Zero Hour (After the Flaw: Oligarchy, Chapter 25)
Title: Zero Hour (After the Flaw: Oligarchy, Chapter 25)
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: Previous Chapters
Rating: R for language and violence
Summary: Zero Hour is upon us, and the Oligarchy make themselves known
Notes: This is the last chapter of this "chunk." Stay tuned for info on what's to come.
I own these characters. The others belong to JK Rowling.
OmegaCon / Previous Chapters / Project Beta
"Harry," Hermione said as Harry read the letter, "I need you to find Caroline and--"
crack
"Harry!"
"Holy shit!" Simon Tanaka yelped as the letter floated to the projection room floor. "Did he just Disapparate?"
"Hermione, what is it?" Dean asked, picking up the letter. The owl, meanwhile, flew back out the projection room's window and out of the ballroom, having performed its assigned duty.
"Oh, my God, he just Disapparated!" said Simon, beside himself with joy. "That was fucking awesome!"
"Dean, find Caroline and Teddy," Hermione repeated as Dean now read the letter that Harry had left behind. "Get them home, get them secure."
"Puddlemere," Dean said quietly, staring at the letter.
"Yes, Puddlemere," said Hermione. "Kingsley was at the match."
"Did you see that?" Simon said to no one. "It's like he turned a corner and just disappeared! I am so remembering that for season six!"
"Puddlemere's facing Holyhead," said Dean, his eyes wide as he finally looked at Hermione.
"Puddlemere's facing -- Oh, no," Hermione said, putting both hands over her mouth in shock. "Ginny..."
"Ginny," Dean breathed.
"Ginny?" Simon asked, his glee dissipating quickly. "Gwen Ginny? What about her? Did something happen?"
"Oh, God," Hermione moaned, collapsing into the chair. "Oh God oh God oh God..."
"Hermione, calm down," said Dean, dropping to one knee in front of her. "Hermione... Minister... Calm down. You have to, you need to."
"Ginny..."
"Harry's on his way," Dean said, taking her hand in both of his. "There's no other reason for him to have Disapparated as fast as he did. He'll watch after her. You have the rest of the country to worry about. Go to the Ministry. I can take care of Caroline."
Hermione nodded, trying to regain her composure. "Get them home," she said, her voice surprisingly firm despite her shaking hands. "Make sure they're secure, they've been attacked before. Then come to the Ministry."
"Yes, ma'am."
"What happened?" asked Simon, concern clearly on his face. "Is everyone okay?"
"Wipe him," said Hermione. "We were never here."
"What? No!" Simon yelled. "No, you can't!"
Hermione pointed at the door with her wand, and as the lock clicked tight, she disappeared into thin air.
"Dean?" Simon stumbled, backing up as Dean Thomas stood and faced him. "You can't, Dean... Mr. Thomas... Buddy..."
"It won't hurt," said Dean. "You'll just forget that you ever met us."
"But I know you!" Simon yelled. "I have to know you! If I don't, I have no show! If I don't have a show, people are going to want to know why! What am I going to tell them? What kind of questions are going to be asked if I stop the show a day after I'm threatened by three mysterious people in a public place? What's gonna happen when you wipe me and Tsunami sends me more pictures next week?"
Dean paused, his wand raised halfway. Simon had a point. He had known about the wizard world for years, and would continue to learn about the wizarding world as long as Tsunami continued to send him the information. What would be the point of erasing this meeting if he still remembered everything else?
"I can help you," Simon pleaded. "You're trying to find out where Tsunami's getting this info, right? Who he is? I'm closer to him than anyone! I can help you find him! I can help you, I don't know, solve this case or whatever it is you all are doing."
Dean's brow furrowed. He turned back towards the window, where the owl had left just minutes ago. Hermione's Minister of Magic, he thought. She's Minister, she's my friend, and I'm already considering disobeying her orders. Quite a start to the new regime, Dean ol' buddy.
"You live in California?" Dean asked.
"Yeah, Cali," Simon said. "Modesto."
"Are you listed?"
"Like in a phonebook?" Simon said. "Are you shitting me? I'm famous, dude. No way am I listed."
"Doesn't matter," said Dean. "I'll find you."
"Wait... Find me?"
"You want to help, you're going to help," said Dean. "In the meantime, you never met us. Do you hear me? No one knows. Not your agent, not your producer, not your mother. And especially not Tsunami."
"Your secret's safe with me, man," Simon said. "I've been keeping you guys under wraps since 2015. No way I'm saying anything now. Who'd believe me?"
"That's always the hope," said Dean, unlocking Hermione's Colloportus then stashing his wand in his inside coat pocket. "You work from home?"
"I will be for a while. We're still in the design stage for season four, I won't be going into the studio for at least another two weeks."
"Then expect me to stop by next week," said Dean, opening the door. "Goodbye, Mr. Tanaka."
"Yeah... Yeah..."
Dean left Simon Tanaka sitting alone in the projection room, with a look on his face that said he still wasn't quite sure what he had just agreed to. And that was fine, Dean thought as he descended the stairs and returned to the convention center's ground floor. Memory Charm or not, leaving them unsure meant that they were less likely to take any action against you.
He'd deal with Simon Tanaka next week. That was a promise he was sure to keep. But right now he had something more important to deal with.
It didn't take very long to find Teddy and Caroline Lupin, as they were both waiting in front of the ballroom's front entrance, just as they had been told to do an hour and a half ago.
"What's going on?" Teddy asked, running to Dean as soon as they saw each other. "We saw the owl. Is there trouble?"
"We're leaving," said Dean, glancing at Caroline, who approached the two much more slowly, almost hesitantly. Her arms were crossed defensively across her chest, and she had a look of shock on her face that Dean didn't like very much. Did she already know what had happened? Did Teddy already know? And, if so, how?
"Where's Harry?" Teddy asked as he and Caroline followed Dean out of the convention hall. "Where's Jean?"
"I'll explain when we get you home," said Dean quickly. He pushed open the glass doors and led the two outside. "We just need to find a place to Apparate first."
"There should be an alleyway nearby," said Teddy, looking around the walls of the modern-looking glass and concrete building. "You saw one, didn't you, Hermione?"
Caroline didn't say anything. She stood their with her arms still crossed, staring at Teddy with such pain that Dean was pulled, at least briefly, from the job at hand.
"Caroline," he said, putting his hand on her arm. "Caroline, what happened?"
"Tell me you haven't slept with Victoire," she said to Teddy in almost a whisper.
"Hermione--" Teddy said, his hair shifting from the gray-blue of his character to a sheer white.
"Tell me!" she suddenly screamed. "Tell me you haven't had sex with Victoire Weasley!"
Teddy didn't respond. He simply looked away. Tears began to flow down Caroline's cheeks, and her face looked like it was ready to break in two.
"We have to go," Dean said, completely unsure of what else to say in this situation.
"I'll take the Underground," said Caroline, turning away.
"You're not taking the Underground," he said firmly, grabbing Caroline's arm. "We're Apparating you two back to your house and putting up as many protection spells as we can. Minister's orders."
"You can tell Kingsley to--" Caroline said, snapping at Dean.
"Kingsley's dead," Dean said. "There was an attack. He's dead."
"An attack?" Teddy said.
"At the Holyhead match," said Dean. "Harry's already on his way there--"
"Ginny!"
