hush, sweetie." Evangeline cooed, affectionately patting the pelt's head.

Fudge was starting to think that Evangeline was far more eccentric in her tastes than he had initially assumed.

It felt as if slugs and frogs were fighting for an exit in his throat, and Fudge barely managed to squeak out, "My apologies. This will be taken care of…"

0000

Outside of the Ministry, Bako and Evangeline made their way to find a phone booth – one that wasn't connected to the Ministry – just in case. Even if natural-born magic-users typically didn't use phones as a means of communication. It was mildly annoying, and a slight inconvenience. But there was a Muggle restaurant close by that had phones, and Bako could just use one of those. His wife smirked as she scratched the chin of the "pelt" around her shoulders.

/Did'ya see his face?/ the Fox sniggered with glee, showing several rows of shark-like teeth. /I swear, he was a lovely shade of puce/

"Now, now, don't wiggle too much, Agitare," Evangeline scolded softly, although there was an amused smile on her lips. Clearly, she had enjoyed making Fudge as uncomfortable as possible. "We don't want any Muggles seeing you move."

/I can't believe a man like that is the leader of these magic users/ Diffamare said, the salamander skittered slightly, scratching a portion of his back with his scorpion-like tail. /These people have lowered their standards to shameful levels/

"I can proudly say that I didn't vote for him," Evangeline sniffed. "I still think you should have run for office, dear."

"Too troublesome." Bako muttered. "I hate kissing ass and I would've started more than one international incident because I don't play nice with idiots, racists, or murderers."

With a mischievous smile she added, "There's still time, if you're ever interested."

Looking thoughtful although his voice was quite deadpan, he added, "There would likely be at least ten assassination attempts within my first week in office, considering my views on how the Ministry treats Muggles."

He had long been of the opinion that the witches and wizards of Britain abused their powers as they erased people's memories with ease; not caring that it was someone's mind that they were messing with. It seemed to be a game, to them. The Raven's Magic was different in that it didn't necessarily take people's memories away; it instead used powerful, negative emotions as a deterrent against the things they wanted them to ignore – it was like sealing something away into someone's subconscious. Any memories that had been sealed away weren't really forgotten – but the memories could be taken as surreal and even unpleasant dreams.

Evangeline was of the same opinion; she did not share any of the Blood-Purist views and had been fascinated by how Muggles worked since she had made friends with a Muggle-born who had been sorted into Slytherin alongside her. As a result of her befriending even a Slytherin-placed Muggle-born and her anti-Blood-Purist views, she had been considered a Blood-traitor by her parents and siblings while they had been alive. Evangeline long ago had been disowned by her family; and she proudly marched out of her family home as they burned her face and name off of their family tree. Even so, her name alone still carried plenty of weight.

Finally, they came to a restaurant where Bako could use the phone. He dialed a number, and a voice answered,

"Hello?"

Bako frowned slightly. "You aren't Maiza."

"You're right, I'm not. Angelo Lagusa, speaking."

Angelo's voice was completely monotone. There was a brief pause, before Angelo spoke again, "Maiza's busy right now. Obviously. So, whatever you need to say, I can pass it on to Maiza; or I can tell him you called and he'll call you back."

For a moment, Bako considered just trying again later, but he was here now. Might as well get things taken care of. "This is Bako. Would you mind telling Maiza that I've talked to the Minister? I also still owe Firo for more than what I've done today. If Firo or his family needs anything, extended or not, I'll do what I can to help. I'd appreciate it."

"Alright. Anything else?"

"No-actually…" Bako said, "Would you mind telling Luck Gandor that I'd like to speak with him as well?"

"I'll pass it along."

"Thank you. Have a good day."

Bako didn't wait for Angelo to respond, and hung up the phone.

0000

Ryker would easily admit that he wasn't perfect, and that he had risked too much by trying to be everything at once – his health, personal life and work had suffered for it. Fortunately, he had people he could trust working under him; but if that hadn't been the case…Ryker shuddered to think what people could have pulled right under his nose.

Fortunately, Luck had convinced him to take a break, and his wife was more than happy that Ryker finally listened to someone and took a vacation from work. She wanted to send Luck flowers or something, as a thank you. Aiyana had even hinted at inviting Luck and his girlfriend someplace nice for a double date. Knowing his wife, she'd certainly want to treat Luck and Eve to something special.

But the fact remained that Ryker would have to talk with Fudge eventually. So now, here Ryker sat in his office looking at the newspaper that Luck had given him. The reporter had nothing more to go on than appearance and assumptions, and now people were under the impression that Firo was a Muggle-Born. While technically not incorrect, it was with phrases like,

'Due to his questionable heritage, one must wonder if this young American even qualifies for such a lustrous position at the esteemed school of Hogwarts' and 'Mr. Prochainezo clearly has no respect for our invaluable traditions that have made up our great society. One cannot expect much from someone born of an American Muggle heritage…'

Ryker frowned as he set the newspaper down on his desk.

With a sigh, he Flooed Minister Fudge. It was such a rudimentary way of communication, and clearly he had been spoiled by telephones. The New York Branch had a customized fireplace in his office that was designed in such a way, Ryker wouldn't have to do something like stick his head in to speak to someone on the other end. It was basically a fireplace that was more like a small room, so there was none of the bending over and having just the head of the person appear in the flames. It could also transport more than one person at once to different locations, without risk of them getting lost, torn apart, or burned.

"Oh, hello, Minister Ryker," Fudge said with feigned politeness that not even the green glow of the flames could hide.

"Minister Fudge," Ryker replied, lacing his fingers. "I'll get straight to the point: first of all, I must apologize for my not speaking with you, properly. I was asked by young Firo himself that I not say anything to anyone about him. You see, Firo was worried that if he used his family name of Martillo, people would think that he was shown favoritism. He didn't want people to think that Deputy Headmistress McGonagall only gave him the job due to his familial connections, even though that's the furthest thing from the truth."

Ryker shook his head sadly. "Many times throughout his short life, Firo has been shown favoritism simply because of his family's name and influence. That's why he goes by his mother's maiden name of Prochainezo – they're a lesser known and much smaller magical family."

What Ryker couldn't see was the sweat Fudge was slowly accumulating, and it wasn't because of the flames.

"I see, I see… I understand." Fudge said, tightly.

Ryker could be a surprisingly imposing man when he wanted to be. "I read the article in The Daily Prophet,and I will tell you right now, The Martillo Family is not happy. They're demanding that something be done to rectify this."

