TITLE: Hundred Days to Hell
AUTHOR: Empty Backpack
SUMMARY: A chronicle of the downfall of wizarding society, leading from the second uprising of Lord Voldemort to the community's final days.
WARNINGS: PG for mild, non-explicit violence. Violence may become explicit, at which point the rating will be changed to PG-13. This hundred-section monstrosity is also, by Day 78, the lead-in to a rather sad AU slash piece, of HP/SS. But you don't need to read that ever, and I recommend that you probably shouldn't. As was said, this will be a hundred and two sections, for a prologue, 100 days, and an epilogue. It will not, however, be 102 chapters. Hopefully. To quote a college teacher who beta-ed this, "God willin' and th' crick don't rise."
NOTES: This has been in the works and planned out on paper since January of 2001. This was before September 11th, before the shrub's "War on Iraq", and is not intended to copy, parody, or otherwise represent anything that's been in the news in the last three years. The only thing "ripped from the headlines" is the imagery for a later scene, in which a bus windshield covered in blood is described. This is a real photograph from the Palestinian-Israeli conflict. I thought that the photograph made an excruciating point.
The characterization in this prologue and first chapter is extremely poorly done, and I apologize for the relative uniformity of the characters. This changes in later chapters as I become a more experienced writer, and after I have Day 3 posted, I will drastically rewrite this first section. Now, however, I need to have it up before the 20th, otherwise none of it will have any relevance with the availability of Book 5. This story is a long- term commitment, and I have all days planned out in detail. I spent a week doing this. I will not suddenly drop the plotline, never to be seen again. 1633 words, and Ereck is pronounced air-EEK.
Good luck in reading this, and have fun. I sure didn't. If I seriously botched something, please yell at me at kariannye@aol.com.
***
PROLOGUE March 13, 1995
"Give a man fire, and he's warm for a day. Light him on fire, and he's warm for the rest of his life." -Terry Pratchett
***
"I WANT RITA SKEETER AND I WANT HER NOW!" shouted the Head of the Columnists Department at the Daily Prophet, a wizarding newspaper. Whoever was taking so long to fetch the blasted woman would pay for this dearly. Quite dearly, in fact, with their job, reputation, and finances. The speaker made a mental note to fire his secretary, as well. She made poor quality coffee. At that, why not fire everyone? With the courier employees already on strike, it wouldn't make much difference.
He was shut up by someone fast-stepping by and saying, "Ah, shut your fat mouth, Robert Sorenson! The lad says she's not available, and she's not available!" Johanna Moonen gestured vaguely in the direction of poor Cameron Wrident, who had been the one being chewed by Mr. Sorenson. He gave her a thankful look, and she walked on. Sorenson angrily stalked off, annoyed at his authority being undermined, but unable to cause any fuss about it. Cameron again looked over the stack of papers Nancy Wiggins, and editor, had returned to him, and got up to take the article to be printed. On his way, he stopped at the communal coffee pot and greeted Michael Claypool of the Global News Department, who was on his way to ask Lisanne Holstein to read over some article about new cauldron manufacturing regulations. He offered to deliver Cameron's article, as the Printing Department was situated right near his destination. While they were talking, Carmina Hoyle of Muggle News also stopped by for her morning tea fix. The three chatted idly for several minutes, about their bosses, a new shipment of Quick-Quotes Quills, and the upstart Chantelle Nemitz in Lifestyle, whose parents had most likely been dead-set on embarrassing her when choosing that name. Michael took Cameron's article, and delivered it on his way to see Lisanne.
"Top of the morning to you, Lissy! And what's new in the world today?" Lisanne rolled her eyes, and looked pointedly at the pile of papers on her desk.
"Too much is new. Now, unless you have a damned good reason to be here, or you have something more for me to edit, shoo!" She grabbed the article from his hands, and turned to her next customer. Noticing that Michael was still standing there, she said, "Go on, get out of here! I'm sure you've got better things to do than pester an already harried editor!" Michael backed away, and Lisanne edgily returned to her business with Ms. Moody.
