Sep. 1st, 2015 04:19 pm
alt_antonin: (Default)
ANTONIN DOLOHOV lives out the rest of his life in the (non-extraditing) country of Egypt, at the Cairo Conclave for the Noble Arts as a Master-in-Residence, translating significant works that have been written in the dozen or so languages he speaks and teaching the Conclave's students the intricacies of the Noble Arts. He is exceptionally candid at his favourites about not repeating his mistakes. He will inevitably wind up as Grand-Master someday, despite refusing the job at least twice when the other Masters try to stick him with it.

He maintains a wide-ranging and eclectic correspondence with a number of people (both prominent and not), influencing the geopolitical situation and the opinion of the international community from the shadows in a number of ways, mostly as a force for peace and stability -- although, as should surprise no one, his definitions of 'peace' and 'stability' are not necessarily the ones in common use. Under his leadership, however, the Conclave maintains a policy of strict neutrality in the social and political upheavals of the Middle East that arise over the next few decades. (Anyone who asks him why the Conclave will not participate in the revolutionary and nation-building process gets a four-hour lecture about how a revolution inevitably goes and why he will not be a part of one again, thank you very much.)

He never leaves Cairo again, and in fact very rarely leaves the Conclave's grounds on the far outskirts of the city where city turns into desert, although he can often be found on sleepless nights (of which he has many) sitting at their edge and staring out into the desert as though looking for something.

He and Siz exchange erratic, cautious, and carefully-phrased letters/postcards (and packages of books) for the rest of their lives. He dies, childless, at an exceptionally old age. His portrait at Hogwarts frequently lectures the current Headmaster about educational standards.
alt_antonin: (intense)
I am alive; I am safe; I have gone home. I have sworn never to return and it is a vow I intend to keep.

Good luck with the wards; I shall exert what scraps of influence I may from here to ensure matters go as smoothly as possible.

Live well, little star.
alt_antonin: (barely holding together)
I must beg for your help. I have no one else I can turn to.

I am badly injured. Justin is badly injured. I do not doubt neither of us will live out the night if we are not treated. In exchange for healing, I will give you the week's passwords to Buckingham's wards, and a vow to leave Britain and never return and to never again lift wand against any of you or yours.

I am at Cottesmore. The password 'Salazar's Mercy' will permit you entrance, as long as you come alone. Once I am healed I will tell you where he is. You will not find him if I don't.

I swear to you on the souls of my dead and yours that this is not a trap.

When you wrote to me after my death you were more right than I was willing to admit.

alt_antonin: (ready)
You still keep your left elbow raised too far.
alt_antonin: (determined)
Harassing a pregnant witch and taunting her about her child? And here I thought you prided yourself on your courtesy.

Still haven't found any of my little gifts? From the lack of hypocritical moralising, I am guessing you haven't. Come now, Юстинка, it's been simply ages. Surely you can't be that slow.
alt_antonin: (amused)
Figured it out yet?

Пионеры не боятся волков.
alt_antonin: (resolute)
Whilst in limine I was tasked to bear you a message. Mr Potter says, to the nearest of my ability to recall: "Stop worrying about me; I'm fine, and I'm waiting for you. We'll definitely see each other again, although there's no rush." He also bade me tell you that he left you a folded origami lion on the desk in his room.

Thus do I discharge the obligation laid upon me, having done so as swiftly as I could once memory returned, and quite frankly I don't give a damn if you believe me or not.
alt_antonin: (first my left foot then my right behind)
I have a great deal of news, and none of it good. I'm sorry, darlings, I don't have the capacity to soften it.

You may have seen some of it already. I'm not sure how much is making its way to you.

The worst of it is that Barty is dead. As near to it as I can piece together, it was Wednesday. There was a battle, on Saturday, and in the midst of it I took a curse, enough to kill me. Dead for two and a half minutes, they tell me. It broke ... everything. The charms we had for each other, the spells I was holding on the field, my spells elsewhere ... I don't blame him for thinking I was dead; I would have believed it myself. They called the retreat shortly thereafter, and the field was such that they knew they could not have taken the time to find my body. Except, of course, that one of the battlefield Healers had portkeyed me to St Mungo's, and I was brought back -- the order may be the other way around; I still do not know everything that happened -- except the hospital is contested ground, and Fletcher plucked me out of the pile before anyone else could tell that I had been brought in, and did not realise how urgent it was to tell Barty that I was not dead after all. Just unconscious, and would stay so for quite some time

He tried to get a message through, apparently. Just not hard enough.

