Based on the Harry Potter Series By J. K. Rowling
Chapter 39 “ The World Turned Upside Down
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3:00 pm, 18 January 1999
Minerva McGonagall had finished repairing Albus Dumbledore’s portrait, a bit more than one hour before the ‘events’ started. While touching up some of the paint, her old friend peeked his head around the inner edge of the new frame and said, “Boo!.” Dropping the paints and brushes, Minerva clapped her hands like a young school girl and smiled back, shaking her head. She could not have been mad if she had tried; and Albus would not be Albus if he had greeted her any other way.
“Yes, yes, Minerva, it’s me again. You’ve done a marvelous job. It’s a pity we only have a short time to enjoy each other’s company once again.”
The animation smiled again but McGonagall grew suddenly serious. “What do you mean, Albus? Did I do something wrong?”
“No, not at all, my dear friend. But our time is almost up, I’m afraid.” Dumbledore was far too cheery for such a grim message. Could he mean…
“Yes, Mini, we knew it was bound to happen some day. I’m sorry I can’t be there with you. I think I would very much have liked to hold you one more time. Now there, none of that. Tell me, how is Harry?”
Between her sobs, the aged witch managed to give her former lover a smile and fill him in on a few of the highlights of the past two years.
“Oh, Albus, he’s a fine young man. He and Ginny Weasley are to be married this October. I hope they can still arrange it. You should have seen him finish off Riddle, I’m told he was magnificent. He had to use every ounce of his Gryffindor courage, and he did it. And Albus?”
Dumbledore’s portrait showed tears on his cheeks and a loving smile on his face. Hearing his name, he looked up again. “Yes, my dear?”
“Albus, Severus did it, just like we had planned. I wish I could have been there, too.” Then remembering the reason she was not there brought back the terrible memories of the dead students.
“You know, Mini, they don’t blame you at all. Not one of them. In fact, you are often on their mind, I’m told.”
“Oh, Albus, how could I have failed them so miserably?”
“Well, we’ve all had our share of failures, haven’t we? Please, tell me more about Harry and the others.”
Wiping her tears away, McGonagall marveled at how Albus could still take people’s minds off their troubles. “Harry is, or was, assisting Remus Lupin in the Defense classes. When Severus died, Alastor Moody took over the… Albus, what’s wrong?”
“Severus is dead?”
“Yes, I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner, he died a few weeks ago trying to help Percy Weasley recover.”
“That’s impossible, Mini.”
McGonagall told Dumbledore about Snape, tying his death into Percy’s situation, Hermione’s discoveries, the problems with magic, and finally Harry’s attempt to communicate with Snape through Percy. All through the story Dumbledore’s face grew graver, until he finally stopped the stories. “Minerva, there is little time left, please listen carefully.”
As Albus said a final good bye an hour later, Minerva McGonagall watched his precious face fade away. She wasn’t certain, but she thought Albus had winked at her right before he disappeared completely, and then she, as so many others, fainted away.
4:15 pm
While she was not the first to recognize what was happening, Ginny Weasley may have been one of the first to feel so keenly the magnitude of what later came to be known simply as “The Day.” For all that it meant to the millions directly affected, and the billions indirectly affected, the collapse of magic had a profound and lasting effect which no one could possibly have anticipated. One of the first photographs flashed around the Muggle news networks, first in Britain and soon thereafter around the world, was that of a tall, well dressed, black man looking into a crowd of people with the sign “Ministry of Magic” etched in the glass office front behind him.
Inside number 10 Downing Street, the situation was chaotic. Mary Thompson had just left Ginny and turned the hallway corner to her reading room when she heard a scream she thought would never leave her mind and heart. She knew it was Ginny, not Rebecca, but this brought her no solace; it was more than a scream of pain or despair, it was something completely new to her and Mary was quite sure it had to do with magic.
Ginny had just turned back to watch Rebecca, contemplating whether she should begin the procedure tonight or wait until the next day; then it started. Three years before, Harry had described to her what his close encounter with a Dementor felt like; she thought she was living that very description now. But there was no Dementor present, and then she recognized what was happening, the magic that had been so much a part of her life for seventeen years was leaving her. She had known it would happen some day, probably some day soon; however, like a relative of a terminally ill person, you can never be truly prepared for the end when it comes. Now it had come to Ginny. Screaming against what she knew she could not stop, Ginny ran and held a startled Rebecca. Touching the child’s forehead as gently as her shaking hand would allow, Ginny knew it may be the last bit of magic she would ever perform. Rebecca slipped into a deep sleep as Ginny held the child, one hand to her heart and another to her head. The warmth she associated with her power to heal traveled down her arms, into her hands, then into Rebecca’s body. But all too soon it disappeared, leaving a cold emptiness Ginny would never forget.
This was how Mary Thompson, and soon many more of the house staff, found Ginny and Rebecca a few seconds later. Rebecca was obviously not in any danger they could see, but Ginny’s face showed utter and complete devastation. She was trying not to cry too loudly and wake Rebecca, but after a few minutes Mary saw Ginny hold up her hands as though they were befouled rags, useless for anything but filling a rubbish can. Ginny looked at Mary with profound sorrow in her eyes, and Mary knew what had happened. For some reason, one she would likely never understand, Ginny had lost her ability to heal.
Yet Mary did understand Ginny far better than most people would know, she had been through something just as traumatic shortly after Rebecca’s birth. When the obstetrician handed her the girl they had wanted so badly, she immediately knew something was wrong, terribly wrong. The child was limp and listless, her eyes empty. But it was the shape of her baby’s face, flat and almost square, that told her why Brian was crying and would not look at her. She shed tears for the injustice they had been dealt, and cursed a God to whom she regularly prayed; but then she asked His forgiveness and turned her attention and love and devotion to her daughter. Rebecca became her life and she found she could love someone as she never believed possible.
