Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Harry Potter pressed his nose against the cool glass of the Hogwarts Express window. All the towns they'd passed through looked the same. No car moved. Glass littered the sidewalks and roads from smashed windows. Clusters of people huddled together, warily watching other groups on the streets. A grey haze from out of control fires dimmed the light from the sun.
He turned to Hermione. "Maybe death eaters attacked these towns? With Dumbledore gone…"
She shook her head, taut muscles broadcasting wariness and concern. "No. It's only been a few days since he died. And if it was magical, the Daily Prophet would have covered it." Her lip curled with disdain at the mention of that rag.
"What, then?" Ron asked from behind them.
"I don't know." Hermione's troubled voice answered. "Perhaps there were massive rolling black outs or brown outs. Those cause riots sometimes." Upon seeing Ron's confused expression, she simplified, "The electricity goes out sometimes."
"I'm sure the muggles will take care of things, then." Ron dismissed with a wave of his hand, his interest waning. He drifted back to his abandoned gobstones game with Ginny, Neville, and Luna.
Harry and Hermione exchanged a doubtful glance. Riots in towns across Scotland and England were a bit unlikely, but they could do nothing but watch.
"My parents," Hermione murmured, tilting her head towards him while still looking out the window.
Harry nodded. "I'm not worried about the Dursleys, though." He flashed a grin at her. "Maybe they won't come to pick me up this year." Hope surged through him for a moment.
She smiled wanly back, her forehead creased with worry, before looking out the window. The train gradually slowed to a halt and chaos ensued as students struggled with their luggage while exiting the train.
Harry ducked his head as he maneuvered his trunk through crowds of reuniting parents and students on Platform 9 ¾. The happiness had an air of hysteria underlying it. Harry couldn't blame them, even if they hadn't noticed the strange state of the towns across the country. After Dumbledore's death, nothing felt safe, and King's Cross Station made an excellent target for death eaters. Especially this year, with the majority of Slytherin students pulled out by their parents before the funeral.
He wished that caps weren't so obviously muggle. He'd like to pull one low over his forehead to hide his scar. There were far too many ministry officials here for comfort.
As the crowds thinned, Hermione pulled up next to him. "All those trains stopped on the tracks looked abandoned, too. No lights, no people, the same as in the towns. It's not normal." Her eyes scanned the crowd fruitlessly for her parents.
"Everything will be fine. Don't worry about it." Ron said. "Bad things happen all the time and civilization is still here. What I want to know is what's for dinner. I'm starving!"
"If everything's fine, then where's your parents?" Hermione pointed out.
"Lots of parents are here!" Ron protested, gesturing back to the crowd of parents and students.
"Yes, but do all those parents travel by car to get to London?" Hermione's quick reply silenced Ron.
The friends slowed to a stop outside the barrier to the muggle world. One last search for Ron's parents yielded nothing. With trepidation and concerned looks, they made their way through the barrier at Platform 9 ¾.
Acrid smoke hung over King's Cross Station, surprising Harry to a standstill. Ron's cart nearly knocked him off his feet. Harry quickly got out of the way, barely noticing the pain in his calves that signaled the beginning of a spectacular set of bruises. His gaze swept over the King's Cross. Instead of a bright, bustling crowd, the empty platform allowed him to see the burned out husks of buildings all around him. Glass crunched under foot as he turned around.
"Blimey," Ron breathed. "What happened?"
"I don't know," Harry absently replied. Bits of utility pipe littered the ground, laying in pools of gas-fouled water. The previously smooth brick was pockmarked here and there with bullet holes.
Both turned to Hermione and Ginny and watched their faces pale in shock.
After several long moments Hermione said, "Well, this explains why there were so many stopped trains. It's a good thing the Hogwarts Express has its own set of tracks."
Harry glanced at her in surprise.
"Honestly, Harry! If you would only read Hogwarts a History..." she trailed off, the gravity of the situation overwhelming the brief moment of levity.
