A/N: I have established a new form for review responses and general commentary for this story. If you made a review and want an answer-chances are that forum is where you'll find it. And if I didn't respond to your review but you want an answer, that's the place to go.
Happy 2019. Let's hope we survive it.
Chapter Two: …And I Feel Fine
February 18th, 2009
Harry had dinner ready when Hermione returned home to Grimmauld Place. The home they lived in looked nothing like the home he inherited from Sirius Black. For one thing, it was completely wired to handle electricity using new, rubber-sheathed cable bundles that proved remarkably resistant to magic. It cost more, but the young, affluent magical couple found the expense well worth it.
They opened up many of the cramped rooms by removing the separating walls; they removed wall paper, painted and repaired surfaces, modernized the kitchen and bathrooms, and enclosed the attic to a fully functional exercise room. It was large enough that they regularly hosted friends or occasionally Hermione's mum with plenty of space for more if necessary. Luna and her equally dotty husband Rolf and starry-eyed twin children often stayed with them between trips.
When Hermione came through the floo after a day-long briefing with Minister Shacklebolt, she caught the scent of curry in the air, and despite the mounting terror she'd felt for the past week, she couldn't help but smile. It was her favorite dish and Harry made it for her upon returning from any travel that took her out of the house for more than a day.
He came out of the kitchen with a happy smile, swept her into his arms with a swirling dance which ended somehow with her pressed against his chest and his lips against hers. "Glad to have you back," he breathed after. "Dinner's ready."
He'd gone all out, too. Chicken curry with basmati rice and freshly made naan, and a rich red wine that perfectly complimented the meal. He even had a pair of candles to light their table. She saw all he'd done for her, and thought of all the other things he did for her on a regular basis, almost daily. Flowers (conjured if he couldn't find fresh ones), meals in bed, shoulder rubs on demand (the man's hands were almost as miraculous as his tongue); she had no doubt that he loved her because he made her feel loved.
And yet the terror was there, clouding her enjoyment of what should have been a wonderful meal. She ate in silence, smiling as he detailed a sting operation he drew up and planned in detail, capturing two former Death Eaters who were smuggling Muggle drugs. It was a joint operation with Scotland Yard and scored points for Harry on both sides of Diagon Alley.
Midway through the meal, though, he slowed down in his narrative and kept looking at her keenly over the rims of his now rectangular glasses (round glasses did not provide sufficient coverage of his peripheral vision, didn't you know?). "Hermione, there's something I would like to say."
Realizing this was the perfect opportunity to share her terror, Hermione said, "Good, Harry, I do to."
"Okay. I think we should have a baby.
"The world is going to end."
Both froze and stared at the other. Hermione recovered first and said, "What did you say?"
"Bugger that, I think you have priority," Harry said flatly.
So, haltingly at first, Hermione told him about their research in India, and then her travel to the United States to speak with the American Department of Magic and the United States Geological Survey, and finally to Geneva where they met in a secret, closed session of the International Confederation of Wizards.
"The Arithmantic projections match up almost precisely with the Muggle computer projections," Hermione said. "Almost every continent will shift so profoundly that it will be impossible to survive on land. We'll experience a level of volcanism not seen for hundreds of millions, perhaps even millions of millions years and tsunamis miles high. More importantly, though, the increasing radiation will kill every magical being on earth well before the end."
Harry stared at her intently, listening with his whole being as he did when something was important. While Harry could never multi-task as well as Hermione could, he was capable of an astonishing level of attention on whatever task he did undertake. It would work against him as DMLE director if not for the fact that he was also an amazing judge of character with a capable and insanely loyal staff. He had no problem delegating to ensure that the many details were not lost in his single-minded pursuits.
Now he sat on the edge of his seat, holding both her hands on either side of the candles and staring at her with those beautiful green eyes of his, as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world, while she told him with forced calm that the world itself was going to end.
"What is the ICW planning to do?" he finally asked.