Barty -- well. How often did we joke about it, that one of us would not outlive the other for very long? Except I believe Barty thought my death was his to carry the blame for -- it was not, I will go to my grave swearing swear to you it was not; it was my own fucking failure -- and his guilt and rage got the better of him, and he set out to make me an escort of anyone and everyone who had ever so much as

It was Hydra who stopped him, finally. In the Forbidden Forest -- I think he was determined he would take back Hogwarts in my name or die trying. They left him there to rot, to be eaten by monsters, and they will use even that to

Простите -- I waited to write until I thought I could do so coherently, but I am less coherent than I would like.

I don't know what comes next. I've spent the last day trying to figure it out. None of the options will do anyone any good.

I am so fucking glad that you are both safe and well and away from this nightmare.
alt_antonin: (out of options)
Did you think I would be so overcome in my grief as to not notice the ambush?

Who ordered you to do it, to bait the trap with such a lure? I refuse to believe the idea was yours; you do not have the viciousness it would require. Your mother's, perhaps, if she did not believe the disposition of your brother's body was no idea of mine, nor would I have allowed it? Finch-Fletchley, who knows full well what the burial of the dead signifies to me? Rachel Brodie, to avenge her parents? Diggory, perhaps, or Parkinson, or Perks, or even Auri -- she certainly would know. Or Hydra Lestrange, having read the truth from the mind of one of the others, precisely the way her mother might have?

Or was the idea planted upon you in secret, and you made to think the message-bearing was your idea and the heart of your heart used to betray you, while you are left to suffer remonstrances for your compassion issued by those who claim themselves to be dwelling upon the moral high ground?

Tell your masters I am not such a fool as to walk into their arms, no matter the provocation.
alt_antonin: (shattered)
Blessed are You, our Gods, who come forth to

who come forth to hold the

Ἅγιος ὁ Θεός, Ἅγιος ἰσχυρός, Ἅγιος

Blessed are our gods always and forever and to the ages of ages amen holy god holy immortal holy almighty have mercy on us now and forever and to the

blessed are

I told you that you were not allowed to die without my permission and you swore, you swore
alt_antonin: (tired)
why did I wake up at St M's and not at home? What's the situation?
alt_antonin: (ready)
The shambling horrors and I are in position and disillusioned. Rod and Lana are also in place with their troops. We're ready when you are; I'll await your signal.
alt_antonin: (murderous)
I need wands at building five. Immediately.

And we need at least one prisoner -- there's no gods-be-damned way they could have got here this fast if they didn't have a source, and we need to know who it was. Yesterday.
alt_antonin: (happy)
While Berry was going through the attic today, she found a box containing several things I'd thought long lost, including Kolya's ritual knife. As he very much would have liked for you to have it, do you have some time tonight? We can rededicate it into the family's service.
alt_antonin: (strategic)
Two days is my best estimate. Three, if I accidentally trip the Gryffindor gallantry, but I'm fairly confident I can avoid it.

Bella, how long have you been cruciating her? If it's been more than a few hours, it's likely time for me to step in. Once she sees me, it will be very important that from then on out, for at least the next day or two, she only sees me when I am coming in to chase you off and bring her respite. We'll need for her to associate me with safety, or at least with a temporary cessation of pain.

If you aren't at a turning point, I'll come in in a moment and 'object' to your treatment of her. We'll need to leave her alone and let her get a few hours' sleep tonight -- if only so that I can wake her in the wee hours and start planting the seeds of uncertainty. (Thank you for that information on her fears about her late, unlamented brother; that will serve nicely as a lever.)

Barty -- if you have some time tomorrow (morning or afternoon; the timing is flexible) I will likely need you to come play boogeyman. Or if there's a minion you have available, but it's important that it not be anyone who might be at all tempted to be soft on her.
alt_antonin: (resigned)
Sanctus Deus, Sanctus Fortis, Sanctus Immortalis, miserere nobis, amen. Ἅγιος ὁ Θεός, Ἅγιος ἰσχυρός, Ἅγιος ἀθάνατος, ἐλέησον ἡμᾶς. Holy God, Holy Almighty, Holy Immortal, have mercy on us, now and ever and to the ages of ages, amen. Blessed are our Gods, always, now and forever and to the ages of ages, amen.