Shaking his head sadly once again, Ryker continued, "Then, there's the Gandor Family – one of Firo's cousins ended up marrying into them. Out of concern for the safety of his family, Firo ended up calling Luck Gandor; who is one of the heads of the Gandor Family, who then came back to America non-too-happy happy this." Ryker added a bit of a dramatic sigh, for emphasis and to let Fudge interpret it however he may. "They've been breathing down my neck about this! The Gandors have numerous businesses in Europe, and they're threatening to pull any business they have out of Britain if this matter is not resolved within a week."

Of course, Fudge didn't need to know that those businesses were all Mundane and nothing was going to be moved anywhere, but the idea of the threat was what was important.

With a bit more of dramatic flair than was necessary, Ryker added, "I'll be talking to Firo's uncle, a man by the name of Adorjan Bako about this – perhaps you know him? Anyway, I'm hoping he can give the Gandors some incentive to not pull their business out of Britain. The Gandors tend to be a rather difficult and prideful bunch, but maybe Mr. Bako can convince them otherwise." Ryker tsk'd. "I wouldn't want a few hundred families to be put out simply because one family was spurned."

"What do you mean?" Fudge asked, concern suddenly lacing his voice. Judging by the expression on Fudge's face, he was finally starting to put various pieces of the conversation together. With slowly growing abject horror and realization, he asked, "Y-you mean that M-Mr. P-Prochainezo is from a P-Pureblood Family?"

"Yes, he is." Ryker answered, legitimately slightly confused. "I was under the assumption you were aware of his Blood Status. The Martillo's go back at least 300 hundred years – and it was a few of their members who, over the years, had a hand in bringing down several of the various Chimera that one Szilard Quates fellow created." Ryker acted as if he were absentmindedly bragging nonchalantly, purposefully oversharing. "As for the Gandor Family; they've been Stateside for several generations. Their family helped with the transitioning of Mundane and updating how we run things at this Branch, and making our lives easier for it. They're quite the local heroes!"

Now, Ryker could see Fudge sweating bullets even through the Floo call, and Ryker continued on as if oblivious to Fudge's growing shit-storm of troubles.

"Essentially, they're demanding that you correct your mistake on Firo's heritage and issue a formal apology."

"O-of course!" Fudge dabbed his brow with a handkerchief. "Right away…"

"Have a good day, Minister Fudge!" Ryker said, far-too-cheerfully, purposefully annoying Fudge.

00oo00

On the other side of the call, once it was finished, Fudge was rapidly dabbing his sweat-drenched brow. He had been aware of Dumbledore briefly mentioning that Firo was from a family of wizards, but he didn't think…! He had kept that little tidbit to himself, and had simply let everyone else make their assumptions. The sealing away of his records had prevented anyone from doing their research to either confirm or refute what they thought they knew.

But not telling anyone that he knew Firo was from a Pureblood Family had been a major oversight on his part.

In spite of how the boy dressed and apparently acted, he was a Pureblood! One who had enough influence for the New York Minister of Magic to listen to! Not only that, but Firo was Adorjan's nephew! Plus, they had enough influence and money to have connections to yet another influential magical family who had businesses in Europe!

Even if they were American, the fact remained: if they pulled their business out of Britain, people would lose money and jobs, and who would be at fault? If the news got out that the New York Minister of Magic alongside Bako, were trying to fix things, Fudge couldn't help but think how that would look for him. There was no way to rectify this without issuing a formal apology. Especially if a man like Bako was demanding one.

"Delores!" Fudge practically shrieked. "My office, now!"

Delores entered with a frown on her face. "Yes, Minister Fudge?"

"Get me whoever it is we have to talk to at the Daily Prophet so we can hopefully fix this situation!"

Frown deepening, Delores asked, "'Situation', Minister?"

"The fact that-that—that Prochainezo is a Pureblood and Adorjan Bako's nephew! We have to issue a formal apology right away!"

Delores Umbridge looked very much like a ghost at that moment, before her color returned she scurried out of the office to do what Fudge had requested.

Fudge sighed heavily as he sagged in his seat. He felt sick to his stomach, and wondered if he should call one of the house elves to bring him some sort of tonic. The poor man lamented, could it get any worse?

It certainly didn't help things and frayed the poor man's nerves even more when one Luck Gandor and a young woman named Eve Genoard came to the Ministry several days later for reasons unknown – being escorted by Kingsly Shacklebolt and meeting with Dumbledore without even coming to see Fudge himself. Fudge could only speculate as to why they were there, and the rumors surrounding their reasons were all over the place. The most popular of these rumors though… people were saying that the American Wizarding Families felt slighted, and since Firo Prochainezo was used as part of a smear campaign against Dumbledore, that not only earned him their sympathy; it made him an obvious ally.

It meant that the Bako, Gandor, and Martillo Families did not trust Fudge.

Oh, how Fudge hated it when people talked…

00*00

1957

Keith pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. Minerva took it with a slightly confused expression and unfolded it. Written on the paper in very neat handwriting was:

Det. Richard Mahon

212-741-5454

6th Precinct 323 W. Abernathy St.

"What…" Minerva started, glancing up from the paper to Keith.

Keith was silent, but Minerva thought she understood what he was saying. Being in possession of a phone number to a Muggle policeman was really good thing to have, just in case…ofsomething. Another thought then occurred to Minerva: if a member of the Mafia had a policeman's phone number, then he was very likely one of those 'dirty cops' she had heard about.

Oh, Merlin's beard…Minerva had to remind herself that these men in spite of their friendliness towards her, were members of theMafia.

000

Since they hadn't used their magic for nefarious means and their crimes however violent, fell under the "Mundane" category, Aurors had no business interfering with them. Anna and Mr. Donavan went to speak with Minister Bingham, meanwhile, Minerva said something about having to make a phone call.

Because Minerva's report claimed that a Mundane Mafia Family had tampered with the body and were claiming credit for O'Malley's demise, she ended up having to contact the Mundane authorities – which was where Detective Mahon came in. She spoke with the man over the phone, and he sounded less than enthusiastic to be speaking with her. But he questioned nothing; except for asking routine questions for when one finds a body in a dumpster. He did not argue about fudging up a few documents, and simply agreed with whatever terms she had set in place.

One question though, surprised her.

"Did Vino visit you too?"

"What?" Minerva could hardly keep the shock out of her voice. "You-you know him?"

Det. Mahon didn't really answer the question. "You better hope you don't ever get a visit from that demented bastard."

Det. Mahon hung up after that, leaving a dial tone for Minerva to listen to as she wondered just what was going on with this Vino character. From what little she could gather about him, a wizard was scared of him and a Muggle police officer had an unpleasant experience with him. But figuring out who this 'Vino' was wasn't her concern right now.

