|What Madame Ghazala Did on Holiday
||[03 Dec 2018|10:10pm]
"Atish!" came the strong mezzo voice casting the Persian version of Lumos. Madame Ghazala Al-Halim charmed her papers into collation just after she returned to her hotel room on her third night in Youngblood Circle, forgetting that she'd already done so after the floo discussion with her aides in the hotel pub. The first day of the summit awaited, and Ghazala was feeling more stressed-out than usual.
She'd had an interesting autumn break a month before--apparating to North Sentinel Island, throwing on her invisibility cloak before she could be caught and speared to death by the notoriously inhospitable tribesmen (not that she expected to be invited to tea, or anything similar); and seeking out what protective magical signatures might be found on its perimeter. She wasn't able to stay long; but she found that the entire island was guarded by ancestral spirits, aided by spirit animals in the form of blue sharks. The ancestors held the knowledge of what happened to the surrounding islands when the people let foreigners from Europe and India onto their shores; and one of them, a shamanic elder, explained to Ghazala that they were equally concerned about their living descendants breeding themselves into extinction. Past generations had accepted migrants from the Greater Andamans and Nicobar Islands for marriage purposes; but the current living ones feared that too many foreign diseases might be carried by other tribes to make this feasible. Anyway, Ghazala came away with at least some idea of how the indigenous people lived and what their current issues were; she had the recorded spirit conference with her as data. She planned to do a group shamanic journey back there as soon as possible after the summit wrapped.
But back to the summit topics. The group journey that uncovered the revival of Djinn-Seeker activity. Death-Eaters and American rogue wizards infiltrating the Muggle government. Religious fanatics, Muggle and otherwise, virtually controlling said government's agenda, and the Veela First Lady keeping tabs on all this, while trying to protect her son's privacy and Half-Blood wizard identity. And then there was the matter of what the hell the Muggle so-called President was concealing, all while appearing to show his hand constantly; Ghazala had seen this sort of behavior before in Middle Eastern and East Asian Muggle governments. And, of course, if there was time, discussion on what to do about all the Muggle fans of Wizarding Britain who wanted to learn magic themselves.
A percussive volley of wings snapped her awake from her groggy musing. Her falcon had returned to the balcony, a copy of that day's Youngblood Circular in his beak. She ran out and retrieved the newspaper from his beak before the young bird got any ideas about making a nest out of it.