Well, didn’t that last chapter throw the Kneazle amongst the pigeons? Actually, I got a lot less abuse than I was expecting, although the number of reviews was incredible. I must stress, however, that I didn’t nuke Hogwarts just for shock value. This is a vital element to the plot.
WARNING – character deaths occur in this chapter. There, I thought I’d get that out of the way early. Yes, on top of everything, Harry and the gang are going to have more pain and suffering dumped on them. I realise this might be the breaking point for some readers out there, but I can tell you that this chapter marks the low point for our heroes, and the fight back will start from here.
I wrote the last part of this chapter at a time when the British government had just authorised air strikes in Syria. Although I firmly believe that HP fan fiction isn’t the place to start making political statements, hopefully what I’ve written will serve as a reminder that it’s all very well having these hi-tec bomber aircraft and drones, but unless you have accurate human intelligence on the ground, that building you’ve just dropped a bomb on is just as likely to contain a mother and her children as it is a terrorist. The real world isn’t a computer game.
Huge thanks to Arnel, for not only doing me the honour of deliberately misquoting Hermione at me, but also again correcting me when I get the layout of the Ministry building completely messed up. I promise next time to remember that the bloody Atrium is on the eighth level, not the first!
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley Genres: Action/Adventure Warnings: Death, Disturbing Imagery, Intimate Sexual Situations, Rape, Violence Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 369 Summary: It started with a surprising proposals from an unexpected source, but that was only the beginning. Soon, Harry finds himself dealing with forces beyond his imagination and dreams, and ultimately finds that the world is not what he believed it to be. Hitcount: Story Total: 99079; Chapter Total: 3554 Author's Notes: |
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Jane Granger lounged on the sofa, feeling rather slothful. It had been a hard day and she’d had to suffer the joys of having to perform extractions on two different children, both of whom had been in tears before she’d even started. Her husband, John, had also had a pretty rough day, so they’d agreed on a Chinese takeaway for dinner, and he was currently in the kitchen selecting a suitable bottle of wine to wash it down. She leafed through that morning’s copy of The Guardian newspaper, but her eyes really didn’t take anything in. Likewise, the television was droning away in front of her but she wasn’t paying attention. Normally, the celebrity cooking show that was on was one of her favourite programs, but tonight she couldn’t be bothered with it. She was just about to loudly enquire if John was crushing the grapes of their wine himself, when the screen of the TV went suddenly blank. “We interrupt your scheduled program to bring you an urgent newsflash,” the announcer’s voice said ominously. “Please stand by for the Prime Minister.” Jane dropped her paper and sat up attentively. In this day and age, newsflashes were a pretty rare occurrence and she was intrigued as to what had caused it. A moment later, the black screen was replaced by the grim face of the Prime Minister. He was sitting in some non-descript office, which she assumed was Number Ten, Downing Street. “My fellow citizens, I address you tonight on a matter of the greatest urgency,” he began, his voice dripping in gravitas. “This morning, at approximately 10.30am, a nuclear device detonated in a remote Scottish valley, some thirty miles north-west of Invermoriston. The device was, fortunately, of a low yield and prevailing wind conditions have done much to minimise the dangers of fallout to neighbouring areas. Nevertheless, I cannot over emphasise the shock and horror I’m feeling at the idea of a nuclear bomb being set off on British soil.” “John! Get in here — now!” Jane screamed. “Although details are sketchy at present and the situation has been made more confused by the remoteness of the location, we are certain that the explosion is the work of a previously well-hidden terrorist group that have been operational not only here in the UK, but globally for many years,” the Prime Minister continued as John Granger hurried into the room, a bottle of red wine still clutched in his hand. “This terrorist network, which at present has no unifying name, represent a secret society that claims to trace its roots back to the Romans and beyond. They believe themselves to be an elitist group that base their superiority on bloodlines and esoteric knowledge. While this group, and many like it worldwide, have been inactive for long periods, they have recently become more aggressive and have perpetrated many despicable acts over the last fifty years, the details of which are only now emerging. For instance, we now have evidence that the German wing of this group were heavily involved in the rise of Nazism in the thirties and aided Adolf Hitler’s rise to power. More recently, I can confirm that the disaster at the village of Williton in Devon was not, as we first believed, a result of a chemical fire, but a deliberate act of terrorism carried out by this group. Similar tragedies have occurred in such far ranging places as Brazil and West Africa.” “I don’t believe this,” John gasped but his wife waved him into silence. “We now face the most concerted and dangerous threat to humanity that this planet has ever faced, and I am not exaggerating when I say this in the slightest,” the P.M. announced sternly. “We are facing a global threat to security which crosses all political and religious boundaries. In China, they have been waging war against this group