"--and Hermione's at the Ministry, being sworn in as the new Minister," Dean continued unabated, grabbing them both and dragging them into the parking lot, between two tall SUVs. "Her first order as Minister was for me to take you two home and make sure you're protected. We don't know who's behind it, but until we do we know--"
crack
"--you two stay here," he said, releasing them as they landed in the Lupins' back yard. "Are we clear?"
Caroline stared back at Dean, a glint of mutiny in her eyes. Instead, she turned away and entered the house, slamming the door behind her. Teddy turned to Dean, a look of completely and utter hopelessness in his eyes, begging for the older man to say something, anything that would fix things.
Dean, unfortunately, was at a loss for words for Remus Lupin's son. Instead, he pulled out his wand and circled the yard, casting a series of protective spells.
"Stay inside," he said after he finished. "Wait for someone to contact you, Harry or Hermione or Susan or anyone from the Ministry."
"Mr. Thomas--"
"You're talking to the wrong man, Teddy," Dean sighed, with a glance at the house. "Lifelong bachelor, fifteen years since a serious commitment? Not one to offer advice."
"Just..." said Teddy, his voice choking. "Just don't tell Jean... or Harry... or... or..."
"I've also never been one to get in the middle of domestics," said Dean. "I won't tell them, don't worry."
"Make sure Ginny's safe," said Teddy. "Please?"
"I will," said Dean, patting the man (still a boy, Dean thought sadly) on the shoulder. He turned away, vaulted over the Lupins' fence and Disapparated before his feet even hit the neighbor's garden.
Teddy stared at the place where Dean had vanished for nearly a minute, wishing that he could do the same. Just run away. Just run away and not have to face the pain that he had seen in Hermione's face. The pain he had caused. But he knew that he had to.
He entered the house, silently closing the door behind him. He entered the kitchen and crossed into the sitting room. The couch where he and Hermione had fallen asleep so many times, the couch where they had laid about on lazy Sunday mornings, was empty. He heard a slight creaking from upstairs, and knew that she was in their bedroom.
And she was. Teddy's Quidditch robes and her broomstick (a wedding present from her sister, Teddy thought with another stab of hurt) were tossed on the middle of the floor. Hermione was on their bed, face down, in the t-shirt and jeans she had been wearing underneath the robes.
"Hermione..." Teddy said, as quietly as possible.
"Leave," Hermione said, her voice stuffed with tears. It was a voice that he had never heard from her before. So much pain...
"Hermione, please..."
"Please," she begged, her face still stuffed in her pillow. "Please leave, Ted. Just... please..."
"Dean--"
"I don't care..."
Teddy didn't even want to argue with her. She was the wronged. He would do what she asked of him, whatever she asked of him. If she asked him to jump out the window right now, he would. With a silent nod, Teddy closed the door between them. He heard her sobs from behind the door as he descended the stairs, and heard them in his heart as he left their home.
---------
"Ha! Destroyed!"
"Oh, come on!" Aiden Towler cried as Hugo Weasley's white knight blasted his black king off of their board. "That's not fair!"
"How is that not fair?" asked Hugo with a huge smile as Kayla Macmillan's cat, Whiskers, pounced on the defenseless king rolling around Rose Weasley's feet. "I beat you square."
"Well, it's my first match with this board!" Aiden said.
"What does that have to do with anything?" asked Harry Norley, sitting across from the two Hufflepuffs.
"It... It... It's the inaugural voyage!" Aiden blurted. "I should be able to win the first game!"
"Don't think that's how it works," Hugo chuckled, wrestling the king away from Whiskers. "Here, let's try again. This time you can be white."
"Don't take it personally, Aiden," said Rose. "Dad's nice, usually, but he's always hardcore when it comes to wizard chess. We've had to learn the hard way how to play well."
"Does he usually beat you, too?" asked Norley.
"What, Hugo?" said Rose incredulously. "Heck, no! He's child's play."
"Yeah, right," said Hugo. "Just because our set at home like girls more than boys doesn't mean that you're better. They listen to her better than me," he said to Aiden. "They consider themselves gentlemen. The queens hate her, though."
Rose stuck out her tongue, blowing the Hufflepuffs a raspberry.
"God, what's taking them so long?" Kayla said under her breath, staring at the door to the Express's cooridor. "Didn't they find the food cart by now?"
"Maybe they did," Rose said with a mischievous grin. "Maybe they just found an empty compartment first."
"But I'm hungry!" Kayla said with a pout.
"Maybe you're jealous?" Rose said knowingly.
"Yes, I'm jealous!" Kayla blurted out, slapping the bench in frustration. "I want a boy, too!"
"Not with that attitude, you won't," Norley grinned.
"Try a better comeback next time," said Aiden to Norley. "That one didn't even make structural sense."
"Aren't you happy for them, though?" Rose asked Kayla. "Personally, I think it's great that Meghan found someone."
"Oh, I'm happy!" Kayla said. "I'm ecstatic for her! Heck, I'm happy for Malfoy, too, and I barely even know him. But... But... It's no fair! I got a new cauldron for my birthday. Meghan got a pretty necklace and her first snogging session. Who came out better?"
"Well, that was her fourteenth birthday," Rose said. "Maybe when you turn fourteen this summer you can get jewelry and a snog, too. Besides, I didn't get a boyfriend for my fourteenth birthday, and you don't hear me complaining."
"But if, say, Stephen Dean offered you a birthday snog, you wouldn't have turned it down?"
"That's beside the point," said Rose, turning a shade of color that matched her name.
"Yes, she would have turned it down!" Hugo said quickly. "Rose snogging anyone is gross."
"So says the little brother," said Kayla, rolling her eyes.
"The point," Rose continued, recomposing herself, "is that--"
Her sentence stopped in her throat as the train suddenly gave a sudden lurch that sent the chess board and a few of the bags from the overhead bin crashing to the floor.
"What was that?" asked Kayla, who, like the others, had thrown her hands out to stabilize herself.
"The train's stopped," said Norley, kneeling on the bench and looking out the window.
"Anything out there?" Rose asked as Hugo joined Norley from the other side of the window.
"Nothing," Hugo replied. "I mean, just the steam, like normal."
"Maybe the engine broke down," said Aiden. "Can engines break down if they're magic?"
"Witches and wizards," came a soothing voice from the air around the compartment. "Due to unforeseen circumstances, the Hogwarts Express will be performing an emergency evacuation. This is not a drill."
"Emergency--?" Hugo said, but Rose and Aiden both silenced him with a hiss.
"Please return to the nearest compartment immediately," the voice continued, "and await further instructions from your prefects or Hogwarts Express staff. Please remain calm. We repeat, this is not a drill."
"Am I the only one who feels that Please remain calm is code for Please freak the hell out?" Norley asked nervously.
Norley wasn't the only one who thought this way. Within moments, an uproar could be heard out in the cooridor as students either returned to their compartments or, ignoring the instructions given by the magic voice, left their compartments for others to see if anyone had more information than they did.
"Return to your compartments!" yelled numerous voices. "Return to your compartments immediately!"
Their compartment door slid open, and Meghan Cullen and Scorpius Malfoy slipped in, closing it behind them.
"What's happening?" Scorpius asked as they sat down.
"We were going to ask you the same thing," said Rose. "Did you see anything?"
