"Fenista is a mysterious and extremely rare magical creature," Alexander said as he stepped out of the hunting lodge and breathed in the cold air. "You may know it by another name—phoenix."
Bubble appeared close behind them with a soft crack, arriving by house-elf magic rather than the Floo Network. He carried ten large cases, each one specially made and expanded with multiple layers of Undetectable Extension Charms. Every case could hold one hundred thousand books, which meant they were prepared for far more than a simple visit.
According to their agreement, Roger would provide the Galleons needed to help Alexander correct the mistakes of the Soviet Ministry of Magic. In exchange, he would be allowed to take certain items from the Ministry's collections. That was the polite version, at least. In practice, they were walking into the ruins of a magical government with gold in one hand and ambition in the other.
"Fenista?" Roger asked, still brushing soot from his sleeve. "Like Headmaster Dumbledore's phoenix?"
"Of course. A phoenix is covered in fiery red feathers and can breathe flame," Alexander said. His eyes brightened slightly as he spoke, as if the creature belonged more to legend than zoology. "It never truly dies. It only burns and rises from the ashes again and again."
He gestured for Roger to follow. The walk from the hunting lodge to Moscow was not far by magical standards, and the bitter wind seemed to sharpen Alexander rather than weaken him.
"If we are lucky," Alexander added, "we may even hear news of one."
They made their way into the streets of Moscow. Unlike Britain, where Christmas was already unfolding in warmth and lights, this city felt buried under a cold, desolate silence. Soldiers, military vehicles, and tanks patrolled the roads, their presence making the already tense atmosphere feel even heavier.
Roger watched them pass without speaking. The Muggle world here was collapsing in public, with steel and uniforms trying to hold together what politics could no longer control. Beneath it, the magical world was cracking as well, though its wounds were hidden behind alleys, fireplaces, and old spells.
Alexander led him into a quiet side street where a small tavern stood tucked beneath the shadow of an old building. The low roof sagged slightly under the snow, and a cast-iron sign hung above the entrance, its letters dim and mysterious. The place looked as if it had been waiting there for generations, quietly collecting secrets.
Inside, the tavern held a dozen old-fashioned round tables arranged across the room. Braziers hung along the walls, giving off welcome heat, and the air smelled faintly of smoke, strong alcohol, and polished wood. Compared with the Leaky Cauldron, the atmosphere was slightly better, though only slightly.
The recent unrest had made the place unusually empty. Behind the dark oak counter, a bald tavern keeper sat wiping glasses with a lifeless, mechanical motion, as though the habit had outlasted his interest in customers.
Alexander removed his hat and called out with sudden excitement. "Semyon! It has been too long!"
"Alyosha?" The tavern keeper froze, then leapt out from behind the counter. "Alyosha, you're back!"
He embraced Alexander fiercely and kissed him hard on the cheek. Then, as if remembering the danger all at once, Semyon hurried to the door, locked it, and hung up a Closed sign with shaking hands.
"Alyosha, why did you come back?" Semyon asked, his brow furrowed with worry and disbelief. "Is this boy my nephew? And what about Elena?"
"Ahem." Alexander cut him off before he could say too much. The look he gave Semyon was enough to remind him that excitement could be dangerous.
"Hello, Uncle," Roger said politely. "My name is Roger Travis. I am Mr. Alexander's business partner."
"A partner?" Semyon looked startled, and his gaze immediately shifted back to Alexander.
"That is correct. Roger is the heir of an old pure-blood family in Britain," Alexander said. He pulled Semyon toward one of the tables, sat down, and spoke in a low, solemn voice. "I returned this time because of the current Ministry of Magic."
"What?" Semyon stared at his brother in shock. "You want to go back to the Ministry?"
"I do," Alexander said.
"I disagree." Semyon shook his head at once, his expression hardening. "The Ministry is in chaos, but it has not completely collapsed. You were one of the founders of Belobog. They will not let you go simply because Moscow is burning."
"But the Soviet Union is already in ruins," Alexander said, his voice filled with suppressed pain. "Our Ministry of Magic cannot be sacrificed for Muggle politics. Belobog's goal was only to sever the chains between the wizarding world and the Soviet state, not to overthrow the magical world itself."
He stood abruptly, anger and grief breaking through his restraint. "We cannot allow the fall of the Muggle empire to drag our magical world into plunder and punishment."
Alexander struck his fist against his chest. "I only want to restore our world to what it should have been and return glory to noble wizards."
Semyon stared at him blankly. The brother he had not seen for many years had returned with fire in his eyes, and it was obvious he was planning something enormous.
"What are you going to do?" Semyon asked at last.
"Kill Yuri," Alexander said. "Correct the course of the Ministry of Magic and restore the glory of noble wizards."
