also also, since im here - i have gotten the impression, possibly incorrectly, that one of the various alterations to the timeline compared to IRL is that britain is, like... a lot closer to the brink than IRL in the 1930s? The BUF are knocking around, there's explicit mention of socialists picking fights with them at one point, Stalin was actually in Britain for his interview. (Though that's also maybe because he isn't the General Secretary?)
Basically, I...really hated how Harry Potter had all these wonderful metaphors for growing up as a semi-wealthy child in the first world and then learning your world runs on the blood of slaves, like, literally? And then it just goes, "Eh, but it's all fine!" at the end when they don't actually FIX ANY OF THE PROBLEMS IN THE WORLD.
And this ties into how the Harry Potter characters are totally naive and unaware of any of the political interconnections between their world and the mundane world. Like, Hermonie at no point goes, "Wait, so, like, Mudblood, have you guys heard of a man named Adolph Fucking Hitler, you goddamn maniacs?"
So, I wanted to take that and turn it on its head. The wizarding world is intimately interconnected with our social movements...but because wizards represent capitalists (and magic in this case is labor saving technology since it really is just the most efficient way to turn calories into...anything), all of their interconnections with mundane social movements are for the worse.
Hence why the BUF is running strong and you have British fascist wizards helping the SA crack down on anarchist witches in Germany and once the Spanish Civil War starts...well, we'll get there when we get there.
Basically, I...really hated how Harry Potter had all these wonderful metaphors for growing up as a semi-wealthy child in the first world and then learning your world runs on the blood of slaves, like, literally? And then it just goes, "Eh, but it's all fine!" at the end when they don't actually FIX ANY OF THE PROBLEMS IN THE WORLD.
Source: most of my info on this comes from the "Cool People Who Did Cool Stuff" 2h podcast about cable street and the British fascists. I'm not an expert.
Britain maybe was pretty close to going fascist in the 1930s. The BUF had quite a lot of establishment support and that only started waning when the communists did a clever stunt where they infiltrated the BUF conference and kept interrupting the speeches to show how brutal the fascists would be when challenged. Of course, fascists are as stupid as they are vicious so they beat the shit out of a bunch of young women and men in front of the press for the offense of interrupting speeches.
The BUF were soundly defeated by an alliance of Jews, Irish dockworkers and Communists at cable street, but I think there are some hints in the next update that that might change.
Basically, I...really hated how Harry Potter had all these wonderful metaphors for growing up as a semi-wealthy child in the first world and then learning your world runs on the blood of slaves, like, literally? And then it just goes, "Eh, but it's all fine!" at the end when they don't actually FIX ANY OF THE PROBLEMS IN THE WORLD.
And this ties into how the Harry Potter characters are totally naive and unaware of any of the political interconnections between their world and the mundane world. Like, Hermonie at no point goes, "Wait, so, like, Mudblood, have you guys heard of a man named Adolph Fucking Hitler, you goddamn maniacs?"
So, I wanted to take that and turn it on its head. The wizarding world is intimately interconnected with our social movements...but because wizards represent capitalists (and magic in this case is labor saving technology since it really is just the most efficient way to turn calories into...anything), all of their interconnections with mundane social movements are for the worse.
Hence why the BUF is running strong and you have British fascist wizards helping the SA crack down on anarchist witches in Germany and once the Spanish Civil War starts...well, we'll get there when we get there.
I do think (maybe I am an optimist) that there's been a potentially consequential increase in the strength of the socialist opposition to fascism, maybe?
I do think (maybe I am an optimist) that there's been a potentially consequential increase in the strength of the socialist opposition to fascism, maybe?
Minerva's eyes cracked open as she sprawled in bed. For a moment, she couldn't remember why she was here, or how she had gotten wherever she was. Instead, she floated in a comforting pillow of unreality and confusion. The bed was comfortable, the lights were warm and dim and distant, and she could just enjoy the feeling of profound dislocation. When she blinked again, it felt as if everything around her had shifted. A beautiful redheaded woman stood beside her bed, and was holding up a small bag full of a sloshing liquid that Minerva wanted to recognize…but couldn't. The woman turned to glance down at her, and murmured a soft word that Minerva wanted to understand…but couldn't.
"Hey," Minerva said, seductively.
Her lips were numb. It came out slurred. "Eyyh."
"Sleep, Miss Schross-Sableknight," the woman said, quietly. Her palm brushed along her head. "You took a nasty hit in a duel and are recovering."
Minerva felt somewhat annoyed. She was in a magical school, with magical spells. "Mahh?"
The nurse seemed to intuit her angry questioning mumble. "Magic? We fixed you up so you won't die. It's more calorically efficient to heal the old fashioned way. If we were in a hurry…well, we aren't. Now, shush. Back to sleep. Back to sleep." Her palm brushed along Minerva's head again.
Minerva found this all quite obnoxious.
