Albus’ first thought on seeing the article in The Daily Prophet was, “Oh dear.” He knew the rest of his day, if not the week, was going to be engaged in damage control.
It was actually a rather fair article for the Equestrians, considering the author. She called them polite, nice, and simple. Her comments on watching the pegasi move clouds for weather were pretty entertaining, as were her remarks to their disbelieving reactions that weather on the wizard-side of the portal was all left to chance.
Her only real complaint was that they kept referring to their homeland as Equestria and not Atlantis. Her comment that they obviously kept the night-sky behind a façade so no one could find them struck a chord with him. If they were going to hide their true location from the muggles, it only made sense to do the same for wizardkind. They wouldn’t want to leave clues for any dark wizards to use to find them.
It would take a great deal of magic to do it, but he had a feeling that Discord was more than up to the task, if he wanted. Considering the charms used on the ceiling of the Great Hall, it wouldn’t be that much of a change to get them to display whatever one wanted instead of merely the sky. And a mild notice-me-not would prevent anyone from examining what was happening any too closely.
And now that he thought about it, if Atlantis was actually underground, their “sky” could be the charmed rock ceiling! That would explain how the Princesses could fool the muggles so easily! They were manipulating images of the sun, moon, and stars on the roof of their cavern. It would still take a great deal of magical power to control and move the facsimiles of the sun and moon, but it was possible, in theory. One would have to have a viewing station on the surface to capture the sun’s rays and heat, but that would be a trivial thing to hide. If one had enough magic, it could even be high in the sky, above interference from clouds that might block the sun or moon.
Their raising and lowering of the relevant bodies was simply using magic to reveal and hide the reflected celestial body in question. Once the object was hidden from view, they could shuttle it to the other side of the cavern for the next day or night.
And being underground would certainly explain why they had to control the weather. In a cave, the weather would be static and unchanging, otherwise.
He looked out the window and wondered how hard it would be to fake the sun in the sky. He took out his wand and considered what he knew of remote viewing. He summoned a hand-sized crystal from his shelf. He studied it for several moments. It was a trinket whose function was no longer needed. He closed his eyes and concentrated. With a swish, he swung his wand and the crystal shot out of the room into the sky, using the Owl Mail port.
He summoned another crystal, only a tad smaller than the first. He held his wand over it and murmured a spell. The room was suddenly flooded with light, blinding him at first, as if he were looking directly at the sun. Which, he was.
Well. That proved the concept.
But the light would fail as soon as the sun crested the horizon. Not a useful replacement for a candle at night. But an excellent way to illuminate the rooms and dungeons during the day, even if it was cloudy outside.
But he could feel the pull on his magic as the crystal globe went ever higher. Holding it steady hundreds of yards straight up would be strenuous after several hours. One or two of those would be quite taxing for the average wizard.
But runes might be able to fix that.
He would need to mention this to Filius, Bathsheda, and Septima. Between the three of them, they should be able to come with a workable solution. If they could, then Hogwarts could use the galleons freed for supplies other than candles.
He went back to The Daily Prophet.
The next article in the newspaper was a problem, however. She dealt a lot of criticism towards the Ministry for allowing the Atlanteans to come out in such a huge manner — an Embassy! — to the muggles. And they considered the muggles just as important as wizardkind? The very idea! Muggles as good as wizards? Nonsense! The Atlanteans should be devoting their trade efforts to the wizards! Wizardkind had far more to offer than mere, insignificant muggles.
As he had feared, she was fanning the flames of alarm, as she went on to claim that the Atlanteans were clearly violating the Statute of Secrecy, and violating it on a huge scale. Not that she blamed them, oh, no. It wasn’t their fault that the Ministry was ignoring them. That fault she laid at the feet of the Ministry. And she didn’t mind naming names, of which Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge was frequently featured.
What was worse, at least to Rita, was that the Equestrians were implying that many of wizardkind’s advances were their very own. Not that they had a choice. They couldn’t say they had received those things from the wizards. If they did, that would have also violated the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy, and revealed wizardkind. Which they were trying to obey, now that they knew of it.