"I think we should check things out." Harry stated, noticing the small crowd of muggle-born students gathering behind them. A cold trickle down his spine caused him to turn quickly in his spot. Something was wrong.
Danger.
Harry pulled out his wand, regardless of the fact that he was in the muggle world. "Seventh years – take the younger students back through the barrier. We'll wait there for parents. If we need to, we can go through the floo." He paused. Indecision and confusion written on their faces. The hair on his neck stood on end as the feeling of danger heightened.
"Move!" He ordered.
Kids scrambled to heave trunks back through the barrier while Harry scanned the surroundings. Hermione slipped beside him, a question on her face.
"Something's wrong, Hermione!" He grimaced. "More than the obvious." He caught a flash of light out of the corner of his eye. He turned, peering intently into the broken windows of the train station. Could it really be -
"Down!" He yelled, frantically pulling Hermione down with him.
Boom! An earsplitting roar echoed across the platform, pieces of tan brick from the wall housing the portal to Platform 9¾ falling on Harry, Hermione, and Ron.
How does a bullet not go through the magical platform that isn't really there to begin with? Harry wondered numbly. He glanced around and saw that only he, Ron and Hermione were still on the platform, and Ron's trunk was missing. Ginny, Harry realized. She must have pushed hers through while grabbing Ron's. That would make this much easier.
A nasal shout interrupted his thoughts. "We only want your trunks. Do as I say and you won't be shot." Harry, Ron, and Hermione rolled behind the two trunks. Harry whispered quick directions to them.
"Leave your trunks!" The nasal voice was becoming shrill.
"Now!" Harry said, and Hermione dove through the barrier while Harry and Ron grabbed the handle of each trunk and hurled themselves after her.
Harry caught the tell-tale crack of a gunshot as he disappeared, and he knew the extra push on his trunk as he went through the barrier meant his plan had worked – if barely.
He slowly got to his feet and examined the hole in his trunk – a monster-sized slug hole. Maybe it hit his potion's cauldron? That's the only way he could still be alive. He pushed the thought away and examined the crowd of frightened faces.
An authoritative man with tawny hair glided toward him. Of course he'd be here with the rest of his ministry cronies.
"Minister." Harry said coldly, pointing toward the muggle platform. "What's going on out there?"
"Oh, my boy, nothing too much. Apparently a nation went rogue. Irene? Irin? No – Iran! That's it. They fired off some of those silly nuclear bombs, but they all exploded high up in the air, so no harm done."
The minister's jovial tone couldn't be real, could it? Was he just trying to keep everyone calm? Harry wondered.
"All their ekeltricity is out, but I'm sure everything will be back to normal soon." The stress, even the hint of panic, in Scrimgeour's eyes gave lie to his words.
Hermione gasped behind him. "Nuclear weapons? Exploding high in the atmosphere?" She stepped around Harry to ask the minister, "Was it an EMP? An electromagnetic pulse?"
The minister cleared his throat, clearly out of his depth with the unfamiliar muggle words. "I believe Britain's prime minister said something about EMP. He wanted us to help them – imagine that! Who knows anything about ekeltricity? I'm sure things aren't as bad as he was making them out to be. After all, muggles have been around a lot longer than ekeltricity!" He gave a winning smile.
Harry could actually hear Hermione grind her teeth, but she merely asked, "What countries got hit by an EMP?"
"Why, all of them. Didn't I mention that nation that went rogue? Cleansing the Earth of Great Satan and its industrial, capitalist taint. Something about living the same way people did in Mohammed's time." He turned a suddenly hard gaze on Harry and Hermione, as if they were responsible. "This happened just after Dumbledore's death. It hardly seems a coincidence."
Ignoring the minister, Hermione paled again and swayed where she stood. "My parents!" She turned to Harry. "How are we going to find them? It's a war zone out there and it's been a week since all electricity was lost!"
Molly bustled up. "Excellent! We've found you. Something's wrong with the Anglia. Arthur can't get it to work, but we can go home by floo powder."
