The good looking stranger seemed to be searching for something in my eyes, because he wouldn't stop staring at me. Eventually I became so fed up with the situation that I simply couldn't take the treatment anymore, in a huff I proceeded to bellow "now that's enough! What sort of police officer do you make yourself out to be? There is a dead body in the middle of the floor and you idiots haven't done anything about it besides make a tea party of the whole ordeal and rant about magic, and force fields, and wands, and muggles!! If this is supposed to be one of those murder dinner theatres then count me out! If not then you people are delusional, living out of a J.K. Rowling novel, its pathetic!"
On that note I did a stiff about face and marched quickly towards the door. "Wait! I never said I was a police officer, miss. I'm sorry but you're coming with me whether I have to use force or not!" I had been waiting for this, to be truthful with you, I don't really need a gun to keep me protected, I have something much, much better hidden securely up my sleeve. I turned around to give the man a questioning glare, which matched perfectly with the cocky smirk his words had etched across my amused face; he stood just where I had left him , only now he was brandishing a beautiful, dark wand in his right hand, and it was pointed directly at me. Suddenly the mourning woman jumped up from the couch that she had crumpled onto.
"Harry, don't!" She was too late, the man, or should I say, Harry had already bellowed "stupefy!" to my utter surprise a beam of bright red light shot from his wand towards me. 'Damn, either they have some good effects people working this or all of this is actually real' I thought to myself. Acting quickly I did the only thing that I could, I pushed with my mind and the red light did a complete 180 and hit its creator square in the chest.
He went down with the most amazing look of surprise on his face. Everyone in the room became suddenly aware of what had transpired and turned to stare at me once again. Everyone except the woman shot more beams of light at me, I can only assume that they were curses; repeating my former actions all of their originators landed on the ground, until it was just me and the suddenly very strong woman.
Very unsure of myself, I gathered as much courage as I could and grabbed a bottle of fire whiskey from behind the bar, along with two dirty looking glasses; I proceeded to wipe both of them off on my shirt and set them down on a recently righted table. Taking a seat, I poured both glasses and urged the woman to take a seat across from me, she hesitantly obliged, but not without making her wand very visible first.
"So tell me, is this the real thing, or just some makers in a done up bottle?" "I'd think that by now you would have realized that this" she gestured around the room with her arms "all of this is real." I nodded weakly and pushed a full glass in her direction, she shook her head. "No, I'm sorry but I don't drink, miss . . . im sorry, but I never caught your name. I don't think any of us did." "Oh just drink it, I think you might actually need it more than I do right about now. Names Florence, by the way; but you can call me chickie. And yours?"
The woman, who I had only just taken true notice of, had soft, but pointed features, along with frizzy, mousy brown hair that hung around her shoulders. Pieces of it were sopping wet from catching her tears, and her light brown eyes were swollen and bloodshot from crying. Even her voice was cracking from wailing for so long, I felt sorry for her, and wanted to ask of her relationship to the corpse in question but didn't, for fear of having to console her even further. I never was one for coddling. I downed my glass of fire whiskey and filled another glass while I waited on her reply.
"My names Hermione Weasley and that" she pointed to the dead man on the floor "would be my husband, Ron. But I suppose that you already know that if you read those dreadful books." She went to take a sip of her whiskey but began to choke when steam came from her ears, and nose. I had to stifle a laugh as I patted her back until she regained the ability to breathe again. "Thank you; I never was one for drinking this horrible concoction." "Any time, so you all know about the books? I always thought there was something fishy about them! Wait, this isn't some stupid joke, is it? Because if it is you all out did yourselves, I'll tell you that." "Nope, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but the majority of what all of you read is true."
"But, but how? None of you seem all too happy about your most private information being leaked out to the world, so how did it happen?" "Rita Skeeter" "excuse me?" "Rita Skeeter published Harry's story. A few years ago she stumbled upon one of his personal diaries and began her own story, without anyone's permission of course, the stupid cow. She nearly gave us all away. She's off in hiding somewhere, we would have been able to keep all of this from happening, but she was too sneaky for any of us to know it was her until it was far too late for anything to be done.
It would be impossible to wipe the millions of people's memories who know about us now." She slid down in her seat a bit and sighed, a deep frown marring her pretty face. "I understand, Hermione. I have a question for you though, why did that Harry fellow want me to go to the ministry with him so badly? I mean, I understand that I'm not exactly normal but really, there's nothing very special about me, I'm just a freak of nature, scouts honor." "It's not that you were here that we need to investigate, Florence, it's the fact that you got here.
Either you're a witch or there's something going on here under the radar. Nothing's sacred anymore these days; as you were unfortunate enough to witness for yourself." "I understand that completely, but I'm not a witch, you're not getting that" "oh no, you have no formal training, but what I saw you do today would definitely leave that as an open conclusion. You aren't English, are you? You have a very strange accent."
"No, I'm not, actually. I'm here on a mission with my crew. I'm from the United States, New York to be precise." "Hmmm. . ." before Hermione could finish her sentence her face dropped, and went ghostly pale; she screamed "Harry!!"
just before I could turn around to see what she was going on about I felt something slam into my back, just between my shoulder blades. If that wasn't bad enough, I fell face first to the ground, paralyzed; as soon as I made contact with the ground I was suddenly very aware of the fact that my nose had made good friends with it long before my body had. A muted crack echoed the room as I began to soak in the pool of blood that was steadily flowing around me. All I remember before passing out was thinking to myself, 'so this is what having a broken nose feels like, hmmmm.'
