The Next War: Chapter 1, The Start of it All
"Speech"
'Thoughts'
"Parseltongue"
Author's Note
Location. Date, and Time
If you recognize it, I don't own it. All magical characters, plus Dursley's, belong to J.K. Rowling. I may take some plot ideas from other stories, but this is my own story. Be warned, because of the theme of this story, I use 24-hour time. I'm including a guide so it isn't as confusing. This is my first fanfiction, so it probably won't be very good at first, but I hope to improve. Please no flames, but I'm not going to respond to them if they do come. If you don't like this story, please don't read it. Most of the events in this story are fictional, but some might not. Some canon characters will have some slightly fictional birthdays, as it is not clear the date they are born, or, in Victoire's case, the year. I have all respect for members of the UK military. I am American, so I will probably mess some stuff up. When I do, please correct me! Also, I know it's a HUGE cliché for an SAS Harry, but he can't be SBS, as he is way too at home in the air! I think I can break away from the main stream on this one. At least, I hope I can!
Who Dares Wins!
Guide for 24-hour time
1 AM is 01:00, 2 AM is 02:00, 3 AM is 03:00, 4 AM is 04:00, 5 AM is 05:00, 6 AM is 06:00, 7 AM is 07:00, 8 AM is 08:00, 9 AM is 09:00, 10 AM is 10:00, 11 AM is 11:00, 12 PM (Noon) is 12:00 1 PM is 13:00, 2 PM is 14:00, 3 PM is 15:00, 4 PM is 16:00, 5 PM is 17:00, 6 PM is 18:00, 7 PM is 19:00, 8 PM is 20:00, 9 PM is 21:00, 10 PM is 22:00, 11 PM is 23:00, and 12 AM (Midnight) is 00:00.
Trafalgar Square, London, England. August 18, 2001, 12:32
"Why the bloody hell did we agree to meet that whelp in the middle of a hot summer day? He's late as well!" yelled the fat, red-faced Vernon Dursley.
"Da, it's only 26 degrees, and he's just two minutes late!" Replied his equally large 21-year old son, Dudley.
"He should be here on time, we taught him better than that!" interjected Petunia, Vernon's wife.
"Not really," muttered Dudley under his breath.
The trio were standing next to Nelson's Column in Trafalgar Square, London. It was a hot day, and they were scheduled to meet Harry Potter, Vernon and Petunia's nephew, and Dudley's cousin. Dudley had been in contact with Harry for about three years; however, his parents had exchanged a scarce few letters. For the first time in just over four years, they were going to meet face-to-face. They hadn't left on good terms, but it hadn't necessarily bad. Except, of course, for the deranged psychopath chasing down Harry… But let's just forget that.
"I still don't see him Pet, and it's five past already! I say we leave!" Vernon said to his wife.
"And I missed you as well Uncle!" said a tall, lanky, black-haired man, walking up to them.
"Harry! You're looking great!" Dudley rushed up to the man and gave him a bear-hug.
"You too Big-D!" Harry Potter replied, chuckling. Turning towards his aunt and uncle, he forced a smile.
"And how have you been Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon?" he ground out.
"Just peachy," the elder Dursley retorted in an equally unpleased tone.
"Fine, and you?" Petunia snapped.
"Good."
They all stared at each other for a moment, before a voice cut through the awkward silence.
"Harry! I told you to slow down!"
A petite, red-haired, and very pregnant, young woman came up and hugged Harry.
"It's not my fault you're slow Ginny!" he retorted.
"I'm just going to let you think about that for a second," Ginny replied.
"Yeah, I'll take that back now," he said sheepishly.
"Are you going to introduce us to you friend Boy?" Vernon growled.
"Oh! Yes! Vernon, Petunia, this is my wife, Ginny Potter, nee Weasley."
"WIFE?! How could someone like you get a wife?!" Petunia screeched.
"Well, I..."
"Let me handle this Potter," Ginny said, glaring at the older couple. "Contrary to your thinking, and your parenting techniques, Harry is a smart, wise, brave, kind, and good man. Of course, I was shocked that you could even think, seeing as you seem to have a combined IQ of 10."
"How dare you!" Vernon yelled, clenching his fists.
"Guys, guys! Let's just calm down now! No need to get angry, either of you," Dudley interjected, having been quite up until now.
"She should at least apologize!"
"And I'm sure she will, but Mum should also apologize to Harry for insulting him."
"Fine. Vernon, Petunia, I apologize for letting my emotions get the best of me," Ginny said, slightly annoyed.
"Forget it," Vernon grumbled.
"And I'm sorry for offending you Harry," Petunia added huffily.
"Apology accepted. Now, how about we go get lunch?" Harry sighed.
"Great idea! Let's go to that new Indian restaurant just around the corner, I hear they…"
Dudley was cut off by a shout coming from nearby.
"ALLAHU AKBAR!"
A massive explosion tore through the crowded area. Flames shot into the sky as people screamed. The group was knocked flat.