When she woke again, she ached in her belly and felt more focused. Her lips weren't numb any more and she was able to sit up. The light of the warm afternoon sun was shining through the windows of the infirmary, but the other beds were empty. Beside her table, she saw a wreath of flowers, and a collection of letters and notes, one of them in bright Sildanus colors - the clashing orange and blue rectangles making her wince slightly. She saw that the bag that had been near her bed was gone - had it been a blood donation? She supposed if they were going for caloric efficiency, that'd mean getting a bottle of Type-1 blood and draining it into her.
She laid back into the bed with a grunt, her eyes closing.
"I got the bitch," she muttered.
Distantly, she heard a voice.
"I'm afraid that she is most likely still unconscious." It was the nurse.
"Well, I'd still be interested in seeing such a brave warrior."
Ugh.
Minerva opened her eyes and scowled. She recognized that voice, even if she had only heard it once before.
Vane Villamont entered into the infirmary then, followed by the nurse and the headmaster. He swept towards her bed, smiling with a light that actually managed to reach those dead eyes of his. He saw that she was awake and murmured.
"Why, you really are Maxmilian's granddaughter, aren't you? I really admired the man, especially his political writings, and given the…ahem… fates of his more direct descendents, I'm quite impressed."
"Thank you?" Minerva shifted in her bed. "What do you want?"
"I wish to offer to you a bit of an olive branch. I am aware that my more enthusiastic followers touched a nerve, somewhat? They do tend to be a bit too eager to press things. I am sorry to give offense. But someone such as you could go quite far in Ars Magick," Vane Villamont said, his hand taking hers and squeezing it. "We're not as…narrow minded as the Sleepers who parrot some of our ideology - there's more than enough places for women at the top in the world we wish to make."
"Wearing the boot?" Minerva asked, before she could stop herself.
Villamont chuckled. "You have a razor sharp wit, Miss Schross-Sableknight. Or…can I call you Minerva?" he asked, waving his wand and murmuring a soft Carrien Flyht Selda to draw a stool from across the room to his behind. He settled himself down and beamed down at her. Minerva felt a crawling awareness that he was trying to bring the full force of his…attentiveness on her. She had the hideous vision of him rumpling her skirts and tried to not shudder out of the bed.
And then…
An idea occurred in her mind. She had seen enough films about the War to know that the femme fatal could flutter her eyelashes at some Prussian officer and get all the plans for some deadly offensive - she just needed to be like that now. She pushed back her immediate disgust and thought of Kat's hands pinning her arms above her head, her lips pressing to her neck, her warmth enfolding her as the cold stone bit against her back. The memory brought a flush to her cheeks that she hoped he would mistake as inspired by him.
"Y-You may, uh, Mr. Villamont," she said.
"Minerva, then," he said. "Ars Magicka needs students like you."
"I…am not entirely clear as to your, uh, direction. Leslie did not exactly sell it properly," she said, nodding. "Is it true you're subservient to Mosely?" She threw that bit out, wondering if Villamont would bite.
"Subservient to a Sleeper who can't even organize his own party? A man who's all talk, all ego, no real ability?" Villamont chuckled. "Of course not. Half his speeches were slipped into his mind by my agents and written by myself. Do you think they'd have eighty eighty thousand members with just Mosley at work? Five Members of Parliament at work in the House of Commons? And there was a rally this September, it would have been crushed without a few…suggestions that my people gave to the police in London. Really, Mosley would be a harmless crank without me."
Minerva nodded, slowly. "So, the British Union of Fascists are your puppets?" she asked.
"Hardly. We don't need to lead them around, they push our agenda admirably anyway! They just benefit from a bit of magical help here and there, same as any other party. And once they're in power in the mundane government and we are in control in the magical government, the British Empire will, for the first time in two hundred years, have effortless and total cooperation between the two co-equal magisteria," Villamont said.
"And what will you do then?" Minerva asked.
"We'll take a stand against the two largest threats that the modern magical world face - discovery and exploitation by capitalists and the disorderly and unwizardly wrecking of the Reds," Villamont said.
Minerva bit her lower lip, and tried to look thoughtful. "I see," she said. "And what do you need students like me for?"
"This school is a haven for…subversives," Villamont said, leaning in slightly. "Your grandfather, you know, stood against the exact kind of subversives that are at work here. Communists. Labor organizers. Rootless cosmopolitan types." He inclined his head slightly at the very thought, as if to indicate the possible dangers beyond Minerva.
Minerva arched an eyebrow. Then she knew, exactly, how to get him to spill…everything. She sat up, her voice softening.
"You mean…Jews? Here? I was assured that this was backed by the Church of England."
"You're surprised? They are always turning up in places of importance," Villamont said. "And this is one of the most vital war resources of the British Empire, if you can believe it." He looked at her with even more open lust, Minerva could see it smoldering in his eyes. The fact she couldn't tell if it was for her body or of her the potential of her support made her skin crawl. Then Villamont made it ever so clear by shifting his posture so that the nurse and headmaster could not see the placement of his hand - then he placed it upon her thigh, squeezing her through the thin blankets that were draped across her body. Minerva forced down her every single reaction, her knuckles tightening beneath the blankets she wore - he couldn't see them whiten, couldn't see her fingernails digging into his palm.