since the forties, but only now has it become apparent that this is a world-wide problem. This is why in a secret meeting I attended with over fifty world leaders on Tuesday, it was agreed that there would be a universal crack-down on this group and action would be taken across all four corners of the globe.” Jane stared at the screen in disbelief. How could this group have become so prevalent yet remained totally secret? “With this in mind, British security forces moved into position this morning to conduct a major raid on the secret stronghold of this group in the highlands of Scotland. The group, however, seem to have become aware of our forces gathering and, rather than risk capture, chose to detonate a nuclear bomb, destroying themselves totally. Why the group had this device and to what purpose they intended to put, we have no idea. Obviously, this emphasises the threat these people pose to the rest of us.” “Sweet Jesus,” Jane breathed. “It is for this reason that I must now declare a state of National Emergence, and I can confirm that the Queen has authorised the full mobilisation of all branches of the British Military. Similar measures are being taken across the globe and, even as I speak, a major attack is being launched by American forces on strongholds across their country. The Russians already began to take action several hours ago.” “A global war!” John exclaimed in disbelief. “Now, I’m sure you all have many questions regarding these mysterious terrorists. Who are they? How did they remain hidden for so long? What are their goals? Well, there is little I can tell you at the moment for security reasons, but I can say that the group have been aided by extremely advanced technology which has helped them remain hidden and provided them with fearsome weapons. This technology is so advanced, in fact, that the effects have been described to me as appearing almost to be magic.” Jane suddenly went cold. A secret base in Scotland? Weapons that appeared to be magic? It couldn’t be, could it? “No,” John gasped, clearly thinking on the same lines. “They were supposed to be part of the government. They had their own Ministry, for God’s sake!” “Hermione said they’d been fighting a civil war,” Jane pointed out. “She also said that the good guys won!” John retorted. Jane paused for a second, trying to get her head around the whole idea. She and her daughter had been drifting further and further apart ever since Hermione had started attending that blasted magical school. Who knows what she believed in these days? Heaven knows, Jane just couldn’t seem to talk with her daughter anymore. Their last conversation just a few days ago had resulted in Hermione immediately packing her things and storming out of the house. “Perhaps her concept of who the good guys are has changed,” Jane said eventually. For a second, her husband looked at her in horror, before his face hardened. “We should never have let her attend that bloody school,” he replied. Jane nodded. Who knows what her daughter had been turned into at that place? HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP Ha rry wrapped his arms a little tighter around Ginny and breathed in the scent of her hair. Across from him, Hermione leant against Ron with her head on his chest. Ron, like himself, had his back to a tree and looked peaceful. The four of them had come up here supposedly to play Quidditch, but when they reached the cluster of trees overlooking the Burrow none of them had the desire anymore. Instead, they had all sat down and decided to enjoy the warm weather. Looking over, it looked as if Hermione was starting to doze. He was slightly surprised she was still here, as she’d originally intended to return home to spend time with her parents after Fred and Percy’s funeral, but she’d returned after only a few hours stating she’d ‘fallen out’ with her family. Despite their best efforts, they’d been unable to get Hermione to discuss it further and had tactfully decided to let them matter drop, although Harry could tell Ron was worried about his girlfriend. “Hello, everyone!” a bright voice called out, rousing them all from their daydreams. Harry turned his head and saw Luna standing there. “Hi, Luna. You alright?” he asked in greeting. “Oh, yes, I’m fine,” she replied, sitting herself down on the grass between the two couples. “Daddy is feeling a lot better now and has even started writing again. It’s a big relief. Mrs Weasley told me you were all up here, and I must say, she’s looking a lot happier.” “I think she puts on a front for the rest of us,” Ginny said sadly. A silence descended after that as everyone became lost in their own thoughts. As much to break the awkward hush, Harry addressed Luna. “So, is Neville likely to grace us with a visit?” he asked. “Oh, no, I think he’s taken Hannah out to lunch at Diagon Alley,” Luna replied. Harry instantly looked over at Ron, who looked equally mystified. Silently, the two of them reached an unspoken agreement to let the matter drop, but neither of them counted on Hermione. “He’s taking Hannah out? And you’re alright with this, are you?” she demanded. “Of course, it took me long enough to get them together, after all,” Luna smiled. “Really, all Neville needed to do was believe in himself. He was a far better match for Hannah than Ernie ever was.” “Was this your agenda from the beginning?” Hermione asked in surprise. “I mean, when you… umm… did all those…err… things with Neville. Were you just trying to boost his confidence with girls?” “Mainly, although I did have a lot of fun doing it,” Luna said, chortling softly, before her face became serious again. “I have to confess, I’m very glad he’s with Hannah now, though. To be brutally honest, he was starting to bore me. All he ever did was talk about plants.” Harry couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing, which earned