"The Muggle governments are already drawing up plans," Hermione said. "They are planning on city-sized arks to stay afloat on the super-oceans that are undoubtedly going to form until the flares end and continents stabilize. It's actually a good idea—in every projection, magical or computerized, the oceans will remain. But Harry…that won't help us. The radiation is already there, and it's already slowly killing us. I had myself tested, as did Padma. Even Minister Shacklebolt is showing initial signs of radiation exposure. What might make Muggles sick will kill us completely."
Having held in the horror for so long, Hermione found she could no longer do so with her Harry staring so intently at her. The sobs came slowly at first, before bursting out in an uncontrolled torrent. Harry was around the table and holding her in a second—he could move so fast when he had reason. She collapsed into his arms, and he lifted her in those very same arms and carried her to the sitting room.
They made love for two hours straight that night, and spent another two hours simply holding each other and staring into the darkness.
~~Invincible~~
~~Invincible~~
Rolf Scamander was the first of their personal friends to die.
Two months after Hermione told Harry what was really happening, the naturalist—famed almost as much as his father—collapsed during the family's annual Snorcack Hunt with Luna and their children.
Harry was in his office working when the message came through—Luna Floo-called asking for him to come to Saint Mungos. Given that Luna was one of his oldest and dearest friends, and one of the few who did not begrudge his failed relationship with Ginny, he left immediately.
Even so, Rolf was already dead by the time he arrived. He found Luna staring despondently at the now empty bed, her wand as always tucked behind her ear. "Luna?" Harry asked.
"He's gone now," she said in an airy, empty voice. "I do wish we'd captured a Snorkack first, though. It would have made the hunts ever so much better."
Harry slowed his steps as he realized what had happened. "Where are your boys?"
"Staying with Daddy at the moment," she said.
Harry did not hesitate as he walked to her side and put an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him with a sigh. "He was smiling at me when it happened. I felt somewhat hot myself, being a summer day in the mountains, but his eyes took on an odd shade. Almost yellow, and he simply collapse and would not wake up. I scanned him—Harry, his magic was burning him up."
Harry bowed his head, realizing what had happened. "Luna, get your boys and bring them over tonight. You'll stay with us for now, okay?"
Luna did not even argue—she and her husband did not actually own a home. They simply travelled and stayed with friends when not travelling. "You know what happened, don't you?" she asked.
Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. "Yes, but I think it's better if Hermione explained. Technically it's a secret, but I know I can trust you."
"Who else is coming?"
"After this? The DA at least," Harry said.
Luna nodded, hugged him tightly, and then to his surprise leaned up and kissed him. "I'm glad you and Hermione grew up enough to be together. I'd always hoped you would."
She wiped her eyes of the tears there and slowly walked out of the room where her husband died. After she was gone, Harry returned to work and hunted through the Ministry until he learned from an aide that his wife was once more meeting with the Minister. Harry decided to play on his position and name and pushed through the Minister's staff.
He knocked once, used an auror charm to release the wards on the door, and walked in. He was not surprised to see Kingsley Shacklbolt, Saul Croaker and Hermione; he was surprised to see Adrian Gautellier, the French Senior Undersecretary of Magic.
Kingsley's normally imperturbable face flashed with annoyance. "What are you doing, Harry?"
"Interrupting, Kingsley," Harry said with a forced smile. He closed the door and sealed it behind him. "Hermione, Rolf Scamander just died. Luna said his magic burned up within him."
Hermione placed the quill she was writing with on the desk and covered her face. "Oh Merlin. What about…?"
"They're going to be staying with us for now." Ignoring Shacklebolt's glares, he sat down beside his wife. "So, I've been a good little boy and pretended I didn't know what was happening because I knew my wife here was a lot smarter than I am, but friends are starting to die. So, what are we doing about this?"
"Minister, who is this boy and why is he here?" Gautellier said with a typical French sneer.
"I'm Harry Fucking Potter, that's who I am," Harry snapped. "And I'm the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. When people start dying, it becomes an issue for me. So, what are we doing?"
"Harry…" Hermione began.
"No, he's right," Kingsley decided with an exhausted sigh. "He needs to be a part of this discussion. I'm assuming your wife told you what is happening?"
"Yeah."
