[W9] Fait Accompli [Nils]

Ibadan, 7th September 2002

The muggles called this building a “multistorey car park”. A monstrosity; it consisted of seven concrete skeletal brutalist floors that appeared to be missing most if not all of the required structural walls. Bone white and defaced with crude graffiti, it stood on a patch of scrub-land in the eastern suburbs of the city, approximately half an hour away from the more extravagant Agodi Gardens. Apparently such structures were used by muggles to store their cars when not driving them, and as muggles appeared to be collecting cars at an exponential rate, they needed bigger and bigger (and uglier) storage facilities. Gaius was tickled at the idea.

He stood upon the rooftop level. Thick and crudely-painted white lines marked the parking bays. Technically, the car park was closed, but naturally this was no obstruction to a wizard. Looking out to the west, the red setting sun scarred the navy blue sky, the jagged skyline of the city picked out in a series of random glass-reflected highlights. Half-constructed skyscrapers and tall spindly cranes only underlined that this was a city of rapid growth. He could nearly make out the roof of the Ministerial Palace where the W9 meetings were continuing. Behind him, an airliner was making its final approach to Ibadan Airport, its turboprops humming high above the din of the city. Headlights flickered on through the dusty roads, little stars of yellow light snaking their way slowly and carefully through the dense cityscape.

The door to the rooftop clicked open, screeching upon its rusted hinges. Three men emerged, large, well built, with haircuts that said they were not to be messed with. One walked to the north side of the roof, a second to the south. The third made his way confidently to Gaius. “Good evening, Mister Purcell,” he announced with Scandinavian accuracy. Gaius nodded a hullo in response, whilst his new friend quickly and yet thoroughly made a search of his person with first both hands and then with extracted wand. “We shall be keeping your wand during this discussion.” There appeared to be no room for negotiation, and therefore Gaius extracted the tool from the inside of his jacket and gave it to to the bodyguard, who, thanking him, swiftly walked away with it. Something was stated curtly in Swedish to an unknown party; it sounded like “klart”, and the soundtrack of the rooftop; up until now simply the basal rumble of the city below and the intermittent whine of the turbines in the air above; was suddenly broken with the accurate snap of stilettos upon the concrete.

A blonde woman in her mid-twenties approached Gaius, dressed in cream, hair cascading over one shoulder and pristine face already arranged in a professional smile, her nimble hand extended. “Mister Purcell, so wonderful to finally meet you, my name is Jessica Jonasson, spokesperson for Mister Nyström.” Gaius took her hand and returned her a warm smile. “Gaius Purcell. The pleasure is all mine.” It most certainly was.

“And I’m sorry for all the fuss, but he is Minister for Magic now, we can’t be too careful. He receives quite a few death threats each and every day.”

“A sure sign of popularity, I have found, personally,” came his reply, and Jessica laughed.

“Yes, one could say that. Mister Purcell, now I’m sure I don’t have to say this to you, but as a matter of protocol, say it I must. Naturally, this meeting never happened. Anything you discuss with Mister Nyström is, of course, absolutely off the record, and should it ever enter the public sphere, would be strenuously and totally denied by the Swedish government.”

“I would expect nothing less,” he answered, “And I presume a dull, boring chat between two old friends is of no interest to anyone in particular.”

“That is very true,” replied the blonde, smiling at the shared understanding. “Have a lovely evening Mister Purcell, I look forward to seeing you again.”

“I certainly hope so.”

Off she walked, Gaius watching as she disappeared into the dark doorway, only to be replaced by the bold figure of Nils Nyström, striding out upon the rooftop with tenacity, appearing completely frozen in time; nearly unaged since Gaius had last laid eyes upon him.

They embraced like old friends, swift slaps upon the back exchanged, holding each other at the shoulders.

“A sight for sore eyes, Nils.”

If there was anything he’d learned from Reina during their relationship, it was the mastering of the art of origami – it had since long ago become a habit of his to fold important letters into birds. He’d spent the past half hour in the company of one of his bodyguards, who’d been casually smoking a cigar as he leaned against their car, while waiting for the others to tend to the necessary procedures involving his meeting. Nils had found it unnecessary to spend his time in his muggle vehicle, which was apparently a luxurious one few muggles could afford – a Maserati, he’d long forgotten the model, despite his spokesperson having briefed him regarding the specific automobile.

