"Um, hello everyone...very, very sorry for intruding, but I think we're in the wrong place-"
"STUPEFY!" yelled all the Aurors simultaneously. The man ducked, pulling the woman down with him, and the stunning spells hit the blue box instead. It made an almighty screeching noise, and the bright light returned. A few seconds later, the box had disappeared, but the man and the woman remained crouched on the floor, shocked. The Aurors charged forwards.
"No, no, HADS activated! I really should have deactivated that when I had the chance...but what the hell did you just attack us with?"
The Aurors encircled the pair, who slowly stood up, hands raised.
"Now, please, gentlemen, let's be reasonable..." pleaded the man, "We come in peace..."
"Restrain them both!" ordered Denzel. "Now!"
Harry rugby tackled the man, whilst Ron and James pinned down the woman.
"Oi, get the hell of me!" screeched the woman. "Doctor, do something!"
"That hurt you know..." moaned the man, as Harry put him into a fell Nelson, "Oi, gentle! I bruise easily you know..."
"Take them down to the confinement cells..." said Denzel, "I'll work on crowd control..."
"Fellas, this is all one big misunderstanding!" uttered the man, as Harry started to drag him to the nearest free elevator, whilst Ron and Jonah took care of the woman. "Please, can't we just sort this out over a cup of tea, or something? This is all totally unnecessary..."
"Take a look outside, he said, there's no better way to find out, he said..." berated the woman, fighting every attempt made by Ron and Jonah to restrain her.
"Stop squirming..." shot Jonah, as the woman tried to escape his arms again.
"Well the scanner wasn't working, remember?! But something must have gone wrong, this surely can't be the right place...can it?" considered the man.
"Quiet, the pair of you..." castigated Ron, as the elevator thundered in motion, "You are both under arrest for two accounts of trespassing in the Ministry. Do not attempt to escape arrest or you will be stunned..."
"Eh, two accounts? I only just got here, what are you talking about? And which Ministry? Look, I know the Prime Minister, we're badminton buddies. If you could contact him, I'm sure we could get this whole thing straightened out..."
Harry and Ron exchanged a look of confusion. The Prime Minister? Was this man...a Muggle? It made a little bit of sense; after all, the police box was, presumably, a Muggle object. But how on Earth would a mere Muggle break through the Ministry defences, when it would have been an arduous struggle even for the most advanced of wizards?
"Where...where do you even think you are?" asked Harry curiously.
"Well you said 'Ministry'..." said the man, "Is it the Ministry of Defence? It would certainly explain your unfriendly and frankly aggressive dispositions..."
"Like I said, you're under arrest for trespassing, bowtie..." said Ron angrily, "Arrests aren't generally a pleasant thing..."
The elevator came to a screechy stop.
"Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including Auror Office and containment cells..." rang the elevator prompt.
"What did that say? Did it say...magical?" asked the female incredulously. She and the man exchanged a look of surprise.
"Ok...maybe we're not in the wrong place then..." suggested the man, "Curious..."
"Keep moving..." commanded Harry. The three Aurors directed the two mysterious felons through the outer offices of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, attracting the curiosity and attention of the many office workers and law enforcers.
"Hey, Potter. What's with these two, then? Look like a right pair of oddballs..." commented a co-worker whose name Harry couldn't quite remember, as they passed the kitchenette.
"Oi, who are you calling oddballs?" snapped the woman. "You all look three hundred years out of date..."
"Intruders..." replied Harry simply, "You'll hear about it soon enough..."
"This sure is one elaborate hiding place, then..." commented the man as they entered the Auror Office, "This must be a massive complex, all to seal her away from her enemies, marvellously done. And all these witches and wizards! Wow, the transitimisation was highly effective!"
"What in Merlin's name are you talking about?" demanded Jonah.
"Merlin? Yup, they're wizards all right..." stated the woman.
So...they were magical, then...right? Harry was deeply confused.