"Mr. Villamont…" she whispered, her emotions making her voice husky and tight. She hoped he mistook it for excitement.
"This school is the source of half the vampire blood in England. It is also the heart of several important projects and…well…having someone with your abilities on the ground is going to be of great import," Villamont said. He reached into his pocket, then withdrew a small card. He held it to her and Minerva took it. It had several intricate runes that were so precise and so perfectly made that it looked like they had come from a printing shop. Then she noticed the legend at the bottom; Printed with Pride at Milderbree's and Sons Magical Printing Incorporated.
"This will give you a direct line to me when you fold it in half," Villamont said, standing up. His smile was warm. "And will allow me to contact you."
"T-Thank you Mr. Villamont," Minerva said, tucking the note into one of the letters she had been given.
Then he turned and was off. The nurse walked to her side, shaking her head and clicking her tongue. "I hope he didn't distress you overmuch," she said, quietly. "Did he…he can't just boss around a student."
"I-It's fine," Minerva said. "I just need to rest for a moment." She tried to look as pathetic and sleepy as it was possible to be. The nurse smiled warmly at her, ruffled her hair, then turned and headed off to her offices. Villamont, meanwhile, had swept Headmaster Merlin into his arm, and the two had started out, heads together.
Minerva slid from the bed. She almost immediately collapsed - her arms flailing as she realized that while she did not hurt as much as she might have, she had not yet recovered. But as she plunged forward, sure that the slap of her hitting the ground and her cry of pain would draw attention, one of the letters waiting for her rustled and something swift and small shot from the collected flowers and wreaths…and her desk shot under her arm and grew several sizes, expanding until it was the size of a suitcase. She leaned into the desk, which bobbed at her cheerfully, and Minerva whispered.
"You were waiting for me?"
The desk rattled the hinged on its shelves like a set of chiming bells, making a rising and falling pattern that sounded whimsical. Cheerful.
"You are…a lovely little desk," Minerva whispered. "Come on." She shifted and then managed to swing herself onto the desk, which swooped down to assist her. With it floating bare inches off the ground and remaining relatively small, it skimmed her silently and easily to the door. She opened it a crack, peeking out, to find that Headmaster Merlin was standing a few paces away from the doorway, shaking his head.
"The wand, Merlin," Villamont said. "I require it."
"It isn't finished, Mr. Villamont," Merlin said, his voice steely. "And more? It is to be given to the War Ministry - not to a politico, no matter how many elections your party has won."
"Ars Magicka runs our War Ministry, Merlin," Villamont said, quietly. "And we'll be running the Sleeper one soon enough, and perhaps then Education Ministry, and-"
"And Hexgramatica would remain an independent school," Merlin said dryly. "We are, after all, by technicality, a parish of the Church of England and owned by King George."
Minerva wished to pump her arm - go Headmaster! She thought - but then Villamont smirked slowly. "An independent school but a follower of the laws of the Empire. I wish the wand to be handed over quietly. With as little fuss as required. But if need be, I can have General Agustus Miller here within the week. He would have the right to take the wand, no?"
Merlin opened his mouth, then closed it. "Quite."
"And that would be quite legal. Yes?"
Merlin inclined his head. "If General Agustus Miller came and asked for the wand, he would have it. Yes. But the wand is not complete. It's not safe to be used, it-"
"It is required for the future of the Anglo Saxon race and our traditions of wizardry to survive the 20th century," Villamont growled. He stepped closer and Minerva winced to see Merlin give a step backwards. "Will you bequeath the wand to General Miller?"
Merlin did not sigh. He did not bend, physically. But he did nod. "Yes, I will."
"Good," Villamont said, then turned and started to walk away.
Minerva gaped and shook her head slowly. Horror filled her as she watched Merlin put his palm to his red face, rubbing it as his spade-tipped tail twitched from side. Then she almost fell off her desk as Merlin said: "You may come out, Miss Schross-Sableknight."
Minerva blushed and leaned forward ever so slightly on her desk. It skimmed along the ground as she came out into the corridor, where Merlin turned to face her. He looked very tired and very old for such a young man.
"Why?" she asked.
"Why is our government going down the drain? I could answer that in a million ways. Or do you mean why does he want the Wand of Silver?" Merlin turned to face her, his eyes sparkling. "Or did you mean to say what? Because students aren't meant to know of the wand. Yet, you seem remarkably unsurprised."
Minerva flushed.
Merlin smiled, thinly. "I've seen a great many terrible mistakes made by wizards. This Ars Magicka business has a new stink to it. Entirely modern. I worry that the government isn't taking seriously just how very modern it is - but, well, I am not exactly allowed in the halls of power anymore." He spread his hands in a shrugging gesture.