him a slap on the leg from Ginny and a stern glare from Hermione. “So, are there any other boys you’re interested in now Neville’s out of the picture?” Ginny asked her friend. “Well, Harry is very nice, but I suppose he’s taken, isn’t he? Let me know if you get bored, Ginny, and I’ll take him off your hands.” “Umm, okay,” Ginny replied hesitantly. “Ron’s not bad, either,” Luna continued, turning towards Hermione. “He’s been a lot nicer since he started going out with you. Frankly, he was a bit of an idiot before. I guess he’d do, too.” “Oi, I was not an idiot,” Ron protested. “Yes, you were,” said Hermione, Ginny and Harry at the same time. Ron pouted. “Well, if Luna here is finished winding everybody up, I think it must nearly be lunch time,” Ginny noted. “That will put a smile back on your face, eh, Ron?” “Suppose,” he grumbled, to everyone’s amusement. “Luna, you will stay for…” Ginny continued before a shout cut her off. They looked round to see Mrs Weasley running up the path at a speed Harry would never have believed the woman was capable of. She reached them and stopped, panting. “What’s the matter, Mum?” Ron asked in alarm. “The Muggles!” she exclaimed between breaths. “They’ve gone mad! They’re attacking us everywhere! There are soldiers outside Diagon Alley shooting anyone who tries to come out!” “Neville!” Luna cried and leapt to her feet, closely followed by the rest of them. As the group hurried down the hill back towards the Burrow, Harry tried to make sense of Mrs Weasley’s words. The Muggles attacking? What the hell was going on? HPHPHPPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP “They just opened fire without warning. A group of witches had just left the Leaky Cauldron and they were just cut down. It was awful!” A visibly shaken Neville sat at the kitchen table of the Burrow cradling a cup of hot, sweet tea in his hands. Next to him, Hannah Abbott looked to be close to tears. Knowing that his Gran was at the Ministry for a meeting, he’d Apparated himself and his new girlfriend here seeking help. “This is insane! It must be some sort of misunderstanding,” Hermione muttered in disbelief. “Dunno, they seemed pretty enthusiastic about it,” Neville said sourly. “They had these tube things which they fired from their shoulders. They shot out these big rockets which blew open the front of the Leakey. Once that happened, the soldiers could get inside. Fortunately, we managed to close the wall and stop them getting into the Alley itself. I’m not sure how long it will hold, though.” “How can they even see the Leaky?” Ginny demanded to know. “No Muggle should be able to see it.” “Someone must have told them what to look for. After that, they could just shoot blindly until they demolished the pub. I doubt the magical protections would have held up after that,” Hermione said. “We managed to evacuate the Alley, though,” Neville continued. “Most people either Apparated out or used the Floo.” “But why is this happening? What purpose could they have?” Harry demanded. At that moment, the Floo flared into life and a harassed Arthur Weasley stepped out. “Oh, thank Merlin, you’re all here!” he exclaimed as soon as he saw them. “The Ministry building has been attacked! By Muggles, no less!” “What? How?” Molly demanded. “They just blew a bloody great hole in the upper level,” Arthur explained, collapsing into a nearby chair. “One moment, we were all working away as normal, the next thing we know is the whole building is shaking like it’s going to collapse around our ears. Next, the screaming starts and we could hear gunfire. A few Ministry staff managed to make it down from the upper level and they reported that hundreds of Muggle soldiers were swarming in, shooting anyone in their way. Apparently, even those that tried to surrender were killed.” “The same thing happened at Diagon Alley, although they couldn’t get passed the wall at the back of the Leaky Caldron,” Neville supplied. “Mr Weasley, did you see my Gran, at all? There was a meeting of the Wizengamot being held.” “She should be alright, Neville,” Arthur said, smiling reassuringly. “The Wizengamot were all evacuated. In fact, only those people on level one were hurt. Once we realised what was happening, we disabled the lifts. They’re trying to blast their way down to level two, though. We could hear the explosions. That’s when Kingsley decided to start the evacuation. Oh, we should pop the radio on. They said they’d try and make an announcement when they figured what the hell is going on.” Molly leapt up and switched on the radio, but only a weird static could be heard. “The wireless station is in Diagon Alley, remember,” Luna said grimly. “Arthur, have you any idea why this is all happening? Why are the Muggles attacking us?” Molly asked in a pleading voice. “I’ve no idea,” he said sadly, “but I think Kingsley is trying to sort it out.” HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPH PHP “Urgent meeting requested! Priority one! Urgent meeting requested!” The Prime Minister looked up at the portrait of the wigged man sternly. He’d been expecting this. He pressed a button on the underside of his desk and sat up straight in his seat. “Yes, yes; no need to shout,” he said irritably. “Send him in.” A moment later, an angry looking Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped out of the fireplace and stomped over to the P.M.s desk. “Prime Minister, what in Merlin’s name is going on? Soldiers are attacking witches and wizards without provocation! Why is this happening?” he yelled. “Lower your voice, Shacklebolt,” the P.M. replied coldly, “it’s hardly without provocation, is it? What about all those poor people killed in Devon recently? Or those that were on that train when the bridge collapsed? Or any other of the dozens of incidents that have occurred in recent months?” “But those were all the work of