Gently taking Rebecca from Ginny’s arms, Mary set her daughter on the bed and then sat on the floor next to the distraught teen. Now it was the mother’s time to try to perform some healing. Outside of the love in her heart, Mary could offer Ginny nothing, but for now it would have to suffice.
Harry began to feel something change. He was about to Floo from St. Mungo’s to the Ministry of Magic building to find Hermione. A dizzying sensation caused him to fall to his knees on the hard marble floor. The feeling passed quickly, but a blood-curdling scream drew his attention to the hearth he was about to enter. A figure was trapped, clothes afire in the flames; where there should have been a warm green glow, only hot blue and yellow flames danced around the dying wizard or witch “ it was impossible to tell what the person used to be. Then the fire went out and the person was gone.
Nauseated by what he had just witnessed, Harry crawled away and curled in a corner waiting for the nightmare to end. This can’t possibly be real, was the only though Harry had for several minutes.
Hermione and Ron were walking on the south lawn of Hogwarts with Patty Lee and Remus Lupin following a few meters behind when it happened. In seconds, Patty was the only one standing. Remus was lying crumpled at her feet. Hermione was lying on the lawn ahead. Ron was kneeling next to Hermione; he looked like he was shaking cobwebs from his head, then he too fell over. Patty had heard some of the conversations about what was happening to everyone’s magical abilities, but it did not prepare her for what she saw next to her, or the screams coming from Hogsmeade.
In a few seconds the three prone figures started to get up, but Patty had already started back to the school to make sure everyone inside was all right. Her thoughts seemed to drift toward the safety of one person in particular.
Moody slumped down on his desk as he saw Arthur and Molly collapse in front of him. George had left a few minutes before and Fred was about to Floo to Diagon Alley, following his twin. As Alastor Moody felt consciousness slipping away, his last image was Fred’s trousers smoking “ his knees had buckled and he’d fallen too close to the flames.
Tonks was shocked into unconsciousness also, but not by the sensation of her powers leaving; that had merely disoriented her. She fainted clean away when she went to the loo to splash water on her face and saw a very different person staring back at her in the mirror.
Olga Windshine felt it happening before almost anyone else on the planet, but only by a few seconds. Knowing what this meant for her, the Master Healer thanked God for the talents she had been blessed with, and the opportunities to use them in her lifetime. A moment later Olga had her thanks personally acknowledged.
Keric Albemarle sat at his desk in Dover as the event passed him by. He had never been a particularly strong wizard so the loss of his powers hardly fazed him. Still, he knew exactly what had just happened and he left his office to see if anyone needed assistance.
Rudy Keane had just returned home from school in Bath. He hated Muggle school and frequently let his parents know it. Sitting at the kitchen table with his sister, Margaret, and trading stories about Algebra and Potions, his mother watched as her two older children collapsed onto the table, spilling their milk.
Lisa and Carol had no idea anything had happened until the next day. Both were in bed VERY early after an ill-advised Sunday night sleep-over that featured no sleep whatsoever.
Tiernan Keane was walking down the center hallway on the main floor at the Ministry of Magic, approaching the front door from the inside just as Kingsley Shacklebolt was from the outside. The next thing he remembered was lying on the floor, watching a growing crowd close in on the front entrance.
Neville Longbottom was dining with his parents, Alice and Frank, and Professor Sprout when all four briefly slumped forward onto the table. Reviving first, Neville dug the mash and gravy out of his ear while going to see if the others were okay.
Scenes such as these were replayed millions of times throughout the world. Because the invisibility spells were among the last to fail, very few Muggles were exposed to any visual hints of the massive change the planet was experiencing until late that Monday afternoon. It was not too late for the evening news broadcasts throughout Europe and Muggle journalists around the world were very busy that night.
Years of Auror training could not have prepared Kingsley Shacklebolt for what he was experiencing. The initial shock of seeing the Ministry building visible to a gathering crowd faded as he fell to his knees. In just a few seconds, at 4:16 pm, he was able to lift his head and see two Muggle police officers approaching, ostensibly to offer him assistance. Here his Auror training was able to help.
Leaping to his feet, still fighting the lingering dizziness, Shacklebolt ran into the Ministry building and bolted the doors shut. There were a half dozen or so wizards and witches just now recovering in the lobby. Weaving through the befuddled employees, Shacklebolt headed for the stairs, knowing that the magical lifts were going to be inoperable. Down two flights of stairs and then through a fire door, into another hallway, and a right turn left the former Auror standing in front of the Minister of Magic’s outer office door.
Without hesitation, Shacklebolt entered the office to find the staff and two visitor climbing back up to their chairs. Ignoring them, he proceeded to Scrimgeour’s office and closed the door behind him. The Minister was surprised to see Shacklebolt, then he felt the Auror’s powerful hand take his upper arm and roughly force him from his desk. Picking up the Minister, Shacklebolt threw him over his shoulder and carried him back out of the building. His entire time in the Ministry building was under two minutes, and while many saw what was happening, none were in any shape to stop it.
Ignoring the Muggles banging on the front entrance to the Ministry building, Shacklebolt fled towards the rear of the building, through the cafeteria, and into a narrow alley.
“Get off! Let me down!” Scrimgeour shouted impatiently.
Unable to continue carrying the squirming Minister, Shacklebolt set him down next to a dumpster and out of view from the sidewalk thirty meters away.
“Shacklebolt!” The Minister appeared far more annoyed about being carried around that what he too must have felt just minutes ago.
“Sorry, sir. I didn’t know it you were awake enough to get out on your own.” I’m getting too old for this. Shacklebolt said to himself, now trying to catch his breath. And what the devil does Scrimgeour think he’s doing now?