"But my parents -" Hermione said, voice rising.
"Dear, didn't you know your parents are staying with us? They have been since Dumbledore -" She broke off, voice tight and tears in her eyes. "We were worried about their safety," she finished quietly.
Hermione took several deep, calming breaths. Harry could see that she was still on the edge of panic, but in control now.
"Mrs. Weasley," She began, "The Dursleys couldn't make it. We need to take Harry with us and then drop him off." She turned to the Minister. "He needs to renew his mother's protections."
Before the minister finished nodding, she smiled a bright, false smile and began hustling the Weasleys and Harry to the floo.
"Hermione, what about the other muggle-born students?" Harry hissed.
"We don't have time!" Hermione whispered back. She then turned and her clear voice carried over the crowd, "Minister, the muggle-born students need help reaching their families safely. Parents can't pick up their students at King's Cross - you'll see why if you go across the barrier. Is there anything the ministry can do?"
Harry marveled at the hint of flattery and obsequiousness Hermione deftly wove into her tone of voice. No wonder teachers loved her.
The minster seemed to inflate with self-importance as he agreed that all necessary measures would be taken to reunite students with their families. Flash bulbs went off as Hermione put some floo powder in his hand and shoved him toward the fire.
Harry spun out of the Burrow's fire place, tripping and falling on his face. Graceful as ever, he thought. I really hate traveling by floo.
Hermione spun out of the fireplace and collapsed in a heap on the floor, shoulders shaking with dry sobs.
Harry gradually realized that things were more serious than Hermione had let on at the train station. "Hermione, what's an EMP?" Harry asked quietly.
She shuddered once more and looked up, eyes blank as if she were seeing something other than the Burrow. "Harry, there's not much time," she finally said as she sat down on the threadbare sofa.
Harry noticed a slight tremble in her hands.
"In short, EMP stands for electromagnetic pulse. It's a side effect of nuclear weapons. When an atomic bomb goes off near the ground, the EMP generally spreads only as far as the destruction caused by the bomb. An EMP goes by line of sight, you see." She paused, searching for understanding in the eyes of Harry and the Weasleys.
Blank incomprehension stared back.
An EMP destroys all electronics," she began again. "A nuclear bomb going off 25 miles over Kansas could wipe out nearly all the electronics in the United States. It sounds like Iran took out all the electronics worldwide with strategically placed EMPs. Or perhaps they took control of other countries' nuclear stockpiles through cyber warfare." Horror roughened her voice, and she quickly dashed away angry tears. "The muggle world can't survive without electronics."
Stairs creaked, and Harry glanced toward the staircase. Hermione's parents appeared, and John Granger asked, "What's this about an EMP?"
Helen Granger came to a stop beside her husband, apprehension creasing her face.
Hermione breathed deeply and said, "Iran got everyone, at least according to the Minister of Magic. They wanted to return the world to what it was like when Mohammed came."
Helen convulsively grasped at her husband's arm, seeking security in a world that had just disintegrated.
John froze, as still as a statue, and Harry noticed that Hermione's dad wasn't breathing. He must not understand the magnitude of the problem. Hermione and her family were acting like this was the end of the world.
"Surely things aren't that bad, we can always rebuild..." Harry trailed off.
John Granger took a steadying breath and shook his head. "There will be no rebuilding," he stated. "We need electricity to get food and water to nearly every one on this planet. Food will rot while people starve because we can't transport it. Disease will run rampant as people drink untreated water. Typhoid, cholera. Society will disintegrate in a matter of weeks. Experts estimate that an EMP would result in a ninety percent mortality rate without outside aid." John broke off.
"And there will be no aid." Harry finished grimly. "The Minister of Magic already refused Britain's appeal for help."
Silence stretched out, broken only by slow deep breaths and the rustling of robes.
Finally, John turned to Molly. "How do you get your food?"
"Why, we go to the village market." She stopped, comprehension dawning.