"Why are you just giving it to him then?" she asked.
"I have no choice," Merlin said, frowning. "He's followed the law to the letter. General Augustus Miller may be a loathsome fascist, but he was appointed to the War Ministry by Parliament. If I did not hand the wand over, I would be at fault."
"But he's going to use the wand to-" Minerva winced. She had spoken so forcefully, her stomach had knotted so that her stab wound had flared with agony. She put her arm to her chest. "We have to stop them."
"I am doing everything in my power, Miss Schross-Sableknight," Merlin said, quietly. "And you should be doing everything in your power to recover. Go." He placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezed. "Lay down and rest."
Minerva frowned.
She let herself be led backwards.
She laid into bed.
But rather than resting, she thought. She thought around and around and around, playing over what Vane Villamont had said.
Someone has to stop him, she thought.
Who's going to do it? You? Seemed to bounce back deep from the rear of her mind.
Minerva frowned. She lifted her hand as the nurse came into the hospital and began to close the blinds, cutting off the light from the sun. As shadows fell over her hand, Minerva clenched it, then unclenched it. She remembered the visceral thrill of feeling that lead pipe crunch into the side of Leslie's head. She wondered if the other woman was being tended to in some other part of the infirmary, or if she had simply paid extra to get healed faster. In the end, Minerva decided it didn't particularly matter.
Instead, she thought.
And thought.
And realized the dizzying feeling when one leaned in to kiss another woman was remarkably similar to the exhilaration of deciding that it was time…to cause some mischief. She grinned in the dimness and closed her eyes.
Exhaustion stole her into sleep.
***
Minerva remained in bed for an obnoxious length of time. Fortunately, she was visited on the first day, before she really began to process how long she would be recovering. That meant when Gina, Harry and Kat arrived, with Selene following up the course behind her. Selene carried with her a small pot with a little bulbous plant sticking out of it, while the others were carrying yet more flowers and cards. Minerva, who had had no chance to even read the cards, smiled at them as they walked towards her.
"You do know I still have a lot to read, yes?" she asked, while Kat grinned and leaned forward to plant an extremely chaste, sisterly kiss upon her forehead, placing what she was carrying right on Minerva's lap.
"Yes, you do," she said. "Here, your classwork, I knew you would be gnawing off your arm without your classwork."
"Oh my slavemaster," Minerva said, dryly, while Gina swarmed over to her side and gave her a series of kisses on her cheek, while loading her down with what seemed to be an entire pile of small boxes and parcels with bright labels and white packaging. Minerva took one up, frowning as she saw it was Jumping Jellies and the box was beginning to wriggle and bounce in her hand. "What is this?"
"Jumping Jellies, Singing Rhubarbs, Little Gnomes!" Gina said, beaming at her. "I figure you need something fun to have around here, since they're being damn lazy." She glared at the nurse, who shot her from as she bustled by with a broom.
"If you really wanted to cheer me up, you should have brought a newspaper," Minerva said, leaning back in her bed. "That awful Villamont showed up and was bragging about some…rally that Mosley's maniacs had thrown and I'd rather learn about those things before it gets tossed at me by-" She cut herself off as she saw Harry's ashen face. She blushed. "I apologize for any awkwardness that his arrival has stirred up."
"It's not your fault," Harry said, smiling at her as the box of jumping jellies bounced and wriggled against her tummy.
Gina shook her head. "He came around to harass you for…that son of a-"
"No, worse!" Minerva cut her off, laughing and wincing as she felt her belly wound twinge against her. "Mmm." She shifted in her bed, trying to find a comfortable place to lay. "He was impressed."
"That does sound like Mr. Villamont," Harry said, shaking her head as Kat scowled slightly at the memory. "He didn't hurt you?"
"Oh, no, we discussed a great many interesting things," Minerva said, her voice growing dry. "In fact, did you know that he was deeply concerned about rootless cosmopolitans in this school?" She let herself smile. "He was quite taken with my concern and shared his ideas on how to rectify the situation."
Gina blinked down at her with a gentile's simple innocence. Minerva took her hand from the box of jellies and took Gina's.
"He meant Jews, dear," she said, quietly.
"Oh!" Gina exclaimed. "But…you're- I…oh! Ohhohoho!" She laughed as Kat grinned in a very Kat-ish way.
"What's his plans?" she asked, quietly.
Minerva glanced at the nurse as she came back, carrying a tray covered with surgical wands, several of them still smoking and hissing gently.
"Not now," Minerva said. "Once I'm out of here."
"So, in a week?" Gina asked.
"A week!?" Minerva exclaimed. She laid her head back against the pillow, groaning. "I have to get out of this bed…can't we get more healing magic?"
"No," Harry said. "I'm afraid that the staff at Hexgramatica get quite annoyed if students botch their own healing magics - it's the fastest way to die of a cancer that any wizard has ever found."