"We estimate the final cataclysm will begin in late 2012," Croaker said, not caring who was involved. "However, the radioactive saturation will be sufficient to wipe out all magical life by early to mid-2011. Since Mrs. Potter discovered the root cause, we've been experimenting with different materials to see if it is possible to stop the radiation."
"And?"
"It's impossible to block all radiation," Hermione said, "but the Muggles developed something called Demron that significantly reduces it. We're already very quietly started feeding the material into the robe shops for Hogwarts Robes. Headmistress McGonagall knows enough to know that all students need to wear those robes."
"That's a good idea for a short term fix, but what the general populace?" Harry asked. "What about magical creatures? What about magical fauna?"
Hermione bowed her head. "Harry, these arks the Muggles are building are going to be full of Muggle survivors and supplies. Our inquiries into having space on them was met with…"
"Laughter and contempt," Shacklebolt interrupted. "The Arks are the most expensive project the human race has ever constructed. Seats will be assigned to the most qualified and necessary staff, or for one billion dollars each for private investors. All the magical Ministries in the world would be able to buy perhaps twenty cabins; our economies are not based on huge sums of gold like the Muggles."
"And even if we had space on the boat," Gautellier said, finally accepting Harry was a part of the discussion, "and even wearing multiple layers of Demron fabric, the total saturation of the radiation would still most likely kill us, or at the very least render us infertile. We finally know why magical birthrates have been declining, but there is nothing we can do about it."
Harry looked at his wife with a raised brow; she nodded. "Once we knew what to look for, we matched the Muggle's studies with our own birthrates and found a ninety-eight-percent correlation between each spike of radiation and a full percent drop in birthrates."
"So what are we doing about it?" Harry demanded again.
Shacklebolt ran a hand over his bald head and released an explosive sigh. "We are preparing ourselves to die with dignity, Harry. The best Arithmancers in the world agree—this is the end. Go home, spend time with your wife, and live as best you can for the time we have left."
~~Invincible~~
~~Invincible~~
That night, Harry and Hermione hosted many of their old friends from school. Luna was there, of course, cradling her two young boys—three and one respectively, and trying very hard not to cry. The boys were not old enough to understand precisely what happened, but were able to tell their mother was distraught and daddy was not there, and so were responding in kind to her heartbreak.
Fortunately, Ginny and her current flame, an American Quodpot player whose name Harry couldn't remember, was also there and took Lysander to bounce the baby on her knee. Since their breakup, Harry made an effort to get along with Ginny for the sake of his friendship with her brothers.
Ron was there with his wife Lavender; Lavender had her first-born on one knee, and Lorcan on the other while Luna looked on with a sad smile. Seamus and Dean were both still single and loving it. The surprise attendees were the Parvati twins, who floo'd in with somber faces. Dennis Creevey arrived with his current girlfriend, as did Fred Weasley and his wife Angelina.
With such a full house, they let Winky and Kreacher do the work of providing the food, while Harry and Hermione told their stunned friends what was happening.
"So Rolf's magic really did burn him out," Luna said softly, adding a final, unarguable punctuation to the discussion. "I rather thought so. I suppose I will be next soon—I felt quite hot when he died."
"We have Demron robes for all of you," Hermione said. "It will slow the effects of the radiation, at least for a while."
"Would it help to stay indoors?" Katie Bell asked. Like Dennis, she had become one of Harry's more accomplished aurors. Her motivation to enter the DMLE was just as personal as his own given how she was cursed during one of Draco Malfoy's bumbling assassination attempts on Dumbledore during Harry's seventh year.
It was Padma who answered. "No. India is already experiencing mass magical die-offs, and many of the fallen creatures are subterranean. The soil is already saturated with the radiation—it is that saturation which will eventually lead to the cataclysm that will destroy Muggle civilization as well."
They talked about the arks the Muggles were planning, and how those arks were not going to work for them, even if they could afford spaces aboard them. "Why not just build our own?" Ron asked.
"Because it wouldn't make any difference," Hermione said sadly. "The radiation would eventually either kill us or render us infertile anyway. The ICW has given up all hope. Right now their policy is to just keep things secret until the end so people can die as peaceably as possible."
"Bollocks," Seamus said.