They entered the containment cells. Harry regarded, with a feeling of satisfaction and amusement, the tragic sight of Rita Skeeter sitting disdainfully in one of the cells. She looked up as they filtered inside, and shone a stomach-churning golden smile in Harry's direction
"Morning, Harry..." she purred, "Nice to see you..."
"Can't say the feeling's mutual..." retorted Harry. He opened one of the free cells, and directed the man and woman inside.
"What's all this then? Three arrests in the space of twenty minutes? You Aurors sure are overzealous..."
"Quiet, Skeeter..." shot Ron. She smirked at him.
"You will remain in here for the time being..." stated Harry to the man and woman, slamming the door shut, "You will be questioned momentarily..."
"Mind if I ask some questions of my own? I need to piece together this whole thing..." asked the man, innocently enough.
Harry said nothing, still considering the true nature of this strange man, before turning to Ron.
"You remember what I said earlier? I said, I knew there was more to that blue box, and I was right. There's something strange about these two..." whispered Harry.
"What do we do? Standard interrogation?" asked Ron.
"I suppose. But I certainly don't want Skeeter listening in..."
"Fair enough. Jonah, could you escort Skeeter out of the building?"
"Oh, am I finally being let out? Marvellous, this place is horrifically dingy..."
"You were only in there for about fifteen minutes..." pointed out Ron, "Don't be such a baby..."
Jonah unlocked Skeeter's cell door.
"Thank you, darling. See you soon, Harry..." said Skeeter, winking as Jonah escorted her from the cells.
"She makes my skin crawl..."
"She makes everyone's skin crawl, she's Rita Skeeter; it's in her nature..."
As Harry and Ron continued their whispered discussion, the Doctor and Clara, now stuck in the cell, also struck up a fervent conversation in undertones.
"Well, it looks like you were right..." stated Clara simply.
"About what?" asked the Doctor curiously.
"We did end up being imprisoned by witches, just not the ones we expected..."
"Ah yes. Still, it'll all be sorted out in no time, don't you worry..."
"So...who are these people, precisely? Are they the witches and wizards created by the Queen's transitim-whatever?"
"Yes, almost certainly. Like I said, this must be the hiding place of the Queen and the Hasrion Pendant. We followed the Receptacle, after all, and time itself seemed pretty keen to whisk us here as well. These must be her guards, created to protect her, just like Cephenrene said..."
"I thought the TARDIS was supposed to bring us straight to her?"
"There's probably some added protection directly around her. The TARDIS couldn't break through it directly..."
"Speaking of the TARDIS, what exactly happened to it?"
"The same thing that happened when we were on that Russian submarine. The Hostile Action Displacement System activated when we were attacked. Sent her away...although, with all that interference, she couldn't have gone far..."
"So, what's your plan to get us out of here? You must have one by now..."
"Well, it's simple, isn't it? They're her guards. I'll just say I was sent by the White Witches of Crixsos Delta Three, and they'll understand that I'm their ally. We can then arrange for her safe return to Crixsos..."
"Yeah, simple...providing they actually trust you. After all, you just broke into her hiding place, not exactly the greatest of starts..."
"Oh, I've got one of those faces people can't help but trust. Cephenrene did, remember? I'll simply explain everything, and this misunderstanding will be rectified..."
Just then, another man entered the room, and the two other wizards stopped talking at once. The Doctor recognised the man as the one who had ordered their incarceration.
"Everything calmed down up there, Denzel?" asked one of the two wizards, with ginger hair.
"Mostly. We're labelling it as a Department of Mysteries experiment gone wrong..."
"Sounds real convincing..." said the other wizard, the one with black hair.
"Well, it's good enough. Now, to business..." uttered the man called Denzel, approaching the cell bars.
"Yes quite..." proclaimed the Doctor eagerly. Denzel shot him a look of apprehensive curiosity.
"Basics first. Who are you?" asked Denzel simply, the other two wizards flanking either side of him.
"I'm the Doctor, and this is Clara..." stated the Doctor honestly.
"Clara...the blue box mentioned that name..." murmured Harry, but it seemed he wasn't heard.