He was resting against one of the walls of the multistorey car park, carefully folding the piece of parchment; only the Murakami seal could be noticed now on the paper bird’s left wing, should one pay enough attention. A few days before, he’d passed on a note to his Japanese counterpart, inquiring where she would recommend holding a meeting of utmost secrecy and importance – a muggle location, imperceptible by wizarding and muggle folk alike. Of course, it hadn’t taken long for Reina to reply, in her usual manner; describing the plot of a muggle ‘film’ and how most get-togethers similar to the one he would have were held in certain places, at a specific time of the day. It was the sort of muggle protocol one simply could not break if they wanted to go by undetected, it seemed. He was reluctant, but decided to indulge his Japanese friend.

His people had suggested that the confidentiality of this meeting would be better kept if they were all disguised as muggles. Despite finding a certain charming thrill in it all, it repulsed him, the concealment of his each and every move, solely due to certain laws. Nonetheless, while hidden very well in the muggle world, even from muggles, he had managed not to be followed by anyone; in the end, who would even think that the Minister for Magic of a conservative country would even dare step inside a car? Nobody.

He blew in the paper’s direction, and allowed it to fly in the parking area for a moment’s time. Incendio. Nils thought, gaze fixed on the origami and the small paper bird caught fire, the smoke taking the shape of a small phoenix.

Rebirth from one’s own ashes; he enjoyed the symbolism, for it perfectly suited the comrade he would encounter that day. Nils’ further plans as Minister for Magic required certain prerequisites. Most importantly, it implied him being surrounded by people he trusts. Nils had been setting up the stage for his friend’s release for quite some time, but had waited for the right moment: when the Shacklebolt government would be at its most vulnerable and his own rule would be at its best – Durmstrang’s move back to Sweden had ensured that.

The timing had proved right, for the release of Gaius Purcell, a man of great intellect and honour, had been imminent. Nobody, not even an entire government, could deny Nils what he wanted. And he wanted Gaius.

He straightened his back, his bodyguard immediately putting off his cigar and approaching the Minister, ready for anything Nils would require of him. Instead, the Minister glanced at the wall he had leaned against; some crude writing, apparently graffiti, was drawn all over it, in one of the local languages, Hausa. He tapped the wall with the tips of his fingers, and the writing rearranged itself in Swedish; Nils had not stayed to see what it said, instead heading in the stairs’ direction; the sound of Jessica’s heels was too familiar to ignore.

“Frihet.” Jessica read the now legible scribbles, a warm smile appearing on her face as she glanced in Nils’ direction. Without hesitation, the young witch had already started arranging his navy suit, her hands resting on his chest for a moment, as she looked him in the eye. “A dull, boring chat between two old friends.”

Nils smirked, realising she was repeating Gaius’ words. “Of course.” He took her hands into his, removing them from his chest.

“You should have remained in the car.” Jessica added; it was noticeable that she felt slightly disappointed he had not appreciated her taste in muggle vehicles despite her effort – and success – of picking out the best car muggles had to offer. “Your safety is of utmost importance.”

“But thanks to you, all is fine.” Nils replied nonchalantly, and offered her a pleasant smile, as he Disapparated from her sight. Jessica sighed at his sudden departure; however, neither she, nor the bodyguard, were surprised by Nils’ manner of conduct. She immediately ordered the bodyguard to clean the ashes.

He Apparated right in the doorway, and headed outside, enjoying the African breeze of a summer’s afternoon as he took a deep breath. His focus was centred on Gaius; it had taken him too long to plan out everything, so long that it was noticeable his friend had been in prison. Gaius’ posture was not as immaculate as before, and the hollows of his eyes were darker than he remembered. The embrace, while as friendly as always, had carried more meaning for Nils; part of him had felt a pang of culpability it had taken this long to free Gaius from prison, from a place in which he didn’t belong in the first place. However, everything had to be done in a proper order, particularly in matters regarding diplomacy.

“The same could be said about you.” Nils smirked, as his gaze shifted from Gaius to the beautiful sight of Ibadan their location offered. It presented one with a sense of freedom, despite the need of privacy; Reina’s recommendation had been very good indeed.