Minerva pouted. "Maybe I can convince the nurse to heal me more…" She shook her head, closing her eyes. "Ugh. A week."
"We'll bring you a newspaper," Gina said, gently, petting her head, her fingers sliding through Minerva's brown curls.
"I have brought you a carnivorous plant that thirsts for human blood," Selene said, butting into the conversation and prying Minerva's eyes open with a shocked grunt. The plant's bulbous head opened, revealing sharpened thorn teeth and a kind of leafy tongue that reached out towards Minerva's face, despite the distance between her and the plant in question. "They can grow to be the size of a small house, given sufficient feedstock."
"I…thank you, Selene," Minerva said, a little concerned. "I, uh, how is your attempt to get yourself transformed into a, um, canary girl going?"
"I have yet to acquire sufficiently magical toxic materials," Selene said, then cocked her head. "Is it true that Professor Stevenson is training you personally in dueling arts? I followed her late one night. Are you okay?"
"Quite fine!" Minerva said, coughing and blushing.
Harry shook his head. "You don't need to do any training any more, not after this. We'll try and avoid you getting into any duels." He took her hand, squeezing and patting her knuckles. Minerva chuckled, then shook her head subtly at him.
"I hope so too," she said, making sure to shake her head again.
Harry noticed. Kat noticed.
Gina didn't. "Bugger that, dueling seems great fun - though, next time, we'll avoid swords, stick just to wands." She mimed flicking her wrist, casting a spell without a wand. "Less of that nasty stabbing business."
"I'll ensure to be as offensive as possible to get the challenge, rather than the other way around." Minerva grinned. "Promise."
"Excellent plan," Selene pronounced. Kat ruffled Minerva's hair, then glanced left, then right again. She leaned forward, and her croon sent an excited thrill along Minerva's spine.
"I'll be bringing you that newspaper…"
And bring it she did. Of course, she did so in the dead of night, the paper rustling softly as she set it beside the table. Minerva shifted sleepily, her eyes fluttering open, only to find her arms pinned above her head. Momentary panic and confusion faded to nothingness as she saw the glittering gold of Kat's eyes above her, catching and reflecting a thin sliver of moonlight that came through the windows. Minerva opened her mouth, only to find warm, soft lips pressing down into her as Kat's body pinned her into the bed. Kat was careful, though. Careful to keep her legs spread, to not press her belly to Minerva's belly. To leave Minerva enough slack that her wound did not ache so. When she broke the kiss, Minerva was panting, her head swimming, and the first thought on her tongue was: "H-Here?"
Kat chuckled. "Here." Her rumble buzzed in Minerva's ear like a flight of aeroplanes.
"B-But the nurse!" Minerva squeaked.
"Then you'll need to be quiet," Kat whispered. She did not rumble the blankets, nor draw them aside. Instead, she ducked down. Down. Minerva realized where she was going in a flash and grabbed onto her mouth with her hand to keep from crying out in sheerest surprise. Then the blankets shifted and Minerva felt the warm breath of her lover against her thigh. She knew that they needed to talk…but at the moment, she wanted to do nothing that might draw the nurse's attention…
And so.
Kat provides convalescent cunnalingus
She laid very still as Kat's strong, strong hands grabbed onto her thighs, lifting her. She listened to the crinkle of the sheeting under the moon - and knew that it could not possibly be as loud as it sounded. Then Kat's lips found the slit of her sex, flicking slowly from base to top, just…teasing her with the warmth and wetness of her tongue. Then all MInerva could focus on was biting down on her knuckles. Even so, the whimper that escaped in the quiet of the infirmary felt terribly loud, and she warred with fear and eagerness…if they were found…but then Kat gripped her buttocks with both hands, drawing her closed. Her lips closed unerringly around Minerva's clit, sucking fiercely.
Minerva's back lifted. Her hips clenched. Her shoulder trembled. And pain laced through her belly - warning with pleasure. Kat put her hand gently on Minerva, pinning her back down again, and the pain eased as Minerva closed her eyes, tears of sensation - pleasure and pain both - streaming down her cheeks as she closed her eyes…and focused on Kat's tongue. Delving. Thrusting. Crooking within her, finding her center of pleasure. Minerva's knuckles withdrew and she gasped in - then clapped her hand over her mouth as a moan tried to escape from her throat and reveal her to the sleeping nurse.
And still Kat showed no mercy. Her tongue continued to feast upon Minerva's sex, as if Minerva was a banquet and someone had starved the werewolf girl for years. Her hands continued to hold Minerva down and…past the pounding of her heart, the only thing that reached Minerva's ears were soft, soft wet noises and the faint squeak and squeal of the bed beneath her. Then…it was all unstoppable, her orgasm rushing towards her faster and faster. Minerva clenched her mouth shut, and clapped her hand over her mouth so tightly she was sure she was going to leave marks and it was too late, it was all too late.
She saw white.
She flared her nostrils, drawing in air.
She trembled.