Harry awoke to a vision of terror. Blood clotted his eyes. Bodies lay everywhere. Rubble was strewn across the square. A person stirred here and there. People gawked at the carnage, but the voices were jumbled together, quiet, in Harry's mind. The wavering pulse of sirens cut through the silence. Instantly, his mind came into focus. Voices called out, some debating what was seen and heard, some calling out for loved ones, others calling out in pain. As Harry rose, a sharp pain dug into his side. He looked down, and sensed more than saw the blood trickling down his side. But only one thought permeated the shocked quagmire inside his head. 'Ginny! Where is she? Is she okay? Is the baby okay?'
"Sir! We need you to lay still, you're bleeding badly!" A paramedic was leaning over him, attempting to cleanse the wound.
"Ginny!" Harry croaked, "Where is she?"
"Who is Ginny? You're daughter? Wife? Sister?"
"Wife," he mumbled, "pregnant."
"Sir, we have to get you to the hospital first! She'll be there, we can help you find her there," the paramedic said, tense.
"I have to get her! She's my wife!"
"I know sir, she will be okay!"
"But she's my wife!"
"We'll find her, we just have to get you to surgery."
Then, everything was black again.
"We need a surgeon here fast! He's losing blood!"
"I don't think this one'll make it!"
"CLEAR!"
"I'm sorry ma'am, you daughter's injuries were too great to recover from."
A hospital, packed with doctors and nurses, scrambling through corridors, stretchers rushing from room to room. Families crying as doctors gave them the bad news, others thanking God for good news.
Yet again, Harry awoke. This time, however, there were no dead bodies, strewn rubble, or sirens. It was white. Just white.
'Oh bloody hell, did I end up in the Hospital Wing again? Pomfrey'll have a fit! Oh, I left Hogwarts years ago. Where am I then?'
A slow, steady beeping aroused him from his thoughts. He looked around. Machines lay to one side of him, tubes feeding into him. On the other, a tray of hospital food. A Muggle hospital then. Slowly, the events of the day flowed back into his brain.
'Ginny! Where is she?!'
The curtain opened, a nurse stepping through.
"Glad to see you are awake sir!" the tall woman said.
"Where am I?" the green-eyed man asked.
"St. Thomas' Hospital sir. Do you remember what happened?"
"An explosion. My wife, where is she? Her name is Ginny Potter, I'm Harry Potter."
"Let me check sir," the nurse responded, walking to the nurse's desk.
"Thank you."
As he lay back, he wondered if his wife was okay. Even if she was, would the baby be okay?
Walking back into the room, the nurse checked her clipboard.
"Your wife is okay sir, and I can move you into the same room," She stated.
"Yes please."
The nurse came behind the stretcher, pushing him and his IV through the halls. Everything but Ginny blurred in his mind, like water flowing around a rock.
Turning into a room, Harry saw red hair splayed around a pillow.
"Ginny!"
"Harry!"
Ginny reached out to grab Harry's hand, grunted, and then pulled back, placing her hand on her stomach. A doctor sat in the room, apparently speaking to Ginny.
"Ah! You're Mr. Potter. There is something I must tell you two."
Ginny gasped, "Is the baby okay?"
"I'm afraid I can't give you that good news, no matter how much I wish I could. A piece of shrapnel from the bomb pierced the uterus, and killed your child."
"NO! The baby can't be dead! We have an appointment Monday, we're having another ultrasound. This must be a nightmare! Yeah, it's a nightmare! I'll just pinch myself, I'll wake up next to Ginny, and we'll leave for London! It's just a dream, right?" Harry said, running out of breath.
"It's true Harry, I hate to say it, but it's true. She's gone, I can tell," Ginny sobbed.
"No! It's just a nightmare Ginny! A dream! An illusion!" Harry panted, desperately pinching his arm.
'It's a dream, it's a dream, it's a dream, it's a dream, it's a dream, it's a dre…'
The world started spinning, and for the third time in a day, everything went black.
"Ronald! Turn that down! I doubt the first thing they'll want to hear when they wake up is the Chudley Cannon's game! Especially after what they've been through!"
"But 'Mione, it's a cheerful thing, and God knows they need cheering! Also, if they win this, they'll be in the Championship! This is the farthest they've gotten!"
"Ron, it might be cheerful, but it's far too loud!"
The couple sat in chairs next to Harry's bed, the Weasley parents sitting across from them, near Ginny. George sat in a corner, quietly toying with a yo-yo in the corner, his wife, Angelina rubbing his back. Andromeda gently bounced Teddy on her knee, staring out the window. The rest of the family waited outside the room, along with many friends.
"Ron, if you must put on a game, at least put on a good team, like the Harpies," Ginny croaked.
Instantly, all heads turned to the young woman. Mrs. Weasley sobbed, and grabbed her into a hug, while Mr. Weasley patted Ginny's back.