"Yeah, I'm inclined to agree," Harry said. "Those of us in this room didn't fight Voldemort just to lay down and die a few years later. We're fighters. Now we need to figure out how to fight this. That's why I wanted to talk to you. I need ideas, no matter how crazy you might think them. We're not just going to give up."
Surprisingly, it was Dennis Creevey who gave them the idea. "Too bad we can't make our own Battleship Yamoto or something like that."
"What's that?" Harry asked blankly.
"It was a Japanese cartoon," Dennis said with a fond smile at a childhood memory. "About a big spaceship. It was strange because the spaceship was shaped liked a Navy battleship, only it could fly in space."
"Flying wouldn't save us, though," Hermione said sadly.
Harry, though, looked speculatively at Dennis, lost in thought.
~~Invincible~~
~~Invincible~~
"Hermione, how do brooms fly?"
The couple walked hand-in-hand through Blackpool, eating cotton candy while children played and laughed around them, none of them aware of the doom that was so quickly descending on the world.
"Oh, a combination of things, really," Hermione said absently. She was watching a pair of young girls on the bumper cars, her face lost in sadness. They would never live to see adulthood. "Why do you ask?"
"I mean specifically, what makes brooms fly?"
Hermione blinked her eyes to clear the melancholia and said, "Well, there is the basic levitation charm, of course, combined with a feather-light envelope that actually encompasses the rider. The propulsion charm, finally. I'm not an expert on brooms, of course."
"So, what makes it fly in relation to the Earth?" Harry said intently.
"Well, the magic is independent of the Earth," Hermione said. "Gravity is a universal constant, and the charms nullify it, so it doesn't matter if you're flying ten feet off the ground or twenty thousand feet off the ground, the flight experience would be the same."
"What about five hundred miles off the ground? Or ten thousand miles off the ground?"
"Harry, what are you on about?"
"What makes things fly, Hermione?" Harry asked again more intently. "Magically speaking? Could a charmed broom go into space?"
She smiled at him, though confused. "I suppose so. There is the story of Delbert Dinglebart who vowed in 1802 to fly to the moon. Astrologers say he did leave the atmosphere but then flew in circles and burned up on re-entry. They suspect he was dead long before then since he had no idea that the vacuum of space was lethal."
Harry nodded and said, "I'd like to show you something. Do you trust me?"
"Silly question at this point, don't you think?"
Harry winked at her, quickly cast a silent Notice-me-not, and then took her hand to disapparate. They appeared with a hardly noticeable pop, still under the charm, on what looked at first glance to be a large, black metal tennis court. That impression faded before the sound of waves, sea birds, the overwhelming smell of the ocean, and a series of towers rising from the flat deck of what was obviously a ship.
"Where are we?"
"Portsmouth," Harry said.
"We just apparated the whole length of England?" Hermione asked. She then shook her head and smiled—Harry was powerful, that much was certain. "So, what is this?"
"This, my love, is the HMS Invincible. It's been laid up, and from what I understand the government is entertaining bids on it. It is a light aircraft carrier. So, let me ask you—what would it take to make something that weights 22,000 tones fly?"
Hermione simply stared. "Harry, I know what you're thinking, but it just wouldn't work. These ships are not capable of surviving in a vacuum."
"Hermione," Harry said with startling intensity. "I'm not ready to just lay down and die. We just found each other, for Merlin's sake. I want to live the next century loving you, and I refuse to just lay down and die. So, brightest witch of her age, what would it take to actually make this ship space worthy? How would we make it fly, or escape Earth's gravity? Could we adopt apparition or portkeys to propel it through space? We've got to at least try, Hermione, or what's the point of living at all?"
Hermione stared back at him, lips parted and cheeks flushed with the deep, intense knowledge that this man loved her enough to defy fate itself. "Okay, Harry," she finally said. "We'll give it a try."
~~Invincible~~
~~Invincible~~
Harry decided to keep it a privately-funded affair after a three hour meeting with a despondent Kingsley Shacklebolt. The tall, deep-voiced, powerful former auror had clearly given up and now seemed opposed to even trying to figure out a solution. When Harry mentioned possibly charming a ship to leave the world to ride out the worst of the radiation in deep space, he actually became angry.
