The problem of how to enter the Ministry given the new security measures had been a puzzler. Then Kingsley had recalled someone having mentioned Harry and his friends breaking into the Ministry. Shacklebolt had immediately sent a Patronus to Harry, asking about that. Harry quickly answered that they had left the Ministry tokens at Shell Cottage, after Hermione had reasoned that they had no further immediate use for them, but the Order might be able to exploit them. Kingsley had Apparated to Shell Cottage, spent about a minute penetrating Bill and Fleur’s protective enchantments, Summoned the tokens, and quickly headed back for London.
At 2:41 AM, Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared with the usual loud crack in the street outside the Ministry entrance. The men there had been warned by radio to expect him, but looks of astonishment and even fear prevailed among the soldiers grouped there (he had been given coordinates where the coppers could not see him). Lance Corporal Wood rubbed his eyes, having trouble making sense of this, then gave up and straightened to perfect attention, waiting and watching silently as Kingsley conferred with the officer in charge. He watched, mostly mentally reviewing the battle plan, as the four tokens were presented to four soldiers of the D Squadron Mountain Troop.
Wood would be in the second wave. The first four would all hand their tokens to the last one through, who would immediately return and distribute the tokens to four more SAS men, so they could come through, and so on. Accordingly, he followed right behind Major Foxcastle and the first wave as they entered the public toilet. The men guarding the place snapped to attention and saluted the major as he came in; he returned this quickly and added –Let’s hurry this up,†sharply. Wood watched as the man ahead of him closed the stall door behind him, then heard clunking and scraping as he climbed into the toilet. The lever was pulled, the water whirled, and the man was gone. Silence fell, broken only by the heavy breathing of the twenty-odd men in the public toilet.
The Atrium in the Ministry of Magic was mostly empty at this time of night. Most of the non-Death-Eater workers had gone home before the battle at Hogwarts had started, and Voldemort hadn’t seen the need to call in most of them. For one thing, his naturally suspicious mind didn’t trust most of them; they were only kept around because he needed them to be able to run the country.
Since the trio’s break-in, Ministry security had been tightened. Wand inspections were now required for entry or exit, and at least four guards were stationed in the Atrium at all times. At the moment, these guards were four DMLE officers. One, James Smith, was there replacing Jugson, who was supposed to be in charge of security this time of night.
Smith was bored and his legs hurt. Before Scrimgeour’s…resignation, he might have passed the time thinking about something: his work, office politics, his last or his next visitation weekend with his son. These days, he’d had to train himself not to think. Whenever he thought, he ended up thinking about the rumors: that Scrimgeour had been murdered, that Voldemort was controlling Britain now, that Mysteries’ research on –magical theft†had never existed…damn it, he was doing it now! He mentally repeated his justification to himself: regardless who was in power, the law had to be kept. Theft, robbery, and smuggling did not become acceptable just because the government was…suboptimal.
Smith sighed, and repositioned his legs. He didn’t know why they had to stay standing all this time. All it did was make his legs sore. He was still thinking about his sore legs when men covered in black material suddenly burst from the fireplaces. His breath caught, and he lurched up from the wall.
Per plan, two of the SAS had smoke grenades with pins pulled. As they exited the fireplaces, they hurled the grenades, which burst an instant later. Thick white smoke filled the center of the Atrium. Smith raised his wand, along with the others, but they could see nothing through the smoke. The guards hesitated, scanning desperately for the enemy.
–Drop your wands and put your hands in the air!†a voice boomed, and a man emerged from the dissipating smoke, face and body hidden by a strange black suit, holding a thing that looked like a massive metal wand and pointing it at them.
One guard, who had a loving wife and two young children who he wanted to be alive to raise, immediately complied. The others all shouted: –Stupefy!â€
Red beams flashed across the Atrium, but the SAS trooper had already rolled sideways, and the Stunners all missed. He came up, and the –wand†emitted a series of loud bangs. –Protego!†all three guards shouted—no, Smith realized, two guards. As he turned, he saw one of his fellow guards crumple, bloody holes ripped through his chest. Banging filled the Atrium, Smith saw grey streaks rebound from his shield everywhere, the strain, he dove behind the Muggles in the new statue and heard—curses?—bouncing away everywhere. The other guard, he registered dimly, seemed to have hidden behind the security desk; these things blasted into the desk, wood and splinters flying everywhere.