"The Doctor? You can't just be called 'the Doctor'. Doctor who?" asked Ron.
"Ah, that question, when will it stop being asked? I suppose not until the fields of Tr-" he said pensively, but broke off. Clara regarded him with fascination. "Uh, I'm just the Doctor. That's it. Nothing else..."
"Right..."
"So, who are you?" asked the Doctor, smiling pleasantly.
The three paused again.
"This is an interrogation, not a group discussion..." lambasted Denzel, "We'll ask the questions here. But, surely, you must recognise the Crixsom Benign here..." he uttered, pointing at the black haired wizard, who then proceeded to roll his eyes,
"Never seen him before in my life..." stated the Doctor, "Why should I?"
Denzel raised his eyebrows.
"Hmm...'Crixsom Benign' sounds a bit like 'Crixsos', doesn't it Doctor?" pointed out Clara.
"Ah yes, very astute Clara, must be a derivation of vocabulary from the White Witches..." said the Doctor. Now that he mentioned it, didn't 'Crixsos' translate to something, as did 'Crixsom', in the ancient language of the White Witches?
"What the hell are you talking about?" demanded Denzel.
"It's all right, I'm here to help. I'm here to retrieve the Queen from this location..." pressed the Doctor.
The three wizards stared at him in silence.
"What Queen?"
"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. I've been tasked by some of the White Witches of Crixsos Delta Three to recover the Queen and bring her back there..." said the Doctor, smiling encouragingly, "We're on the same side! Just show me where she is, and your job will be done..."
The interrogators shared a look of complete incredulity.
"He's lost it..." said the ginger haired wizard, "Utterly bonkers..."
"We may need some mental health practitioners from St. Mungo's..." suggested the black haired wizard.
"You must know her, she made you to protect her..." implored the Doctor, his grin fading.
"What do you mean she made us? What are you talking about?"
The Doctor regarded the complete bewilderment in their eyes, and realised they truly had no idea who the Queen was. But how was that possible? She created them to protect her, according to Cephenrene, how could they not know who she was? Unless...over the four thousand years, they had spread out enough to forget their own purpose. But that would mean the Queen wasn't hidden in the 'Ministry' after all. The Doctor felt both of his hearts sink.
"My goodness, you don't know where she is at all, do you? You've never even heard of her. You lot must have broken off, become your own separate civilisation, forgetting all about her..."
The wizards looked at each other again.
"Haven't you ever wondered how you acquired your abilities? Have you no concept of your own genesis?"
"Well, no..." murmured Harry. "It's sort of always been there..."
"Don't respond to him, Potter..." reprimanded Denzel.
"No, it hasn't always been there..." stated the Doctor, ignoring Denzel, "It came about approximately four thousand years..."
The Doctor put his face in his hands, thinking ferociously, trying to make sense of it all.
"So...where is the Queen?" asked Clara concernedly.
"Not here. But then why did the Receptacle take us straight here...unless, it was confused by the amount of people in this one building, all sharing the same psionic life force as the Queen, I suppose..."
"Then where is she?"
"She could be anywhere in the world. But...logically, I thought she would be here..." he uttered, facing the wizards, "Your reactions when we arrived, you lot attacked us. I figured that would be the natural reaction of the Queen's guard to any intruders..."
"I do not know what nonsense you speak of, but we attacked and arrested you two for the simple reason that you were both intruding. These are tense and precarious times, and we did not take the two appearances of your bizarre blue box lightly..."
"What do you mean two? This is the first time I've ever come here..."
"That is a clear lie. Earlier this morning, the exact same blue box appeared in the Atrium. Nothing came out of it, but we sealed it off, and sent it away to the Department of Mysteries at once..."
"Ah...that would be the end result of HADS then..." explained the Doctor, "The interference in this building must have forced her to travel through time as opposed to space. She must have shifted several hours back in time..."
"What? You're not making any sense..." snapped the ginger haired wizard.