"No, um, we were busy," said Meghan, blushing and giving a Scorpius a small smile. The hair on both of their heads were ruffled and their eyes had a slightly dazed look, like they had both just been pulled from a wonderful daydream. Kayla still had a look of friendly jealousy as she looked at her fellow Ravenclaw, but at least now it was tempered by the mystery outside the compartment.
"Did you bring the snacks?" asked Aiden, oblivious to the couple's discomposure. Before Rose or anyone else could retort, the compartment's door slid open, and Fabian Weasley stepped in, carrying a cloth bag.
"Fab!" said Rose, standing up. "What's happening?"
"Don't know," said Fabian, reaching into the bag and handing Rose a copper-colored ball the size of a cantaloupe. "You're in charge of this compartment."
"In charge of--"
"It's a Portkey," Fabian explained. "Everyone put their hand or finger or whatever they can reach on it. Rose, you count to three, and it'll send you to the Great Hall. Go directly to your Common Rooms, the Heads of House will explain everything from there."
"Fab..."
"I'm sorry, Rose, but I have to hand out these other Portkeys fast," he said, looking into the bag. "I'll see you in the Common Room."
"What about our stuff?" asked Norley.
"It'll get to you," said Fabian. "Just not right away. I have to go. Rose, get them moving," he said, pointing to the others. And at that, Rose's cousin closed their compartment door and moved onto the next.
"What the hell's going on?" asked Scorpius, standing up.
"No clue," said Rose. "But we'd better do what he said. Everyone budge in, seven's going to be a tight fit."
She walked to the middle of the compartment, holding the spherical Portkey out. The other six circled around it. Hugo first, then Kayla, both putting their hands on it to begin with, but by the time Scorpius, Meghan, Harry, and Aiden had reached in they were left just barely touching it with the tips of two fingers each.
"Anybody not feel metal?" Rose asked.
"I feel a cramp," said Meghan who, as the shortest of the group, had gotten down on her knees in order to touch the ball from below. "Yes, I have metal, but hurry."
"Alright," Rose said, taking a deep breath. "One... Two... Three!"
---------
Harry Potter Apparated into chaos.
Although he had landed a quarter of a mile away from the pitch, the absolute closest he could land while still remaining outside of its various protective charms, it was easy to tell that things had gone horribly wrong.
A body slammed into his shoulder within seconds, sending his glasses flying. The wizard continued running, unmindful of Harry in his panic. And he wasn't the only one. Hundreds of people were running from the direction of the pitch, while hundreds of others were running towards it, Apparating into the field just as Harry had done moments before. The Prophet or the wireless must have said something about it already, he thought. I'm not the only one hoping to find someone.
"Accio glasses!" Harry yelled, and then "Occulus Reparo!" after they landed in his hand, cracked from the stampeding feet. He put them back on, and got his first full view of the scene. When he got his look, he started sprinting.
One of the newest and largest Quidditch pitches in the league, black smoke now billowed from a section of Puddlemere United's stands. For every witch or wizard running away from the scene there was another moving much slower. Witches limping, wizards covered in blood, others just wandering absently, their eyes blank with shock. Harry passed the fresh horror of a young wizard clutching a shoulder that had once contained an arm, but he barely registered it.
Ginny... Ginny... Ginny...
Words passed by him as he ran, washed over him like a fast-moving river, flowing through one ear and out the other, to be understood later. Conversations from the survivors, orders from the MLE that had arrived on the scene, cries of the wounded and the lost.
"Everybody get away from the pitch! As far away as possible! There may be--"
"My son is in there! Let me--"
"Nobody leave! Everyone get into back to the pitch! Muggles live--"
"--twenty dead? Thirty?"
"Mummy? Where's my Mummy?"
"--Shacklebolt's section. Completely gone. Undersecretary, too--"
Despite his terror for his wife, these words struck home. Harry grabbed the man who was speaking, spinning him so violently that he was sure he strained the man's shoulder.
"Undersecretary?" he yelled over the chaos. "The Undersecretary was here?"
"Sitting next to the Minister," said the wizard. "Him and his wife and the old Law Enforcement Head."
"They're... No... Percy?"
"Percy Weasley, yeah," said the wizard. "They showed 'em up on the board before the match. They were sitting right where the bomb went off. Wait, you're--" he said, looking up at Harry's forehead. But Harry was on the move again.
Percy... Ginny... Penelope... Ginny... Kingsley... Not Percy, Percy can't be dead, it's impossible...
Please not Ginny... God, if you can hear me, please not Ginny!
"Nobody gets in!" the MLE witch was yelling to the assembled mob as Harry approached the scene. "Nobody comes in except Healers and emergency personnel!"
"My wife is in there!" a wizard yelled. "My wife and daughter! Please--!"
"Nobody gets by except Healers and emergency personnel!" the MLE officer repeated. "Please back up, back up!"
"Let us through!"
"Please back up! Give the Healers space to evacuate the injured!"
"Some guy told us we had to go back in! That the Muggles'll see the panic! Let me in!"
"I repeat, please stand back--!"
"I have to get past," said Harry, now fighting his way to the front. "I have to get past, my wife's in there, I need to help--"
"Stand back, sir," said the witch. "Let the Healers do their jobs..."
"Damn it," Harry said. He would hate himself for doing this in any other situation, but extreme circumstances called for it. He grabbed the witch by the arm.
"Unhand me, sir!" she yelled. "Or I'll arrest you for--"
"Don't you know who I am?" Harry yelled, pointing at his forehead.
The witch stared at his lightning-bolt scar, her jaw dropping. "Harry Potter," she gasped. "Sir, I--"
"Ginny Potter is inside!" he said desperately. "Are you going to be the one to keep the Chosen One from seeing his injured wife?"
"Of course not," she said, standing aside. As Harry passed her, other witches and wizards in the crowd, having overheard the conversation, began to berate the Law Enforcement official even more fervently.
Harry could care less.
If anything, the corridors beneath the stands were more chaotic than the field outside, although most of the crowd had already escaped. Tendrils of smoke had reached their way inside, giving the magically-lit globes overhead a hazy, claustrophobic feel. People were running. People were staggering. Some people were sitting against the walls of the wood and stone structure, many nursing wounds, others simply with their heads in their hands, paralyzed with shock.
Harry himself ran through the corridors with no real clear picture of where he should be going. Overhead, somewhere, he knew lay the bodies of Percy and Penelope Weasley, the bodies of Kingsley Shacklebolt and Gawain Robards. This knowledge threatened to collapse upon him completely
(Percy's dead, Percy's dead, oh Fabian oh Gideon)
but his fear for his wife kept him moving. Her name chanted through his veins like a second heartbeat. Ginny... Ginny... Where's Ginny?
"Harry!"
"Ginny!" Harry yelled, spinning around, his heart stopping.
But it wasn't Ginny. It was her coach, Gwenog Jones, now rushing toward him. A trickle of blood ran down from her temple, and she was holding her arm close to her body, as though she were trying to keep it from moving too much. Dislocated, Harry thought. Maybe broken.
"Where is she?" he asked. "Is she okay?"
"She's still on the pitch," Gwenog said, grabbing his arm with her good hand and pulling him through one of the archways.
"Is she okay?" he repeated.
"Come on," she said, still not answering his question. He wished she would say more, but also knew that words would only slow them down. He needed Ginny. If Gwenog could Apparate him directly there it would be a blessing.