Lance Corporal Wood swung into motion as the stall door burst open. A token was slapped into his hand, and he mashed it into the slot on the stall as the stall door was slammed again (couldn’t risk it needing to be closed again to work), door open, in the toilet, flush it, weapon ready as he flies through the blackness…
He emerged, and slid out to the edge of the entrance, weapon raised. He quickly assessed the situation. One wizard was lying flat on the ground by the wall to avoid the crossfire, not resisting; another seemed to be behind the big statue, judging by the suppressing fire; and a third was leaping up—
Something whizzed from the wizard’s wand and blasted apart an entrance, sending rubble flying everywhere. A large chunk struck another lance corporal in the back and knocked him over, but the body armor held up. Wood realized swiftly that the rifle fire was ineffective, dropped his assault rifle, and pulled the Gustaf AT up. One or two other SAS men were doing the same—the lift, it was coming! But gripping it firmly and bracing his feet, he pulled the trigger. A giant boom and a ring of smoke burst from the bazooka.
The round hit the third wizard square on. A tremendous boom shook the entire Atrium, all the glass shattered, the upper part of the huge black statue spiderwebbed with cracks…and the wizard simply vanished in a ball of churning flame. Every pair of ears in the room was ringing from that explosion in a confined space.
Smith did not even think. He immediately flung away his wand, threw both hands into the air, and screamed –Don’t shoot!†He was dimly aware of the lift opening behind him, but otherwise completely focused on those gray tubes pointed at him.
The lift held five Death Eaters who had heard the noise on the upper levels and hurriedly come to investigate. Some of them were without masks, which made it all the easier for them to have seen the explosion as the lift reached the Atrium level but before the grille opened. All of them immediately dropped their wands and flung up their hands.
–CEASE FIRE!†a sergeant boomed, but unnecessarily: Britain’s finest military discipline had done his job for him. Wood finished reloading the Gustaf and straightened, then set it down (without even thinking about it, pointing away from everyone). He stood there awaiting orders and catching his breath, feeling relieved. That had gone much better than he’d expected. So much for magic.
Ten minutes later, there were some forty armed SAS men in the Atrium. The seven prisoners had been restrained and put in a group by the back wall, and corpsmen were jogging over to the bodies to load them onto stretchers and remove them. The lift had been called back down as the Death Eaters were taken out of it before this could be stopped, so a squad had weapons trained on the shaft, but there had been no effort made to come up, or any sign of activity on the lower levels. Major Foxcastle had gone down to the Atrium for roughly two minutes to have a look at things, then returned to the surface, where Kingsley was waiting, with his usual patient calm, for news.
–Mr. Shacklebolt, we have killed two of the enemy and captured seven,†he said as he approached him. –The prisoners are still down there, primarily because we were uncertain what to do with them. I will contact our superiors and obtain instructions.â€
Kingsley, despite his earlier point to the PM, was startled by –our superiorsâ€. It was true, of course, but Ministers of Magic and wizards in general did not really think of it that way. Which was disturbingly similar to Voldemort’s ideas about wizard superiority…
His philosophical musings were interrupted by the crackle of the radio. With a crispness and efficiency that impressed even Kingsley, the major summed up the events of the last fifteen minutes.
–Well…this is an interesting situation,†the PM stated over the radio. –We have no…information about anyone on the lower levels, and no…tactically sound way to get down there. What do you think, Mr. Shacklebolt?â€
–Minister, I think that most of the people down there are merely comparatively innocent Ministry—of Magic—workers doing their jobs. I should be able to project my voice to most of the lower levels and advise them to surrender. I believe they will do it.â€
–Major?â€
–It sounds good to me, sirs.â€
–Very well. I have…prepared the order which…we previously discussed, Mr. Shacklebolt. I suggest, that you read it, so their giving up will be…proper, for everyone involved. Can you…er, take this down?â€
Kingsley dug an old arrest warrant and a Muggle pen (one of Arthur Weasley’s very useful gifts) from his Auror’s robes, then performed the Dictation Charm. Major Foxcastle stared at the pen as it traced out words on the back of the warrant, while Kingsley prepared a Patronus message to the castle’s defenders. Both men finished speaking, and Kingsley lifted the paper, muttering some of the text.