And she used what she had seen in a hospital near the portal to support her outrage. A hospital treating muggles! She had seen skele-gro and other potions in use, as well as recognized some of the spells.
Not that the muggles had realized it was magic in action. Which was almost lost in the article.
He sighed and stroked his beard. He had had a long talk with Cornelius about the Atlanteans, and how their contact with the muggles was a blessing in disguise.
All for naught, it seemed. The gormless wizard would quickly give in to the storm of protest this article would foster.
Right on cue, his floo lit up and he heard the Minister’s voice, “Are you there, Headmaster? You must come to my office immediately!”
He sighed. “Yes, I hear you, Cornelius. Give me a moment to advise Minerva.”
“Excellent!”
He sent off his patronus to his Deputy, then floo’d to the Ministry.
While a very few selected floo’s in the Ministry allowed outgoing calls and transport, incoming messages and visitors had to go through the main entrance. A mild inconvenience that delayed the Headmaster’s arrival.
The secretary greeted Albus as he came into her office on the first level, “Oh, Headmaster! Go right in, they’re waiting for you.”
He nodded an acknowledgement and opened the inside office’s door. Of course they were waiting for him, the Minister had just floo’d him. As soon as the wizard entered the room, Cornelius turned to him and started complaining.
“Can you believe those foreigners!” he shouted, brandishing a copy of The Daily Prophet. “They’re ignoring us! They aren’t telling us anything! And they’re breaking the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy!”
Beside his desk was Mr. Lucius Malfoy, and the detestable Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge. Dolores, in pink, naturally, bore a look of professional indignation while the wizard merely looked on approvingly. Whatever was going on, he had obviously been an architect of it.
To one side, and calmly watching, were Aurors John Dawlish and Rufus Scrimgeour.
“Now Cornelius,” Albus started calmingly, as the door closed automatically behind him, “we discussed this last week. The Equestrians are doing magic in plain view, yes, but they have disguised it as ‘advanced technology.’ Which, surprisingly, the muggles have accepted without question. There isn’t a single muggle who suspects that what the Equestrians are doing is magic and that there must be wizards and witches hiding in England who can do it, too. And, therefore, they are not in violation of the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy,”
“But they are conducting muggles through the portal! Muggles! And curing them with magic! We can’t have that! The muggles are clever, they’ll figure it out. Then where will we be?” He slammed the newspaper onto his desk, knocking some papers on the floor.
Albus had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He stroked his beard, instead.
Lucius had a small sympathetic smile while Umbridge turned a deeper shade of red. She shared his outrage, and nodded in agreement with her superior.
“And they’re working with the muggle government. They aren’t working with us at all. And we’re in the dark! We won’t know anything is going wrong until it is too late!” He took a breath. “They don’t understand how cunning the muggles can be. If we aren’t helping them handle the muggles, they’ll make mistakes and reveal us! The Atlanteans don’t understand! We must be there to guide them.”
The Minister was becoming involved in his wobbly. If it continued, next he would start stomping his feet for emphasis.
“We need the muggle in charge, the, the . . . Prim?” he glanced at Malfoy who gave a subtle nod, “. . . Minister to turn things over to us. The Atlantean’s must go through us first before they do any more damage,” he concluded indignantly, huffing.
He turned to Malfoy. “Uh, right?” he asked timidly.
Albus had to admire how Malfoy resisted face-palming. It was clear who had orchestrated this meeting and anxiety in the Minister.
“I’m sure,” the Headmaster said soothingly, “that things are nowhere near as dire as you think.” He gestured at the paper. “Even Rita admits the muggles suspect nothing.”
“AHEM!” interrupted the Senior Undersecretary. “Which is why we need to act now, before anything does go wrong!” she said stiffly, her face lost some of its redness. She glared at him, daring him to contradict her.
Lucius looked on, his languid posture demonstrated his approval.
“It won’t be that difficult,” she unctuously continued, glancing at the minister. “A few compulsions charms, a few obliviates, and we can still make things right. We can regain control.”
She gestured to the paper. “It’s clear from Miss Skeeter’s article that the Atlanteans are nothing more than especially clever unicorns and pegasi. They might even be as smart as house-elves. We’ll just put them under the control of Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.” She smiled at her cleverness. “And then we’ll be able to control the gems and gold that go through the portal,” she concluded, smiling contentedly, convinced her arguments had to have persuaded him.