He extended his hand, but Semyon did not take it immediately. The tavern keeper hesitated, his eyes uncertain, torn between fear, anger, and old loyalty.
"Semyon, do not forget our name!" Alexander seized his brother's shoulders, his voice rising. "Our family estate was razed by Muggles and turned into a sanatorium. Our people were wiped out, and our kin were dragged into laboratories."
Semyon's face tightened, but Alexander pressed on. "And you, Semyon? Have you already forgotten how little Ivan died?"
The name struck like a curse. Anger flared in Semyon's eyes, sudden and violent, and he turned back to the counter to retrieve his wand.
"Uncle Alexander, I…" Roger began.
"Come with us to the Ministry," Alexander said before Roger could finish. "We will kill Yuri, and you can take advantage of the chaos to collect what you want."
He tossed a map across the table. The names of most of the rooms in the Ministry of Magic were clearly marked, and several routes had been drawn in red ink.
"Just the three of us?" Roger asked, looking from the map to Alexander. "And we are acting now?"
"Of course. Now."
Roger stared at Alexander's confident expression and momentarily had nothing to say. Were all Slavic coups this abstract? No reconnaissance, no mobilisation, no backup plan—just a map, some anger, and the firm belief that history would move aside for them.
"Uncle Alexander, even if you are prepared to die, you should still consider the future of the Smaug family," Roger said carefully.
Alexander stopped. That sentence had struck more deeply than any objection about danger.
"If we fail, who will remember the Smaugs?" Roger continued patiently. "Look at the Gaunt family in Britain. They were once ancient and proud. Now they are little more than footnotes in magical textbooks."
Alexander's expression shifted. He did not like hearing it, but he understood the warning.
"We do not need to change the goal," Roger said. "We only need to do this the way we agreed. Add some insurance, gather support, and make more people accept your ideals before you force the Ministry to kneel."
Semyon looked at Roger with new attention, as if only now realising that the boy was not merely a rich child following Alexander around. Roger folded his hands over the map, his tone calm and practical.
"And if it is convenient," Roger added, "could you tell me more about Belobog?"
"Belobog is the god of light, one of our oldest beliefs," Semyon said after a pause. He exhaled heavily and poured strong vodka for them all, though Roger did not touch his glass. "Years ago, Alexander and six others founded an organisation under that name. Their aim was to free the Soviet Ministry of Magic from the control of the Muggle government."
"Decades later, the highest-ranking official in our Ministry is a traitor," Semyon said bitterly. "How ridiculous."
"There were many people dissatisfied with the Ministry, so Belobog grew quickly," Alexander said. "Too quickly, perhaps. None of us realised a traitor had already slipped inside."
"Yuri," Semyon spat. His hand tightened around his wand, and rage overflowed in his voice. "That bastard."
Alexander looked at his suffering brother, and self-reproach crossed his face. "He betrayed Belobog. He betrayed wizards. All so he could become an obedient dog for the Soviet government."
"It happened in late October," Alexander said, his voice turning hoarse. "The wizards of Belobog were discussing their next move in the Arctic Circle. Yuri betrayed our location and allowed the Muggles to drop a bomb there."
He took the bottle of vodka and drank deeply, as if trying to burn the memory out of himself. "They called it a hydrogen bomb. My son and my nephew were both there. I was supposed to be there that day."
His eyes reddened, and tears ran down his face despite the fury in his expression. Semyon lowered his head, his fingers trembling around his wand.
"After that, everyone had no choice but to flee the Soviet Union," Alexander said. "Those who stayed would have been thrown into Goblinak."
Roger nodded slowly. "I understand. That is why Elena came to Hogwarts."
For a while, only the braziers crackled on the walls. The heat did little to soften the cold that had settled between them.
"Bubble," Roger called.
The house-elf came forward at once, and Roger took one of the expanded cases from his small hands. He opened it and poured out a mountain of gold coins onto the tavern floor. The clear, melodic clatter of Galleons echoed through the gloomy room, bright and sharp enough to pull both brothers' eyes toward it.
"Uncle Alexander, a few Galleons can make a neutral wizard put away his wand, can't they?" Roger asked.
"Roger, I…" Alexander hesitated, looking at the gold with a complicated expression.
"This is not a gift," Roger said quickly. "It is an advance payment for the Ministry books I intend to purchase."
He closed the case and handed it back to Bubble. The house-elf immediately cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and slipped silently into a nearby corner.
"I am used to paying a deposit first," Roger said. "And if more wizards join you because of your ideals, I do not think my deposit will be wasted."
Flames burned in the braziers on the wall, licking the cold air and illuminating the Golden Galleons in dazzling red.
.....
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