She didn't need to. Harry barely saw the rubble that was strewn around the green grass, smoldering fragments of what had once been the stands. He barely saw the others laying on the field, both fans and players both. Barely saw the half-dozen Healers running around the scene, performing triage as well as they could until more could arrive from outside.
He only saw her.
"Ginny!" he yelled, running to her. She was on her back, stretched over a pile of broken stone. A Healer kneeling over her, running a wand back and forth.
"Harry?" Ginny said, her voice barely a whisper. Her face and hair was covered in blood. "You're here?"
"I'm here," he said, dropping to his knees and taking her hand. "I'm here."
"You're here," she said, and as she spoke a small trickle of blood dripped from the corner of her mouth.
"Oh, God," he moaned, looking her up and down. Her robes, also smeared with blood and soot, had hiked up to her thigh. One of her knees was bent the wrong way. "Oh, God, Ginny..."
"Harry," she said. "Hold my hand..."
"I am. I am..."
"Hold my hand..."
"I'm afraid to move her," the Healer admitted. "Not without more support."
"Tell me what to do," said Gwenog, pulling the wand from her robe. "Anything you need me to do--"
"I'm trying to keep her stabilized," said the Healer. "She fell on some nasty rubble. I'm afraid there's internal damage... One of her lungs may have been punctured--"
"Hold my hand, Harry..."
"I am!"
"I can't... I can't feel it..."
"Her spine," Gwenog gasped. "Her back..."
"Ginny," said the Healer sharply, "Ginny, can you feel this?" As he spoke, he prodded Ginny's leg with his wand.
"Feel what?" Ginny asked faintly.
"Oh, God," Harry said. He tore off his glasses, now smeared with blood and soot and tears and sweat, in order to see her better. "Healer! Do something!"
"I'm doing what I can, Mr. Potter," said the Healer. "But until I can get someone else--"
"HELP!" Harry screamed, his voice echoing around the pitch. "SOMEONE GET OVER HERE! I NEED HELP!"
"Harry..." Ginny said, the energy fading from her voice. "Harry, don't yell..."
"Ginny," Harry said, crying over her, touching her face. "Ginny, stay awake. Ginny, stay with me!"
Ginny smiled as Harry's fingers trailed over her cheek.
"I can feel you on my face..." she said as her eyes closed.
---------
"--reports are sketchy at this moment. The scene around the Puddlemere United's stadium is complete and utter mayhem as witches and wizards struggle to Heal the injured and search for other survivors. Adding to the Ministry's misery is Puddlemere's location. Controversial from the beginning, the pitch is located within five miles of the town of Yeovil, by far the closest to Muggle settlements of any Quidditch pitch in the country. Ministry officials are scrambling to contain the widespread wizarding panic that is sure to be noticed by the Muggles nearby.
What we know is this: death total estimates are anywhere from twenty to fifty people, a number that is sure to rise. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, was among the dead. This rumor has been confirmed by many sources within the Ministry who claim that Hermione Weasley, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, is currently taking the oath of office, marking the first time that a Muggle-born has taken England's highest office.
Also confirmed among the dead are Percival Weasley, Senior Undersecretary to Minister Shacklebolt; his wife, Penelope Weasley; and former Head of Magical Law--"
Prospero, Mask of London, Protector of Iceland and the British Isles, of the Circle of Thirteen, turned the dial of the wireless, silencing with a click. The room was sparse. The wireless sat on an unfinished wooden table, along with an empty glass and a mirror. In the middle of the floor sat a simple wooden chair, facing an odd metalic device that looked like a megaphone attached to a tripod; the open end of the cone faced the chair, while the closed part ended not in a point, but a metal sphere the size of a cricket ball. Inside were various objects that were similar to Jason Madsen's device in Duluth as well as one hundred other like devices across the globe.
Prospero turned his attention to the mirror, picking it up and staring into it.
"Atrytone," he said calmly. Within moments, his own image was replaced with that of a woman, her face hidden behind a shining silver helm most associated with Athena of Velletri, the Greek goddess from whom Atrytone claimed her name.
"Prospero," Atrytone replied with a slight nod.
"The message will begin shortly," he said. "Please prepare the package for delivery."
"It is already on the move," said Atrytone. And, indeed, Prosper could see the witch's hood flapping in the wind, the trees and buildings flying behind her. "We felt that it would be prudent to begin movement before the message, in order to be sure that it is in place for maximum impact."
"Very well..."
And, with that, her face disappeared, leaving Prospero to stare back at his own mask, a black cloth that matched his dark hood. A simple mask for a simple wizard.
He pointed his wand at the empty glass, which filled immediately with water. Pocketing the wand, Prospero lifted his hood to the nose, allowing the water to flow freely down his throat. The time was now. The Ministry had been thrown into chaos it hadn't known since The Fall of 1997. They had time to move now, until Hermione Weasley found her footing and established a new counterstrategy. This was his big moment. He didn't want to step in front of the crowd with cottonmouth.
With his glass emptied, he set himself down upon the chair, staring into the black hole of the device. Pulling his wand again, he raised it, preparing to enable the device. But he paused.
After all, one must not continue forward without a moment of silence. A moment of silence for Kingsley Shacklebolt, a great wizard who sacrificed himself, albeit unknowingly, for the cause. For Percival Weasley and his wife Penelope, whose sons would be well-cared for in their stead, Prospero had no doubt.
For Albus Dumbledore. For Amelia Bones. For all those lost in the great battle of equality.
Most of all, for Gellert Grindelwald.
"For the Greater Good," Prospero said, pointing his wand at the device.
---------
Hermione Caroline Lupin wasn't asleep. Every part of her body was weary. She cried, and cried, and cried, until she didn't know there were any tears left in her. Her throat ached from her sobs, and her limbs felt loose and numb from pouring every bit of energy into her sorrow.
She hated Ted Lupin. She loved Ted Lupin. She hated herself for letting this happen.
She didn't know what to think. This was all too much, all too sudden.
Hermione Caroline Lupin wasn't asleep. But she had to be dreaming. Why else would she be seeing a hooded man in her mind, unknown, unbidden, yet completely and vividly real?
He spoke to her.
Today marks a new beginning. A new world. I bid you welcome.
I am not a hallucination. I am not a dream, not a vision. I am as real as you.
I am known to my colleagues as Prospero. The name comes from the works of William Shakespeare, a writer who the world knows well.
Prospero was a wizard. And so am I. And so are we all.
For the last three hundred years, we have remained in the shadows, hidden for our own so-called protection by those who choose cowardice over conflict, segregation over evolution. Three hundred years we have lived among you, wielding power that you could only dream. We are your sons. Your daughters. Your neighbors. Concealed by our own laws, our own regulations, from interacting with the world at large.
That cowardice ends today.
Our demands are simple, for we have none. We simply wish to take our rightful place on this planet. And we shall. Such is the natural order of things.
Many of you will convince yourself that you did not hear my words. Will convince yourself that I am simply a figment of your imagination. An undigested bit of beef, as Charles Dickens once wrote, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato.
But I assure you that this is not the case. And soon you will see a taste of our power, a symbol of what we control, what we harness, and of how your lives shall soon change forever.
Wizards and witches of the world, rise up! We are the Oligarchy! We are the few that shall rule the many! All of us, purebloods, halfbloods and Muggle-borns! We are the Greater Good, and we shall hide no more!
To the rest of the planet earth: My name is Prospero, Mask of London, of the Circle of Thirteen, and I have been given the privilege of saying these three words:
Magic is real.