For a moment, Albus had a horrible vision of how Princess Luna might react on meeting Dolores and hearing her plans. And her opinions. And what Discord might do?
He sighed, and conjured up an armchair. “We need to carefully consider the issues at hand.” He made ready to sit down. “There are things of which you do not know.”
“There’s really nothing to discuss,” said Dolores primly. “We need to be . . . involved. We are the Ministry of Magic, after all.”
Cornelius turned to the floo. “I’ve already told the muggle minister we were meeting him today about the Atlanteans.” He turned to Rufus and gestured hurriedly. “Which is why I asked you to join us.”
Clearly, he thought the Headmaster supported him.
Auror Rufus turned and grabbed some floo powder, threw it into the floo. “Prime Minister’s Office,” he barked. He stepped into the green flames and disappeared. Auror Dawlish followed him. He had his wand out, but they were visiting a muggle. His relaxed attitude showed that he didn’t expect any problems.
Resigned, Albus sighed and vanished his chair.
Lucius stood. “Well, this is ministry business and I have other things I must attend to.” He nodded to the Minister. “Good day, Cornelius, Dolores, Albus,” he said as he headed for the door.
Cornelius nodded back and gave a distracted, “good bye,” before he exited through the floo.
The office door closed behind Malfoy.
Albus shook his head as he quietly followed Dolores. Perhaps he could ease things, keep everyone calm, and prevent a total disaster.
The Prime Minister’s office wasn’t a large room, but it was large enough for the six newcomers.
He was at first startled to see Ambassador Blueblood was present, seated, with another man standing in the corner behind him. But then he realized it made sense. Of course the Prime Minister would notify the Equestrians. Especially if he had had any advance warning. Telly phones made it a simple matter. And with teleportation, it wouldn’t have taken long for the Equestrian to arrive.
Blueblood had probably had as much warning as had Albus. With a lot less walking.
Cornelius and Dolores were staring at the two strangers in surprise.
Albus quickly moved to take control. “Ambassador Blueblood,” he said moving forward to shake hands.
The Ambassador looked at him quizzically, but stood. “Chief Warlock Dumbledore!” he said warmly. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon after the Ball.” They shook hands. “Is something wrong?” he asked, glancing at the others.
The Prime Minister remained seated.
“No, no,” said Albus, stepping back. “Just a bit of a misunderstanding by Cornelius.” He took a quick look around.
The two Aurors had moved into the corners of the room, making themselves inconspicuous and yet able to watch everything. Just as the man he didn’t know was doing. The three were watching each other closely.
His glasses let him see that there was someone, no, a pony, standing quite still under an invisibility cloak on top of the credenza at the back of the room. And there was a charm on the rug that covered the floor. He blinked. The other wizards would be caught flat-footed if things went pear-shaped.
“Ah,” the Ambassador said, and turned to the man seated at the desk, “Prime Minister, I don’t know if you’ve met Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore, the head of the Wizaengamot, the wizarding equivalent of parliament.” He turned back to the wizard. “Albus, I’d like to introduce you to the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, John Major.” The man behind the desk stood and held out his hand.
Albus stepped forward again and they shook hands, exchanging pleasantries.
An annoyed, “AHEM!” came from behind them.
The Headmaster smiled and said, “Ambassador Blueblood, Prime Minister Major, I’d like to introduce Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge and his Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge,” he said, introducing them. Cornelius and Dolores merely frowned.
“Although,” he said to Major, “I’m sure you already know Minister Fudge.”
The Prime Minister and Ambassador nodded to each of the wizard and witch as they were mentioned.
Major and Blueblood sat back down. The Prime Minister gestured at the chairs in the room. “Please, be seated.” There were already two chairs in front of the Prime Minister’s desk, but another slid into place beside them. The two Ministry of Magic officials looked surprized at the movement. They slowly sat down, wondering who had cast the magic without them seeing a wand.
Cornelius looked discomfited, unsure of how he had lost control of the situation.
“Now, then,” continued Prime Minister Major, “What seems to be the problem?”