She crested a plateau…
And Kat sucked on her clit once more and thrust two warm, warm fingers into her and Minerva found that a girl could reach another plateau beyond the first. Her body burned with sensation. The touch of the blanket against her nipples, her arms, her belly, her shoulders, was an agony of pure sensation. She rolled her eyes back into her head and Kat…
And Kat…
Kat crooked her fingers.
The clenching tightness that outlined those fingers shocked Minerva. She had not known muscles like that could tighten like that. She had not known that pleasure could coil and writhe through her body like this. And then, mercifully, Kat withdrew her fingers, her mouth, and swept the blankets back so she could stand before Minerva, who gasped and trembled and closed her eyes so tightly, so very tightly.
Those wet, wet fingers touched her lips. Minerva sucked them. She made a soft noise that was so shamefully submissive that it made her cheeks burn. Worse, Kat crooned: "Good girl. Good little girl."
Minerva opened her mouth, panting. "Kat…" She groaned.
"I have to be going now," Kat whispered. She leaned down. "For now, think of it as a good dream, yes?"
Minerva moaned into her mouth. Her tongue conquered her lips, just as easily as it had conquered her sex. Then Kat was away, vanishing into the dimness and silver of moonlight, while Minerva trembled. Her hips bucked once or twice as she felt the aftershocks of the pleasure radiate through her.
"Oy…" she mumbled, then let her head thump back into the pillow.
***
The next morning, Minerva was brought a fine spread of breakfast by a mute, nude fae man who's pendulous cock hung at almost her exact eye level. For whatever reason, it had the awful effect of reminding Minerva that not long ago, she'd drunk a love potion to climb atop Harry Perry.
"Is there anything more I can do for my convalescing mistress?"
"N-No!" Minerva focused her eyes forward and tried to not think of what that mistress meant. One thing at a time, she thought. When the fae left, she was admiring the waffles and eggs and…the bacon. She sighed and tried to think of the best way to quietly get rid of it - it seemed that this fae hadn't been as attentive as Gina's house servant. Either that, or he had been polite enough to not mention her…geas…to whoever ran the kitchens. She started to unfold the newspaper, wondering what it was she might catch up.
What she saw was horrifying.
ASSASSIN SABERED BY HEROIC MAGISTER OFFICER - MUNDANE KING, FRENCH MINISTER SLAIN!
She flipped through and found the attack had been carried out in Marseilles - the King of Yugoslavia had been visiting for a reason that remained obscure in the paper, which spent a quite remarkable amount of ink and time lavishing remarks on Lieutenant-Colonel Pasteur-Lefèvre and his heroic actions. And while Minerva did not want to undersell the heroism of charging a mundane assassin who had been armed with some kind of submachine pistol and sprayed nearly a hundred rounds into the automobile and the crowd, she found it a bit distressing that the newspaper didn't…say…mention any of the ramifications of this event, leaving her to close the paper and mull on it all.
They weren't even worrying or clucking about the potential of this sparking a new world war, which was the first worrying thing that came to Minerva's mind. She shook her head slowly as she grumbled under her breath.
"Wizards!"
She closed her eyes and she considered.
Doing schoolwork in bed. Reading in bed. Resting. Waiting. Watching the sun rise and set. These made the week crawl by on their hands and knees, and every newspaper she managed to get was an entire day out of date thanks to the long ride through the astral plane it took to get there, and each one seemed to be obsessed with the minutia of the wizarding world, rather than the storm brewing in Europe. When she, at last, was released from bed, she was overjoyed to find that war had not been declared and that Europe seemed to be merely teetering on the brink of things.
The only thing that soothed her nerves was that every time she asked for rumors, none of them mentioned that a big arrival of officials from the British government was expected - until a day before her convalescence was done, when Gina mentioned that three days from now, there was going to be a 'big to do' about the arrival of 'some General or another' that a few questions had revealed to be General Miller.
That gave Minerva just enough of a chance for her plan.
The first step of her plan was to ask Clyve, at one of his evening chess games: "Is it all right if I invite friends from other houses to our Home Room? Just to spend time together?"
Clyve frowned. "Nooo, that's a bridge too far, old girl. But you can meet in an empty classroom?"
Thus…
On the afternoon a week after the murder of the King of Yugoslavia and a few days before the arrival of General Miller, with her belly still tender and her nerves still jangling, Minerva called together her friends. Harry, Gina, Kat, and…to the other's surprise, Selene. But Minerva knew that Selene would appreciate her. Once Kat had kicked the door closed, Minerva drew a breath, squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and said: "I am planning to steal the Wand of Silver from the depths of this school and spirit it away before General Miller arrives."
The other students gaped at her. Gina's gape of shock turned into a huge smile. "And leave Vane Villamont with egg on his face, huh?" she asked, then hopped up onto a desk. She kicked her legs. "Bully! How are we going to do it?"