She glanced at the reports in front of her. Minerva knew that if anyone really looked into the details of this case, they would see the fabrications. Hopefully that time would never come – because she was going to be as thorough as she could be.

00o*o00

The next day, Minerva made her way over to Little Italy. The wards were still up; just as strong as ever, and people were still slightly tense, but noticeably less so. They were at least willing to return her greetings and not outright ignore her.

She approached Destino, the place where everything had started. The sign read as 'open', so Minerva entered, hoping that the odd men with the outlandish magic would be there. Today, it seemed only Maiza, Keith, and Don Molsa were there. A smattering of other people were there – Minerva guessed the ones that belonged to the 'Family' were the ones wearing suits that weren't rumpled; nor were they slumped over their tables in a drunken haze.

There were a few people there that Minerva guessed had to be Muggle, judging by how they were dressed; far too modern. But considering how the odd men dressed – her assumption could be wrong. These were people that could slip into the Muggle world and no-one would be the wiser.

"Ms. Minerva!" Allen greeted. He set aside the stack of menus he was carrying and approached her. "Can I get you anything?"

"Good morning, gentlemen," Minerva greeted with a small smile. "That's alright, Mr. Allen…thank you, though. I'm afraid I can't stay."

At Allen's questioning look, she said, "I'm leaving tomorrow – back to England."

That got the attention of the others.

"I have to get back to my hotel and pack. Plus, since I'm a British Auror in America, I've quite a bit of paperwork to deal with before heading back." Minerva sighed. "It's all the legalities that are the true headache of the job, with the other paperwork piled on top."

"So you're leaving…" Don Molsa frowned. "If you like, I can offer you a job. We could certainly use someone of your unique talents in our Family."

Minerva quirked a brow and scowled. Her authoritative tone shown through. "You aren't offering me a job skirting the law, are you, Mr. Molsa? You do realize I'm the equivalent of a police officer?"

Maiza hid a smile behind his hand at his boss getting scolded by the Auror.

"Or maybe, I'm mistaken and misinterpreting your words? Hopefully, that's the case. Mundane or not, I must decline. Though I appreciate the offer. Anyway, I came to inform you that I was leaving," Minerva then pulled a piece of folded parchment out of her skirt pocket and placed it on the table in front of the men.

"The two men who confronted Eric snuck some of their own goods into your shipments, so you should double-check everything you have. This is a list of what they added, along with what those things look like and what they do. Just to let you know."

Keith picked up the list and glanced at Minerva. Was that a look of thankfulness? She felt that it was. Perhaps. It was still hard to tell.

"It's a shame that we couldn't talk more." Maiza said as he stood.

"I agree, Mr. Maiza." Minerva said. "I would have loved to learn more…about everything. Anyway," Minerva quickly turned to leave. "You really helped settle a few things for the New York Branch, with the info you've provided. People are heralding Matthew Smith and Ludwig Berlitz as heroes."

"I'm not. Not really."

Maiza made an expression that Minerva couldn't read. Frowning, she looked at him. It felt as if he wanted to say something, but either couldn't or wouldn't. Deciding to relieve him, Minerva offered a rare smile. "If I'm ever in New York again, maybe I'll stop by?"

Of course, she'd have to have a good reason to be in New York in the first place.

The men glanced at each other, with odd expressions; almost as if they were hesitant, and having a silent conversation.

Maiza's smile didn't exactly reach his eyes as he said, "If ever you're in New York again."

The expression wasn't exactly reluctant, but more… Minerva wasn't sure if sadness covered it. But Minerva didn't get a chance to really dwell on it, because Keith put a hand on her shoulder and regarded her with an expression that she felt was saying, 'take care of yourself.'

"You too, Mr. Keith."

After saying a few more goodbyes, the feeling was melancholy as Minerva left the bar. She turned back briefly to glance at the worn sign that had likely been white at one point, with bright red letters. The worn look suited it, and added character, in Minerva's opinion.

"Destino, hmm?" Minerva muttered to herself. "Appropriately named, I think."

0000

"I'm going to miss you…" Anna sighed as she helped Minerva file away any last documents pertaining to her temporary residency in America. "I wish there were more young Aurors like yourself; good Merlin knows we need it."

Minerva hummed thoughtfully. "Thanks, Anna."

Anna was about to say something else when a man approached them, "Hey, you two were working on that case with the Mundane Mafia folks, right?"

"…Yes?" Minerva said slowly, hoping that she wasn't in trouble.

"Why?" Anna asked, looking very much like a deer in the headlights.

"I'm in Mundane Relations," the man said quickly, "Greg Perkins. Anyway, thought this would interest you two."

He showed the two witches a Muggle newspaper, and a headline read,

Warehouse Fire connected to Rail Tracer?

"'Rail Tracer'?" Minerva asked, looking confused.

"Oh…you don't know about it?" Greg questioned, genuinely surprised. "Well, long story short; back in 1931, there was some sort of conflict between opposing gangs aboard the passenger train the Wild Pussyfoot. Except they didn't kill each other; it was the Rail Tracer. Took out nearly all of them. There were body parts strewn on the tracks for miles."

Minerva put a hand to her mouth, horrified.

Anna then added, "After that, the train's reputation was tarnished. People thought it was cursed, so in the end officials ended up moving it to a museum while selling the rest of it for scrap metal. The Rail Tracer's been traveling the rails for years."

Minerva's gut twisted.

"Associate." Berga smirked. "You'll probably score some points with Jenson if you tack on 'red hair and big grin'. Also, mention trains."

"Which brings us to this," Greg said, pointing to the article. "Pieces of Reles Shapiro were found across several miles besides train tracks that run by this old warehouse where the former Shapiro Brothers conducted their business. Police are saying it has to do with the turf war the Shapiro's tried to start. Clearly, they couldn't finish it."

Jenson's freak-out was starting to make a very disturbing amount of sense.

Minerva had a sneaking suspicion on who was responsible for all this, and judging how Anna was looking at her, she was making the same connections. But really. This didn't concern the American Aurors; after all, they dealt with magical-based crimes.

"Well, now… it seems you no longer have to worry about them." Minerva said slowly, thinking over her words. "As unfortunate as it is that these men had to lose their lives for it."

"Crime doesn't pay." Anna said with a tight smile. "Lesson learned."

00***00

1985

A few months after arriving in Scotland from America, Minerva honestly did not feel satisfied in her Auror work, as it felt as if she had hit a plateau. Deciding that it was time for a change, Minerva left her Auror days behind and had applied for a teaching position at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – specifically for her personal favorite: Transfiguration. She had been very happily teaching there going on nearly twenty years. After the war and the fall of Voldemort, at least – temporarily, as Albus believed – and things were calming down if only slightly.