Voldemort! He’s gone - him and his followers! We’ve taken care of him,” Kingsley protested. “Really? And what happens when the next Dark Lord rises and decides to start killing normal people at will? Because as far as I can tell, these characters seem to pop up with alarming regularity!” “Nonsense! Voldemort was a one-off,” Kingsley snapped. “Oh, was he? Because his type actually seems to be quite common to me. Would you like to explain what occurred in Brazil a few years back? Or why huge swaths of Africa were plunged into conflict last year? While you’re at it, perhaps you’d like to tell me exactly how World War Two started?” “How did you…?” Kingsley spluttered before he could stop himself. “As I thought,” the Prime Minister nodded with satisfaction. “You blasted wizards have been in killing and maiming with impunity for centuries! Well, we’re not going to stand for it any longer. Across the globe, nations are uniting to stamp out your kind and make the world a safer place. You and your type, Shacklebolt, are a danger to humanity and will be dealt with as such. Now, Jonathan!” A loud crack sounded and Kingsley jerked. Two more cracks followed and a shocked-looking Shacklebolt slumped to the ground having never seen the P.M.s personal body guard slip into the room and aim a pistol at his back. The P.M. stood and walked around his desk, eyeing the big man’s body with distaste. Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement, and was just in time to see the figure of the wigged man vanish from the painting. “Get this body moved, and then get that blasted painting down. The fireplace, too. Take the whole wall down if you have to.” “Right away, sir!” the man said smartly. Turning his back on the corpse, the Prime Minister smiled. Things were going well. HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPH P “Let’s make a start,” the Prime Minister called out. Jeff Mayer looked around the crowded room. Unlike previous briefings, this one was attended mainly by men in uniforms, as befitting the state of war they were now in. A truly global war, at that. “Status at oh-nine-thirty, Zulu time,” a young officer wearing a Royal Airforce uniform began. “Significant actions: Target Alpha, that’s the large complex sited in Scotland, has been completely destroyed. Air reconnaissance has shown that an area of around two kilometres around the detonation point has been totally destroyed. A large structure, apparently some sort of medieval castle, is now visible and has suffered around eighty per cent damage. It’s possible there are some survivors inside the building, but they would probably have suffered lethal doses of radiation by now. In any event, we can consider Target Alpha completely neutralised.” “What are the dangers of fallout effecting the surrounding area?” the P.M. asked. “Minimal. We were lucky with the weather conditions and the geography of the area,” a man in Air Vice-Marshall’s uniform replied. “The surrounding hills contained the blast, much as happened at Nagasaki back in ’45, actually. The wind was in our favour, too, and prevented much spread of radioactive fallout. The whole area will have to be cordoned off for many years, of course, but the operation couldn’t have gone much better, otherwise.” “We had more problems at Targets Beta and Gamma,” the officer delivering the briefing continued. “Beta, the site off Kings Cross road, proved very hard to enter. The public house used as a front was destroyed easily, but behind it we found a wall that resisted all attempts at entry. In the end, we had to bring in engineers to blast it apart. Once past that, we found a large commercial site that was pretty much deserted. One building, however, was defended vigorously, and this was identified as ‘Gringotts’, their main bank. Creatures we now know are called goblins attacked our forward troops savagely and a pitched battle occurred. In fact, we had to bring in reinforcements and the 2nd Battalion, The Parachute Regiment were committed. They managed to kill all the goblins we faced and break into the bank, but once in we discovered a massive network of tunnels and underground caverns. The whole place is huge, and we plan to use the whole of 5 Airborne Brigade to clear it. That operation is ongoing.” “And this complex is right underneath London?” an Admiral asked. “Yes, sir. Current estimates suggest the caverns are approximately a kilometre and a half down, making them some of the deepest caves in the world. We’re not sure how far they extend out to, yet.” “Remarkable,” the Admiral muttered. “We also encountered a quite astonishing and dangerous creature in the caves: a real dragon. We’d been warned these existed and, in fact, a number have already been destroyed in Rumania. Those dragons were airborne but proved vulnerable to heat-seeking missiles. This dragon was kept in large room to apparently guard the bank’s vaults. The paras had to use anti-tank missiles to kill it.” “Sweet Jesus,” somebody exclaimed. “Target Gamma was the other London site, beneath Whitehall. Again, entry was initially fairly straightforward and we caught the Magicals by surprise. We have a confirmed body count of twenty-nine, so far. Unfortunately, the complex is built underground and the various levels are connected by a series of lifts, all of which were disabled. Again, engineers are having to blast their way down and last night we entered the third level.” “What of the actual Magicals?” Mayer interrupted. “We’ve been told that they’re lethal with those damn wands of theirs. How are the army coping?” “So far, we’ve suffered fifty-nine killed in action, mainly in the assault on the bank. Our troops quickly learnt that concentrated automatic fire is the best way to deal with them, as they seem to be able to deflect single shots. The trick is not to let them get too close, as our weapons seem to outrange