Reyna said conversationally, "You know, not everyone here is out to get you, Holstein."
"Oh yes, they are! Look at that Nemitz woman over in Lifestyle. With a name like that, you know what the bosses think she's good for! And that Deanna Mucklestone, from Government. She just piles it on, gives everything to me to edit, rather than distributing it evenly like everyone else does. They're all out to cause me to have a mental breakdown!"
"Actually. I do believe that Claypool kid likes you, Holstein. You should treat him better."
Lisanne snorted, almost spitting out her response. "A load of rubbish, that is. Just what Nancy told me the other day. If he thinks I'm so nice, he can go-"
"Lisanne! There is no call for that. Everyone is not, in fact, out to disturb you." The magically operated public announcement system beeped. "See, I'm sure now that they're paging you to say you've won a lottery, or something."
The emotionless, nasal voice over the PA announced, "There has been a Death Eater attack near Ottery St. Catchpole. This is a code yellow. All employees designated to respond to this code, please report to the main conference hall. " There was a pause. "Also, former members of the DEA must report to the same room. Thank you." The microphone clicked off, and the noise echoed clearly in the stunned silence that had gathered.
The sound of silence was intruded upon as someone dropped a stapler in shock. Reactions began to kick in, leading several people to scream, and a few to faint. Someone in the next department over shouted, "My sister lives there!" and ran to the lobby.
Code yellow was one of the call codes for teams of reserve employees that could be called upon to report or handle situations that came up suddenly and needed immediate attention. The designated employees for each code had a small symbol with that color on their identification tags, nameplates, and notepads. Usually, these employees had been with the newspaper for at least two years.
Lisanne held her wide-eyed expression for a few more moments, closed her eyes, and hit her head on the table repeatedly. After her fit, she rolled her eyes and gave Reyna a cross look. "Sure, now look what we're all mired in."
Reyna paused, glanced around at the many people getting up to respond to the code, and said, "Well, maybe they aren't out to get you, specifically."
***
"Amazing. Just amazing," Carmina Hoyle commented scathingly as she and Deanna Mucklestone filed into the main auditorium with the rest of the stunned and outraged personnel. "We all have the luck of an intoxicated pigeon in the middle of the Muggle M-40."
Multitudes of other people designated to code yellow were streaming in by way of the two other double doorways leading into the Kubinski Auditorium. It had been named after some madly eccentric woman who had long been lost in the annals of Daily Prophet history. The architecture seemed to reflect her purported personality; flourishes of molding lined the walls in nautilus patterns and the seating was arranged in a most confusing fashion. She'd thrown herself out of a window at age forty-two.
As everyone seated themselves, one of the assistant heads of department walked up to the half-cylindrical podium. He spoke the Sonorus charm, and cleared his throat. The audience quieted.
"You have been gathered here today because a great tragedy has occurred, and as a reputable national newspaper, we are duty-bound to investigate and report upon it to the best of our ability. The department traditionally used for this, the Dark Events Alert department, was disbanded in 1982 after the fall of You-Know-Who. We have brought you here today to recreate that department, quickly, using the employees we already have. All employees who previously held a job in the DEA department shall take up their old positions. New employees will be added as they are hired. Also, some of the staff designated to respond to a code yellow shall be pulled from their positions to work in this department. These employees were chosen by chance; there is no favoritism or dislike involved. It does not matter what position you currently hold. This list was created entirely by random selection."
At that point in his speech, and unnamed person in the audience loudly interrupted, "And a one in a million chance happens nine times out of ten!"
