A Little History Lesson

The tent in which the gala was being held was even bigger on the inside than on the outside, which was saying something. Crystal chandeliers twinkled slightly on the ceiling, providing light to the venue. Glass display cases and vitrine tables were disposed on three sides of the tent, and numerous round tables were disposed in the center of the room. A stage had been placed on the last side of the rectangular tent; it was currently empty, except for a string quartet of instruments floating and playing by themselves.

"Oh, there's your father," said Iris. "That must be our table."

The girls all went to sit at the table with Maxwell. As soon as all the places were occupied, cutlery appeared in front of each of them.

"Ahem," said a voice from the stage, "Sonorus."

Oleandra looked up from her utensils at the stage to see who had cast the Amplifying Charm. There stood the Minister for Magic, Fudge, along with some other men Oleandra didn't know. However, there was one other face she recognized: Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!" said Fudge. "This year promises to be a memorable one, to be sure. It's a great honour for Britain to host the Cup, and of course, none of it would have been possible without your support."

Here, Fudge paused, waiting for the applause to die down.

"I'm honoured to be joined by my Bulgarian homologue, the Bulgarian Minister for Magic, er— Obolonk, no, Oblankos, was it?"

Cue more polite clapping.

"Here with me are also Bartemius Crouch, ex-Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and current head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation (small amount of clapping, even some booing), and Ludovic Bagman, ex-Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps, and our Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports!" (the cheering drowned out the rest of Fudge's words.)

Fudge went on to introduce each and every member of the two Quidditch teams who had made it to the finals, who originated from Ireland and Bulgaria respectively. At some point during Fudge's speech, a bowl of piping-hot squash soup had appeared right under Oleandra's nose.

The speech was starting to get boring, so Oleandra got to work on her soup. As her gaze wandered, looking for something interesting to look at, it fell on a vaguely familiar face, which belonged to a man sitting at the neighbouring table. Now, where had she seen that man before…

"PFFT!" Oleandra spat out a spoonful of soup and started coughing.

"Are you quite all right, Sister?" asked Daphne. "You're making a scene."

Oleandra signalled that she was fine with a wave of her hand. The last time she had seen Broderick Bode, she had been staring down a veritable army of the Department of Secrets' Unspeakables, and bluffed her way into buying some time to escape by threatening the man's dead wife. Ahh, fond memories: voyaging to the realm of the dead at the end of her first year at Hogwarts…

After the second course (linguine alle vongole), there was a small interlude, during which guests could get up from their seats and socialize, or go look at the displays that the Bulgarians and the Irish had brought. Lucius Malfoy was busy talking to the ministers, so Oleandra supposed she had some time.

"Anyone want to go look at the displays with me?" asked Oleandra. "I need to stretch my legs."

"I don't mind," replied Ginny, while Daphne simply got up without a word. As for Astoria, she wasn't about to be left alone with the adults, so…

The four approached the vitrines, where a red-headed man was presenting the treasures behind him to guests. Now there was another familiar face.

"Hello, Perce," said Ginny. "So, this is the very important work they've got you doing at the Ministry?"

"Of course not," spluttered Percy Weasley, "There was a slight problem with personnel assignments, so I'm lending a hand here, that's all."

"Didn't you say you were indispensable to Mr. Crouch, your boss?" Ginny added, looking at the stage. "It looks like he's doing very well for himself, even without you."

"Look, do you want to know about the items on display, or not?" said Percy crossly. "There are people waiting for their guided tour."

A quick look behind her informed Oleandra that this was, in fact, simply untrue.

"Yes, please do go on," said Oleandra quickly. Sibling spats could get ugly very fast; she knew this from personal experience.

"Ah, finally someone with some common sense," said Percy smugly. "Very well, let's begin the tour, then. Now, behind me is a collection of magical weapons and armour forged by ancient Irish Wizards…"

Oleandra listened patiently to Percy's story.

"In ancient times," Percy explained, "wands had yet to be popularized on the European continent. As I'm sure you'll remember from your History of Magic lessons, before the Dark Ages, the magical community was an active part of Muggle society; Roman Wizards helped subjugate local Wizarding clans when Rome created Britannia; and they brought the art of wandlore with them from the continent."

Percy took a moment to point to the artefacts behind them.

"Wizards have always found it easier to practise magic when conducting it through a medium," he continued, "but back then, it was more convenient to use a staff or an enchanted sword; if an angry Muggle was about to crack your skull in with a mace, you could always give him a whack with your staff if you didn't have time to chant your spell. For example, Godric Gryffindor was known to prefer the use of his sword, although by the time he came about, the use of staves and swords had already fallen out of use for hundreds of years."

Percy gave a wry smile.

"Of course, it'd be impossible to carry such weapons nowadays," he said with a laugh, "Muggles would instantly notice them, unlike our handy and discreet wands."

Percy then began introducing Oleandra's group to the variety of spears, swords, shields and armours behind him, and through sheer force of habit, Oleandra opened her Mystic Eyes. As she was browsing through the various vitrines, one particular sword caught Oleandra's attention.