On December 25, 2017, at exactly 12:38 PM, it all went to hell. Excuse my language, but there is really no other way to describe what happened.

There are two different kinds of aftermaths: public and private. The public kind is basically the average of everyone's reactions and what the people in power decide to do. There are many private aftermaths, one for each group of people affected. Most private aftermaths don't have much effect on the public aftermath – but the one I witnessed on that day sure did.

It started out like any other Christmas day at the Burrow. As always, we were the first family to grace Grandmum Molly's doorstep, hours before everyone else came out. According to my dad, it's because of some tradition that started long before I was born. I don't know why; he won't tell me.

I watched the rest of the family get drafted for one duty or another, but Grandmum's eyes seemed to just slide over me. It's a regular occurrence, so I don't even mind. I just holed up in the library (Uncle Percy's old room) and read until everyone else would show up.

Around 10 AM, Uncle George's family showed up at the door and I made it downstairs just in time to see that strange little flicker of emotion in Grandmum Molly's eyes that happened each year. As soon as Uncle Harry arrived, James ran off with Freddie, off to set up some elaborate prank. Al headed straight to where I had just come from: the library. The little Ravenclaw just ran right into me. That didn't happen often, but Al didn't notice a lot of things and my quasi-invisibility didn't help him.

He gave me a dreamy look, the one that made me think that he should have been named after Luna, not Lily (Sharp, that one). Speaking of Lily, she came up to join me people watching. She was one of the people who my quasi-invisibility didn't affect. Probably because she was so observant.

"I noticed Teddy was making out with Victorie in the kitchen." She said without preamble.

I rolled my eyes. "They've been like that since Victorie got back from Hogwarts. I was hoping that Grandmum would get them to stop."

"It looked like she'd need the Jaws of Life to pry those two apart."

"I thought Grandmum had the Jaws of Life."

"They broke last year when she tried to use to tear Freddie and Jamie apart when they broke the Clock."

We fell into a comfortable silence after that.

Uncle Ron's family showed up last. There was an aura of awkwardness hanging over them, highlighted by the fact that Rose practically ran me over as she rushed to get as far away from her father at possible.

Hugo climbed the stairs at a slower pace. He obviously didn't see me either though, because he nearly sat on me. Only after he heard my protests did my presence register with him.

He blushed. "Sorry, didn't see you there."

I shrugged.

"So what happened to Rose? She seemed pretty eager to get to the library." Lily prodded Hugo after he found a seat.

"You know how Dad didn't really accept that Rose got into Ravenclaw?"

We both nodded. It was common knowledge that Uncle Ron hadn't done as well as Uncle Harry had with accepting non-Gryffindor sorting of his child. Seriously though, I thought he had moved past that. It happened four whole months ago.

"Well, he got her this really, really nice necklace for Christmas. Real gold, her birthstone, beautiful. And it had a lion on it." Hugo threw an annoyed glance at his father. "He said he'd bought it before her sorting, but really, he could have exchanged it or something? Rose locked herself in her room for an hour, crying. Mum and Dad had a huge row, too. Dad's an idiot." Hugo shook his head in disappointment.

Lily opened her mouth to comment but anything the redhead said was drowned by Grandmum's call of "TIME TO EXCANGE GIFTS!"

Eagerly or reluctantly, everyone moved toward the parlor. Defying Grandmum was futile and quite possibly, deadly. Just ask her about Bellatrix Lestrange.

Gifts were exchanged just like always, the requisite Christmas sweaters received and put on. Nothing showed any signs of what was to come.

Fred, James, Rose, and Albus had already left the room when it happened. Fred and James to put some finishing touches on their prank, Rose to get away from Uncle Ron, and Albus to go read some more. Hugo and Lily were whispering in a corner, Teddy and Victorie were snogging under the mistletoe (as if they needed the excuse).

At 12:38, the flames in the fireplace turned floo-powder green and Minister Shacklebolt stepped out. That in and of itself wasn't exactly shocking. The Minister stopped by almost every Christmas. He claimed the visits were because the Weasley's are a very powerful family (true) but I think it's because he can't resist Grandmum's cooking.

But the Minister was several hours to early for dinner, and there was the fact that the wizard was pale, sweating, and looking like he had just been hit in the face. It was obvious that something had happened. Grandmum Molly made it even more obvious by shuttling everyone under age out of the room – except for me. Guess it was my quasi-invisibility at work, because neither she nor anyone else realized I was sitting in the room. Well, Lily noticed. She sent him a look that clearly meant, I won't rat on you, but only because I expect a full report later.

Once the room was clear of "children" (except for me), Grandmum gestured for the Minister to sit down. Still it was several long seconds before Victorie (yes, she had torn herself away from Teddy for something as serious looking as this) asked what was on everyone's mind, "What happened, Minister?"

All eyes focused on him as he mopped his brow and took a deep breath. He spoke slowly and solemnly, "It's…the muggles." There was a tremble in his voice, "They…they know."

Several long silent moments preceded the chaos of questions. "What?" and "How?" were what I heard most often. Still when the Minister opened his mouth to speak again, the room fell gravely silent. It was unnerving to watch my family be quiet. It rarely ever happened.

"It was the Americans…there was some terrorist attack or other. The details the President of Wizardry was able to send me were fuzzy. In any case, the attack caused so many wizards to jump in to save their muggle neighbors that the use of magic was obvious."

Uncle Harry stood up immediately. "Sir, I can have a team of Obliviators there to help the Americans in an instant. Just give me the word."

The Minister only shook his head and gave a short bitter laugh. "It's gotten too big for a cover up, I'm afraid. It seems even in a crisis Muggles have those infernal tiny mechanical devices of theirs. There are videos and eyewitness accounts circulating that Spider Web thing of theirs as we speak. The whole world knows the secret now, or will by the end of today. I suppose you were right, Granger, when you said those 'cell things' would be the end of us." The minister barked another short bitter laugh as he stood up. As I watched him, it struck me that more than anything else, he looked weary. He made eye contact with everyone (except me, naturally) in the room and sighed. "I must take my leave of you now. I haven't made a formal announcement to anyone yet. The Prophet has to be notified, as well as Hogwarts and the entire Ministry. And I suppose I must arrange some sort of talk with the Muggle Minister. Oh, and the International Conference will undoubtedly be called any second."

After the Minister left, the family sat in shell-shocked silence. Soon enough, though, people filtered out of the parlor, one by one. Children had to be told, Americans certainly had to be cursed, and consequences had to be discussed.

In the end, only Aunt Hermione and I remained in the room. I walked over to her, surprised to see that she was crying. Yes, everyone had been shocked, most had been angry, but I hadn't seen anyone cry. The sight was enough to get me to speak, which usually broke my quasi-invisibility.

"Why are you sad, Aunt Hermione?"

Her eyes met mine with a look that made it plain she wasn't at all surprised I had been listening. Aunt Hermione may not be immune to my ability but she's one of the few who realizes it for what it is.

"Well, don't you think the end of an era is something to be sad about?" She was trying to be light about it. She wasn't lying exactly but I could tell there was more to her tears. Aunt Hermione wouldn't be pouring out tears for something like that. Reluctantly, she gave in to my look of disbelief. "I'm crying for all the people who are going to die in the upcoming tsunami of ignorance and intolerance."

I really truly wish that Aunt Hermione had been wrong about something for once in her life.

A/N: There may or may not be more to this, but only if I think I can carry out what I sort of have planned in a way that will be on the same level as this. Right now, this is a one-shot. I would appreciate any feedback and criticism you may have. Also, I wonder if anyone can guess who's perspective this is from. Hint: It is one of the next generation of Weasleys.