It was a pleasant summer day when Minerva returned to New York; not as a worker for any Ministry, but as a woman who was going on a much-deserved vacation and visiting a good friend who was going into a much-deserved retirement. Minerva and Anna Silverholt walked together simply chatting away about everything that was under the sun – what Hogwarts was like now that Minerva was a teacher, what Anna looked forward to in her retirement, along with whatever else had been going on in their lives.

"Oh," Anna suddenly froze. "I completely forgot! I need to pick up a few books I specially ordered from George's! One of my grandchildren needs them for summer classes starting next week. He said it would be ready today. Do you mind, Minerva?"

Minerva smiled and shook her head. She didn't mind. The way American magic shop owners ran things was vastly different from how British wizards operated, and it was always interesting to see how it was done. While a small part of her was to some extent worried about exposing the magical world; she was honestly mostly fascinated by the stark contrast.

"Maybe I should have my daughter transfer her son to Hogwarts when the term starts," Anna was saying. "You could probably straighten him out – he has to take summer classes because he's often falling behind in regular classes." She shook her head with a heavy sigh. "That boy is such a handful."

George's bookstore was a place that fit very neatly and very tightly in between a Muggle barber shop and a Muggle flower shop. The bell rang as the pair of witches entered, and an old man called out, "Welcome, ladies!"

The inside had evidently been fitted with some kind of accommodation spell, as it was much bigger on the inside than the outside should have allowed. There were numerous bookshelves lined with books of all kinds.

The bookshelves themselves were of all heights and colors; mismatched in every way possible and were lined every which-way so that it was very much like a maze. The books were stacked and stuffed together, almost as if there was no organization at all. While thankfully the system had some sense of organization of putting the books together that shared similar subjects, Minerva knew that Irma would have had a horrible fit if she ever saw the place.

While Anna went to talk to George, Minerva's exploration eventually brought her to her favorite subject; besides Transfiguration – Quidditch, and its American equivalent. There were quite a few interesting books here that Irma would love to have in her library. From where she was positioned, Minerva couldn't see George and Anna, but could hear them talking without missing a word.

While the two were discussing another one of Anna's book orders, the bell rang again, indicating someone had entered. From the sound of it, it was more than one person. Minerva went back to browsing through the pages of her book when she heard George happily say, "Welcome back, gentleman! I see you brought your brothers with you today, Luck. How have you boys been?"

Wait…Luck?

She heard someone snort. "I've been in better moods."

She recognized that voice…

"Things have been really busy," another voice said…was that…Minerva lowered her book. Was that really Luck Gandor? She was about to walk around the shelf and see if it was actually him, when she paused. If the Gandor Brothers were here… from the sound of things, they must have started involving themselves with normal, American wizards.

"How have you and your wife been?"

"Oh, very good, thanks." George said. "You know, you boys are actually the fastest readers I've ever met! It should be some kind of record!"

"Hey, old man!" a voice that Minerva didn't recognize spoke. "Do you have any more books like that Grégoire Bittencourt guy wrote? My lovely Chane really enjoyed his work."

"That gal's quite the reader!" George exclaimed with a laugh. He sighed musingly. "I wish I had more customers like you folks."

"Excuse me…" Anna's voice sounded. "Aren't you the Gandor Brothers…" her voice paused. Then a tone that sounded slightly irritated came. "You're the one who wouldn't talk to me."

The unfamiliar voice suddenly laughed, and started saying something teasing, but just then, a voice from behind her caused Minerva to let out a yelp as she whirled around to face the source.

"Ms. Minerva?"

When Minerva turned around, there stood Maiza, who had a book in his hand.

"Mr. Maiza?" Minerva questioned slowly as she attempted to ease her heart rate.

Maiza certainly looked different – his suit, well, obviously he'd be wearing a different suit after 28 years! His glasses were slightly different as well, and Minerva shook her head slightly to quell her racing thoughts. Looking at Maiza again, he certainly looked healthy for his age…wait…

She noticed something…no…it was more like her brain wasn't registering whatever it was she had noticed. Remembering her Auror training when it came to repelling wards, she thought very hard. She wasn't supposed to notice something, so what was it that she wasn't supposed to notice? Minerva studied Maiza's face…which honestly, the years had been extremely kind to him…actually; she would swear up and down that he hadn't really aged a day since she last saw him…

"Hey, Maiza," Minerva turned to see Luck Gandor come around the other side of the bookshelf where she was standing, holding several books, "George told me that…" his voice trailed off when he saw Minerva looking at him wide-eyed.

"Ms. Minerva?" Luck smiled that odd smile – the one that made him hard to read; as if he already knew everything about a person with nothing more than a glance. That was when she noticed it, and a haze lifted off of her mind. He…looked exactly the same as he did twenty years ago.

Both of them did. What in Merlin's name…?

Minerva gasped as she dropped the book she had been reading and backed away from them into a bookshelf, causing more books to fall. Her voice was breathless. "Neither of you has aged…!"

00*00

1995

The day after Luck and Eve visited the Ministry:

Minister Fudge sat at a table in a restaurant that while it was Muggle-run, it was frequented by the wizarding community because of its high quality dishes and esteem along with being located near Diagon Alley. He had his own reserved table that could be used to entertain visitors if the time ever called for it; or he could simply show up as he pleased and dine.

Today, Delores was with him.

He needed to calm down after hearing about the news of one of the Gandor Brothers visiting the Ministry accompanied by Dumbledore without ever consulting him. But the past week had been several fire-whiskey's worth of stressful.

Fudge had barely take four bites of his meal when Delores got his attention and motioned to four people who were walking by their table. Fudge's bite nearly went down the wrong pipe as he started coughing. Adorjan Bako, Evangeline Garret, Luck Gandor and that young woman – were walking by his table. All of them paused for a moment to look at Fudge.

Dealing with Americans wasn't Fudge's idea of a good time. Considering that there were fifty different States and each had its own Minister; and those States came with their own laws; the people running them could always be…prickly or so outlandish that they made the Lovegood family look boringly normal. He once (thank Merlin, only once!) had the misfortune to deal with the Minister of Magic from Louisiana.

Tall, dark skin, covered in tattoos that actually moved, with jewelry made out of animal (and in his own assumption quite possibly Human) bones for reasons Fudge couldn't (and didn't) even want to begin to understand. The woman had had unnaturally blue-green eyes that seemed to pierce anyone she glanced at and had spoken some version of French that not even his French interpreters could fully understand.