If the Auror had any hint at all about what would happen next it might have made a difference; but seeing the Minister draw his wand only made Shacklebolt laugh at the absurd gesture. This was the last thought that went through Kingsley Shacklebolt’s mind until he heard Scrimgeour say quietly, but very clearly, “Avada Kedavra.”
The time was 4:18 pm.
By 5 o’clock GMT, it was obvious, across the globe, that something extraordinary was happening. Messages poured into government and public safety offices all over England. At 10 Downing Street the Prime Minister was calling for his secretary. “BENTON, get Anthony Linden on the phone immediately. Then see if you can contact, oh what the devil is her name? The PM before Anthony, try to get her in here, too. Benton? Where are you?”
Thompson’s secretary walked into the parlor with a yellow steno pad and his trademark pink ball-point pen. “Sir, I believe Linden’s predecessor is in very poor health.”
“Yes, yes, that’s right. Listen carefully, Benton. I want Scotland Yard, the BBC, and that damn General, the one who’s always bitching about Linden’s budget cuts, in here immediately. Notify whoever needs to be notified that I will require thirty minutes of air time on all networks at eight this evening. Then send… what the blazes is your problem, Benton?”
Benton was picking his feet up and down in place, as if he had to go to the loo. “Sir, this sounds serious. Should I call home and tell Jimmy to evacuate?”
“NO! This is serious, but not like that. Just listen and then you can call your friend.” Seeing Benton calm down, Thompson continued listing the people he wanted to speak with. When he finished a minute later he looked up to see his wife at the parlor door.
4:22 pm
“Arthur, help Fred!” screamed Molly as she regained consciousness. Fred was still lying in front of the fireplace and his smoldering trouser leg had just caught fire. Crawling over to his son, Arthur swatted at the flames with his hands, then picked up the mat in front of the hearth and smothered the fire. Fred’s leg was red and the hairs had been singed off, but there was no serious injury. As Arthur started to pull him further from the fireplace, Fred woke and was able to move himself, though he was still very confused.
Moody was also regaining his senses, but made the mistake of trying to walk over to assist Arthur. Without the function of his now useless magical eye Moody’s depth perception was lost and he banged his good right shin painfully on the edge of his desk. This was the scene facing Patty as she ran into the office to check everyone’s condition.
Patty tried not to laugh at Moody who was letting lose a stream of vile swear words and hopping on his peg leg, all the while holding the shin of his other leg. Patty went to help Molly into her chair. She then assisted Arthur to his feet but froze when she saw Fred’s trouser leg burnt partially off and the bright red skin indicating a first degree burn.
“Fred, stay there. Mrs. Weasley, where can I get water?”
Pointing to a pitcher and bowl on a small table by the door, Patty poured some water into the bowl and soaked the right sleeve of her jacket. Dabbing Fred’s burnt leg, she knew the relief would not last, but it was something. Then returning to Moody’s desk, she rummaged in her purse and found a small bottle. Dumping three tablets from the bottle into her hand, Patty returned to Fred and told him to take the pills for the pain. When he told Patty it did not hurt, she assured him that it soon would.
Moody’s cursing abated and everyone stood or sat where they were and realized their lives had just become much more complicated.
“Alastor, I doubt any owls are still carrying messages, do you have a fellytone here?” Arthur asked. “We can call…bugger! Who can we call?”
“Arthur, watch your language!” Molly said reprovingly, then she realized how incredibly petty the comment was compared to what had just happened. “I’m sorry, dear. But who can we call?”
“Mr. Moody, I can try the local constable, do you have a directory here?”
“A what? Whatever it is, if we have one it’s over there by the telephone, Moody replied, pointing to a recessed area in the wall, nearly hidden by a large plant.
The telephone had been a fairly recent addition to Hogwarts, a concession to the Muggle parents of students who refused to use owl post. As far as Moody knew, it had never been used. He certainly did not know how to use one, even though his Auror training years ago had touched on the subject.
Patty went to the phone with Arthur close on her heals, a silly grin plastered on his face. “I used one of those once. Let me know if you need help.”
Pushing the plant away for better access to the phone, Patty picked up the phone directory and saw that it was for Glasgow. “How did you manage…never mind, I don’t want to know.” Taking the handset, Patty dialed “0” and waited for an operator.
“Hello, how may I assist you?” The friendly voice asked.
“Hello, I would like to contact the local police station.”
“Is this an emergency?”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
“Is this a life threatening situation?”
“No, I need…”
“I’m sorry, we’ve been swamped with call over the past ten minutes. Please do not use the phone lines except in life threatening situations.” CLICK
“Thank you, too.” Patty swore and slammed the phone back into its cradle. Arthur, who had been watching over her shoulder the entire time backed away.
“Shall I give it a try, Patty?” Arthur asked eagerly.
“No, I wouldn’t bother. Damn, I don’t know anyone I could call to help. I’m sorry.”
Moody tried to put Patty at ease. “Well, I have a feeling there are a lot of people in far worse situations that us tonight.”
“How far is it from here to the closest town?”
No one had a clue. Just then, Ron, Hermione, and Remus walked in. Molly ran to Ron and hugged him and then Hermione.
Patty watched everyone’s indecision and simply took over. “Ok, here’s what we’re going to do. Ron, Hermione, and I will go into Hogsmeade and try to find someone who can direct us to a nearby town. We’ll get there as soon as we can. If it’s too far we’ll come back. I think you should all go to Ron and Hermione’s place, if that’s ok with them.” Ron and Hermione were both nodding. “From what I’ve been told, this place is full of magic, or it was full of magic. A small house might be safer until we find out what’s happening.”
Fred limped over to Ron. “I’ll go, too.”
“No you won’t,” Patty said. “Sit down, Fred. Better yet, go into Hogsmeade and see if the local doctor can get something for the leg. And here,” Patty went back to her purse and took out the bottle of pills, “take three of these every six hours for the pain. Don’t worry, we’ll be ok.”