With the saints give rest, O Christ, to the souls of your departed servants Stephen, Ned, Gaude, Parnassus, Isadora, Ursula, Xerxes, Gunther, and Maximus. May the gods have mercy on their souls, having departed without having had time to bring forth fruits worthy of repentance, amen. With the saints give rest, O Christ, to the souls of your departed servants Orion and Andie, for whom I pray in the place of another. May they rest in peace. May their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed rest in peace, through the mercy of God, amen.

Where eternal luster glows, the realm in which the light divine is set, place the souls of your children Savitha and Nisha, O Purifier, in that deathless, imperishable world; make them immortal in that realm where movement is accordant to wish, in the third region, the third heaven of heavens, where the worlds are resplendent. Shantih.

May the Gods grant the souls of all my lost children find rest where the righteous repose; may their names as written and set upon my altar be made eternal, worthy of blessedness and everlasting memory. On your creations, O Gods, have mercy: forgive their sins as I pray they forgive my failures.

Harry Marvolo Potter. Harry Marvolo Potter. Harry Marvolo Potter. I write your names so that they will be remembered; while there is life in my body there will be life in your names. It is not me who says this but Asar, Strength of the Eye, He-Who-Sees, he who causes the world to grow, who opens the ways and weighs the souls of the dead: your souls are made perfect in My house, the house of Asar, Osiris, Wesir, Ausar. Your souls are brought together in the halls of My judgement, whole and uncorrupted, to be granted life eternal in the world hereafter. I declare it is so.

O you who unclose the ways and open the roads to beneficent souls in the house of Osiris, unclose the ways and open the roads to the souls of those who have now entered unto you. Let them enter boldly and come forth in peace at the house of Osiris, without hindrance and without repulse. Let their souls enter at their pleasure and go forth at their will, triumphantly with you, and let that be executed which they shall order, in the house of Osiris; let it be done to them even as they were the God Osiris. Let not my delay to gather their names before writing my prayers impede their entrance into the house of Osiris; let their names be written; let their memories be held eternal in the house of Osiris.

Sanctus Deus, Sanctus Fortis, Sanctus Immortalis, miserere nobis, amen. Ἅγιος ὁ Θεός, Ἅγιος ἰσχυρός, Ἅγιος ἀθάνατος, ἐλέησον ἡμᾶς. Holy God, Holy Almighty, Holy Immortal, have mercy on us, now and ever and to the ages of ages, amen.
alt_antonin: (grumpy)
I think I'm finally getting somewhere with these intransigent idiots; I'm going to take a few days and follow up. If I'm slow to respond, it's because the utmost intransigent idiot thinks journals are horribly gauche and writing in one in the presence of another human being is the worst faux paus one might imagine. (You cannot imagine the number of times in the past two days I have wished to show him what a true faux pas would be.)

May need to take him out and show him a bit of proof that order and stability reigns, et-fucking-cetera. Barty, has this morning's threat assessment changed, or would I still be safe in taking him out to Basildon for a bit of hunting without inordinate risk to life and limb? (Mine, that is; I'm less fond of his, but I don't fucking have the energy to babysit on a battlefield if one springs up around us. Although even if things flare up, don't worry about me ... well, the charm will let you know that I'm fine, at least.)
alt_antonin: (numb)


Where are you? Need to know what has happened but will not be on my feet yet
alt_antonin: (end of the rope)
Things here continue to be full of ridiculous bullshit, from the Enforcers having taken over my damn school to a double dozen students' trunks having turned up 'contraband' (by which they mean black-market sweets or the most inane and inocuous mudblood literature one might imagine). And Savitha is breathing down my neck attemping to be 'helpful'.

This year cannot be over soon enough. And after it is, we must talk about the prospect of

Say you'll be returning tonight? You shouldn't be alone right now, solnyshko, no matter how much you want to crawl away and lick your wounds in peace. I promise I will not press you to talk tonight any more than I did last night, but I don't like the thought of you by yourself.
alt_antonin: (numb)
s T U d n ц, P L E A S E   R E M A i n   cA L м   A N D   I N   Е u r   C O M M O N   Р O O M s.

I F   A N Y o n E   N E E D S   A s s I S T A n C E,   P R e F E C ц   M a Y   S E N D   F O R   H E LP.

T H E   H A Л W A Y S   A R E   O U T   O F   B O U N d S   U N T I L   F U R T H E R   N o T I C E   F O R   Y O U R   S A F E T Y.