OmegaCon / Previous Chapters / Project Beta
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: Previous Chapters
Rating: R for language and violence
Summary: Zero Hour is upon us, and the Oligarchy make themselves known
Notes: This is the last chapter of this "chunk." Stay tuned for info on what's to come.
I own these characters. The others belong to JK Rowling.
OmegaCon / Previous Chapters / Project Beta
"Harry," Hermione said as Harry read the letter, "I need you to find Caroline and--"
crack
"Harry!"
"Holy shit!" Simon Tanaka yelped as the letter floated to the projection room floor. "Did he just Disapparate?"
"Hermione, what is it?" Dean asked, picking up the letter. The owl, meanwhile, flew back out the projection room's window and out of the ballroom, having performed its assigned duty.
"Oh, my God, he just Disapparated!" said Simon, beside himself with joy. "That was fucking awesome!"
"Dean, find Caroline and Teddy," Hermione repeated as Dean now read the letter that Harry had left behind. "Get them home, get them secure."
"Puddlemere," Dean said quietly, staring at the letter.
"Yes, Puddlemere," said Hermione. "Kingsley was at the match."
"Did you see that?" Simon said to no one. "It's like he turned a corner and just disappeared! I am so remembering that for season six!"
"Puddlemere's facing Holyhead," said Dean, his eyes wide as he finally looked at Hermione.
"Puddlemere's facing -- Oh, no," Hermione said, putting both hands over her mouth in shock. "Ginny..."
"Ginny," Dean breathed.
"Ginny?" Simon asked, his glee dissipating quickly. "Gwen Ginny? What about her? Did something happen?"
"Oh, God," Hermione moaned, collapsing into the chair. "Oh God oh God oh God..."
"Hermione, calm down," said Dean, dropping to one knee in front of her. "Hermione... Minister... Calm down. You have to, you need to."
"Ginny..."
"Harry's on his way," Dean said, taking her hand in both of his. "There's no other reason for him to have Disapparated as fast as he did. He'll watch after her. You have the rest of the country to worry about. Go to the Ministry. I can take care of Caroline."
Hermione nodded, trying to regain her composure. "Get them home," she said, her voice surprisingly firm despite her shaking hands. "Make sure they're secure, they've been attacked before. Then come to the Ministry."
"Yes, ma'am."
"What happened?" asked Simon, concern clearly on his face. "Is everyone okay?"
"Wipe him," said Hermione. "We were never here."
"What? No!" Simon yelled. "No, you can't!"
Hermione pointed at the door with her wand, and as the lock clicked tight, she disappeared into thin air.
"Dean?" Simon stumbled, backing up as Dean Thomas stood and faced him. "You can't, Dean... Mr. Thomas... Buddy..."
"It won't hurt," said Dean. "You'll just forget that you ever met us."
"But I know you!" Simon yelled. "I have to know you! If I don't, I have no show! If I don't have a show, people are going to want to know why! What am I going to tell them? What kind of questions are going to be asked if I stop the show a day after I'm threatened by three mysterious people in a public place? What's gonna happen when you wipe me and Tsunami sends me more pictures next week?"
Dean paused, his wand raised halfway. Simon had a point. He had known about the wizard world for years, and would continue to learn about the wizarding world as long as Tsunami continued to send him the information. What would be the point of erasing this meeting if he still remembered everything else?
"I can help you," Simon pleaded. "You're trying to find out where Tsunami's getting this info, right? Who he is? I'm closer to him than anyone! I can help you find him! I can help you, I don't know, solve this case or whatever it is you all are doing."
Dean's brow furrowed. He turned back towards the window, where the owl had left just minutes ago. Hermione's Minister of Magic, he thought. She's Minister, she's my friend, and I'm already considering disobeying her orders. Quite a start to the new regime, Dean ol' buddy.
"You live in California?" Dean asked.
"Yeah, Cali," Simon said. "Modesto."
"Are you listed?"
"Like in a phonebook?" Simon said. "Are you shitting me? I'm famous, dude. No way am I listed."
"Doesn't matter," said Dean. "I'll find you."
"Wait... Find me?"
"You want to help, you're going to help," said Dean. "In the meantime, you never met us. Do you hear me? No one knows. Not your agent, not your producer, not your mother. And especially not Tsunami."
"Your secret's safe with me, man," Simon said. "I've been keeping you guys under wraps since 2015. No way I'm saying anything now. Who'd believe me?"
"That's always the hope," said Dean, unlocking Hermione's Colloportus then stashing his wand in his inside coat pocket. "You work from home?"
"I will be for a while. We're still in the design stage for season four, I won't be going into the studio for at least another two weeks."
"Then expect me to stop by next week," said Dean, opening the door. "Goodbye, Mr. Tanaka."
"Yeah... Yeah..."
Dean left Simon Tanaka sitting alone in the projection room, with a look on his face that said he still wasn't quite sure what he had just agreed to. And that was fine, Dean thought as he descended the stairs and returned to the convention center's ground floor. Memory Charm or not, leaving them unsure meant that they were less likely to take any action against you.
He'd deal with Simon Tanaka next week. That was a promise he was sure to keep. But right now he had something more important to deal with.
It didn't take very long to find Teddy and Caroline Lupin, as they were both waiting in front of the ballroom's front entrance, just as they had been told to do an hour and a half ago.
"What's going on?" Teddy asked, running to Dean as soon as they saw each other. "We saw the owl. Is there trouble?"
"We're leaving," said Dean, glancing at Caroline, who approached the two much more slowly, almost hesitantly. Her arms were crossed defensively across her chest, and she had a look of shock on her face that Dean didn't like very much. Did she already know what had happened? Did Teddy already know? And, if so, how?
"Where's Harry?" Teddy asked as he and Caroline followed Dean out of the convention hall. "Where's Jean?"
"I'll explain when we get you home," said Dean quickly. He pushed open the glass doors and led the two outside. "We just need to find a place to Apparate first."
"There should be an alleyway nearby," said Teddy, looking around the walls of the modern-looking glass and concrete building. "You saw one, didn't you, Hermione?"
Caroline didn't say anything. She stood their with her arms still crossed, staring at Teddy with such pain that Dean was pulled, at least briefly, from the job at hand.
"Caroline," he said, putting his hand on her arm. "Caroline, what happened?"
"Tell me you haven't slept with Victoire," she said to Teddy in almost a whisper.
"Hermione--" Teddy said, his hair shifting from the gray-blue of his character to a sheer white.
"Tell me!" she suddenly screamed. "Tell me you haven't had sex with Victoire Weasley!"
Teddy didn't respond. He simply looked away. Tears began to flow down Caroline's cheeks, and her face looked like it was ready to break in two.
"We have to go," Dean said, completely unsure of what else to say in this situation.
"I'll take the Underground," said Caroline, turning away.
"You're not taking the Underground," he said firmly, grabbing Caroline's arm. "We're Apparating you two back to your house and putting up as many protection spells as we can. Minister's orders."
"You can tell Kingsley to--" Caroline said, snapping at Dean.
"Kingsley's dead," Dean said. "There was an attack. He's dead."
"An attack?" Teddy said.
"At the Holyhead match," said Dean. "Harry's already on his way there--"
"Ginny!"