Luckily, the woman spoke English.

Luckily, again, Fudge only had to deal with the Americans when he absolutely had to, for one reason or another. Unfortunately, Fudge was finding out that American wizarding politics were the furthest thing from entertaining. And now after insulting three very influential wizarding families, he had to desperately pull everything back together and salvage the pieces.

"Oh, one moment, please." Delores said, ensuring that Fudge had a chance to compose himself. He would thank her later.

"Hello, Minster Fudge." Bako greeted in a cool voice.

"Oh, hello, hello." Fudge greeted back, standing and extending his hand. "I'm Cornelius Fudge."

Clearly, the two Americans knew how to carry themselves. Luck wore a tailored suit and Eve wore a sundress with a light jacket – but it was anything but casual. From what he knew, Americans hardly ever wore robes – and obviously, these two had taken to wearing modern Muggle fashion.

Luck glanced down at the extended hand for a moment, and briefly, Fudge wondered if the other man would even accept a handshake. But then a smile that made the Minister uneasy for some reason crossed the other man's face.

"Good afternoon, Minister. I'm Luck Gandor." He shook Fudge's hand then stood back, and indicated the young woman at his side. "This is Eve Genoard."

"Hello, sir." Eve offered a friendly handshake and a subtle curtsy, signifying that she had been brought up well and proper.

"This is my secretary, Delores Umbridge."

Something in their expressions changed for the briefest of seconds, and Fudge wondered if he was mistaken. Eve suddenly let out a yelp and she blushed as she muttering something about thinking she had seen a large bee.

"Are you just arriving?" Minister Fudge asked, trying to get back on track.

"We are." Bako replied.

"Why don't you join us? It will give us a chance to talk."

Plus, it would hopefully put him in a better light and give him a chance to get into the Gandor's good graces. There seemed to be a silent conversation of sorts between the four new arrivals before they accepted the offer and sat down. After summoning a waitress and getting menus and drinks straightened out, Luck was the first of them to speak.

"Perhaps it's fortuitous that we ran into each other here," Luck took a drink of his scotch, and appeared to be contemplating something. "First of all, I suppose I should thank you for allowing us to join you. Secondly, Mr. Bako wanted to meet because we were to discuss the business of Firo and the entire shit storm that came of it."

Luck sighed and tapped his glass with a finger.

"Now. About Firo… I was under the distinct impression that you were made aware of his Blood-Status. Or am I mistaken?" Luck's tone was becoming more and more like ice with every word. "If you were in fact aware, and that tabloid has a quote from you, telling the fine people of Britain not to worry about their children and what Firo could possibly do to them… and you not only purposefully withheld that information for your own biased reasons, you contributed to the lies…" Luck's smile was gone, "Please, tell me why we shouldn't walk out of here now and take our business elsewhere."

"I…" Fudge started, trying to stay calm and play his words carefully. "You see… it was a foolish assumption on my part…due to how Mr. Prochainezo appeared; in how he carried himself…"

"So you assumed he lied?" Ms. Eve was aghast. "All to get a job in a country where – while he knew that his arrival wouldn't be all fireworks and fanfare – and would be welcome only by certain people – you actually thought he lied simply because of how he dresses?"

Fudge didn't respond, because he couldn't think of anything to say. The way Eve was looking at him suggested that she thought he was an idiot; and he wanted to be insulted. He flinched when particularly loud buzzing sounded by his ear, and he quickly turned around, trying to find the source – but to no avail. Perhaps there was a large bee? But what was it these past few days with the odd noises and feeling like there was breath on the back of his neck?

"Firo certainly does know how to carry himself," Luck said with an amused smile that seemed to say he knew things that Fudge wasn't privy to, "but seeing as it was his time off, he didn't have to dress to impress anyone."

Sighing, Luck added, "Now that my displeasure has been voiced, Mr. Bako informed me that an apology will be issued, so I suppose I should at least thank you for getting this handled as quickly as you have, and are at least trying to make up for it."

Fudge had enough composure thanks to how tense he was not to flinch.

"We want to get it settled. If we were to pull any of our businesses out of Britain, it would not only cause numerous people to lose their jobs, but it would reflect badly on us…" Luck waved a hand, "It's akin to throwing a tantrum because we were insulted and didn't get our way, so we have to spread our displeasure and make everyone miserable."

While some people would be angry at the American wizards for pulling their business out of Britain, the Families would understand. It was near social and political suicide to insult a wizarding Family with influence; no matter what country or continent they were from. No-one from the Pure-Blooded side would blame them. In fact, a part of the population would probably be glad that they were gone.

"That's why we were meeting today. I was going to see if Luck would consider coming to speak with you, actually." Bako said. "Because of all the connections and resources that you have at your fingertips."

By then, their food was brought to them, and Fudge quickly understood what this was. A political favor, and he would owe Bako for this. But it was a chance to fix things. He of course had to point out:

"I could certainly provide you with whatever you like, but…"

They were American, and most of the magical population of Britain didn't like Americans. They could get all the names of the most influential wizards and witches of Europe and potentially walk away even more insulted than they were now.

"That's an understandable concern," Luck said. "But the names of the most important and influential people will be enough. We can determine on our own whether or not we want to work with them."

Fudge coughed into his napkin. Somehow, that felt as if Luck had read his mind. Fudge had certainly trained to put up his mental shields so that he was aware if someone was trying to read his mind. But he hadn't even felt the slightest brush of magic against his senses.

"I would appreciate it if you were to give me contacts; specifically those of the more influential Families. Old money, businesses, you name it. A man such as yourself has powerful and significant contacts, does he not? A chance to increase our profits and influence would be ideal."

"O-of course." Fudge replied slowly. He felt hot. That was why Luck was at the Ministry with Dumbledore and an Auror yesterday, Fudge realized. It had to be. It was simply being seen with Dumbledore, and forcing Fudge into giving them what they wanted.

"I'll have Delores draw up a list." Fudge turned to her, "If you could please."

Delores nodded politely, and pulled out a bit of parchment and quill and began writing. Once that was out of the way, Fudge felt compelled to ask for the sake of conversation and not to sit in uncomfortable silence:

"So, um… Mr. Gandor? How did you come to meet Mr. Prochainezo?"

"Firo and my younger brother were friends, and then my brother went on to marry Firo's cousin."

Fudge paled at the realization of who Firo's briefly mentioned cousin had married. "I see…"

An uncomfortable tickle crawled up Fudge's spine. The Gandor and Martillo Families were certainly large; much larger and more united than many of the Families in Britain. Giving them the list that they so desired would look like Fudge was rolling on his back like a dog and submitting. But… this was an amazing opportunity. Only a fool would deny the offer of an alliance tenuous as it was.

