𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓂'𝓈 𝒜 𝐵𝓇𝑒𝓌𝒾𝓃'

August 25th, 1994

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐸𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉

Sleep... he deeply wanted to sleep.

The game had ended hours ago... a total beatdown of a game that had only ended in a close match because of the absurd point value given to one little golden ball. He never was all that fond of Quidditch... somehow a world filled with magic had created perhaps the most boring sport there was. Had the advantage of flight and animated balls that existed simply to hit people, and yet the game was completely and fundamentally broken.

Yeah... he had no interest in Quidditch... and yet there he was...

At a seemingly never-ending after party, filled with drunks and people who actually seemed to think that game was unlike anything in this world.

He had to keep up appearances, though, at least attend the party as a sign of good faith. After all, for the first time in many years... people seemed to finally be interested in relationships between nations. He had to keep that in mind... hold onto the good coming out of being there... but damn, he was hanging on by a thread...

"Fudge should be tapping out in the next hour or so." A man sat down beside him with a sigh, "You are going to want to catch him at least one more time tonight."

He... the boy who looked no older than a teenager, simply grumbled under his breath, grey eyes scanning over the party filled with politicians and elites of all kinds. "What I would kill to be the most important person in this room right now."

The man on the boy's other side just smiled into his drink... the MACUSA Ambassador, the oldest looking of the three, "Yes, well, at the moment, that is good old Fudge, so the rest of us are trapped until he decides it is socially acceptable to leave."

"Just have to remember that tomorrow morning, I will be back to my own bed...." The boy sipped his water, "I am tired of this damn continent."

The younger of the men chuckled, "You will get some time home before we are back in October for the Tournament. We are all going to need the break."

The Ambassador cut in absently, "And before you start complaining, it is nonnegotiable about attending the challenges. You will need the excuse of a lifetime to avoid making appearances. MACUSA's and your relations with the European leadership are fragile. This whole Tournament should be seen as a blessing for you."

The other man nodded, "It is also a good excuse to be around to keep an eye on The Marcellas...."

Blah, blah, blah... that is all the boy was hearing as the two older men began the same lectures he had been hearing for months. All going in one ear and out the other... he really wanted to just fucking sleep already.

Eyeing the Minister himself off in the center of the room, drinking and laughing joyfully with those around him... the boy figured he had some time to relax before going over to show the Minister more attention.

So, closing his eyes, he allowed himself a moment of at least mock rest. Doing his best to just focus on his own breathing...

In... and then out...

In... and then out...

His eyes flew open. Snapping to attention, back going rigid, face suddenly almost scarily serious. He met the eyes of the younger of the men, both of them seemingly in the same state... the Ambassador froze at the reactions of his two companions.

The air between the three was almost suffocating. The two that reacted first almost seemed to strain for something far in the distance. Trying to hear something that had not yet reached that of normal ears.