"Excuse me, I'm making total sense, you're just not keeping up. The blue box you saw earlier in the morning is the exact same blue box as the one you saw moments ago, but later in its relative time steam. When you so brazenly attacked it, it jumped back in time to the early hours of this morning..."
"What - how...time travel?"
"Yes, time travel, I'm a time traveller..."
"No way, only with time turners-"
"Enough!" said Denzel, finally. "This interrogation is going astray. None of what you have said, Doctor, makes any sense in any context..."
"That doesn't mean it's not true!"
"Regardless. We don't take anything lightly in this climate..."
"What climate?"
Yet again, the interrogators turned to look at each in amazement.
"The post-Voldemort climate..." uttered Ron, "How...how can you possibly not know that? You have to be a Muggle..."
"It's certainly a possibility...he's called 'Doctor' after all..." surmised Harry.
"What's a Muggle?" asked the Doctor.
"Non magical people..." replied Harry.
"Well, 'magical' ability is technically relative. Every human should have some psionic manipulation ability, but some more than others due to differences-"
"Leave it, for once, Doctor..." murmured Clara, nudging him in the ribs.
"All right, fine...so, who was this 'Voldemort' then?" asked the Doctor.
The black haired wizard looked at him enquiringly.
"If you are a Muggle, which you appear to be, it doesn't matter..." said Denzel curtly, "I'm ending this interrogation here, but it will recommence later. I'll get Ruddleford down here to verify your nature; the laws are different if Muggles are being interrogated, and Obliviators will be necessary. Harry, Ron, seal the room..."
"Yes, sir..." they said in unison.
"I'll get your promotions approved. In the meantime, you can pick up your new uniforms from the recreation room..." he finished, and brusquely left the room.
"So, Harry, Ron. Nice to know your names at last..." said the Doctor, rather cheerfully, "It's good to be on a first name basis, don't you think?"
"You can talk, Doctorof no name..." said Harry. They then left the containment cell room, and sealed the door behind them.
"So now what? Do we have an escape plan?" asked Clara.
"Kind of. I could use the screwdriver to open these cell doors, and get back into the main complex, but-"
"We'd be rearrested in seconds, Doctor!"
"Yes, well I didn't say it was a very good escape plan, did I? However, we must find the TARDIS, somehow, to get out of this 'Ministry' and continue our search. But this place is huge, we would almost certainly end up getting lost..."
"They could help us, you know..."
"They would find it difficult to believe me, especially seeing as it justifies their entire existence for the sole purpose of being guards, a purpose they seem to have forgotten. I could show them, I suppose. Time Lords can share their memories with others through psychic connections, and they'd see I'm telling the truth, but there's too many of them here. I'd be exhausted after a few..."
"Right, fair enough. So we need to get out of this place...wherever this place is. How can they hide all this in London?"
"It's very easy to hide something in London, Clara. There was once an organisation which retrieved alien artefacts, hidden in Canary Wharf! This place, however, is probably underground, judging by the lack of windows..."
"But if the Queen isn't here, what's the point of this place?"
"Well, it's a Ministry. They called it that. A Ministry that must manage magic, for magical people..."
"Not funded by the Muggle tax payers then, I presume..." said Clara, "Frankly, the term 'Muggle' almost sounds derogatory..."
"Well, the human race does have a rather deplorable propensity to shun anything that is different..."
"But why did the transitimi-wotsit only affect some people? Why aren't we all wizards?"
"I don't know. Maybe it's genetically focused, maybe it was random. But, the fact of the matter is that wizards exist on planet Earth. I just can't believe I've never noticed them until now. They must be incredibly secretive...but not because they were hiding an ancient alien monarch, apparently. I wonder why, then, they're so enigmatic..."
"Well, it's like you said, I suppose," suggested Clara, "The human race does tend to shun anything that is different, and what can be more different than a wizard?"
"Strange pair, aren't they?" asked Ron, trying on his new uniform a few hours later, in the Auror recreation room, "Oh yeah, that looks cool..."
"Very strange. But they're not Walpurgis, that's for sure..."
"Why not?"