Minister Fudge looked uncomfortable and glanced at Albus, then his Undersecretary. “It’s about the Atlanteans.” He hesitated at Blueblood’s bored stare.
After a moment’s silence, Dolores plunged in, “You shouldn’t be dealing with the Atlanteans,” she sternly reprimanded the muggle. “They are magical creatures and as such are our area of interest.” She glanced at the Equestrian. “They made a mistake in approaching you, the poor dears. They approached you in ignorance. They didn’t know any better, how could they?” she said disparagingly, “Can’t really blame them for that, they are ponies and not people, after all.” She glanced dismissively at the Ambassador, whose eyebrows had steadily climbed as she spoke.
“It was a clear violation of the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy,” she lectured. “We should have been involved from the beginning. We are here to correct that.” She smirked. “If you would provide us with a list of the officials the Atlanteans have approached, we’ll take care of everything for you. Then you can go back to your little problems. You won’t have to worry about magic or the Atlanteans at all.” She waved a hand contemptuously. She smiled at him as would a parent at an errant child they wanted to cooperate, glancing at Cornelius for his approval to her statements.
He nodded, once more reassured of his mission.
Albus sighed and shook his head.
Blueblood and Major exchanged glances.
“Excuse me,” the Ambassador said frostily, and sat up straight. “But when we first came through the portal, you were nowhere in evidence. We did not see a wizard or witch anywhere in sight. Nor did any wizard or witch approach us. That was not our fault, but yours. You should have come to investigate the magic immediately, when you first detected it.” He gave the wizards and witch a disapproving look.
“What we did see, however, were the people who lived around the portal — and none of them knew of people who could do magic. Magic users, as far as we could tell, did not exist. So, we started doing business with the people we had met. We started buying land and buildings with the intent to establish an embassy. And you were still nowhere in evidence. Perhaps someone was not doing their job at your Ministry.”
He glared at them down his nose. “To us,” he said snobbishly, “this was a unique opportunity. A whole civilization to explore. One completely unlike our own. We rapidly discovered there were many things that were common here that we had never thought of.” He glanced at Major. “And there were many things we could do that they could not. It only seemed natural to trade. We developed an entire strategy on what we wanted to do, to trade for useful science, art, and technology. Hundreds of our best people were involved in that planning.”
Dolores was turning red. The Ambassador’s tone was clearly not to her liking.
Blueblood narrowed his eyes, slightly, still glaring at them.
“And then we received a visitor.” He sniffed his disdainfully. “A woman arrived at the door of the home we had purchased, and claimed to be a witch. She said she was the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. She had letters for three children living in our home.” Which meant that they must have been there for quite some time.
Cornelius looked at the Headmaster. He nodded genially. Dolores continued to glare at Blueblood balefully. She had crossed her arms and stared at him through narrowed eyes.
“She told us of this International Statute of Secrecy.” He said scornfully. “And how we were expected to comply with it.” He gave them a condescending smile.
“We had already bought thousands of books about this new world, and had quickly read them. Nowhere, in any of them, had there been mention of a society of wizards and witches. Although we had looked for such. We couldn’t believe there was a magic world where people could not manipulate the magic. We did read, however, what the people here thought of magic in general, and of what happened to people who were accused of commanding it.” He frowned darkly.
“We found those accounts deeply unsettling. So, we took great care to hide what magic we did. But we continued to pursue our trade goals. Magic did not need to be mentioned or used in that effort, so it wasn’t. Which, it so happened, was in accordance with your . . . Statute . . . we later discovered.”
He leaned forward slightly. “But the booklet Deputy Headmistress McGonagall left us, put us in a peculiar position.” He looked up at the invisible person at the back of the room. “The booklet said we could not tell non-magicals — muggles, I believe you call them — about magic, because every wizarding nation in the world had signed onto this . . . Statute of Secrecy.”
His expression hardened. “But Equestria,” he emphasized that word heavily, “has never signed that agreement. Nor is there anything like it in Equestria. The very idea of penalizing people for using magic in the open is incomprehensible to us, there. You might as well pass a law punishing people for breathing. And it would accomplish just as much.