After their meal, Luck Gandor walked away with a list of names – and as much as Fudge liked to deny it, there were the names of loyal Death Eaters on that list. They were the people to keep their eyes on, and the Americans would certainly be happy that they had people to make them more money. Fudge felt that he deserved a pat on the back for peacefully and easily resolving a situation that could have whipped around and bit him like an infuriated basilisk.

0000

Ron woke up later than he had intended, and sunlight was streaming through his window by the time he opened his eyes. Ron yawned and stretched, scratched his leg, and glanced over at Harry's bed. Harry was obviously already up – Merlin's balls! Ron shot out of bed (more like stumbled) when he remembered that Harry's trial was today and he bloody forgot! He noticed that Czes was gone, too. What little kid wouldn't want to sleep in when they had the opportunity? That kid wasn't normal.

After a quick stop by the bathroom, Ron rushed downstairs to see Remus, Tonks, Sirius, and their three American guests sitting in the living room. They had a pile of boxes, junk, and trash bags around them. All of them gave him curious and slightly baffled glances as Ron stood in his night clothes and hair that nearly rivaled Harry's, but only on his left side.

"Does anyone know how the trial went?" Ron asked.

"Harry's wand was broken, and he had to flee to America under a new name." Czes replied flatly.

"What?! Really?!" Ron demanded. He couldn't believe the injustice of this!

"Czes, don't tease the boy!" Sirius said with a life as he ruffled Czes' hair, earning a glare. Sirius responded by sticking his tongue out.

"Are you sure you're an adult, Padfoot?" Remus questioned, raising a brow.

"I just happen to be childish at heart, that's all." Sirius smirked.

"Overgrown man-child is the term I would use." Czes said, looking directly at Sirius, who gasped overdramatically.

"You wound me, Czes!"

Tonks snorted, and Firo rolled his eyes.

"What happened to Harry?" Ron asked, trying to steer the conversation to one where he wasn't feeling so lost.

Firo was the one to speak next, "Harry will be back later. I imagine that Harry'll want to share whatever the news is himself, good or bad. I'd imagine that it's good news, though. No-one's rushed here in a panic with concerns from Harry's trial results."

Rolling his eyes in a good-natured way, Remus suggested, "Why don't you get cleaned up? They should back soon after you're done."

Reluctantly, Ron went back upstairs. He noticed how clean everything was starting to look, and how the house started to actually feel like a home. It would certainly help Sirius if things weren't so dreary all the time. It made him wonder (sort of) how the Americans had managed to get everything so clean when his mum had mixed up various cleaning solutions that took near hours of scrubbing. Less work was fine with him. From what he knew, they had used various spells to make most of the grime come off, and then hand-scrubbed whatever had been left behind.

Twenty minutes later, once he had showered and was ready for the day, he went back downstairs and to the kitchen for breakfast. He saw Hermione sitting at the table, while Ginny was giving both Vesper and that awful creature Crookshanks some food.

Hermione had her nose buried in a book, no surprise there.

There was a breakfast that had his name on it – rather literally, as someone had put a small card next to the plate. He didn't recognize the elegant handwriting, and wondered who had done it. Eggs, bacon, toast, and even a few small sausages were still warm and ready to eat.

"Morning," Ron said, as he made his way to sit down.

"Hey, Ron."

"Hello, Ronald."

The food was really good.

He had to wonder why Hermione was reading when she could have been doing literally anything else. But really, it wasn't a surprise. Mostly out of boredom and not really out of curiosity, Ron asked Hermione, "What're you reading?"

Hermione lit up in a way that made Ron's chest feel tight for some reason and his stomach sort of felt as if he had taken a quick dive on a broom.

"It's so fascinating!" Hermione gushed. "Bastion Baliagarro was one of the first wizards to make contact with the Indians! Did you know that within the American Indian Tribes, every member was said to be magical? Their magic was so different than anything he had ever seen, though they didn't call their abilities magic. Plus, they were natural Animagi – they didn't have to do that whole elaborate process that witches and wizards have to gain an animal form. Plus, some could even take more than one form!"

Hermione was elated as she got up to show Ron one of the pictures. "He has drawings in here, talking about the various rituals, and their meanings, how everything was so elaborate. Though he says he couldn't reveal everything, due to him being an outsider." Hermione's finger traced over an intricate symbol of some sort that was next to a man whose outfit consisted of beads and feathers. "None of those were mere decoration. Every stitch, bead and feather has a symbolic meaning – and it goes beyond magic. He spent months with the Tribes, it took quite a bit of time for them to finally tell him what they meant."

"Huh…" Ron had certainly never heard about anything like this before. All he knew was that wizards had wands, and various other magical items, but nothing this complicated.

"This is just the second book." Hermione said, straightening. "The others cover other topics, but all of it is how European magic was first established in America, and the various magics the Tribes had. I can't wait to read the rest."

"You already finished the first book?" Ron didn't know why he was surprised. The book Hermione had right now looked pretty thick – and she was already halfway through it.

"I did." Hermione's tone was a satisfied sigh as she sat down at her spot again, and buried herself in her book once more.

A few hours later, when Ron was lazing about in one of the sitting rooms; there was a shout in the main living room, and Ron came in to investigate and saw Fred and George, along with Harry and Keith and Berga Gandor – the older man's gaze honestly gave Ron chills. Ol' Snape's glare didn't have anything on Keith. The man's expression was apparently natural. And then there was the younger, but much taller and bulkier brother. Honestly, the fact that it didn't look like Berga needed his wand to kill someone was terrifying.

His brothers had lifted Harry onto their shoulders. "He got off!"

Ron whooped and hollered the moment he heard that, shouting up the stairs, "Hermione! Ginny! Harry got off!"

"Not like that, dear brother," either Fred or George said.

"With news this big, it has to have a bit of flair!" either Fred or George finished, and with a wave of his wand, a flare shot out and filled the living room with colorful lights along with confetti. This was very likely one of their products…

There were two loud bangs as Fred and George Disapparated, taking Harry with them. They reappeared less than thirty seconds later, with Hermione, Ginny, Harry, and even Czes in tow.

"Now, it's a party!" Fred (or George) was elated. Ron thought that maybe they had switched sides, because one brother was now wearing the other's jumper, or maybe they had switched shirts, they were known to do that sort of thing at completely random times.

"I'm going to kill both of you very slowly." Czes growled from his spot on the floor where he had landed less than gracefully.