theirs. Thermal imaging equipment has been invaluable, too, as they appear to have a way to make themselves invisible to the naked eye, but not to mask their body heat. We’ve taken down a lot of them when they thought they were safe.” “What’s the international situation looking like?” the P.M. asked. “A bit of a mixed bag, sir. A second nuclear detonation occurred yesterday in a remote area in Northern Norway, close to the border with Sweden. This was the area identified as one of the Magicals major European training grounds. Official, it’s being spun in the same way as here in the UK; that the terrorist blew themselves up rather than risk capture. In truth, NORAD tracked a missile launch from inside Russia.” “Nice of the bastards to warn us,” growled a general. “All European countries have now commenced military action, with the Russians being far the most aggressive and, as far as we can tell, successful. They have been keeping tabs on Magicals for years, apparently, and were ready to strike. The French are having the most problems, mainly due to their reluctance to inflict any collateral damage. Large numbers of Magicals managed to evade their troops when they attacked and there’s now a real battle going on in various parts of the country.” “The rest of the world?” Mayer pressed, keen to hear about his own country. “The battle is going well in America,” the officer confirmed. “Although President Clinton refused to allow nuclear weapons to be used, the US military has been completely mobilised and have brought tremendous firepower to bear. The main site in Salem has been surrounded by two Regular and one National Guard divisions, and has been subject to continuous air and artillery strikes over the last forty-eight hours. The Marines have overrun the large settlement in New Orleans, too. The whole of South America have risen to the task well, no doubt spurred on by events in Brazil a few years back. Africa has turned into one big witch-hunt, too. In Sierra Leone, for instance, there are reports of mass graves containing over three hundred Magicals. The entire region is pretty much the same.” “Excellent!” Mayer exclaimed. “Are there any major problems anywhere else?” “Yes, India. They were very reluctant to take action in the first place, and appear to have only started operations in a half-hearted manner. In fact, Magicals from surround countries have begun to try and seek refuge there.” “We’ll head that off quickly,” Mayer snarled. “I’m sure the President will address the matter; the Chinese and Russians, too. There’s no way India will stand alone in this.” “What’s next on the agenda here in the UK?” the Deputy Prime Minister asked. “We now start phase two of operations, sir,” the officer explained. “Phase one was designed to take out the large sites, now we start going after the smaller ones and individual settlements. We’ve relied on satellite intelligence mainly, comparing areas with heat readings but no electrical activity. We’ve then checked the sites using human assets. Of course, most of these places look completely empty until you’ve scanned them for a heat signature. We’ve currently got a list of nearly two hundred and fifty potential targets.” “Excellent. How do you intend to deal with them?” “Where possible, we’ll simply bomb them from the air. A lot of them are in remote rural locations which can be targeted by smart bombs easily. For targets in urban areas, we’ll have to mount ground assaults, even if we’ll be shooting blind in most cases. We’re also getting quite a lot of human intelligence, as well. Following the P.M.’s television broadcast, a surprising number of people have come forward with information. The Magicals have made a lot of enemies.” “Great work!” Mayer crowed. “Indeed, this is going better than I hoped,” the P.M. smiled. “You know, this really could herald a new world order. For the first time, all nations are working together towards a common goal. This could change everything.” “A new world order,” Mayer repeated, liking the sound of it. “Press on with phase two,” the P.M. announced, “and keep me informed.” HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP HPHPHP Harry stood on the hill and looked in disbelief over at the scene in the far distance. Hogwarts, the only place he’d ever really called home, was a burnt, twisted ruin. Only part of the main structure remained upright, along with a solitary tower which stood like a broken, crooked tooth jutting against the far skyline. The Forbidden Forrest was now just a scorched, black mark on the ground, its trees nothing more than ash. It was all he could do to stop the tears. “Are you sure this is as close as we can get?” Ron asked in a stunned voice. “Yes, in fact, we shouldn’t even stay here too long,” Hermione replied. “It’s gone. It’s all just… gone,” Luna said in a broken voice. “Were there no survivors?” Harry asked plaintively. Arthur walked up to him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “No, Harry, not as far as we can tell. Everyone who was in Hogsmeade and the castle died within an instant. We know that the teaching staff were all attending a meeting on how to deal with the term ending early, as several Ministry officials had to attend. Thank Godric the school did break up early or all of the pupils would have been there when it happened.” “We would have been there, too,” Ron muttered darkly. “But how did they even know it was here?” Luna demanded. “The castle and village are meant to be hidden from the Muggles.” “Technology is improving at a frightening rate,” Hermione explained. “It was only a matter of time before they started to notice us.” “But why attack us? We don’t mean any harm to them?” Neville protested. “Don’t we, Neville?” Arthur asked sadly. “Do you really think they differentiate between us and Voldemort’s followers? To them, we’re just a bunch of witches