Mage War Blues - 05/Oct/2012
Early March, 2014, Hogsmeade.
Cynthia Luckwold sat back in her chair. Yes, the Minister of Magic (IMC) had a nice office. Yes, she got to work as many hours as she wanted to (most of her subordinates said 'too many'). But, she would chuck it all over in a moment, to be just a simple Sociology lecturer again.
The Wizards had taken a terrible beating in the Boskone War. They'd had Auror teams, even Hit Wizards, on twenty-four hour stand by, for weeks at a time in the worst periods. All the support they could beg from the other factions. They'd still lost so many people.
In the beginning it was just the odd adult, in isolated areas. Bad enough, but you could warn people to be careful. She'd met some of the ones who'd been rescued. The haunted look in their eyes, the cringing. Almost all of them had become catgirls, there was the odd wolfman or other combat shapes. Arguably worst were the thionite addicts, almost all of those still surviving hospitalised, for their own protection.
Later whole groups had been grabbed, and the focus seemed to shift to late teen-aged children. The stories suggested they'd got systems in place to 'process' the kidnapped; transformation and conditioning, hints of even nastier things towards the end.
Cynthia had been a Minister from the beginning, rotated through various of the positions. Several times she'd tried to hand over to others, but been persuaded she was still best for the job. She kept being pushed to be Chairman. When the war was at its worst, that man, Albreth Durer, nearly took over. Claimed she wasn't taking a hard enough line. If The Quibbler hadn't found out and revealed he was being financed by the Death Eaters she'd have been out of a job. Funny...
She knew her history. The Wizarding World'd want to replace her. Leader in a war, not victorious, but with terrible losses. They'd want a 'new broom'. The catgirls who'd tried to return. Everyone was nice to their faces. But, they were so lost, almost none of them managed to fit in. The werewolves were heroes compared to those reminders of what'd happened.
Her once partner, before the job of Minister ate all her time. Jason Nelly, Auror. Now Nelly the Catgirl. He, she, couldn't face her. Said she'd 'failed'. One of the ones rescued from Earth, 'Terra' she was supposed to call it these days. Hadn't even got scars to remember what happened, they healed too quickly.
Cynthia'd insisted. They'd got a Catgirling Machine, two in fact. Their best researchers were studying them, at the Department of Mysteries. And, there were volunteers, returned catgirls, some ex-thionite addicts, a few who'd threatened suicide if they weren't allowed to help. Somehow they'd make things better.
Meanwhile, she'd got begging letters to write, to those she knew in the other factions. Or, in some cases, just to sign, if they weren't to people she was familiar with. They needed to re-build. And, she'd got applications to refuse. To people who wanted to create Dementors to guard Azkaban. She shuddered. You'd hope people would know better.
Here were some applications she could agree to, though she wanted to keep an eye on them. Really 'Magical Creatures' should be doing it, but it had been pushed over to her for a final decision. Someone had managed to make viable dragon eggs, and wanted to raise them to maturity. The magical botanists had plants that were twice as efficient at renewing air, and processing sewage into pure water - the seed pods tasted just as bad though, like that Dole Yeast.
And, the centaurs were sending healers to work in the hospitals, something no one had been happy with before. They had some new herbal mixes, that were supposed to be very effective in helping people get over mental trauma. Just what they needed.
Cynthia wondered if they worked on politicians...
--
"It is the business of the future to be dangerous" - Hawkwind
Early March, 2014, Hogsmeade.
Cynthia Luckwold sat back in her chair. Yes, the Minister of Magic (IMC) had a nice office. Yes, she got to work as many hours as she wanted to (most of her subordinates said 'too many'). But, she would chuck it all over in a moment, to be just a simple Sociology lecturer again.
The Wizards had taken a terrible beating in the Boskone War. They'd had Auror teams, even Hit Wizards, on twenty-four hour stand by, for weeks at a time in the worst periods. All the support they could beg from the other factions. They'd still lost so many people.
In the beginning it was just the odd adult, in isolated areas. Bad enough, but you could warn people to be careful. She'd met some of the ones who'd been rescued. The haunted look in their eyes, the cringing. Almost all of them had become catgirls, there was the odd wolfman or other combat shapes. Arguably worst were the thionite addicts, almost all of those still surviving hospitalised, for their own protection.
Later whole groups had been grabbed, and the focus seemed to shift to late teen-aged children. The stories suggested they'd got systems in place to 'process' the kidnapped; transformation and conditioning, hints of even nastier things towards the end.
Cynthia had been a Minister from the beginning, rotated through various of the positions. Several times she'd tried to hand over to others, but been persuaded she was still best for the job. She kept being pushed to be Chairman. When the war was at its worst, that man, Albreth Durer, nearly took over. Claimed she wasn't taking a hard enough line. If The Quibbler hadn't found out and revealed he was being financed by the Death Eaters she'd have been out of a job. Funny...
She knew her history. The Wizarding World'd want to replace her. Leader in a war, not victorious, but with terrible losses. They'd want a 'new broom'. The catgirls who'd tried to return. Everyone was nice to their faces. But, they were so lost, almost none of them managed to fit in. The werewolves were heroes compared to those reminders of what'd happened.
Her once partner, before the job of Minister ate all her time. Jason Nelly, Auror. Now Nelly the Catgirl. He, she, couldn't face her. Said she'd 'failed'. One of the ones rescued from Earth, 'Terra' she was supposed to call it these days. Hadn't even got scars to remember what happened, they healed too quickly.
Cynthia'd insisted. They'd got a Catgirling Machine, two in fact. Their best researchers were studying them, at the Department of Mysteries. And, there were volunteers, returned catgirls, some ex-thionite addicts, a few who'd threatened suicide if they weren't allowed to help. Somehow they'd make things better.
Meanwhile, she'd got begging letters to write, to those she knew in the other factions. Or, in some cases, just to sign, if they weren't to people she was familiar with. They needed to re-build. And, she'd got applications to refuse. To people who wanted to create Dementors to guard Azkaban. She shuddered. You'd hope people would know better.
Here were some applications she could agree to, though she wanted to keep an eye on them. Really 'Magical Creatures' should be doing it, but it had been pushed over to her for a final decision. Someone had managed to make viable dragon eggs, and wanted to raise them to maturity. The magical botanists had plants that were twice as efficient at renewing air, and processing sewage into pure water - the seed pods tasted just as bad though, like that Dole Yeast.
And, the centaurs were sending healers to work in the hospitals, something no one had been happy with before. They had some new herbal mixes, that were supposed to be very effective in helping people get over mental trauma. Just what they needed.
Cynthia wondered if they worked on politicians...
--
"It is the business of the future to be dangerous" - Hawkwind