–I do order that Minister Pius Thicknesse is relieved of his move your arses and will immediately relinquish that statue was us, that’s what those buggers think of obey commands of the Armed Forces of the do the loos work as actual loos…â€
Kingsley calmly set down the paper and turned to Major Foxcastle. –Major, I think I will need that again,†he said. –The spell seems to have picked up bits of speech not from the radio.â€
*********************************************************************
Back in Hogwarts, Hermione was having an interesting time. –No, the planes aren’t animals, they’re machines, like the Hogwarts Exp—–
–But how does a machine, fly?†Hannah Abbot demanded.
–Is it like how a balloon flies?†Rionach O’Neal speculated.
–How fast can it fly?†Romilda Vane asked.
–I am not an expert on Muggle aircraft!†Hermione shouted. –It would take a Muggle with a couple years of university to answer you! All I know is that it’s the way in which a bird flies; it’s not how a balloon floats. Now if you’ll excuse me…â€
–Do the wings flap?†Romilda responded immediately, stepping into Hermione’s path as she tried to move away from her.
–Oh, why don’t you go try to poison Harry again instead of bothering me!?†Hermione snapped. Romilda made a rude gesture at her and stomped off. –Could you all give me a few minutes?†Hermione asked the others more calmly, already regretting losing her cool. As much as she hated to admit it, she was exhausted. Most of them nodded, and Hermione hurried away from them, blushing slightly, looking for Harry and Ron.
No one in the Room of Requirement had gone back to sleep after the air raid. Arthur Weasley and most of the Muggle-borns in the Room, including Hermione, had been being bombarded with questions about machine guns, airplanes, the Muggle government, the RAF, and Merlin knew what else for the last twenty minutes. Hermione could hear Arthur’s voice over the general din as she hurried past the group around him.
–No, the controls run on ekeltricity, but the airplane itself is pushed by jet fuel. It’s like gasoline for cars, but it shoots out in jets instead of doing infernal combustion.â€
Harry and Ron were sitting by the Hog’s Head passage, talking quietly about what had happened. –Oh, hullo Hermione,†Ron said, looking up. –I was just saying to Harry, just one Horcrux left.â€
–Which is a snake and therefore could be anywhere,†Harry answered, as she guessed he already had. –Really, Voldemort was daft to hide them the way he did. It would’ve made much more sense to chuck one in the Pacific Ocean, or put a levitation spell on one and make it invisible, or, I don’t know, stick it to one of those rockets the Americans launch. It would’ve taken us years and years to find them. I remember mentioning this to Dumbledore, actually.â€
–So you believe he may have done something like that with Nagini?†Hermione asked.
–No,†Harry said. –He’s clever, but there are always these big…holes in his thinking. Unfortunately snakes don’t show up on the Marauder’s Map, we already tried that.†He yawned. –God, I’m tired.â€
–Well, robbing banks, riding dragons, and fighting Voldemort tends to take it out of you,†Ron noted.
Before Hermione could suggest that they try to quiet people down and let everyone get some rest, Kingsley’s Patronus soared into the room.
–The Muggle soldiers have secured the Atrium in the Ministry,†Kingsley’s voice declared. –I will attempt to persuade the remaining wizards there to surrender. In any event, Voldemort will not be receiving any reinforcements from here. Unfortunately, the teachers and I sealed all of the fireplaces in Hogwarts from that end in order to defend the castle, and there is no reason for Voldemort to reopen them.â€
Celebratory shouting and cheering filled the room. One of the Weasley twins let out a loud whoop and detonated a squib which turned into a miniature dragon racing around the room. Tonks, pale and weak but managing to stand, embraced Lupin and kissed him. A broad grin filled Harry’s face.
–Brilliant,†Hermione said, as the excited shouting continued. –Now no one will get any sleep.â€
******************************************************************
–Sonorus,†Auror Shacklebolt invoked as he planted his feet in front of the lift shaft.