"--and Hermione's at the Ministry, being sworn in as the new Minister," Dean continued unabated, grabbing them both and dragging them into the parking lot, between two tall SUVs. "Her first order as Minister was for me to take you two home and make sure you're protected. We don't know who's behind it, but until we do we know--"
crack
"--you two stay here," he said, releasing them as they landed in the Lupins' back yard. "Are we clear?"
Caroline stared back at Dean, a glint of mutiny in her eyes. Instead, she turned away and entered the house, slamming the door behind her. Teddy turned to Dean, a look of completely and utter hopelessness in his eyes, begging for the older man to say something, anything that would fix things.
Dean, unfortunately, was at a loss for words for Remus Lupin's son. Instead, he pulled out his wand and circled the yard, casting a series of protective spells.
"Stay inside," he said after he finished. "Wait for someone to contact you, Harry or Hermione or Susan or anyone from the Ministry."
"Mr. Thomas--"
"You're talking to the wrong man, Teddy," Dean sighed, with a glance at the house. "Lifelong bachelor, fifteen years since a serious commitment? Not one to offer advice."
"Just..." said Teddy, his voice choking. "Just don't tell Jean... or Harry... or... or..."
"I've also never been one to get in the middle of domestics," said Dean. "I won't tell them, don't worry."
"Make sure Ginny's safe," said Teddy. "Please?"
"I will," said Dean, patting the man (still a boy, Dean thought sadly) on the shoulder. He turned away, vaulted over the Lupins' fence and Disapparated before his feet even hit the neighbor's garden.
Teddy stared at the place where Dean had vanished for nearly a minute, wishing that he could do the same. Just run away. Just run away and not have to face the pain that he had seen in Hermione's face. The pain he had caused. But he knew that he had to.
He entered the house, silently closing the door behind him. He entered the kitchen and crossed into the sitting room. The couch where he and Hermione had fallen asleep so many times, the couch where they had laid about on lazy Sunday mornings, was empty. He heard a slight creaking from upstairs, and knew that she was in their bedroom.
And she was. Teddy's Quidditch robes and her broomstick (a wedding present from her sister, Teddy thought with another stab of hurt) were tossed on the middle of the floor. Hermione was on their bed, face down, in the t-shirt and jeans she had been wearing underneath the robes.
"Hermione..." Teddy said, as quietly as possible.
"Leave," Hermione said, her voice stuffed with tears. It was a voice that he had never heard from her before. So much pain...
"Hermione, please..."
"Please," she begged, her face still stuffed in her pillow. "Please leave, Ted. Just... please..."
"Dean--"
"I don't care..."
Teddy didn't even want to argue with her. She was the wronged. He would do what she asked of him, whatever she asked of him. If she asked him to jump out the window right now, he would. With a silent nod, Teddy closed the door between them. He heard her sobs from behind the door as he descended the stairs, and heard them in his heart as he left their home.
---------
"Ha! Destroyed!"
"Oh, come on!" Aiden Towler cried as Hugo Weasley's white knight blasted his black king off of their board. "That's not fair!"
"How is that not fair?" asked Hugo with a huge smile as Kayla Macmillan's cat, Whiskers, pounced on the defenseless king rolling around Rose Weasley's feet. "I beat you square."
"Well, it's my first match with this board!" Aiden said.
"What does that have to do with anything?" asked Harry Norley, sitting across from the two Hufflepuffs.
"It... It... It's the inaugural voyage!" Aiden blurted. "I should be able to win the first game!"
"Don't think that's how it works," Hugo chuckled, wrestling the king away from Whiskers. "Here, let's try again. This time you can be white."
"Don't take it personally, Aiden," said Rose. "Dad's nice, usually, but he's always hardcore when it comes to wizard chess. We've had to learn the hard way how to play well."
"Does he usually beat you, too?" asked Norley.
"What, Hugo?" said Rose incredulously. "Heck, no! He's child's play."
"Yeah, right," said Hugo. "Just because our set at home like girls more than boys doesn't mean that you're better. They listen to her better than me," he said to Aiden. "They consider themselves gentlemen. The queens hate her, though."
Rose stuck out her tongue, blowing the Hufflepuffs a raspberry.
"God, what's taking them so long?" Kayla said under her breath, staring at the door to the Express's cooridor. "Didn't they find the food cart by now?"
"Maybe they did," Rose said with a mischievous grin. "Maybe they just found an empty compartment first."
"But I'm hungry!" Kayla said with a pout.
"Maybe you're jealous?" Rose said knowingly.
"Yes, I'm jealous!" Kayla blurted out, slapping the bench in frustration. "I want a boy, too!"
"Not with that attitude, you won't," Norley grinned.
"Try a better comeback next time," said Aiden to Norley. "That one didn't even make structural sense."
"Aren't you happy for them, though?" Rose asked Kayla. "Personally, I think it's great that Meghan found someone."
"Oh, I'm happy!" Kayla said. "I'm ecstatic for her! Heck, I'm happy for Malfoy, too, and I barely even know him. But... But... It's no fair! I got a new cauldron for my birthday. Meghan got a pretty necklace and her first snogging session. Who came out better?"
"Well, that was her fourteenth birthday," Rose said. "Maybe when you turn fourteen this summer you can get jewelry and a snog, too. Besides, I didn't get a boyfriend for my fourteenth birthday, and you don't hear me complaining."
"But if, say, Stephen Dean offered you a birthday snog, you wouldn't have turned it down?"
"That's beside the point," said Rose, turning a shade of color that matched her name.
"Yes, she would have turned it down!" Hugo said quickly. "Rose snogging anyone is gross."
"So says the little brother," said Kayla, rolling her eyes.
"The point," Rose continued, recomposing herself, "is that--"
Her sentence stopped in her throat as the train suddenly gave a sudden lurch that sent the chess board and a few of the bags from the overhead bin crashing to the floor.
"What was that?" asked Kayla, who, like the others, had thrown her hands out to stabilize herself.
"The train's stopped," said Norley, kneeling on the bench and looking out the window.
"Anything out there?" Rose asked as Hugo joined Norley from the other side of the window.
"Nothing," Hugo replied. "I mean, just the steam, like normal."
"Maybe the engine broke down," said Aiden. "Can engines break down if they're magic?"
"Witches and wizards," came a soothing voice from the air around the compartment. "Due to unforeseen circumstances, the Hogwarts Express will be performing an emergency evacuation. This is not a drill."
"Emergency--?" Hugo said, but Rose and Aiden both silenced him with a hiss.
"Please return to the nearest compartment immediately," the voice continued, "and await further instructions from your prefects or Hogwarts Express staff. Please remain calm. We repeat, this is not a drill."
"Am I the only one who feels that Please remain calm is code for Please freak the hell out?" Norley asked nervously.
Norley wasn't the only one who thought this way. Within moments, an uproar could be heard out in the cooridor as students either returned to their compartments or, ignoring the instructions given by the magic voice, left their compartments for others to see if anyone had more information than they did.
"Return to your compartments!" yelled numerous voices. "Return to your compartments immediately!"
Their compartment door slid open, and Meghan Cullen and Scorpius Malfoy slipped in, closing it behind them.
"What's happening?" Scorpius asked as they sat down.
"We were going to ask you the same thing," said Rose. "Did you see anything?"
"No, um, we were busy," said Meghan, blushing and giving a Scorpius a small smile. The hair on both of their heads were ruffled and their eyes had a slightly dazed look, like they had both just been pulled from a wonderful daydream. Kayla still had a look of friendly jealousy as she looked at her fellow Ravenclaw, but at least now it was tempered by the mystery outside the compartment.