“I read your interview.” The Swedish commented, placing one hand in his trousers’ pocket as his smile widened. “Quite the piece.” He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, the finest Cuban brand, and offered one to Gaius.

A longer pause followed, as Nils lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply. “It took too long.” It was the sole sentence similar to an apology Gaius would get from him; however, Nils had felt the need to state it; it was a fair exchange between friends. “But I did not expect you to lose the war.” It meant more than he revealed, for Nils had not referred to a collective, not to the Death Eaters, not to Tom Riddle, the fraud. Nils meant Gaius; he’d never expected Gaius to lose a winning battle. “Against radicals.” He laughed softly, citing his friend’s own phrasing from his interview.

“I believe you have questions.”

Gaius took one of the offered cigarettes and shared the light with Nils. Side by side, they examined the skyline as the blood-orange sun hit the horizon, and the little windows on all the sun-bleached concrete buildings one-by-one popped into life with that familiar golden electric light. When Nils mentioned the Daily Prophet interview, Gaius gave a wry smile. “Yes, I thought that would amuse you, of all people. We threw the cat amongst the pigeons with that, you could say. And it seemed to upset just the right people, too. But you know how it is, Nils. Now and again you have to throw a few stones at many windows, and see who decides to wake up, after all.”

Losing the war, against radicals. All Gaius could do was nod slowly as he inhaled from the cigarette. “Unfortunately, despite our best efforts, we were . . . sidetracked, I suppose one could say. Although, sometimes it helps to be on the losing side, I must add. A most bracing experience. Helps one to find ones . . . place in the world.” He turned to cast a careful eye upon the Swede at his side. Nils looked rather splendid indeed; his clothes cut from the finest cloth, naturally bespoke, going by how they hung from his trim frame, and a glow of health about his visage that make him look a good ten years younger than his supposed age. He also, as Gaius noted shrewdly, had that eternal look of a man of extreme restlessness; like the ancient Romans before him; with his eyes precise and accurate; a man who had very little time for anything but the exact execution of his task. A leader. A Minister for Magic, in the strongest sense of the word.

“I do have questions, yes. And it would be nice to catch up with you properly, old friend, over a bottle of decent wine. However as you naturally have many other things to be occupying yourself with this weekend, and I am most certainly violating the conditions of my parole by even setting foot ten miles of this place, I will keep my inquiry brief.” Gaius and Nils had had a very successful and efficient working relationship in the past, where few words had ever needed to be spoken. Both men lay upon the same tangent; they appreciated a brevity of exposition, and were only too well aware of the the security risks that came with each and every garrulous chat, which even men of such action could be weak enough to indulge themselves, now and again.

“I have been involved with politics for long enough to make a reasonably accurate guess of your motives. I can presume that you leant upon the British with your trade tariffs simply to cause them economic strain. We both know the significance of those agreements we together formed last decade; and to the British they formed a rather consequential inflow of cash, not to mention the freedom for business to operate unhindered in your region. It was the obvious pressure point to go for.” Gaius changed his posture, leaning himself against one of the stainless-steel ventilation duct outlets that dotted the surface of the roof. It groaned with a muffled echo in response.

“And of course, what is the use of releasing me? I can think of one thing - it causes absolute chaos, and makes the British Ministry look even more impotent than they usually are. And why do such a thing? To make a point. The direction of Swedish society and that of Britain is very rapidly becoming completely opposed. You, my friend, are trailblazing a model of Wizarding governance that excels far beyond what Tom Riddle and my comrades attempted four years ago. The country you are constructing; the goals and the aims that you guide your people with; well Riddle himself could have never dreamt that such a thing were possible. And meanwhile, Britain descends into a mudblood-infested quagmire, with Shacklebolt the terrified and inept driver at the wheel. You made a point to Europe. That Sweden can get what it wants, and Britain will have to do its bidding. Even the most vitriolic of our opponents cannot deny who is the leader here, and who is merely the hobbling follower.”

