the seven virtues [tom riddle]

chapter twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Vila was a decently sized Manor in the midst of the Slovenian Alps, buried between monstrous piles of rock that offered a geological sanctuary barrier. Nature seemed to nest it in its core, covering it with endless arbores of marvelous viridescent, having the susurrating of the nearby stream create a sonata of fauna and earthly sensations.

It had first been constructed during World War I as a safety outpost for muggle-born students of Hogwarts, who had been evacuated from their habitual locations and had decided to spend their summers learning magic by enrolling in a wonderful curriculum of sorcery.

During the intervallic period, however, the school of witchcraft and wizardry had decided to better spend their resources on developing programs that would take place at the academy itself. Therefore, the Vila had since been used by the professorial concilium as a place of residency for summer scholar meetings.

When Dumbledore had formed an alliance with Newt Scamander, he had offered the Vila as a gathering spot for their order—the Order of Virtues. As such, it had become a designated training spot for young bright witches and wizards that had devoted their unusual powers to defeating Grindelwald's constant bombardments. Equipped with multiple battling grounds and enough dormitories to host more than a dozen students, the house had become a safe place for the seven acolytes that had begun leading the military defense.

In the end, they had become a symbol of hope and prosperity, the promise of renaissance and encouragement. The seven virtues had no holy presence to them, they were machines of war and battle, yet they carried in their soul the need for justice and righteousness—at the end of the day, it mattered not how bloodied their hands were, as long as they had come one step closer to ending Grindelwald's massacre. There had never been any Heaven in war, and there would never be. There were only soldiers with excuses and reasons.

Synonym for effective, eleven letters, Latin origin.

Maxwell stared at the crossword puzzle as he had for the past hour, hand gripping his pen tightly as he struggled to recall the word. He had known it once, he was sure of it—it was right on the tip of his tongue, but whenever he tried to remember it, he felt as if he was plunging into darkness.