and wizards, some of whom have perpetrated terrible acts of violence against them. This is the Dark Lord’s legacy: he’s managed to make the Muggles hate us all.” “We have to talk to them, to convince them that we’re not all the same!” Hermione exclaimed. “Kingsley tried that, remember,” Arthur replied with an edge to his voice. “They shot him down without warning.” “I can’t believe they did that,” Hermione moaned. “The portrait in the Muggle Prime Minister’s office saw the whole thing. He confirmed that they know all about Grindelwald and various other conflicts over the years. How will it look to them? Millions of people have died due to wars started by wizards, and I can understand how they want to lump us all in together.” “Tom Riddle was educated at Hogwarts, after all,” Harry agreed. “He was no different to any of us in the early days.” “Who is in charge now Shacklebolt is gone?” Neville asked. “No one, at the moment,” Arthur replied. “The Ministry have evacuated to a large house owned by Russell Fawley, a senior member of the Wizengamot. Currently, they’ve formed an emergency committee which is running things. Well, running things as much as they can, that is. Things are a bit confused, as you can imagined.” “I think we’ve been here long enough,” Hermione announced suddenly. “I think we should go now.” “Yeah, I’m ready to leave anyway,” Harry agreed, taking one last sad look back at Hogwarts. “Guys, can we all head back to Grimmauld Place? I think we need to sit down and talk about what we do next.” “Yes, that seems a good idea, Harry,” Arthur nodded. “Molly will be alright back at the Burrow for an hour or two. Charlie and George are with her, after all.” “Good, umm, Ginny? Walk with me, a bit,” Harry said. Ginny looked up in surprise. She’d been increasingly quiet ever since the funerals of her brothers, but since the Muggle attacks had started she’d barely said a word. Harry noticed the others looking at him sympathetically before they began to Disapparate, one by one. Soon, the two of them were alone. “What do you want, Harry?” Ginny asked wearily as she started to walk back down the hill. “I’m worried about you,” Harry said in a soft voice. “You’ve barely said a word to me in days.” “What do you want me to say? Less than a week ago I watched two of my brothers being buried, and now my whole world has been turned upside down and we’re all at risk. Forgive me if I’m not in the mood for a nice, little chat!” “Ginny, I…” he began. “Do you want to know what I’m feeling right now?” she snapped, cutting him off. “Right now I feel angry! We risked our lived to defeat Voldemort and his followers, and poor Percy and Fred died doing it. We could have stood back and let Tom just get on with slaughtering Muggles, but we didn’t. And how do they thank us? They kill hundreds, if not thousands of us! What kind of machine did this, Harry? What sort of monsters build something that can wipe out a whole town just like that? There were old people and small children in Hogsmeade; what threat were they to the bloody Muggles?” “All war is stupid, Ginny. The Muggles don’t have magic, so they build these terrible bombs that are indiscriminate in who they kill,” Harry pointed out weakly. “It’s not right! If I’d known the Muggles were capable of doing this, I’d… I’d bloody helped Tom, not fought him!” she yelled. “Riddle wanted to rule both the Wizarding world and the Muggle one. To achieve that he would have had to kill me. Would you have helped him do that, Ginny?” “Don’t be stupid! Of course I wouldn’t!” she screamed at him. “That doesn’t mean that I’m not coming round to his way of thinking about Muggles. Hell, why are you even defending them? Look at your aunt and uncle; they were pure scum.” “True, but not every Muggle is like that. I’m sure most of them are only going along with this because of what they’ve been told by the government. They have no idea what we sacrificed to defeat Voldemort. All they know is that some secretive magical race slaughtered hundreds of people in Devon and loads of other places. Think about it. They’ve just learnt that World War Two was started by a wizard! They must hate us.” “Yeah, well, at the moment I hate them right back,” Ginny said sullenly. “I know,” he said sympathetically, “but we still need to decide how we’re going to stop this madness. We need to figure out how to start some kind of dialog with the Muggles and convince them we’re not a threat. Maybe the International Confederation of Wizards can do something.” “Maybe,” she replied darkly. Harry gently put his hand on her arm and made her turn and look at him. She initially gave him a defiant stare before her lips began to tremble. A second later, she broke down and flung herself at him. “Oh, Harry! Please don’t be angry at me because I feel like this,” she sobbed. “I can’t help it! I feel like my whole life has been ruined by this.” “We’ll sort this out,” he promised. “I’ll do whatever it takes. All I ask is that you stay by my side. I can’t do it without you.” “Always,” she said, forcing a smile. Gently, he kissed her and wiped away her tears, completely unaware of events that were happening at the other end of the country that would change his opinion for ever. HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPH P Dean Thomas stared out of the window of his family’s small flat in Catford. He’d always been proud to be both a wizard and a South London boy, but at that exact moment he wasn’t quite sure how to define himself. “Here,” his mother practically spat, thumping a mug of tea down in front of him. He smiled weakly at her, not wanting to start another fight. Truthfully, he was feeling rather confused at the moment. Things hadn’t been going well for him for a while now, and his situation only seemed to be getting worse. How quickly things change. He decided that it had all started when he’d