Then looking around at their clothing, Patty made one more suggestion. “Is there somewhere we can get warmer clothes? It’s going to be cold out tonight.”
Hermione told Patty they could get extra at their house, but before they left Remus said he would go, also. When he saw their looks he laughed and assured them he was in ‘good condition, for an old man.’ With that, the rescue party left Hogwarts.
By the time Moody, Arthur, Molly, and Fred had limped into Hogsmeade, the others were long gone. There was a note on the table telling them to use the fireplace if it got too cold. All four looked at each other; none of them knew how to make a fire by themselves.
4:23 pm
By the time Harry had convinced himself that what he had seen was real, others were milling around the room, throwing handfuls of what used to be Floo powder into empty fireplaces. Thinking about what to do next, Harry decided to see if Hermione was in the Ministry building a few blocks away. Sprinting out of the hospital, Harry passed through a small crowd of Muggles who were pointing at the building. Then Harry realized why. Whatever magic had concealed St. Mungo’s was now gone. These people might have just seen a building appear out of nowhere.
4:27 pm
A few minutes later Harry saw a similar scene in front of the Ministry building, also visible to a much larger group of Muggles. They were all standing back, helped partially by three police officers. Working his way to the front of the crowd, Harry looked inside and saw a number of wizards and witches looking out through the glass. Recognizing a familiar face, Harry ran past the police to the entrance and waved for Tiernan Keane to unbolt the door. Acting quickly, to prevent any Muggles from entering, Tiernan did as Harry indicated and immediately relocked the door.
“Oh, thank Jesus, you’re a familiar face. Harry, what’s happening?”
Pulling Tiernan aside, Harry gave him the very short version, but no real answers.
“Do you have a flat here in town, Tiernan?”
“Yes, but its miles away and I don’t have any Muggle money. Where are you headed?”
“I was about to go see a friend downstairs, join me?” Harry asked hopefully, he was still feeling ill from seeing the person die in the fireplace. When Tiernan told Harry to lead on, they went down to the Historic Records department but saw that Hermione was not there.
“Wait, what day is today?” Harry truly did not know. He had forgotten to check when he was at St. Mungo’s. The only thing he was sure about was that today was a weekday. The Ministry was never this busy on Saturday or Sunday.
“Monday, don’t you know?”
“Sorry, it’s a long story. Look, Ginny’s at Downing Street, that’s just a few blocks away. I’m heading there to get her.”
“Harry, who do you know on Downing Street?”
“Oh, Ginny works for the Thompson’s. Coming?”
There was only one Thompson family Tiernan knew about on Downing Street. Thinking it might be an interesting end to the day he followed Harry to the front lobby.
“Bloody hell, there’s no way I’m going out that way,” Harry said as the entered the lobby. “Is there another exit?”
4:33 pm
“Oh, yeah, we can take the back way, through the dining hall. Just watch out for the rats in the alleyway.” Now Tiernan took the lead, jogging through the dining hall and kitchen. Turning to see which way was best to proceed, Harry saw two legs protruding from behind a dumpster. Walking cautiously toward the downed person, Harry drew his wand, forgetting about its uselessness. Tiernan stood in the kitchen doorway, watching Harry. The next moment he saw Harry throw down his wand and heard him curse.
“Harry, is he dead?” Tiernan asked. Seeing Harry wave for him to come closer, Tiernan rounded the dumpster corner and saw a black man whom Harry seemed to know, judging by his reaction.
“Tiernan, this is Kingsley Shacklebolt. He’s an Auror and has worked for the Ministry for years. He also works for the Muggle Prime Minister.”
As shocked as Tiernan was with Harry’s words, he was even more so by what Harry was doing. Opening the dead man’s jacket, Harry tore open his shirt and lifted his vest. “Come here, Tiernan. Look at this.”
Moving closer, Tiernan leaned over to see. “What the devil is that?”
“It’s a scar left by the curse that killed him, the Avada Kedavra curse. We can’t do anything for him now. Look, would you please see to his body while I go get Ginny?” Without waiting for Tiernan to answer, Harry ran off down the Alley toward Muggle London and his second meeting with the Prime Minister.
4:52 pm
“Brian, what are you going to do?” Mary Thompson asked her husband. It was two hours until the national address and he had not even started working on his speech. Part of the reason for that was a phone that rang constantly, as it was again.
“Sir, it’s the President.” Benton called in on the intercom.
“Just a moment, Mary.” Gathering his thoughts for a few seconds, Thompson answered the blinking red phone.
“Hello, Mr. President…Yes, Mary just asked me the same thing…Yes, I did. Anthony Linden told me about it last Spring. I knew the community here in Britain was the most active, if not the largest, so I was depending on their leader for any sort of warning…No, it definitely was not a good idea, I can’t argue with you there.” Mary saw her husband give the U.S. President the ‘peace sign.’ “How are things over there?…That’s good to hear…No, no, I think we all are in for quite a shock. Yes, thank you, Mr. President. Good day.”
“Christ, Mary, even Clinton was better than that bloody sot. Now, what was all the running around for a while ago?”
“Ginny Weasley, Brian,” Mary managed to get out before the tears welled up, again.
“Ginny? Oh my God. Is Rebecca all right?” Thompson was half way to his wife by the time he finished the question.
“She’s fine, Brian, but she can’t…”
Fortunately, Mary’s husband was able to catch her as she started to slide down the door frame into a very graceless position. The trip from hope to despair had been too much for one afternoon and Mary finally did what she had needed to do while comforting Ginny; she cried.
Intentionally ignoring his ministerial duties, Brian Thompson spent the next half hour performing the duties demanded by an earlier oath. Helping Mary to the sofa, he sat with her and held his wife, and eventually reminded her that it was Ginny who had lost much more than Rebecca.