"She's really gone isn't she? Just like Fred 'eh? I bet she woulda' been a prankster like him. They both went out with a boom huh? Just like ol' Fred…" George muttered from the corner.
Angelina gave him a pitying look, and sighed.
Ron and Hermione Weasley's Flat, London, England. September 11, 2001, 13:44
"Hey Harry! I thought you'd be here later!"
The tall, freckled, ginger opened his door to see a tired looking Harry Potter.
"Hi Ron. Sorry to drop by early, but I finished my meeting early," he replied wearily.
Hermione popped her head around the door frame, "Oh! I heard that today was your first appointment with that psychiatrist! How was it?"
Harry sighed dejectedly, "I'm glad that she's a muggle, so she doesn't obsess over me, but it's hard to discuss things without hinting at magic."
"I imagine so. On a cheerier note, we just installed a television, would you like to watch the news with us?"
"Why not? I can't wait to see Ron's attempt at electricity blow up in his face!" Harry replied.
"Oi! I spent four hours on that bloody thing!" The redhead responded jokingly.
"Language Ronald!"
"Sorry 'Mione."
"Damn Ron, you are whipped!" Harry joked, sitting down in front of the couch.
Just as Hermione flipped on the telly, Harry gasped, and grabbed his head.
"Harry! What's wrong?" Hermione asked, "it's not your… your… scar, is it?"
"No! I don't know! Something is just wrong!" Harry ground out through clenched teeth.
"Ron! Get a damp cloth! Fast!"
Ron ran to the kitchen throwing open drawers and cupboards.
"Hermione, you just rearranged, where are the cloths?"
"Are you a wizard or not?" She replied, making Harry remember a scene from their first year.
"Oh! Right! Accio cloth!"
Ron grabbed the cloth out of midair, and dunked it in the sink. He walked back in just as Harry was sitting back up.
"What happened mate?" he inquired.
"Still not sure, but it doesn't hurt. It just feels like something is wrong. You know, like when your foot falls asleep, and it just doesn't feel right?"
"Yeah, I think so."
Harry flipped on the telly, needing a distraction.
"Harry, you shouldn't be watching telly right now, we should take you to St. Mungo's or something, or at least let me cast some diagnostic charms on you!"
"No, we need to see this, I think I know what's wrong…" He said in a strangled tone.
As Hermione and Ron turned to the television, they each sucked in a breath. A terrible scene was unfolding. The picture was of smoke and flames pouring from the side of a tall tower. A reporter was talking.
"This just in, you are looking at an obviously very disturbing live shot there, that is the World Trade Center and we have unconfirmed reports this morning that a plane has crashed into one of the towers of the World Trade Center."
"Oh my gods," said Hermione, "what the hell happened?"
"I don't know! Also, how and why are we on an American news show?" Ron questioned.
"I think my magic warned me what was happening, and showed me the best source." Harry replied breathlessly, watching the smoke broiling out of the building. They continued watching raptly while witnesses were interviewed, and the cause discussed.
About fifteen minutes later, Hermione and Harry sat in the kitchen, waiting for the tea to steep.
"Is this the first time you've had something like this happen to you Harry?" The witch asked.
"Maybe. Sometimes, like in the Battle, I've felt things, but I passed it off as nothing, or maybe Tom acting up. Just a little tingling, nothing big. This time, it was like the scar all over again, except worse, and all over my head. A different kind of pain. Less like something in my head trying to get out, and more like something compre… AUGH!"
He keeled over, clutching his head again. In the next room over, Ron cried out.
"NO! NO!"
Hermione rushed in, seeing the South Tower explode.
"OH MY GODS!" she cried, "did you see what happened?"
"Another one Mione, another one! Just like that man said, a plane crashed into other building! That's got to be intentional! Why would anyone do that? Why?" He yelled, jumping up.
"Evil men and women like Tom and Bellatrix aren't confined to the wizarding world Ron. There are even more in the muggle world. Hitler, Pot, Stalin, Mao, Hussein. And those are just in the last fifty years." Harry said, almost silently, entering from the kitchen.
"But why? What did the world do to them?"
"Some just want power, and some are just insane. No one on this world truly understands evil."
"I just wish that someone could do something about it…" The red head sighed, "Just, end it."
AN: If someone disrespects that day, that terrible day, then you should be sent back in time to see the death, terror, and horror of it all. If you believe that 9/11 was some crazy inside job, you can believe what you want, but don't disrespect that terrible, terrible day. This story is operating on the belief that it was indeed Al-Qaeda. May the victims rest in peace, and their killers burn in the deepest darkest depths of Hell and the Lake of Fire for eternity. On a cheerier note, this will be the first chapter, and it will be awhile before I upload more. I plan (emphasis on PLAN, whether this will actually happen is special) on uploading in blocks of chapters. Sorry for the short chapter. I will try to make them longer, but no promises. Also, I would like to have a beta, if anyone is interested.