"Did you bring the snacks?" asked Aiden, oblivious to the couple's discomposure. Before Rose or anyone else could retort, the compartment's door slid open, and Fabian Weasley stepped in, carrying a cloth bag.
"Fab!" said Rose, standing up. "What's happening?"
"Don't know," said Fabian, reaching into the bag and handing Rose a copper-colored ball the size of a cantaloupe. "You're in charge of this compartment."
"In charge of--"
"It's a Portkey," Fabian explained. "Everyone put their hand or finger or whatever they can reach on it. Rose, you count to three, and it'll send you to the Great Hall. Go directly to your Common Rooms, the Heads of House will explain everything from there."
"Fab..."
"I'm sorry, Rose, but I have to hand out these other Portkeys fast," he said, looking into the bag. "I'll see you in the Common Room."
"What about our stuff?" asked Norley.
"It'll get to you," said Fabian. "Just not right away. I have to go. Rose, get them moving," he said, pointing to the others. And at that, Rose's cousin closed their compartment door and moved onto the next.
"What the hell's going on?" asked Scorpius, standing up.
"No clue," said Rose. "But we'd better do what he said. Everyone budge in, seven's going to be a tight fit."
She walked to the middle of the compartment, holding the spherical Portkey out. The other six circled around it. Hugo first, then Kayla, both putting their hands on it to begin with, but by the time Scorpius, Meghan, Harry, and Aiden had reached in they were left just barely touching it with the tips of two fingers each.
"Anybody not feel metal?" Rose asked.
"I feel a cramp," said Meghan who, as the shortest of the group, had gotten down on her knees in order to touch the ball from below. "Yes, I have metal, but hurry."
"Alright," Rose said, taking a deep breath. "One... Two... Three!"
---------
Harry Potter Apparated into chaos.
Although he had landed a quarter of a mile away from the pitch, the absolute closest he could land while still remaining outside of its various protective charms, it was easy to tell that things had gone horribly wrong.
A body slammed into his shoulder within seconds, sending his glasses flying. The wizard continued running, unmindful of Harry in his panic. And he wasn't the only one. Hundreds of people were running from the direction of the pitch, while hundreds of others were running towards it, Apparating into the field just as Harry had done moments before. The Prophet or the wireless must have said something about it already, he thought. I'm not the only one hoping to find someone.
"Accio glasses!" Harry yelled, and then "Occulus Reparo!" after they landed in his hand, cracked from the stampeding feet. He put them back on, and got his first full view of the scene. When he got his look, he started sprinting.
One of the newest and largest Quidditch pitches in the league, black smoke now billowed from a section of Puddlemere United's stands. For every witch or wizard running away from the scene there was another moving much slower. Witches limping, wizards covered in blood, others just wandering absently, their eyes blank with shock. Harry passed the fresh horror of a young wizard clutching a shoulder that had once contained an arm, but he barely registered it.
Ginny... Ginny... Ginny...
Words passed by him as he ran, washed over him like a fast-moving river, flowing through one ear and out the other, to be understood later. Conversations from the survivors, orders from the MLE that had arrived on the scene, cries of the wounded and the lost.
"Everybody get away from the pitch! As far away as possible! There may be--"
"My son is in there! Let me--"
"Nobody leave! Everyone get into back to the pitch! Muggles live--"
"--twenty dead? Thirty?"
"Mummy? Where's my Mummy?"
"--Shacklebolt's section. Completely gone. Undersecretary, too--"
Despite his terror for his wife, these words struck home. Harry grabbed the man who was speaking, spinning him so violently that he was sure he strained the man's shoulder.
"Undersecretary?" he yelled over the chaos. "The Undersecretary was here?"
"Sitting next to the Minister," said the wizard. "Him and his wife and the old Law Enforcement Head."
"They're... No... Percy?"
"Percy Weasley, yeah," said the wizard. "They showed 'em up on the board before the match. They were sitting right where the bomb went off. Wait, you're--" he said, looking up at Harry's forehead. But Harry was on the move again.
Percy... Ginny... Penelope... Ginny... Kingsley... Not Percy, Percy can't be dead, it's impossible...
Please not Ginny... God, if you can hear me, please not Ginny!
"Nobody gets in!" the MLE witch was yelling to the assembled mob as Harry approached the scene. "Nobody comes in except Healers and emergency personnel!"
"My wife is in there!" a wizard yelled. "My wife and daughter! Please--!"
"Nobody gets by except Healers and emergency personnel!" the MLE officer repeated. "Please back up, back up!"
"Let us through!"
"Please back up! Give the Healers space to evacuate the injured!"
"Some guy told us we had to go back in! That the Muggles'll see the panic! Let me in!"
"I repeat, please stand back--!"
"I have to get past," said Harry, now fighting his way to the front. "I have to get past, my wife's in there, I need to help--"
"Stand back, sir," said the witch. "Let the Healers do their jobs..."
"Damn it," Harry said. He would hate himself for doing this in any other situation, but extreme circumstances called for it. He grabbed the witch by the arm.
"Unhand me, sir!" she yelled. "Or I'll arrest you for--"
"Don't you know who I am?" Harry yelled, pointing at his forehead.
The witch stared at his lightning-bolt scar, her jaw dropping. "Harry Potter," she gasped. "Sir, I--"
"Ginny Potter is inside!" he said desperately. "Are you going to be the one to keep the Chosen One from seeing his injured wife?"
"Of course not," she said, standing aside. As Harry passed her, other witches and wizards in the crowd, having overheard the conversation, began to berate the Law Enforcement official even more fervently.
Harry could care less.
If anything, the corridors beneath the stands were more chaotic than the field outside, although most of the crowd had already escaped. Tendrils of smoke had reached their way inside, giving the magically-lit globes overhead a hazy, claustrophobic feel. People were running. People were staggering. Some people were sitting against the walls of the wood and stone structure, many nursing wounds, others simply with their heads in their hands, paralyzed with shock.
Harry himself ran through the corridors with no real clear picture of where he should be going. Overhead, somewhere, he knew lay the bodies of Percy and Penelope Weasley, the bodies of Kingsley Shacklebolt and Gawain Robards. This knowledge threatened to collapse upon him completely
(Percy's dead, Percy's dead, oh Fabian oh Gideon)
but his fear for his wife kept him moving. Her name chanted through his veins like a second heartbeat. Ginny... Ginny... Where's Ginny?
"Harry!"
"Ginny!" Harry yelled, spinning around, his heart stopping.
But it wasn't Ginny. It was her coach, Gwenog Jones, now rushing toward him. A trickle of blood ran down from her temple, and she was holding her arm close to her body, as though she were trying to keep it from moving too much. Dislocated, Harry thought. Maybe broken.
"Where is she?" he asked. "Is she okay?"
"She's still on the pitch," Gwenog said, grabbing his arm with her good hand and pulling him through one of the archways.
"Is she okay?" he repeated.
"Come on," she said, still not answering his question. He wished she would say more, but also knew that words would only slow them down. He needed Ginny. If Gwenog could Apparate him directly there it would be a blessing.
She didn't need to. Harry barely saw the rubble that was strewn around the green grass, smoldering fragments of what had once been the stands. He barely saw the others laying on the field, both fans and players both. Barely saw the half-dozen Healers running around the scene, performing triage as well as they could until more could arrive from outside.