The assistant head of department glared at the speaker, unrolled a scroll he had been clutching tightly, and continued. "For all of your basic knowledge, the attack took place on the Knight Bus, and several people were killed. I know that many of you are worried about your friends and family, but I request that you not leave. Your must first take care of your job." He cleared his throat again. "I shall be the new head of department for the DEA. I will now use a rather simple spell to notify the selection of employees to be reassigned." He cast a spell that Deanna recognized, which took names off a list or from a book or other papers, and marked the owners of those names with bright magic flares. Sure enough, purple flames appeared above several dozen people, in a fashion that appeared to have no pattern or organization at all. She herself looked up, but there was thankfully no such flame above her head. There was, however, a flare of violet above the head of her companion, Carmina. She prodded Carmina in the arm, and pointed upward. Carmina Hoyle looked up, and sighed. Everyone had heard on some occasion the horror stories about casualties in the DEA when it existed. The direction of her adult life would be very different from this point forward; she was now a journalist taking risks, going out into the field and possibly being maimed, tortured, or killed. Deanna smiled sadly at her, and wished her luck.
"All former DEA employees, and all employees who have been reassigned to the DEA, please come to the front of the room. These people, including Hoyle and many others, slowly streamed to the front and were directed through a door off the side of the auditorium. After the last person had filed through, with the new Head of the DEA following after a short declaration of "Dismissed", the door was closed with a soft click. The people who had been spared from selection slowly got up, left the auditorium, and went back to their relatively normal lives.
***
"For those of you who were formerly in the DEA department, we shall be reopening that area of offices from storage. You shall all be pulled from your current positions and relocated permanently." Franz DeBus, (formerly) of the Government department, took a deep breath and sighed, garnering him a displeased look from Ereck Chimfrent. "Not all of you will have assignments yet, but for those of you who do, please come retrieve them as your name is called."
"Carmina Hoyle." She stood up, being directly in from of the speaker, and fingered the packet with trepidation. "Michael Claypool. Reyna Moody. Lisanne Holstein. Chantelle Nemitz. Johanna Moonen. Cameron Wrident." Some people querulously snatched their folders, others were repulsed by the notion. "The rest of you will start tomorrow."
***
Chapter 2, encompassing Day 1 (I think) shall be posted later today or early tomorrow, God willin' and th' crick don't rise. I've already gotten a good portion of this thing written on scraps of paper, and need only to type it up and polish it. Except for the bit with Adalberto, the schizophrenic who talks to his appliances, and his bowl of chili. I don't know how that got into this binder.
AUTHOR: Empty Backpack
SUMMARY: A chronicle of the downfall of wizarding society, leading from the second uprising of Lord Voldemort to the community's final days.
WARNINGS: PG for mild, non-explicit violence. Violence may become explicit, at which point the rating will be changed to PG-13. This hundred-section monstrosity is also, by Day 78, the lead-in to a rather sad AU slash piece, of HP/SS. But you don't need to read that ever, and I recommend that you probably shouldn't. As was said, this will be a hundred and two sections, for a prologue, 100 days, and an epilogue. It will not, however, be 102 chapters. Hopefully. To quote a college teacher who beta-ed this, "God willin' and th' crick don't rise."
NOTES: This has been in the works and planned out on paper since January of 2001. This was before September 11th, before the shrub's "War on Iraq", and is not intended to copy, parody, or otherwise represent anything that's been in the news in the last three years. The only thing "ripped from the headlines" is the imagery for a later scene, in which a bus windshield covered in blood is described. This is a real photograph from the Palestinian-Israeli conflict. I thought that the photograph made an excruciating point.
The characterization in this prologue and first chapter is extremely poorly done, and I apologize for the relative uniformity of the characters. This changes in later chapters as I become a more experienced writer, and after I have Day 3 posted, I will drastically rewrite this first section. Now, however, I need to have it up before the 20th, otherwise none of it will have any relevance with the availability of Book 5. This story is a long- term commitment, and I have all days planned out in detail. I spent a week doing this. I will not suddenly drop the plotline, never to be seen again. 1633 words, and Ereck is pronounced air-EEK.
Good luck in reading this, and have fun. I sure didn't. If I seriously botched something, please yell at me at kariannye@aol.com.