John nodded. "I've studied what could happen in this kind of situation. I call myself a survivalist." He smiled briefly at Helen, a hint of humor in his eyes. "But Helen and Hermione call me paranoid." He wiped a hand across his brow despite the pleasant late afternoon temperature.
We have no time to lose, Molly." Helen stepped into the gap. "We need to send someone to check out things in the village. Do you have a way of going undetected?"
Molly nodded.
"Send someone to the village. Treat it like a war zone. It probably is."
Arthur stepped next to his wife, taking her hand. "Molly and I will survey the situation and get any food to be had."
He turned to his wife. "Molly, grab any spare change we have – sickles or pounds. We'll drop by Diagon Alley to gather the twins. After what happened at King's Cross, I suspect we have only hours before whatever this is hits our world."
Harry felt like his head was spinning. The whole world starve? Was that possible? Surely the wizarding world could transfigure the food. That would expose the magical world, but saving everyone was worth it.
"Harry!"
He dragged his attention back to Hermione, a sick dread battling a flicker of hope in his stomach, leaving nausea in its wake.
"You're coming with us." John and Helen were arrayed behind her, tension tightening the corners of their eyes. Hermione's fist clenched the handle of the bag slung over her shoulder, white knuckles belying her determined calm as she strode back to the fireplace.
She withdrew a handful of floo powder from the tin on the mantel, tossed it in and shouted, "Number two Primrose Lane," and whirled away.
Harry hoped number two Primrose Lane was Hermione's place. He nearly tripped over his feet as a he stumbled to a halt in front of the fireplace. Could muggles use the floo network? It wasn't like Hermione to forget about something like that.
"Can you even - " he ground to an awkward halt, embarrassment heightening the color in his cheeks. He felt as if he'd just rudely called attention to someone's handicap.
John smiled kindly and said, "The magic is in the floo powder. Hermione had our home hooked up to the floo network years ago. She wanted us to be as much a part of her new world as possible."
Harry nodded, threw the floo powder in the fireplace and clearly pronounced each word, despite the soot and ash filling the fireplace. He was not ending up in Knockturn Alley again.
To be continued...
Science Note: The science this story is based on is highly theoretical since nuclear weapons have not been detonated 200-300 miles above the earth since 1962. Our current nuclear weapons are more efficient at producing the three separate pulses that comprise a nuclear EMP attack, so an EMP attack may be more devastating than we anticipate.
A nuclear EMP has three different pulses, E1, E2, and E3. The E1 pulse is produced by gamma rays that knock electrons off atoms in the mid-stratoshere, with the end result of inducing high voltages in electrical conductors. Lightning protectors cannot keep up with this quickly changing surge of electricity, thus burning out computer circuits, not the wiring. Hence, anything with a circuit or a chip could go down. Lightbulbs and hairdryers would work, computers wouldn't.
The second pulse, E2, comes right on the heels of E1 and is produced by the weapon's neutrons. This pulse is quite similar to a lightning strike, and thus only damages electronics because it's coming right behind the E1 pulse, after the circuits are already damaged.
Finally, the E3 pulse of a nuclear EMP is a long, slow pulse that's caused by the weapon shifting the Earth's magnetic field, and then that magnetic field falling back into place. This geomagnetically induces an electric current in long stretches of wire, which is what takes out the tranformer boxes. The pulse travels too fast for the breakers on the transformer boxes to trigger.
Finally, a solar EMP only has the E3 pulse, while a nuclear EMP includes the E1, E2, and E3. There are a lot of variables. Things in faraday cages would be protected. The military may have hardened equipment, although we don't know how diligent they've been in protecting their equipment against this threat since the end of the Cold War. Old cars with vacuum tubes or few electronics – made in the 60s or before – would work. Of course, once they run out of gas in the tank, that's it for them. No more gas can be pumped from the gas stations, since that requires electricity. The same thing applies to all the vacuum cleaners, curling irons, etc.
Most of the information in this note comes from wikipedia's article on electromagnetic pulses.