Minerva smiled as she saw the others nodding. She breathed out a slow sigh, then nodded her head forward. "By correcting another crime," she said. "Beneath this school is a woman that they have kept prisoner for a hundred years. She…deserves to be free. If she escapes and the wand goes missing, then the authorities will assume she has taken it - and thus, not look at any of us for the potential theft. They would be hunting after her either way, so, it is no extra burden to her…" I hope. "...and we can hide the wand in the Lake. It does seem to be the right place to hide weapons of great and mystical power, eh?"
Harry shook his head slowly. "I…this…this is insane!" he exclaimed. "It's illegal, as well-"
"We have to do something," Minerva said. "Do you want Vane Villamont to have that thing? Do you want to just let Ars Magicka march into the halls of power?"
"No, but…" Harry cut himself off. "There is no but, is there?"
"Not when dealing with fascists," Kat said, quietly. Her hands were in her pockets and her grin grew fierce. "Who is this woman beneath the castle?"
"She's…a vampire," Minerva said. "Her name is Cecillia Morganna-Wellesley II."
Harry jerked as if he had been struck. Gina, not noticing, snorted. "Never heard of her!"
Minerva shot Harry a look, arching an eyebrow. Kat grinned. "Harry…" she leaned in. "What are you being knowing of this here vampire?"
"I, ah, it's just…a familiar name," Harry said, coughing. "We may need to add another member to this conspiracy." He sighed, then rubbed his palms against his face. "You, ah…you know my good friend, um, Robert?"
"Aren't you his fag?" Selene said. "Or is that the old fashioned term for it?"
Gina snorted.
Harry flushed. "His name is Robert Morganna-Wellesley. And he…" He frowned. "He's a vampire."
Minerva's eyes went very wide.
"Then the vampire scare-" Kat started.
"Professor Tweed came upon us as…" Harry rubbed his neck. "W-Well, I…feeding is…there's…it was quite…it was none of your business. But he does have an aunt who, ah, faced rather…that is, she is not much talked of in the family, though vampirism is a bit of a family tradition and…" He shook his head. "I must bring him here. Right now."
"Of course," Minerva said, her cheeks bright red as Kat grinned woflishly.
"You are always being most interesting, the more I learn of you, Harry Perry," Kat said.
Harry nodded. "I…I shall return."
He turned, opened the door, stepped into the corridor and was immediately bowled over by a student sprinting by. Kat exclaimed in surprise, and Minerva hurried to the door, reaching it just as Harry sat up. The student who had been sprinting was none other than Gregory, his blue and orange robes flared wide. He scrambled away from Harry, scowled at him. "Get outta my way - I have to find Minerva!"
"You've found her, what on Earth is going on, Gregory?" Minerva asked, grabbing onto Harry's arm, tugging him to his feet.
"You need to come to the homeroom!" Gregory said. "The wireless - I…you have to hear this!"
"Then we'll all go," Minerva said. "The wireless is the only way to get news at a decent clip down here in the astral plane."
Gregory shot a look at the rest of the group, at their non-blue, non-orange robes. Minerva, rather annoyed by this point, scowled and said: "Good heavens, if it's vital enough to drag me back to the homeroom, then they can come in and listen with us."
Gregory, to her surprise, didn't argue. He turned and started off, and they all followed - that alone made Minerva wonder just how serious this was. They came to the Sildanus homeroom and the door swung open to find that every single student from HOuse Sildanus were gathering around the wireless, which had a glowing aura shrouding it, a wand held by Penny, who was shouting: "I'll have it continue playing from the start once we're all- ah, Minerva's here, now, shut it! Shut it!" She glared around herself, while the crowd all looked at the wireless, not even noticing Harry, Gina or Selene.
The wand whipped away from the wireless.
Minerva frowned as the voice started speaking, mid sentence - as if it was a record who had been stopped and started at the same moment, the needle already in the groove.
"-this remarkable announcement has been sent to every news agency - magical and mundane - around the world! We repeat, the Premier of Soviet Russia and her imperial subjects has given the following speech, translated from Russian to English, to her subjects: Workers and Laborers of the Soviet Union, I stand before you to reveal a new era of peace, prosperity and plenty for the people of our glorious socialist state. For centuries uncounted, unknown to the majority of the world's population, there has existed a secretive world that has interacted with, guided, influenced the activities and actions of Europe and, through Europe, the world. This secretive world contains a power, a power greater than the railroad, more transformative than the electrical grid, more intellectual vital than the printing press itself - and this power, thanks to our comrades and allies within this secretive world, is now to be shared not merely with the Soviet Union, but with the whole world…"
"No," one of the older Sildanus girls whispered next to Minerva. "No, no no no no!"
"The power of magic is real, and like all other forces, it can made subservient to the will of the workers of the world," the announcer said, his BBC inflected, precise English fluctuating a sliver, as if even he couldn't quite believe what he was reading. "The wizards and workers of the Soviet Union have already produced fields that can feed an entire city with the labor of but a few willworkers, created factories that can forge from base elements and matter entire complex apparatus that would have taken a thousand technicians to assemble - and done so within moments, not months! They have made airplanes that need never fuel and automobiles that can take to the skies as easily as-"
A scream came from somewhere in Hexgramatica, echoing down the hall to the open door. A man next to Minerva put his hands to his face, as if he was struck.