He only saw her.
"Ginny!" he yelled, running to her. She was on her back, stretched over a pile of broken stone. A Healer kneeling over her, running a wand back and forth.
"Harry?" Ginny said, her voice barely a whisper. Her face and hair was covered in blood. "You're here?"
"I'm here," he said, dropping to his knees and taking her hand. "I'm here."
"You're here," she said, and as she spoke a small trickle of blood dripped from the corner of her mouth.
"Oh, God," he moaned, looking her up and down. Her robes, also smeared with blood and soot, had hiked up to her thigh. One of her knees was bent the wrong way. "Oh, God, Ginny..."
"Harry," she said. "Hold my hand..."
"I am. I am..."
"Hold my hand..."
"I'm afraid to move her," the Healer admitted. "Not without more support."
"Tell me what to do," said Gwenog, pulling the wand from her robe. "Anything you need me to do--"
"I'm trying to keep her stabilized," said the Healer. "She fell on some nasty rubble. I'm afraid there's internal damage... One of her lungs may have been punctured--"
"Hold my hand, Harry..."
"I am!"
"I can't... I can't feel it..."
"Her spine," Gwenog gasped. "Her back..."
"Ginny," said the Healer sharply, "Ginny, can you feel this?" As he spoke, he prodded Ginny's leg with his wand.
"Feel what?" Ginny asked faintly.
"Oh, God," Harry said. He tore off his glasses, now smeared with blood and soot and tears and sweat, in order to see her better. "Healer! Do something!"
"I'm doing what I can, Mr. Potter," said the Healer. "But until I can get someone else--"
"HELP!" Harry screamed, his voice echoing around the pitch. "SOMEONE GET OVER HERE! I NEED HELP!"
"Harry..." Ginny said, the energy fading from her voice. "Harry, don't yell..."
"Ginny," Harry said, crying over her, touching her face. "Ginny, stay awake. Ginny, stay with me!"
Ginny smiled as Harry's fingers trailed over her cheek.
"I can feel you on my face..." she said as her eyes closed.
---------
"--reports are sketchy at this moment. The scene around the Puddlemere United's stadium is complete and utter mayhem as witches and wizards struggle to Heal the injured and search for other survivors. Adding to the Ministry's misery is Puddlemere's location. Controversial from the beginning, the pitch is located within five miles of the town of Yeovil, by far the closest to Muggle settlements of any Quidditch pitch in the country. Ministry officials are scrambling to contain the widespread wizarding panic that is sure to be noticed by the Muggles nearby.
What we know is this: death total estimates are anywhere from twenty to fifty people, a number that is sure to rise. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, was among the dead. This rumor has been confirmed by many sources within the Ministry who claim that Hermione Weasley, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, is currently taking the oath of office, marking the first time that a Muggle-born has taken England's highest office.
Also confirmed among the dead are Percival Weasley, Senior Undersecretary to Minister Shacklebolt; his wife, Penelope Weasley; and former Head of Magical Law--"
Prospero, Mask of London, Protector of Iceland and the British Isles, of the Circle of Thirteen, turned the dial of the wireless, silencing with a click. The room was sparse. The wireless sat on an unfinished wooden table, along with an empty glass and a mirror. In the middle of the floor sat a simple wooden chair, facing an odd metalic device that looked like a megaphone attached to a tripod; the open end of the cone faced the chair, while the closed part ended not in a point, but a metal sphere the size of a cricket ball. Inside were various objects that were similar to Jason Madsen's device in Duluth as well as one hundred other like devices across the globe.
Prospero turned his attention to the mirror, picking it up and staring into it.
"Atrytone," he said calmly. Within moments, his own image was replaced with that of a woman, her face hidden behind a shining silver helm most associated with Athena of Velletri, the Greek goddess from whom Atrytone claimed her name.
"Prospero," Atrytone replied with a slight nod.
"The message will begin shortly," he said. "Please prepare the package for delivery."
"It is already on the move," said Atrytone. And, indeed, Prosper could see the witch's hood flapping in the wind, the trees and buildings flying behind her. "We felt that it would be prudent to begin movement before the message, in order to be sure that it is in place for maximum impact."
"Very well..."
And, with that, her face disappeared, leaving Prospero to stare back at his own mask, a black cloth that matched his dark hood. A simple mask for a simple wizard.
He pointed his wand at the empty glass, which filled immediately with water. Pocketing the wand, Prospero lifted his hood to the nose, allowing the water to flow freely down his throat. The time was now. The Ministry had been thrown into chaos it hadn't known since The Fall of 1997. They had time to move now, until Hermione Weasley found her footing and established a new counterstrategy. This was his big moment. He didn't want to step in front of the crowd with cottonmouth.
With his glass emptied, he set himself down upon the chair, staring into the black hole of the device. Pulling his wand again, he raised it, preparing to enable the device. But he paused.
After all, one must not continue forward without a moment of silence. A moment of silence for Kingsley Shacklebolt, a great wizard who sacrificed himself, albeit unknowingly, for the cause. For Percival Weasley and his wife Penelope, whose sons would be well-cared for in their stead, Prospero had no doubt.
For Albus Dumbledore. For Amelia Bones. For all those lost in the great battle of equality.
Most of all, for Gellert Grindelwald.
"For the Greater Good," Prospero said, pointing his wand at the device.
---------
Hermione Caroline Lupin wasn't asleep. Every part of her body was weary. She cried, and cried, and cried, until she didn't know there were any tears left in her. Her throat ached from her sobs, and her limbs felt loose and numb from pouring every bit of energy into her sorrow.
She hated Ted Lupin. She loved Ted Lupin. She hated herself for letting this happen.
She didn't know what to think. This was all too much, all too sudden.
Hermione Caroline Lupin wasn't asleep. But she had to be dreaming. Why else would she be seeing a hooded man in her mind, unknown, unbidden, yet completely and vividly real?
He spoke to her.
Today marks a new beginning. A new world. I bid you welcome.
I am not a hallucination. I am not a dream, not a vision. I am as real as you.
I am known to my colleagues as Prospero. The name comes from the works of William Shakespeare, a writer who the world knows well.
Prospero was a wizard. And so am I. And so are we all.
For the last three hundred years, we have remained in the shadows, hidden for our own so-called protection by those who choose cowardice over conflict, segregation over evolution. Three hundred years we have lived among you, wielding power that you could only dream. We are your sons. Your daughters. Your neighbors. Concealed by our own laws, our own regulations, from interacting with the world at large.
That cowardice ends today.
Our demands are simple, for we have none. We simply wish to take our rightful place on this planet. And we shall. Such is the natural order of things.
Many of you will convince yourself that you did not hear my words. Will convince yourself that I am simply a figment of your imagination. An undigested bit of beef, as Charles Dickens once wrote, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato.
But I assure you that this is not the case. And soon you will see a taste of our power, a symbol of what we control, what we harness, and of how your lives shall soon change forever.
Wizards and witches of the world, rise up! We are the Oligarchy! We are the few that shall rule the many! All of us, purebloods, halfbloods and Muggle-borns! We are the Greater Good, and we shall hide no more!
To the rest of the planet earth: My name is Prospero, Mask of London, of the Circle of Thirteen, and I have been given the privilege of saying these three words:
Magic is real.
OmegaCon / Previous Chapters / Project Beta