“But we could understand why it existed, in view of the books we had read.
“And while the Statute says that every country is responsible for the magic inside its borders, the portal is now on embassy grounds. And, as such, it is no longer considered a legal part of England. Which removes it from your jurisdiction. By your own laws.”
He continued icily. “As to us including you in our negotiations with the non-magicals, your International Code of Wizarding Secrecy has nothing to say on that if the negotiations do not involve discussions of magic. In addition, in a contract negotiation between a magical and a non-magical where magic is not discussed, involving the Ministry is not required by English Ministry of Magic laws.” He smirked. “Otherwise a Ministry official would have to be present every time a wizard, witch, squib, or Hogwarts student bought groceries, clothes, or anything else outside of Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. And you would have to fine or jail them if the official was absent. On the other hand, your laws specifically exempt non-magicals who have already been introduced to magic.” He smiled genially.
“Such as the non-magical parents of magical students.”
He leaned back into his chair with a bored expression. “We have not displayed or used magic in front of any . . . muggle . . . who did not already know about magic.” He nodded at John Major, “Such as the Prime Minister, who mentioned wizards when he met with Princess Celestia. And then he told selected members of his Ministry about magic.”
He smiled widely. “And that does not break your Statute, either. As a non-magical, he is free to tell whomever he wants about magic, without penalty. Once he tells someone about it, your laws allow us to freely to discuss magic with them. The International Code of Wizarding Secrecy says so, too. The Statutes only concern with muggles is if, on meeting a wizard or witch, they attempt to reveal your hidden society. As long as they do not endanger the Statute, they are left alone.
“Penalties are imposed only if a magical person discusses magic with a non-magical person who did not already know about it. Except under special circumstances, of course.”
Cornelius was listening, shocked that the Ministry’s prepared arguments were so thoroughly being destroyed. Dolores was red with rage, but listening closely, waiting for her chance at a rebuttal.
“You might not appreciate us trading with the non-magicals, but we have done nothing to breach the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy, nor break any of your laws.”
“And, for your information, since you seem to not know it, in the last six months, we have had two separate interactions with your Ministry of Magic. The first was to have a floo connection established in August. The second was with the Department of Magical Accidents, also in August, when they finally noticed all the magical activity at the house we owned. And they merely warned us to make sure no one unauthorized ever saw us do magic there, and said they would revise their records to say our home, and the land we had purchased, was a magical estate.”
He shrugged. “The Ministry of Magic has clearly known about us, and our magic, for at least six months. And ignored us completely beyond those two incidents. We assumed you were not interested in us at all. So, we concentrated our efforts on the non-magicals for trade. They, at least, were eager to know about our world.”
He glared at them, “To now suggest that we have somehow impugned your honour by ignoring you, or your laws, is beyond the pale.”
Dolores stared at him for several moments. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous! You are magical creatures, you are in England, and therefore you are under our jurisdiction. And he is a muggle. You will do as you are told by the Ministry, or suffer the consequences. Aurors, stun them,” she ordered.
Albus, alarmed at her tone, had already shot his wand into his hand. He turned to the Aurors, who were bringing up their wands. He intended to stun them before something happened that they would all regret.
The charm in the rug flashed. Suddenly, he couldn’t move. He felt both disapparition and anti-portkey wards flare up. No one could move, not even the wizard in the portrait on the wall beside the Prime Minister’s desk, who was listening and watching with alarm evident in his expression.
The only ones who could move were the Prime Minister, who leaned forward, and the Ambassador, who leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. Albus concentrated hard, and felt the charm give way. He slowly turned back to the Prime Minister. The man in the corner was pointing a pistol and a wand at him. He was sure the pony behind him was a unicorn and prepared for a magical fight.
The Prime Minister shook his head. “That was monumentally stupid,” he said, drily. Blueblood just sighed and looked out the window.
The pony on the credenza had apparently climbed down. Now a man, he was collecting wands. He did not approach the Headmaster for his wand. Nor did he move between Albus and the man with the wand and gun. In fact, even as he removed the others’ wands, he kept his eyes on the old wizard.
A commendable and prudent action, Albus thought, even if it was inconvenient for the Headmaster.
۸-_-۸