5:33 pm
Despising his job thirty minutes later, Thompson walked Mary up to their room, and then started back to the parlor to find the words to describe what had happened to his country. Passing Rebecca’s room, he saw Ginny sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking his daughter’s hair, with a look of emptiness he had seldom seen before.
“Ginny, can I have someone take you home?” Thompson offered.
“Thank you, but I live in Devon. Obviously I, I can’t continue here. I’m so sorry.”
Thompson could tell by her voice and movements that she was completely lost. “Can I contact your fiancé? Harry is it?”
“He’s in the hospital, I hope he got out in time.” Then Ginny started crying again. Rebecca looked up to her and patted her hand, then went back to her dolls.
“Ginny, sorry, what do you mean, ‘got out in time.’”
Forty minutes later, forty remarkable minutes later, Brian Thompson was back in the parlor outlining the most important address of his career. Actually, it turned out to be the most important address of his life.
5:09 pm
Approaching Downing Street, Harry saw a large, noisy crown gathering on the far side of Smith Street. He had no intention of getting involved in that group so he continued down south side of Smith to the vehicle barricade at the mouth of Downing Street.
“Stop there, sir,” a guard ordered. Unlike Harry’s first trip to Downing Street, these guards made no effort to hide their weapons.
“I’m here to pick up my fiancé, Ginny Weasley. She works for the Thompson’s.” Harry was glad to see that Ginny’s name appeared to have some meaning to the guard.
“Please walk that way and take the second door on the right. The receptionist will be able to help you.”
Thanking the guard, Harry followed the directions and soon found himself repeating his story to the lady at the reception desk. Checking a list of names, the woman marked a check next to a name Harry assumed was Ginny’s and the asked him to have a seat.
5:17 pm
Five minutes later, a uniformed man jogged up to the waiting room and handed Harry a badge. “Let’s go, sir. The boss wanted to see you right away.”
Harry had no idea who this man’s ‘boss’ was. He tried to ask about Ginny but the man said that she would meet them inside. After traversing two long hallways, Harry found himself outside and at the far end of Downing Street. Crossing over the famous road, the two entered number 18 Downing Street and navigated through a maze of rooms and hallways. Before he knew it, Harry was walking into the same parlor he had been in a couple weeks earlier. Ginny was there along with the Muggle Prime Minister and a thin bespectacled man with a pink pen.
The Prime Minister walked up to Harry and said, “Hello again, Harry. I need your help with something.”
6:20 pm
“Bloody hell, it’s FREEZING out here. Whose idea was this?” Ron looked directly at Patty as he asked the question.
“Oh, be quiet Ron. We lived here for almost eight years and never walked this way. I think it’s enchanting.” Hermione heard Remus laugh through the hands he was trying to breathe on for warmth.
Mumbling something that sounded faintly rude, Ron kept trudging down the pot-holed road.
“It shouldn’t be much longer; Kate said it was just four miles.” Patty was encouraging everyone to walk their fastest, if for no other reason than to keep warm. Rounding the next bend in the road, Hermione and Patty, in the front, saw the first sign of civilization in over an hour. There was an old, thatched-roofed cottage about fifty meters off the main road.
Running the last twenty meters to the front door, Patty suggested to her party that she do the talking. She directed most of these ‘suggestion’ towards Ron. Knocking smartly on the door, the four waited for an answer.
One of the pieces of information Albus Dumbledore had neglected to pass on to his successor, no doubt due to his unexpected passing, was the existence of this cottage along the road leading out from Hogsmeade. Established at the start of the first war against Voldemort, the role of the cottage’s occupants was simply to warn Hogwarts and other selected locations or persons of unusual activity along the road. Since no one really expected Death Eaters to drive into Hogsmeade, the occupants had paid little attention to the infrequent vehicular traffic. In fact, it had been four months since any motor vehicle had passed by; that automobile belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Granger.
The cottage’s current occupants, Joe and Betty Brady, were an elderly couple. Both Squibs, they had worked for the Ministry since the early sixties and had lived in the house since ninety-three. Hearing the knock at this hour and at this time of the year was unexpected, to say the very least. Neither were aware of what had happened earlier in the evening. Joe owned a small caliber handgun for protection, but could not recall where he had stored it when the visitors arrived. At least the voice from the outside sounds female, Joe thought, and if she was up to mischief she wouldn’t be knocking politely.
Answering the door, Joe was a bit dismayed to see four people, but none of them looked dangerous so he decided not to shut the door in their faces.
“Excuse me, my name is Patty Lee, I’m from Hogwarts and I need help.”
It didn’t take long for Patty to convince the couple they were the ‘good guys.’ Unfortunately, when they tried to use the phone they had no more luck that the previous time.
“We have our old Yugo out back, you’re welcome to use it. You should drive down to Carlisle, that’s the nearest rail station and airport,” Joe offered, tossing the keys to Remus, him being the oldest looking of their four visitors. Thanking the couple, and promising to return the car as soon as they could, the four went out back to the car and stood around wondering who would drive.
Since everyone was looking at Remus he set the keys on the hood. “Don’t look at me, it’s been years since I’ve been behind the wheel. And I think I hit something that time.”
Ron reached for the keys, but Patty grabbed them first. “Ron, I’ve heard too many stories about your last driving adventure. It’s been a while, but at least I have a permit.”
Everyone climbed into the car; Ron, who had volunteered to sit in the back with Hermione, quickly found his knees pressed into his chin. Patty got behind the wheel, looked around for a moment, and then swore.
“Damn car! This thing has a clutch. I learned to drive on an automatic.” Since no one knew the difference Hermione just asked if she still knew how to drive.
“Yeah, in theory.” After grinding gears and a couple stalls, Patty was able to get the car moving in the correct direction, albeit slowly. Remus watched Patty’s legs moving up and down like she was climbing stairs and commented about having to pedal all the way to Carlisle.