"Aw, Czesikins is so cute when he's angry." One of his brothers cuddled the smaller boy, and Ron laughed at the murderous expression on Czes' face.

Both Keith and Berga were staring at the madhouse surrounding them with expressions on their faces that Ron wasn't sure was either good or bad.

Having managed to escape the Twins' hold, Harry turned to the Brothers with a grin, "You should know we Gryffindors have the best celebrations."

Keith cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah. Every one of us here is a Gryffindor, and bloody proud of it."

What? What was Harry responding to —?

Suddenly, Mum's voice cut through the noise, "Oh, by the… Honestly! Fred! George! I know that you're excited for Harry winning his trial, but that doesn't mean you have to set off fireworks in the house!" She then turned to Harry, her voice normal. "Congratulations on your trial, dear. I'm so glad you can still attend Hogwarts with everyone." Mum rounded on the boys again, "You two should be more responsible! This isn't how I raised you to act! When Percy was your age, he didn't act like-!"

She suddenly stopped and covered her mouth. Ron could see the tears that threatened to come out. Fred and George quickly dispelled the light show.

"We're sorry, Mum."

"Yeah, sorry…it was just a bit of fun, honestly."

"We'll clean it up, yeah? It's easy…"

"Just like this…" one of the Twins waved his wand, and the various bits of glitter and confetti disappeared.

The atmosphere went from celebratory to uncomfortable within seconds. Harry, Hermione, and Ginny all stared somewhere, and Ron clenched his fist. Stupid Percy ruined things even when he wasn't there. He noticed that Czes was glancing at the others with a questioning expression; but he didn't bother to ask what was going on. Ron was glad for that.

"What's…?" Berga started, but Keith simply looked at him, and the man went quiet, before he held up a large bag with some sort of colorful logo on it that looked like a hummingbird. Berga attempted a smile as if he hadn't smiled in a friendly way a day in his life. "We uh, we brought food. The kid said that this place was good, and well…celebrations for winning a trial and all."

"You didn't have to…" Mum started, but her argument became moot when Hermione lit up excitedly, taking advantage of Berga's more than welcome distraction.

"Oh, that's from The Hummingbird Bakery!"

"It was the kid's recommendation." Berga said, indicating Harry.

"Oh, um…" Harry spoke up. "Keith actually paid for this, so uh, yeah."

Various voices called out, "Thank you, Keith!"

"Keith Gandor is a true hero," one of the Twins said, giving Keith a pat on the shoulder. The Twin didn't seem too deterred by Keith's gaze.

"The one we don't deserve," the other Twin said, standing on Keith's other side to give him a pat on the shoulder as well.

"Here, uh…Harry." Berga handed Harry the bag.

"Are you two going to stay?" Harry asked. There was no response, but still, Harry looked down, obviously disappointed. "Oh, okay. Well, thanks for helping out and everything. Bye…"

As Ron followed after Harry to the kitchen, he asked, "What the bloody hell was that?"

"What was what?"

"You responded to something no-one else heard!"

"Oh…" Harry said, as if just realizing. "I forgot. You know how the Americans helped remove this," Harry indicated his scar, and Ron nodded. "Well, ever since I saw Keith this morning, I can understand him…it's weird. It's like he has some sort of voice, but doesn't make noise when he speaks? Something like that? I can just understand him. I don't know why."

"So…not like Parsletongue?"

Harry shrugged. "Nothing like it at all."

"Blimey."

Stuff with the Americans was bloody weird.

Plates were set out, and tea was prepared. Someone had managed to convince the two Gandor Brothers to stay, because they came in and removed their hats and coats and took a seat as well.

"So, how'd it go?" Hermione asked.

"Well, Madam Bones is one of my favorite people now," Harry said with a smile. "She didn't take any of Fudge's…" Harry paused, glancing at Mum out of the corner of his eye, "nonsense. It was brilliant."

Ron could see why the bakery was so popular – it rivaled the desserts at Hogwarts, and this was without magic.

00000

A few days later, the Hogwarts owls came by to drop off several letters. When Ron opened his, he could hardly believe it. He held his letter skyward.

"I'm a Prefect!"

"Oh, Ron! I'm so proud!" their Mum said, getting teary-eyed. "Nearly all of your brothers have been Prefects and now you! My boys have accomplished so much!"

"What're we, chopped dragon liver?" one of the twins muttered.

"Oh, that's wonderful, Ron!" Hermione said. When she read her own letter, she beamed with pride. "I'm a Prefect as well. There's so many duties we'll have to cover… I wonder if I should start planning?"

"I'll be able to take points from those blasted Slytherins…" Ron said, rubbing his hands together.

"Remember you have to be fair, Ron." Hermione chided in her usual way. "They may not be our favorite people, but we still have to act accordingly given our positions."

Ron conceded. "Yeah, I know…but still. I'll have one over on them if they try anything."

Harry patted Ron on the back, and Firo and Ennis congratulated him and Hermione as well. Czes didn't seem to care, which wasn't really surprising.

Hermione was already looking through her lists when she frowned. "This is…odd. At least, I think it is."

"What is it?" Ginny asked.

"Our booklist. Check yours, Ginny. Firo," Hermione held up her booklist to show him. "I have Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling as one of the required reading materials… This is a First-Year book. Our .S are this year. We'd need a way more advanced curriculum…"

Firo frowned as he took the list from Hermione. "All the books I recommended are on there, at least."

"I have it too." Ginny said, also showing them her list.

Fred and George also held up their lists, and spoke at the same time. "So do we."

"What the hell…?" Firo muttered before handing Hermione back her list. "Well, don't waste your money. Just get the rest of the books. And since the one's I'm using are special orders, the cost of those are already covered."

That would be a relief to Mum, certainly, considering that there were quite a few of them. Even though they were books, Ron was rather excited for getting the ones for Firo's class. Not only because he was looking forward to what the man would be teaching them; but because he would be getting new books for once that would be his.

Sirius came in to the living room just then, carrying a newspaper with a smile on his face. "I think you folks need to see this," he turned the paper around to show that there was a large headline on the front of the Daily Prophet.

MINISTRY ISSUES APOLOGY TO AMERICAN-BORN WIZARD!

AMERICAN WIZARDS THREATEN TO PULL BUSINESS OUT OF BRITAIN!

"Whoa…" Harry said, looking at the paper.

There were several pictures on the front that showed Fudge; another showed an unfamiliar man standing next to a dark-haired woman – both elegantly dressed; and another showed Luck standing with a pretty woman that Ron didn't recognize, alongside the Minster and a toad-looking woman, and they were shaking hands. From the looks of things, they were at some sort of restaurant.