"A false hope is worse than a grim truth!" the large man shouted at Harry.
"I know for a fact that's a lie," Harry said pointedly.
Harry's flay rebuttal calmed Shacklebolt enough for him to sit back down. "Harry, the Wizengamot and the ICW are both in agreement. We are creating a magical archive to record that we were here—that we existed. We will not perish from the memories of those that remain. Our best projections show that muggleborns will emerge in time if enough muggles survive. The archive will seek them out, and our society will survive for future generations."
"Good on them," Harry said bitterly. "I'm more interested in my generation."
"I'm sorry, Harry, but the answer is no."
So, they kept it privately funded.
Between the Potter and Black fortunes, Harry had nearly four hundred thousand galleons. Compared to a Muggle millionaire, that did not seem much at first glance, until Harry and Hermione began to inquire about conversion rates.
The Galleon was not pure gold, but rather gold and enchanted steel that prevented counterfeit. Even so, the conversion rate was fifteen pounds to a galleon. This explained how Harry, as a Department Head, made twenty thousand galleons annually and counted it a good salary, and Hermione as an Unspeakable made eighteen thousand, putting their income in the top ten percent of the country. In Muggle terms, they were making close to five hundred and forty thousand pounds annually.
Harry used his contacts within Scotland Yard to make inquiries to the Department of Defence regarding the private purchase of the HMS Invincible, and how much the department would be willing to take for it. During his meeting with Department of Defence, which knew very well what was happening, he was surprised to find that the two best offers for the stripped, laid-up carrier was five million from the Chinese, and two million from a Turkish scrapyard. Of the two, the Chinese offer was not being considered because of China's interest in militarized carriers.
"I'll offer two and half, straight cash," Harry said without hesitation.
After converting roughly one hundred and seventy thousand galleons, Harry was the proud owner of the HMS Invincible, which had no engines, no weapons, no planes, and an old, rusting hull.
"It's perfect," he told Hermione as they walked through the massive, empty hangar deck. "If we can figure out permanent or long-term expansion charms, just imagine how much space we could open up in here?"
"It'll have to be a lot," Hermione said. "The Muggle Arks are designed to hold a quarter of a million people each. If we want to have any hope of a viable population, we're going to need a lot of space."
Harry just hugged her. "So, where do we start?"
"Where everything always starts—at Hogwarts," Hermione said.
~~Invincible~~
~~Invincible~~
McGonagall's eyes held unshed tears when Hermione and Harry finished their conversation with the Headmistress. Instead of speaking, the aging witch stood from her desk, which Harry noted was not the same one Dumbledore used, and walked slowly to the floo. With a pinch of powder, the flame roared up and she leaned over and stuck her face in the fire.
She left the flame and returned to her desk, leaving Harry and Hermione to wonder what was happening until the fire flared green and Minister Shacklebolt stepped out.
When he assumed office shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts, he was a tall, strong man with broad shoulders and a mellifluous voice that could sway any opponent. Now he looked tired, had lost a lot of weight, and walked with bowed shoulders as if in defeat. His voice, however, was still beautiful.
"I was wondering how long it would take you to get here," he said with a weak smile as he took a chair beside Hermione with a sigh.
"Kingsley, what's happening?" Harry asked. "You said no, remember?"
The Minister locked Harry in a knowing gaze. "Harry, it might surprise you to learn just how little power the Minister for Magic has, at least now. What I wasn't allowed to tell you at the Ministry is that the Goblins have approached certain leading Wizengamot families and offered them space in the Gringotts cavern. The Goblins say they have their own prophecy and they're sure they'll survive. The Purebloods have pounced on this as a chance to ensure only they survive, while the impure and so called blood traitors all die."
"Malfoy," Harry snarled.
"Among many, yes," Kingsley said. "They dislike me, but they hate you, and the Goblins hate everybody. So, officially speaking, I cannot help you. But if Hogwarts were to initiate an interscholastic magic competition—well, that I could help with. And the American and French Ministries, at least, would as well."
Harry couldn't help but smile. They may not succeed, but by Merlin they were going to try!