The Death Eater turned to face the politician now, meeting his eyes firmly, his face fixed and taught, like a man awaiting his fate. “However, that would not be all you require. You are not a man who gives away favours so easily. Nor would simply taunting the British Ministry be enough for you; that would not be your style. No, because you are a man who wishes to move the world from its very axis, not simply dance fleetingly across its surface like something transient that would be forgotten about next week.” Gaius took an extended drag upon his cigarette, before casting his gaze out upon the bustling city once more. “I think you need me for something else. Tell me what I should do. It’s obvious that I am in your debt presently, and you know me to be a man of honour. I am certain that your aims are aligned with my own.

Nils’ suave smile surfaced as Gaius further evolved on his interview. Placing the cigarette between his lips, he inhaled deeply, gaze still fixed on the horizon, yet his attention focused on his friend’s words. “I assume you shall know the answer to that very soon.” He remarked with little to no excitement; in the end, an interview such as Gaius’ would attract more radicalism from the government’s side, and perhaps not wake up those whose existence was by far more precious than the lives of a few expendable mudbloods. The Swede placed a hand in his trousers’ pocket, posture straightening, taking in the view — it was such a pity indeed; all that nature, that civilisation, a perfect blending of the past and the present, all owned by muggles. The world felt unfair; muggles had a freedom neither him nor his friend there could ever afford.

It was quite ironic how he felt both free and entrapped in their meeting place, when the Death Eater himself was finally experiencing liberty once more. He took another drag on his cigarette, and subtly turned his glance towards Gaius. While he hadn’t personally expected Gaius to be on the losing side, Nils understood how it felt; he knew what the other wizard’s words meant precisely. While some had viewed his own career as quite the easy path, it hadn’t been honourable to him to serve a man — his predecessor — who was sympathising with mudbloods and trying to change the Swedish society as it had been for centuries. His own rise to power had been, while carefully planned, the wish of the people; as such, it would be fair that only after his demission of honour in the past Nils himself had found his true place in the world. He belong to Sweden, to its people, and his sole purpose was to accomplish all of their wishes. So far, he had done a great job, he was told. But from now on, it all depended on various factors, including whether or not Gaius was candid and he indeed spoke the truth when stating he had found his own place in the world.

The Minister’s gaze turned back towards the cityscape, as he carefully listened to Gaius’ question. The other diplomat, as expected, was quick to understand his actions; it was only to be expected of a man of Gaius’ high intellect and vast experience. He did not comment in regards to the two of them catching up properly, for it was implied; if Nils had no desire to discuss with his comrade, then he wouldn’t have arranged this meeting in the first place. As such, he simply nodded once, whilst exhaling. Nonetheless, a confident smirk appeared on his face like a flash, Nils simply casually letting out a laugh, at Gaius mentioning him violating the conditions of his parole. He had no conditions; at least none aside from the ones Nils himself would set.

The Death Eater was as brief as always, and it was no surprise. In fact, Nils felt a pang of satisfaction to see that the time spent in prison had not affected Gaius psychologically as much as it had done physically. His mind was as sharp as always, and he sounded rather eager to get back into the games which diplomacy entailed. “There is a certain beauty to chaos.” Nils commented nonchalantly, letting out another soft yet rather amused laugh at the remark. Nonetheless, Gaius was correct; Nils had him released from prison to prove a point in the political field — that Sweden was always going to achieve its goals, that nobody could even think of posing as a threat to him. If anything, the sole threat was the world in front of him, a world held hostage by muggles, a world of whose beauty him and his kind were unfairly deprived of.

He had wanted to comment that Shacklebolt was not even a follower, but merely a man who could not even explain his ideology without seeming exactly like how Gaius had carefully portrayed him for those who read between the lines — a servant of radicals who knew nothing about the world. Nils arched an eyebrow at the mention of Riddle; of course a merely dirty halfbreed could not dream of the ideal he had achieved. But it was not the correct move to rub salt on Gaius’ wounds; that was not his intention. Nils took another drag on his cigarette, a last one, as he snapped his fingers; it caught fire, and turned to ashes, which were soon taken by the wind and flown in the city’s direction. No proof whatsoever that he had been on that roof.