"Oh, that's Luck's girlfriend!" Harry announced, pointing at the woman next to Luck.

"She's pretty." Ginny said.

Harry made a face as he indicated the toad woman. "And that woman was at my trial."

"And…" Ron's eyes widened when he read who the elegant couple was. He gaped at Firo. "Adorjan Bako is your uncle?"

"Only through marriage," Firo shrugged. "His younger brother married into my mom's side of the family before he died."

"Who's Adorjan Bako?" Hermione asked.

"He's one of the richest wizards in Europe!" Ron exclaimed.

Ginny now contributed, "His wife, Evangeline Garret, is someone I'd think you'd certainly like, Hermione. She's a Pureblood who's advocated for Blood equality for years, along with other charitable organizations – even ones in the Muggle world."

Ginny smirked mischievously. "Four years ago, Evangeline had a huge business deal with Romania that involved humanely harvesting dragon parts, the methods of which resulted in more potent ingredients. Charlie got to meet her. Of course, everyone wanted to interview her. She wouldn't give any of the reporters or papers the time of day – except for one. The Quibbler. It was in high demand that year."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "She would only talk to that ridiculous tabloid?! Why?"

Ginny shrugged. "Apparently she's a big fan. Bako has even contributed some to The Quibbler, although not many are aware of the fact, due to his contributions being mostly anonymous. He's funded a few of Mr. Lovegood's creature hunting expeditions as well."

"How do you know all this?" Hermione asked. "Is this even true?"

"I know someone on the inside." Ginny replied mysteriously.

Hermione groaned and rolled her eyes.

000000

Remus came much later that day because he had read the newspaper and it was certainly a joy to read. He was looking forward to laughing about it with Sirius and Firo. Seeing the Ministry run around trying to desperately save face was amusing. He had briefly passed through the Leaky Cauldron to see what people were saying, and already, gossip and rumors were spreading. The fact that Adorjan Bako had made himself known was another source of whispers and concerns.

Using his travel mirror that the Americans had provided, the first thing Remus noticed was how welcoming Grimmauld Place now looked. There was certainly a homey feel to it.

"Hello?" he called.

"Oh, Remus! Come in! We're in the dining room!" called Arthur.

Remus entered to find that the kids were trying to teach Firo, Ennis, and Czes how to play a classic board game of Witches and Wolves.

"I found this upstairs." Sirius said wistfully. "It was one of the few times my family actually decided to have normal fun."

Harry grinned at Remus. "Our letters came today. Both Ron and Hermione are Prefects."

"Really? Congratulations."

"Thank you," both Hermione and Ron replied.

Hermione looked very happy and Ron looked pleased – in the sense that he might as well have been rubbing his hands together and muttering "soon".

"Yeah, we're going to Diagon Alley tomorrow for our school supplies." Ginny said as she moved her character a few spaces.

"Since Firo's teaching this year, we might actually learn something we can use." Ron said. "Though when you taught us in Third Year, those were some of my favorite lessons."

The other children piped up in agreement, and Remus was touched. "I'm glad my lessons stuck with you."

"Especially seeing Snape in Neville's grandmother's clothes!" Harry snorted. Remus laughed at the memory as well.

"You're a teacher, Mr. Remus?" Ennis asked, looking at him with a smile.

Remus' smile fell somewhat. "I was…but… I'm in between jobs right now."

"You're looking for work?" Firo asked, with an air of genuine incredulity. "How can a guy who's obviously a skilled and likeable teacher who taught at Hogwartsnot be snatched up?"

"I…" Remus swallowed, and he ignored the way an awkward silence descended in the room. "I have a bit of monthly problem…that makes finding a stable job somewhat difficult."

Of course, everyone in the room knew. But obviously the three Americans didn't.

All three of them frowned, but it was Czes who asked, "You can't find work just because you're a werewolf?"

Remus' eyes widened. "How-how did you…?"

"We knew all along, since we first met." Ennis admitted, causing everyone (minus Harry) to gape at her.

Firo looked at Remus and scowled before glaring at the table. "I'll be right back."

He marched out of the room and again, oppressive silence covered them. Remus didn't know what to say. A part of him wanted to run.

Ennis fidgeted with her collar. "We didn't say anything because you didn't say anything outright. It's rude to simply ask questions if the person doesn't say anything first. So we pretended to not know."

"It's not that big a deal." Czes said, cocking his eyebrow. "You're pretty tame compared to some of the people I know."

"And what sort of people would you know?" Ron asked, curious.

"My world isn't nearly as small as you like to keep yours, Ron." Czes replied, earning a scowl from Ron.

At that moment, Firo came back into the dining room. "Listen, Remus. If you want, you can work with the Martillo Family. I've already talked to my boss, and he's okayed it. Since me, Ennis, and Czes are gone, they're shorthanded."

"I don't know…" Remus answered reluctantly. "I don't know if you understand how werewolves are treated, but…"

"But nothin'." Firo said, his accent coming through much stronger. "Your howlin' at the moon ain't that big a deal. My Family doesn't discriminate. Sure, there're a few people who'll be curious about how werewolves work just 'cuz you're the first one they've met. But trust me, they'll only ask if you're comfortable about it."

"Really? Are you sure?" Remus didn't want to get his hopes up.

"You should go for it, Moony."

"Alright…I'll do it." Maybe for once, things could work.

"That's a relief." Firo said with a smile. "Because I told my boss you'll be there on Thursday at nine-thirty. I'd hate to have lied to him."

Padfoot guffawed and stood to give Firo a friendly slap on his shoulder.

00oo00

How much more can poor Fudge take? Does anyone feel sorry for him, even in the slightest?

Next time: Hogwarts. Finally.

A/N: This was a chapter to show not only the fallout/making moves against the Ministry, but getting more of a view from one of the natural-born American magic users. Ryker is one of my favorite OCs for this fic; he's grandfatherly to all who work under him, and he loves what he does. But alas, he's also slightly bigoted when it comes to Europe, and he feels justified by it.

"Americans are driven by the idea of progression, while the British wizards are satisfied by their stagnancy."

Angelo Lagusa, is going to be a recurring character. If you know the name, awesome! If you don't, he's from the series 91 Days. The series takes place sort of around the same time as 1930's with the New York mafia.

Angelo will still have aspects of his original canon, but he's going to have immortality mixed in.

0000

Adorjan's Wand Name – Diffamare – defame, slander, vilify, smear, libel, malign

Evangeline's Wand Name – Agitare – shake, stir, agitate, wave, wag, frisk

Translations:

Loro Lunar – Spanish for Moon Parrot