***
PROLOGUE March 13, 1995
"Give a man fire, and he's warm for a day. Light him on fire, and he's warm for the rest of his life." -Terry Pratchett
***
"I WANT RITA SKEETER AND I WANT HER NOW!" shouted the Head of the Columnists Department at the Daily Prophet, a wizarding newspaper. Whoever was taking so long to fetch the blasted woman would pay for this dearly. Quite dearly, in fact, with their job, reputation, and finances. The speaker made a mental note to fire his secretary, as well. She made poor quality coffee. At that, why not fire everyone? With the courier employees already on strike, it wouldn't make much difference.
He was shut up by someone fast-stepping by and saying, "Ah, shut your fat mouth, Robert Sorenson! The lad says she's not available, and she's not available!" Johanna Moonen gestured vaguely in the direction of poor Cameron Wrident, who had been the one being chewed by Mr. Sorenson. He gave her a thankful look, and she walked on. Sorenson angrily stalked off, annoyed at his authority being undermined, but unable to cause any fuss about it. Cameron again looked over the stack of papers Nancy Wiggins, and editor, had returned to him, and got up to take the article to be printed. On his way, he stopped at the communal coffee pot and greeted Michael Claypool of the Global News Department, who was on his way to ask Lisanne Holstein to read over some article about new cauldron manufacturing regulations. He offered to deliver Cameron's article, as the Printing Department was situated right near his destination. While they were talking, Carmina Hoyle of Muggle News also stopped by for her morning tea fix. The three chatted idly for several minutes, about their bosses, a new shipment of Quick-Quotes Quills, and the upstart Chantelle Nemitz in Lifestyle, whose parents had most likely been dead-set on embarrassing her when choosing that name. Michael took Cameron's article, and delivered it on his way to see Lisanne.
"Top of the morning to you, Lissy! And what's new in the world today?" Lisanne rolled her eyes, and looked pointedly at the pile of papers on her desk.
"Too much is new. Now, unless you have a damned good reason to be here, or you have something more for me to edit, shoo!" She grabbed the article from his hands, and turned to her next customer. Noticing that Michael was still standing there, she said, "Go on, get out of here! I'm sure you've got better things to do than pester an already harried editor!" Michael backed away, and Lisanne edgily returned to her business with Ms. Moody.
Reyna said conversationally, "You know, not everyone here is out to get you, Holstein."
"Oh yes, they are! Look at that Nemitz woman over in Lifestyle. With a name like that, you know what the bosses think she's good for! And that Deanna Mucklestone, from Government. She just piles it on, gives everything to me to edit, rather than distributing it evenly like everyone else does. They're all out to cause me to have a mental breakdown!"
"Actually. I do believe that Claypool kid likes you, Holstein. You should treat him better."
Lisanne snorted, almost spitting out her response. "A load of rubbish, that is. Just what Nancy told me the other day. If he thinks I'm so nice, he can go-"
"Lisanne! There is no call for that. Everyone is not, in fact, out to disturb you." The magically operated public announcement system beeped. "See, I'm sure now that they're paging you to say you've won a lottery, or something."
The emotionless, nasal voice over the PA announced, "There has been a Death Eater attack near Ottery St. Catchpole. This is a code yellow. All employees designated to respond to this code, please report to the main conference hall. " There was a pause. "Also, former members of the DEA must report to the same room. Thank you." The microphone clicked off, and the noise echoed clearly in the stunned silence that had gathered.
The sound of silence was intruded upon as someone dropped a stapler in shock. Reactions began to kick in, leading several people to scream, and a few to faint. Someone in the next department over shouted, "My sister lives there!" and ran to the lobby.
Code yellow was one of the call codes for teams of reserve employees that could be called upon to report or handle situations that came up suddenly and needed immediate attention. The designated employees for each code had a small symbol with that color on their identification tags, nameplates, and notepads. Usually, these employees had been with the newspaper for at least two years.
Lisanne held her wide-eyed expression for a few more moments, closed her eyes, and hit her head on the table repeatedly. After her fit, she rolled her eyes and gave Reyna a cross look. "Sure, now look what we're all mired in."
Reyna paused, glanced around at the many people getting up to respond to the code, and said, "Well, maybe they aren't out to get you, specifically."