“You know me far too well, old friend.” Said Nils, turning on his heel as he inhaled the now fresh air surrounding him, and holding his jacket for the breeze was a bit too strong. He looked Gaius straight in the eyes; it was the gaze of a man determined to win, to fight for his cause, no matter the costs. Little words would be needed between him and his comrade after all these years, and both were highly aware of that. If anything, just through sensing Nils’ determination by his overly confident posture, Gaius would realise that the wizard was set on succeeding. “The Kabid Mechanism.” Nils paused for a moment, his unshakeable demeanour resurfacing. There was no need for explanations; Gaius knew exactly what he was talking about, what it entailed, what the result would be — no, what their success will be. It was only a matter of when. “I have everything but the one component you once possessed.” Nils’ posture remained unchanged, almost as if he were not requesting anything of Gaius, but instead daring him to join him in this new path.

“We will have the chance to catch up over a drink soon.” Minister for Magic Nyström’s playful self surfaced, and as he buttoned his jacket, Nils smirked mischievously in the Death Eater’s direction. “How soon, it is up for you to determine.” With that said, Nils Disapparated into thin air, similarly to the ashes. He Apparated back into the Maserati, where Jessica handed him a glass of champagne, as she ordered the driver to close the door and leave the establishment. “Keep an eye on him.” Nils commented to his spokesperson, not revealing more, and instead enjoying the champagne on their way to the next secret location, before heading back to the W9 Conference.

And in response, Gaius received very little indeed. Simply three words - the Kabid Machanism. And the look returned to him from Nils’ cobalt blue eyes was more than enough. They were aligned. There were scarcely any times in Gaius’ life when he would have been considered near-speechless, but this would certainly have ranked amongst those few. Yet, to Nils, his visage would have barely moved, just the raising of one eyebrow, as the mind behind the mask raced with countless possibilities and unanswered questions. But the Death Eater did not have long to wait, for the Swedish Minister’s next statement clarified everything.

Gaius looked away, nodding slowly, examining the city as if it was his domain alone to control. Nils disapperated, a light pop, and the bodyguards who had taken up strategic positions upon the rooftop swiftly left by the very same doorway they had emerged through, his wand returned to him rather efficiently in the process of their departure. In a matter of minutes, Gaius’ little get-together had concluded, and the Death Eater was once more alone upon this little muggle corner of Ibadan. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he retrieved another cigarette, having seemingly gulped down the other at speed upon Nils' revelation.

So it seemed the world had changed; was changing; would be forever changed. Nils had been busy apparently; and not simply in front of the world’s press with his smiling blonde cohort. The years may have progressed and Gaius and his comrades may have been wracked upon the rocks of defeat, but Nils Nyström had outshone them all, it seemed. There was, above all, now hope.

Night was falling upon the city, and the little gathering upon the northern side within their ornate palace would be enjoying themselves with their fine food and flamboyant, sugary cocktails. The collected might of the Wizarding world, spending a weekend arguing over trade tariffs, and plucky little Britain amongst them like a wounded dog, tottering around attempting to impress its masters and begging for whatever paltry crumbs the rest of the world would toss its way. Oh we were so good, weren’t we? We beat the bad man.

Yes, they had exorcised their demon - Tom Riddle and his byzantine obsessions; all the little Ministry workers losing sleep each night wondering what they could do about this fiend hanging over them; and when he had obliged and chopped his own head off; when he had fallen like a wretch at the feet of a skinny myopic youth, all the vigorous celebrations of the meek in the streets had followed. All leading to this point, with Minister Shacklebolt trying to hold his crumbling fortress together whilst the rest of the world gazed on in near-pity. This was their great victory.

And they thought it was over. Their achievement would indeed prove to be a phyrric one.

Gaius finished his cigarette, and a determined look had fixed upon his countenance. Elements began to form before his eyes; the next steps that were required; the challenges yet to be overcome. And yet, all worthwhile, because for the first time in seven hundred years, the tables could truly turn for those blessed with the treasure of pure blood. Nils and Gaius had theorised of such a day in the past, only for their attempts to be either scuttled, or ignored by those who should have known better. But no matter, for the pieces were at last all in place, and all that would be required was nothing more than a simple collection of what was rightfully his. Of what rightfully belonged to all who believed in the inviolability of their blood.

Gaius walked to the doorway, discarding his cigarette in the progress. A quick catch up with his young charges was required. And then, a friendly knock upon the door of the revered British Ministry of Magic.

END