received that letter from Ginny, telling him that she’d changed her mind about going out with him. It had come as a cruel blow, as he’d really been excited about starting a relationship with her. She was, after all, bloody gorgeous. When he’d learnt that she’d blown him off for Harry Potter, his supposed mate, he’d see red. Unfortunately, Ginny had been a complete bitch about the whole thing and Harry had hospitalised him when he’d complained. So, reluctantly, Dean had swallowed his pride and let the matter drop. He’d even started going out with another girl, Lavender, although she could be a bit annoying at times, even if she was well fit. Gradually, however, Dean had started to revaluate whether missing out on Ginny had been a bad thing. He’d rather dismissed all the talk of what had happened at the Ministry last year, but weird things kept happening around Potter and his little band, which made him start to wonder. When Hogsmeade was attacked by Death Eaters and Harry and his friends, including Ginny, killed a number of them, he started to believe he was well out of things. Actually, bodies were starting to pile up at an alarming rate last term. First, someone had poisoned Professor Slughorn, and then Dumbledore had died. Dean had actually been rather relieved when the school year finished early and they were sent home, not least as he hadn’t really studied as hard as he could have done and hadn’t been looking forward to his exams. Then, of course, word of the battle that had occurred at Hogwarts reached his ears. Harry and Ginny had apparently faced down You-know-Who, and won! What the hell had the young redhead girl got herself into? Nah, he was well out of it with that one. Now, he was starting to wonder what exactly had been going on this year. He’d only been home a week when the Prime Minister appeared on telly talking about sinister terrorist groups and nuclear bombs going off. Although he hadn’t been very explicit about it, it was clear the man had been talking about witches and wizards. Unfortunately, his mum had picked up on that fact, too. From that moment on, she’d been bending his ear, demanding to know what had been going on. Dean had never been able to lie to his mother, and he’d soon blabbed everything he knew. He explained about You-Know-Who and all the mysterious deaths that had occurred that year. Although he knew nothing about wizards starting the last World War, he admitted that the massacre in Devon had probably been the work of Dark wizards. Needless to say, his mum had been horrified. She’d flatly told him he’d never be going back to Hogwarts, which he’d mildly pointed out didn’t sound like an option now, anyway. He’s put his foot down when she’d said he could never see his friends again, though. Seamus was his best mate and there was no way he was just going to shut his friend out of his life. He’d been getting on pretty well with Lavender, too, and that was another relationship he wasn’t prepared to just abandon. His mum had taken this rather badly, however, and there had been a number of loud and bitter rows. The trouble was, he could actually see her point of view. What if what the Prime Minister said was true? The papers had been full of stories about the atrocities that witches and wizards had committed, even if they didn’t use that term. He did notice that several papers had started calling the terrorist group ‘Magicals’ apparently due to their hi-tech equipment that made it look like they were performing magic. The irony was murderous… A loud knock at the door roused him from his thoughts. He was about to stand and answer it when his mother waved him down. “I’ll get it,” she snapped. “It might be some of your messed-up friends. I’m not having them in this house, do you hear?” “Mum!” Dean moaned, but stayed seated. He did listen intently, though, trying to pick out Seamus’s thick Irish accent, or Lavender’s breathless chatter. “Mrs Thomas?” a deep voice asked as soon as he heard the door open. It was not a voice he knew. Probably someone come to read the gas meter. “Yes,” he heard his mother reply, and the note of concern in her voice made him frown. “We have a warrant to search this premises. Please stand aside,” the male voice announced. Dean was on his feet just in time to see a large policeman wearing a Metropolitan Police stab vest come charging through the kitchen door. Almost automatically, he reached for the wand in his back pocket. The man was quicker, though, and a second later Dean found himself flat on his back, unable to move. “In here!” the policeman yelled and a moment later more uniformed officers hurried into the tiny kitchen. Dean found himself flipped over onto his front and handcuffs snapped around his wrists. “What are you doing?” he heard his mother scream. “Your son is suspected of being involved in a terrorist plot against the United Kingdom government,” an authoritative voice declared. “Tell me, Mrs Thomas, where does your son go to school?” “Why does that matter?” Mrs Thomas demanded, a bit too quickly. Even Dean could hear the guilt in her voice. He grunted as a pair of non-too gentle hands slapped him down. Dean froze with horror has the hands located his wand which had been in his back pocket. “We’ve got a weapon!” a voice shouted near his ear, and Dean ground his teeth. “He’s a good boy! He’s never been involved in any of that stuff they talked about on the telly!” his mother yelled. There was no reply, and a moment later Dean felt himself hauled to his feet. He was shoved forward, his shoulder hitting the door frame of the kitchen on the way, and he was dragged out of the flat with his mother’s voice wailing behind him. The flat was on the third floor of the block, and he was roughly manhandled down the stairs and practically thrown into a waiting police van. Two officers, a man and a woman, entered with him and secured