“Shut up, Remus! Make yourself useful and turn on the radio, maybe there is something in the news.”
Remus apologized to Patty and started fiddling with the knobs on the dash. The only thing he got to work was the air conditioner, which earned him another rude comment from Patty.
“Here, this button turns the radio on, this one tunes it. And that one will make the cold air warm.”
Traveling south on a bumpy back-country road at twenty-five miles an hour, in second gear, the Yugo with its four passengers bounced along, waiting to hear the latest news and how it would affect their lives.
5:19 pm
Back at Downing Street, Ginny ran to Harry and clung to him as if he had been gone for weeks.
“Hi, Gin. What’s up?” As lame as it sounded, it was the first thing that came to Harry’s mind. But the Prime Minister was still standing, waiting for a response from Harry about his request. Then he remembered.
“Kingsley Shacklebolt is dead,” Harry told Thompson. “I found him behind the Ministry building.”
Thompson looked stunned. “What? He was going to get Scrimger, or whatever his name is. Damn, I forgot about that. Benton, is Years still here?”
“Yes, sir. Shall I bring him back?”
“Yes, please hurry.” Benton left by the same route Harry entered.
“Look, Harry, I have to speak in an hour. Would you talk to Years and tell him what you saw? I’m sure the shift supervisor will need a statement also. Damn, what else can happen now? I’ll see you both back here after the address. Ginny, I’ll arrange transportation to Devon for you and Harry, or you can both stay in town tonight. I’ll also get some dinner in here for you two. I owe you that, at least.” Then with a brief handshake and wave, Thompson left for Parliament with two security guards carrying some sort of automatic weapons.
Harry and Ginny were alone for the first time in days, but knew it would not last long. Guiding Ginny to the sofa, Harry asked about why Thompson ‘owed’ Ginny something. Explaining the plan she had proposed to Olga Windshine, Ginny started crying when she told Harry how she had lost all her powers just as she started the healing. Harry listened sympathetically and comforted Ginny as best he could.
“Harry, what happened to Kingsley?” Ginny asked after a few minutes. “I saw him not too long ago.” Harry could tell by the tone of Ginny’s voice and the look on her face that she was upset, but too emotionally drained to express what she truly felt. Harry himself was still in shock over the two deaths he had witnessed in just a couple hours. And I thought the violence was over.
Just then, Benton returned with two other men whose uniforms indicated they were from Scotland Yard. Pulling notebooks from their pockets, the senior man started writing notes before he even asked questions while the other man pulled two chairs over for them to sit in. Harry and Ginny stood when the senior officer looked at them. Benton left the parlor to call the Security Service shift supervisor in.
“Evening, I’m Years and this is Inspector Bingley. You understand we’re from Scotland Yard, don’t you?” Seeing the two teens nod, Years invited them to sit back down and took their names.
“I hear you’ve witnessed a murder...” Years was looking at Ginny. Seeing this, Harry cleared his throat and started talking.
“Uh, it was me, I found Kingsley’s body. I was leaving the Ministry building at about five forty-five with another man I know…”
“And what’s his name?”
“Tiernan Keane.” Ginny looked at Harry and mouthed Rudy’s Uncle?
Seeing this exchange, Years inquired, “I take it you both know this person?”
“Yeah, I taught at his nephew’s, uh, school. His brother is Liam Keane, the architect for the new Parliament building.” If Liam’s name sparked any recognition from the two men they did not spot it.
“Alright, Harry, which ministry building was this?”
Here it was. The two interviewers obviously did not know what they were, but Harry did not try to hide anything.
“It was the Ministry of Magic, Mr. Years. Both Ginny and I are, I mean, I’m a wizard and Ginny’s a witch. Or we used to be.”
“I see. The PM has already given us some cursory information about this thing that’s going on. We can come back to that later.”
Harry went on to describe how he had found Kingsley and checked for the curse. Benton returned with a Security Service man who looked very unhappy. After the next round of introductions and a brief update from Years to the Protective Services man, the interview continued.
“So, you found the body at about five forty-five, then what happened?”
Harry went on to explain how he had left Tiernan in charge of the body and then ran over to Downing Street. When Harry finished his statement the Protective Services man asked a few questions of his own and then all three uniformed men rose. “Mr. Potter, Ms. Weasley, we have a lot of work to do now. Please stay in town and contact me if you think of anything that might be significant.”
Handing a business card to Harry and Ginny, the Scotland Yard men shook their hands again and departed. Then the Protective Services man asked more questions about Shacklebolt. By the time they were finished, it was well after six o’clock. A maid entered immediately after the Protective Services man departed and told them they would be dining upstairs with the Thompson’s.
When they reached the dining room, Harry and Ginny were not surprised to see the Prime Minister absent. The Thompson’s twin boys, Thomas and Alvin, were at the table, along with Rebecca and Mary. After introductions, Mary invited Harry and Ginny to sit. Ginny took the seat next to Rebecca, who immediately took her hand. Harry sat opposite Mary at the head of the table.
Mary and Ginny didn’t talk much, but Tom and Al, who had just found out about all the excitement, hardly let Harry eat with all their questions. Giving up on eating, (Harry wasn’t too hungry anyway,) the twins received all Harry’s attention and soon forgot their own dinners. After a quarter hour, Mary had to tell the boys to “leave Harry alone and eat.” Wining, the boys turned back to their plates but still managed to get a few questions in between bites.
After dinner, about seven-thirty, the boys headed off to a school project before their father’s address. Rebecca left her chair and went to sit with Mary who put her on her lap. Mary told Harry and Ginny that this was a daily routine for Rebecca. “If Brian were here she would go and sit with him next.” Mary was still quiet, obviously because of the day’s events. Actually, none of them felt like talking except Rebecca.