***
"Amazing. Just amazing," Carmina Hoyle commented scathingly as she and Deanna Mucklestone filed into the main auditorium with the rest of the stunned and outraged personnel. "We all have the luck of an intoxicated pigeon in the middle of the Muggle M-40."
Multitudes of other people designated to code yellow were streaming in by way of the two other double doorways leading into the Kubinski Auditorium. It had been named after some madly eccentric woman who had long been lost in the annals of Daily Prophet history. The architecture seemed to reflect her purported personality; flourishes of molding lined the walls in nautilus patterns and the seating was arranged in a most confusing fashion. She'd thrown herself out of a window at age forty-two.
As everyone seated themselves, one of the assistant heads of department walked up to the half-cylindrical podium. He spoke the Sonorus charm, and cleared his throat. The audience quieted.
"You have been gathered here today because a great tragedy has occurred, and as a reputable national newspaper, we are duty-bound to investigate and report upon it to the best of our ability. The department traditionally used for this, the Dark Events Alert department, was disbanded in 1982 after the fall of You-Know-Who. We have brought you here today to recreate that department, quickly, using the employees we already have. All employees who previously held a job in the DEA department shall take up their old positions. New employees will be added as they are hired. Also, some of the staff designated to respond to a code yellow shall be pulled from their positions to work in this department. These employees were chosen by chance; there is no favoritism or dislike involved. It does not matter what position you currently hold. This list was created entirely by random selection."
At that point in his speech, and unnamed person in the audience loudly interrupted, "And a one in a million chance happens nine times out of ten!"
The assistant head of department glared at the speaker, unrolled a scroll he had been clutching tightly, and continued. "For all of your basic knowledge, the attack took place on the Knight Bus, and several people were killed. I know that many of you are worried about your friends and family, but I request that you not leave. Your must first take care of your job." He cleared his throat again. "I shall be the new head of department for the DEA. I will now use a rather simple spell to notify the selection of employees to be reassigned." He cast a spell that Deanna recognized, which took names off a list or from a book or other papers, and marked the owners of those names with bright magic flares. Sure enough, purple flames appeared above several dozen people, in a fashion that appeared to have no pattern or organization at all. She herself looked up, but there was thankfully no such flame above her head. There was, however, a flare of violet above the head of her companion, Carmina. She prodded Carmina in the arm, and pointed upward. Carmina Hoyle looked up, and sighed. Everyone had heard on some occasion the horror stories about casualties in the DEA when it existed. The direction of her adult life would be very different from this point forward; she was now a journalist taking risks, going out into the field and possibly being maimed, tortured, or killed. Deanna smiled sadly at her, and wished her luck.
"All former DEA employees, and all employees who have been reassigned to the DEA, please come to the front of the room. These people, including Hoyle and many others, slowly streamed to the front and were directed through a door off the side of the auditorium. After the last person had filed through, with the new Head of the DEA following after a short declaration of "Dismissed", the door was closed with a soft click. The people who had been spared from selection slowly got up, left the auditorium, and went back to their relatively normal lives.
***
"For those of you who were formerly in the DEA department, we shall be reopening that area of offices from storage. You shall all be pulled from your current positions and relocated permanently." Franz DeBus, (formerly) of the Government department, took a deep breath and sighed, garnering him a displeased look from Ereck Chimfrent. "Not all of you will have assignments yet, but for those of you who do, please come retrieve them as your name is called."
"Carmina Hoyle." She stood up, being directly in from of the speaker, and fingered the packet with trepidation. "Michael Claypool. Reyna Moody. Lisanne Holstein. Chantelle Nemitz. Johanna Moonen. Cameron Wrident." Some people querulously snatched their folders, others were repulsed by the notion. "The rest of you will start tomorrow."
***
Chapter 2, encompassing Day 1 (I think) shall be posted later today or early tomorrow, God willin' and th' crick don't rise. I've already gotten a good portion of this thing written on scraps of paper, and need only to type it up and polish it. Except for the bit with Adalberto, the schizophrenic who talks to his appliances, and his bowl of chili. I don't know how that got into this binder.