his cuffs to a rail fitted for exactly that purpose. Now the shock was starting to fade, Dean began to feel fear. “Where are you taking me?” he demanded. “Oh, don’t worry about it, sonny,” the male officer growled. “We know a place where they can take care of bastards like you.” Dean could only stare at the man in horror. HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPH PHPHP The Tornado GR.1 jet took off from Marham in Norfolk and rapidly climbed to an altitude of ten thousand feet, heading in a westerly direction. Beneath its fuselage were slung a pair of one thousand pound laser guided bombs. The pilot had flown in the Gulf War some five years earlier and was confident he knew what he was doing, even if his weapons operator was fairly green. Even so, this should be a straightforward mission and he didn’t envisage any problems. His navigation computer had the exact grid reference of his target and the laser designator pod was working perfectly. Ground forces had even marked the target with an infrared beacon to make things easier. The only worries he had were about the proximity of a small village near the target, but he was confident that it was far enough away so it wouldn’t suffer any damage. He peered out of the cockpit with a steely determination. His father had fought in World War Two, and his grandmother had been killed in an air raid during the war. It was time to get some justice for them. HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP “Mum, where are you?” Charlie called out. “Out here, Charlie,” she called. Passing through the open back door, he found her hanging up clothes in the back garden. He watched her sadly. She really was only carrying on through her own strength of will, and seemed likely just to collapse in a sobbing heap at any moment. “Is he asleep?” she asked, still placing pegs over the sheets to secure them on the line. “Yeah, he dropped off about ten minutes ago. I stayed a while just to make sure he didn’t wake up again.” George had been in a pretty bad way ever since his twin had died. He’d passed through stages of sullen grief to ones of raging anger. They’d been forced to restrain him when he’d heard that a number of Death Eaters had been captured by the Ministry. He’d leapt up and started bellowing that he was going to kill them all. It had taken a Stunning Spell to subdue him in the end. Of course, that was before the Muggles had started attacking. “He just needs time,” Mrs Weasley said in a no-nonsense way, dropping her remaining pegs into a bag she wore around her waist. She bent down to pick up the empty clothes basket. “How are you doing, Mum?” Charlie asked. With everything going on, he’d barely had a chance to talk to her in the last few days. “I’m fine, dear,” she replied dismissively. “I’m just worried about your father. All this nonsense with the Muggles has hit him hard, you know. We really didn’t need this happening now.” “I don’t think there is a good time for it to happen,” Charlie pointed out sadly. “Have you heard anything more from your friends at the reserve?” Molly asked. “Nah, I can’t contact them, at all. Apparently, it definitely has been attacked by the Muggles, but I’ve no idea what damage was caused. You know, just a week ago I would have said that the Muggles would have been committing suicide by attacking a dragon reserve, but I guess it just shows what I know.” “None of us knew they were capable of doing those awful things,” she said with a shudder. “That terrible, terrible bomb that destroyed Hogsmeade. Monstrous! And killing poor Kingsley like that. He was such a kind and gentle man. I really don’t know what’s happening to the world.” “It seems like everyone’s gone barmy,” Charlie agreed. “I don’t know why they… what’s that noise?” Molly said, looking up. Charlie listened and heard it too. A distant roaring sound. “There!” he said, pointing in the sky. “It’s a Muggle aeroplane. They don’t usually fly over this way.” “No, they don’t,” his mother replied with a frown. “It’s heading this way, isn’t it?” “Yeah… I think we’d better get inside, Mum,” Charlie said, squinting into the bright sky. “Yes, I think you’re right,” she agreed, walking smartly back towards the house. “We have no idea how the Muggles are able to see us. We don’t want to be spotted, do we?” They hurried back into the Burrow and closed the door. Charlie hurried over to the window and looked out. “It’s definitely heading this way,” he said. “It’s up too high to do anything, surely?” Molly said, coming over to join him. “Yeah, I think… did something just fall off that plane?” “Yes, I saw something, too! Charlie, I’m getting a bad feeling about this,” she said in a worried tone. “You know, I think we’d… shit! It’s heading right for us! Get under cover!” Charlie had just managed to drag his mother under the kitchen table when the first bomb hit. It exploded about twenty yards away from the house, hitting the chicken pen dead on. The force was sufficient to cave in the east facing wall of the house and send rubble blasting through the kitchen. The second bomb hit the Burrow near the second floor window, smashing through the wall and detonating inside. George, still asleep upstairs, never knew what hit him and he was blown to smithereens in an instant. Realising the danger too late, Charlie lunged at his mother, intending to Apparate them both to safety, but he was too slow. The overpressure actually killed him before the blast, collapsing his lungs and crushing his skull in an instant. Molly died when pieces of her beloved cooker ripped into her back, piercing her heart. A moment later, the whole house collapsed, burying the bodies of the three Weasleys under a pile of rubble. Overhead, the jet fighter banked and headed for home, secure in the knowledge their mission had been a success. |
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