After Mary’s statement about her daughter sitting with Brian, Harry asked Rebecca if she would like to sit with him instead. Smiling, Rebecca walked over to Harry and let him lift her up onto his lap.
“You not big like daddy,” Rebecca said, looking up at Harry’s face. Harry smiled back and tickled Rebecca which caused her to jump down and run behind Ginny’s chair, laughing and playing peek-a-boo. Ginny was watching Harry, thinking about how he would make a wonderful father. Neither Ginny nor Harry saw the look on Mary’s face, and even if they had they would not have understood it.
“All right you three, let’s go and watch the Boss talk.” Pointing, not downstairs to the parlor, but down the second floor corridor, Mary led them to a smaller, more personal room with a number of soft chairs and another large-screen television on the wall. Then calling for Al and Tom, Mary turned on the television and they all waited for the Prime Minister to start his address.
8:00 pm
“Good evening. I’m addressing you this evening concerning the extraordinary events in our country, and around the world, over the past four hours. First let me say that our country is just as safe and secure as it was this morning. It is also my firm belief that every other country around the globe has no reason to fear for their safety. I’ve spoken to the president of the United States and the leaders of many other major powers, expressing my firm belief that what is happening is neither bad nor harmful to our world.”
“So, just what did happen today? This is probably what you are most curious about. Reports and pictures that have flown around the world show us something we had thought existed only in fairy tales and ancient legends. And many of these reports are true.”
“For the past sixteen centuries there has been a small community of special humans living among us; usually unseen, seldom provocative, and by birth graced with powers we can only call ‘magical.’ This is not a false UFO sighting, neither is it an island of lost beings frozen in time; there is no science fiction involved here. What has been opened for us to see is every bit as real and alive as you and I.”
“This story actually began three years ago when my predecessor, Anthony Linden, received a highly unusual visit…”
Thompson went on for a few minutes talking about how he and Linden were introduced to the world of magic. Describing the “proof” they had both seen, and touching on the reason for their visits. The Prime Minister then told of the reason for the day’s events. Explaining as best he understood, and in the simplest and non-condescending tone he could use, what had happened. This was particularly difficult because even the wizarding community did not have all the questions answered.
Then pausing for the camera to zoom in, Thompson emphasized one of his most important points. “Please remember, the reason we are witnessing these events is not because of anything happening to us, it is because of something tragic that has happened to them.”
“My fellow countrymen, what I’m about to tell you is terribly important and I ask that you consider this story very carefully in the coming months and years. The reason Prime Minister Linden and I were given information about this incredible world of magic was because their world and ours came very close to destruction. I’m certain the papers and other news media will delve into this story with great gusto, but you do need to know a few important facts right now.”
“There was a very powerful and very evil wizard by the name of Voldemort causing havoc within our magical brothers’ world; three years ago it began to spill over into ours. Linden and I, and some select members of Scotland Yard were given information about these attacks that we may not conduct fruitless searches for Voldemort and his evil followers. Just last April this wizard, Voldemort, was finally destroyed through the courage and dedication of a young man named Harry Potter.”
“By fate or by chance I met Mr. Potter just two weeks ago here at Downing Street. Harry is a very unassuming young man who risked his life to destroy this evil person. This is very important: Harry did not do it just for himself, or just for his world of magic. Harry dedicated seven years of his life to the defeat of this evil man for the entire world. If Voldemort had won, we would all be under his power this minute.”
“There is something else about Harry I would like to share with you. Harry started his journey when he was only eleven years old.” Thompson let this information sink in for a few seconds. “That’s correct, a boy of eleven began a seven year journey to take on the greatest evil wizard in history, and he did it for all of us.”
“The magical community that’s been revealed to us today is already very much a part of our society, and will continue as such. They paid taxes before today; they will pay them after today. Certainly we will all have to make adjustments, personally and professionally, so I hope and pray that you treat these people as your fellow Englishmen and women.”
“I have made it clear to you this evening where I stand on the issue of reuniting the magical community with ours, because this truly is a reunification. I must add one personal footnote to the amazing chain of events that have brought me before you. My wife, Mary, and I, recently hired a seventeen year old witch by the name of Ginny Weasley to care for our daughter Rebecca. I’m sure you know that Rebecca was born with moderately severe Down Syndrome that stunted her growth, damaged her sense of hearing, severely limited her ability to speak, and required seven surgeries before she was three to correct other internal malformations. When Ginny and Rebecca first met, just one week ago, they bonded as Mary and I had never seen Rebecca bond with anyone before. Ms. Weasley, shortly before the dramatic change in her life this evening, offered Mary and I, and Rebecca, a gift of hope we could only dream about. Ms. Weasley offered to try and cure our daughter of her mental handicap; that is to say, she put her career and life on the line, risking imprisonment in her world, to heal someone outside of her world. Sadly, Ginny lost her powers just as she was starting to heal our daughter. My wife witnessed this and we know it to be true. I believe that this gesture was the most selfless and giving act I have ever witnessed in my life. If this action is representative of other witches and wizards, which I’m sure it is, we shall enjoy the addition of many new friends in our lives and in our communities.”
“Finally, I hope to meet with the Minister of Magic, our new friends’ leader, to work out what we must do to continue and promote harmony in the amazing time we’ve found ourselves. Good Night.”
For the first time in Thompson’s long political career, he finished a speech in a press room and received no questions. Stunned into silence, the press corps appeared to be waiting for someone to jump out and yell ‘Gotcha!’ When they realized it was not going to happen, it was too late; the Prime Minister had already left the room.
8:37 pm
Approaching Carlisle, still in second gear, there was little sound in the Yugo other than the screaming engine. Patty was amazed they had become lost only once; she was even more amazed that they discovered the mistake before they reached the North Sea. Remus Lupin was looking back at Ron and Hermione with an expression of amazement on his face.