–Attention, all persons within the Ministry of Magic offices,†he began. –I have here an order from the Prime Minister’s office, written and signed by him personally. I remind all of you that as Prime Minister, he has authority over all other Ministries, including the Ministry of Magic. The order is as follows. I, as Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, do hereby order that Mister Pius Thicknesse, Minister of Magic, is immediately and entirely relieved of his office, duties, and privileges as Minister of Magic. A successor will be appointed or elected at some later date; until such time as that occurs, authority over the Ministry of Magic and the magical population of Britain will be exercised by Professor Minerva McGonagall. All persons in the Ministry of Magic, or currently engaged in armed resistance to this order elsewhere, should immediately and unconditionally surrender to and fully cooperate with the Armed Forces of the United Kingdom until the present crisis is resolved. So ordered on 2 May 1998, 1:45 AM GMT.â€
He paused, trying to balance the effect right. Kingsley had never been one for effect or showmanship, but now was the time if it ever had been.
–To put that simply,†he added, –here’s what we’ll do. Come up in the lift in groups of six at a time. Either leave your wands downstairs, or set them down on the floor of the lift. Put your hands in the air as the lift reaches the Atrium. If you do this at once, you will not be hurt, and may avoid criminal charges. You may respond by Ministry memo; address it to Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt.â€
Silence fell. Kingsley stepped back to Major Foxcastle and the other officers, and they quietly waited. Nothing could be heard except the heavy breathing of the SAS soldiers. Suddenly a memo came fluttering up the lift shaft. The soldiers, showing their excellent discipline, trained weapons on it but did not fire; the memo fluttered over to Kingsley and fell to the ground at his feet. He picked it up.
–It’s from Magical Maintenance,†he told the major after a moment. –They say, in no uncertain terms, that they have no interest in fighting us and will come to surrender as soon as we reply.†He amplified his voice again. –Those who just sent us a message may come up.â€
A moment later, the jangle of the lift could be heard.
–Tell your men not to be too rough with this lot,†Kingsley muttered to Foxcastle. –They’re what you would call janitors, not much of a threat.â€
–Given the capabilities wizards have demonstrated we will treat them all as potentially serious threats,†Foxcastle replied firmly, leaving Kingsley even more uneasy about whether this had been a good idea. He concluded there was nothing to be done about it as orange Magical Maintenance uniforms became visible in the rising lift. The lift opened, providing a clear view of four wizards and two witches with their hands as high as they could possibly get them and no sign of wands. Orders were shouted, and as some of the men kept their weapons aimed, others hurried to the lift. With a speed and poise that impressed even Kingsley—he realized then how often he had been impressed that night, and wondered if they could arrange for a few Aurors to undergo SAS training—the wizards and witches were searched and zip-tied. Major Foxcastle ordered that they be put with the rest of the prisoners, and they were marched over there firmly.
–Do we have any intelligence about who else is in this building right now?†a captain asked.
–I could attempt Hominem revilio,†Kingsley answered, –but that probably would not work for the lower levels, and certainly not for Mysteries. If any of the Unspeakables, or others for that matter, are holed up in Mysteries, we may have a problem.â€
–What could they do?†the major asked sharply.
–I don’t know,†Kingsley answered. –I honestly do not know. If we could find Thicknesse and lift the Imperius Curse, we might have some idea. Most likely, they will be unable to do anything, but trying to find anyone in there would be very difficult and dangerous. And I am not certain we can take the risk of trying to wait them out.â€
Major Foxcastle decided to return to the surface and ask COBR for instructions. Another lift’s load of Magical Maintenance people came jangling up. This was closely followed by a memo from an Obliviator (who had apparently been working on the paperwork involved in Muggles seeing a large dragon with chains dangling from it flying over London) who had fallen asleep at his desk several hours ago and had had no idea that anything else unusual was happening until he had been rudely awakened by the Gustaf explosion. Kingsley, who happened to know this person, was able to tell him via Patronus to come up.
James Smith shifted again. He was now seated against the wall, so his legs didn’t hurt anymore, but his arms, which were still secured behind his back, did. One of the black-robed men—right, admit it, no need to lie anymore, Death Eaters—had complained about this, but got no response from the guards.
No longer terrified of imminent death, he let himself think about the situation for the first time. His lawman’s instincts were at once enraged at what this meant: this was clearly a massive breach of the Statute of Secrecy, and might even be uncontainable. But the moral part of him, what had driven him to become a lawman in the first place, fought back, saying that the Order had done what had to be done.