"Commie bastards!" Gregory snarled, then punched the wireless hard enough for it to warble and squeal.
"The masquerade, they can't-" Penny said.
"They have!" Bellatrix exclaimed. "I…I have to write to my parents!"
"What do we do!?" Clyve grabbed onto Gregory, squeezing him. "What do we bloody do!?"
"No way the rest of the world believes this!"
Minerva, unable to stop herself, thrust her arms into the air.
I want to put on the record that I am a leftist and believe that magic is the perfect potential backdrop for the attainment of post-scarcity communism and the ending of material want.
That said, I can't wait to see how Stalin and Lysenko fuck this up.
Magical commies have such an advantage it's not even funny. Because even with industrialization, Wizards are an aristocratic class that do not want even this knowledge to spread outside of their circles.
I want to put on the record that I am a leftist and believe that magic is the perfect potential backdrop for the attainment of post-scarcity communism and the ending of material want.
In fact it is capitalism which depends upon magic (among other things, like force) - while communism only depends upon the existing world, and upon reason. Magic is gravy.
I want to put on the record that I am a leftist and believe that magic is the perfect potential backdrop for the attainment of post-scarcity communism and the ending of material want.
That said, I can't wait to see how Stalin and Lysenko fuck this up.
Stalin's not in power, which means neither is Lysenko. I actually think it would be funny if Stalin's still General Secretary, but it's a world where the party-state never formed and the Supreme Soviet holds the power over the country. Maybe they blew up the train that had most of the white leadership on it, leading to a much shorter civil war.
In fact it is capitalism which depends upon magic (among other things, like force) - while communism only depends upon the existing world, and upon reason. Magic is gravy.
I'm just saying, the infinite production made possible by magic means you can skip all the hard Marxism parts and go straight to everyone being materially satisfied forever, as long as the fruits of magic production are not exclusive to one class.
Capitalism, I would say, depends on stage magic - misdirection and lying about where wealth comes from.
Stalin's not in power, which means neither is Lysenko. I actually think it would be funny if Stalin's still General Secretary, but it's a world where the party-state never formed and the Supreme Soviet holds the power over the country. Maybe they blew up the train that had most of the white leadership on it, leading to a much shorter civil war.
Technically, magic isn't really infinite production. Remember, it takes calories and they can't magic food out of existence - Minerva tried and she almost starved to death.
another day another banger for the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
honestly this rules because like, the stuff is all there for why they would obviously, like, do this? but i just didn't see it coming because like, there's an assumption that the world is static outside of the protagonist/antagonist of the story?
How different is this USSR? Are they still the bastards who murdered thousands of socialists, anarchists and Jews during the revolution? I'm sure it's a step up given that Stalin isn't in charge, but how much of one?
How different is this USSR? Are they still the bastards who murdered thousands of socialists, anarchists and Jews during the revolution? I'm sure it's a step up given that Stalin isn't in charge, but how much of one?
As far as I know, bolshevik forces in the Russian Civil War didn't kill... many? Jewish civilians.
Like, they killed too many, in any is too many, but they weren't, like, even remotely exceptional for it compared to really any other faction in the civil war.
It is an odd sin to lay at their feet, given all the ones that are actually fair - the Red Army would hang people for pogroms. Most of their opponents would not - I think it was literally just Makhno's Black Army and the Red Army that didn't actively encourage committing pogroms.
The Soviet Union under Stalin was antisemitic, the Red Army in the Russian Civil War was less antisemitic than the average Russian at the time, which is about as good as you're likely to get, alternate history or no.
As far as I know, bolshevik forces in the Russian Civil War didn't kill... many? Jewish civilians.
Like, they killed too many, in any is too many, but they weren't, like, even remotely exceptional for it compared to really any other faction in the civil war.
It is an odd sin to lay at their feet, given all the ones that are actually fair - the Red Army would hang people for pogroms. Most of their opponents would not - I think it was literally just Makhno's Black Army and the Red Army that didn't actively encourage committing pogroms.
The Soviet Union under Stalin was antisemitic, the Red Army in the Russian Civil War was less antisemitic than the average Russian at the time, which is about as good as you're likely to get, alternate history or no.
And, to be frank, we know what it would have looked like if the revolutionary USSR had adopted a policy of deliberate antisemitism: the White forces are estimated to have killed more Jewish people in pogroms alone than the Soviets killed civilians, both Jewish and otherwise, during the entire civil war. Claiming otherwise is stunningly ignorant.
And realized the dizzying feeling when one leaned in to kiss another woman was remarkably similar to the exhilaration of deciding that it was time…to cause some mischief. She grinned in the dimness and closed her eyes.