The news from the Muggle Prime Minister had confirmed their worst fears, that the changes had been global and complete. They were all Muggles, now. Hermione looked annoyed. She believed that only Thread magic would be affected and she was wrong. Pulling into a filling station, an attendant walked up to the car and asked Patty if she was trying to burn up the car’s engine. After a short and embarrassing conversation, the Yugo was filled with petrol and they continued their journey, in forth gear, this time.
9:03 pm
Rufus Scrimgeour sat behind his desk contemplating his next move. For almost forty years he had worked his way up through the Ministry, manipulating, demoting and murdering (discreetly) anyone who blocked where he wanted to be. The war with Voldemort had weakened and exhausted the Aurors enough to make his internal machinations invisible. That the entire magical community had lost its power was more than he could have hoped for. He was ready to move, except for one nagging distraction.
Four months ago, when he was first ready to move, something had jolted his world of magical powers. Sending Fudge off to work on the committee to investigate the 9/19 events seemed like an excellent way to get the former Minister of Magic off his back, and out of his hair. How could he know that Fudge would stumble upon the single most important discovery in the history of the Wizarding World? A discovery that would point every amateur and professional researcher directly to the source of his own powers.
Eliminating Tumult was necessary, she was too persistent and excited about the possibility of restarting her research. Scrimgeour was just glad he had walked into the meeting when he did. Eliminating Fudge had become necessary when Scrimgeour’s worthless weasel of a spy saw Fudge pass Potter something so secret it had to be done far from the Ministry and in a public place. Digging the significance of this transaction out of Fudge’s brain had proven difficult, but he had the answer, nevertheless. Then he thought he would have to deal with Potter. That could have been very messy; fortunately, Potter and Granger spent three months looking in the wrong place for their answers. The silly stories and documents they were translating wouldn’t tell them anything. He had translated them himself eighty years before, and knew they were essentially benign.
Matthews was too senile to remember what he had done with the subject of his dim-witted research years before. Dumbledore and Snape were out of the way, the only two who could have known what he knows. In a few days, after things settled down, Scrimgeour was going to make himself Minister of much more than just magic. Voldemort would never have had it this easy! the Minister thought. Never!
Unfortunately for Rufus Scrimgeour, he had not, in fact, translated the same documents that Hermione and Patty had been working on. Not realizing there were two copies of similar stories, Scrimgeour had translated the same partly burnt fragments as Tumult had. He was completely unaware that Merlin himself had made the second encoded copy, the final version of The Story In The Runes. The differences between the two versions were subtle. Little, insignificant items such as the existence of Merlin’s world “ the paradise for his followers - had been left out of the first version which Scrimgeour had translated.
9:18 pm
Entering Carlisle, the Yugo sped its way through the city towards the rail station. Leaving the vehicle in the car park, the four stiff and weary travelers entered the station, trying to decide what to do next. According to the fare schedule, Patty only had enough money for two one-way fares to London.
Deciding to try and reach the only person they knew for certain was in London, Remus took a few of their scarce pounds and left with Patty to find a phone and call Kingsley Shacklebolt. Knowing he was on night duty most of the time, they decided to call the security center for Downing Street, hoping they could find him. Dialing operator assistance, Patty explained the location they were trying to reach. After a number of questions which sounded like they were related to national security, they heard a phone ring. Down to the last four pounds they could spare, Remus and Patty were praying for someone to pick up the phone. And someone did.
“Downing Street. Please state your business.”
Patty handed the phone to Remus, she had no idea what to say. “Uh, yes sir. My name is, uh, Remus Lupin and I’m trying to reach one of your guards. His name is Kingsley Shacklebolt.”
There were a few seconds of silence, then the voice said, “What was your name again, sir?” Giving his name again and a number of other personal bits of information, Remus found himself yelling for them not to put the call on hold. But it was too late. Another mechanical voice said to deposit two pounds into the slot which Patty did, then told Remus that was the end of the change.
Another minute passed before a different voice came on the line. “I understand you are looking for Officer Shacklebolt?”
“Yes, we are. It’s terribly important. We’re in a pay phone and out of money. We need to talk to him about...”
“I’m sorry sir. Mr. Shacklebolt was the victim of a homicide a few hours ago. If there’s nothing else I can help you with I...”
“NO! Don’t hang up, please. Um, is Harry Potter or Ginny Weasley still there? I heard on the news they were at Downing Street. Please, have them call me back at 415-32-222351, it’s the payphone I’m...”
“Please deposit two pounds to continue this call...Please deposit two pounds to continue this call...Please deposit two pounds to continue this call...Thank you, have a wonderful day.” CLICK
“Aw SHIT!” Patty exclaimed when she saw Remus drop the phone. “Why did you ask for Harry or Ginny? Wasn’t Shacklebolt there?”
Ron and Hermione, who had been just out of earshot until Patty’s very short tirade, walked over to see what had happened.
“Shacklebolt’s dead, they said he was murdered today.” Remus didn’t know what else to say. Like Harry, he had had enough killing.
“Blimey, Kingsley dead? What are we going to do now?” asked Ron.
“I’m not sure. I guess two of us should head for London on the train. When does it leave, Hermione?” Remus was hoping it was soon, the platform funneled the icy wind right at them and there only warm place around was the ticketing agent’s booth.
“Ron, why don’t you and Hermione go to London, it’s a four hour trip on the express and leaves in twenty minutes. Remus and I can head back to Hogwarts. There’s not much to do here, is there?” Ron and Hermione asked what Remus thought and he said “it didn’t matter, as long as we got through.”
Saying their farewells, Ron and Hermione headed off to the platform and Remus and Patty back toward the Yugo. A few steps before it would have been too late, Remus heard the payphone ringing. Sprinting back, he picked it up and said, “Hello?”
“Remus, is that you? It’s me, Harry.”