"Because he said Voldemort's name openly. Walpurgis treat that name like a sacrament, just like the Death Eaters used to; they would never amount to what they would consider blasphemy. Plus, as I said earlier, there aren't any females in Walpurgis..."
"Oh yeah, that's true. Well, regardless, they both appear to be quite pleasant people. But they're likely Muggles..."
"Yes, I suppose they would have to be. Still, there's something about that Doctor which is very-"
"-Mad?-"
"Well, yes, that, but he's quite...likeable, I suppose..."
"Likeable?"
"Yeah. It's hard to describe, but there's certainly something very interesting about him, it's like a weird feeling...it's like I know him from somewhere, but I know I've never met him before..."
"I think...I know what you mean..."
At that moment, Jonah rejoined them, looking thoroughly hassled.
"Hey, Jonah, you've been gone for hours! What happened? Did Skeeter give you a hard time?" quipped Ron.
"Shut up Ron. It's not Skeeter. It's just a bit hectic up there..." said Jonah, simply.
"Why? Did that blue box reappear again?" asked Harry, suddenly alert. "We haven't heard anything down here..."
"No, this is a political thing. The Muggle Prime Minister has stood down. We've got diplomats swarming in from all over the place. I was pushed into helping them..."
"So he resigned, what's the big deal?"
"Well, apparently, the Prime Minister gave a message to the liaison portrait shortly before his resignation. Rumour has it that the Prime Minister wished to speak to Kingsley about some explosion at a church, or something, in the Muggle world. Shortly afterwards, he resigned. That doesn't quite add up..."
"Who replaced him?" asked Harry.
"Some guy called Immanuel Aldeborne..." said Jonah, passing Harry a newspaper, "This is an advanced copy of tonight's Evening Prophet. Aldeborne is, apparently, a Conservative MP, eligible for the position of Prime Minister, but it all seems a bit sudden and unnatural, and the diplomats are concerned about that. They're always scared about first contact, when the Minister introduces himself for the first time. It can go many ways, and maintaining overall secrecy is paramount..."
The Evening Prophet had dedicated half of the front page to a photograph of the new Prime Minister, who was smiling distantly, surrounded by other politicians.
"So when's first contact going to happen?" asked Ron.
"Dunno. Few days, maybe. They don't have to do it immediately, but it should hopefully be standard procedure. It's probably just an overreaction. Anyway, how was the interrogation of those two weirdos?"
"Well, we think they're Muggles. Denzel wants James to check that, though; he's good at that sort of stuff..."
"If they're Muggles, how the heck could they do those tricks with the blue box?"
"I dunno. Maybe they were just caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it seemed like they were on some kind of mission, to find a Queen, or something..."
"A Queen? What? That doesn't make any sense..."
"Nothing they said made any sense, to be honest..."
"Mad as a hatter, that man...'the Doctor' he calls himself..." added Ron.
"Well, there'll be another interrogation later, and they'll probably be Obliviated after that..." finished Harry.
"Fair enough..."
"Ah, Harry, Ron, there you are..." came a voice from the other side of the Room. James was standing by the door, wearing his Healer uniform.
"Hey James. Have you come straight from St. Mungo's?" asked Ron.
"Yeah. Denzel said he needed me to come here as soon as possible, to verify if someone is a Muggle..."
"Ah yes, that would be the culprits behind our case seventeen. They're in the containment cells. I'll take you straight to them..."
Meanwhile, the Doctor and Clara were sitting dolefully in their containment cell, where time had stretched itself to unfathomable lengths of monotony. The Doctor had been sonic-ing the environment for several minutes, trying to work out his next lead in the search for the Queen, presuming they ever made it out of the cell.
"What are you doing?" asked Clara.
"Searching for clues. Strange life signs. Psionic anomalies. Anything!"
"And?"
"Nothing. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, which is weird, as everything seems out of the ordinary in this building..."
"Oh, watch out, the door's opening..." pointed out Clara, as the lock on the main door squeakily released. Four wizards subsequently filed into the Room. The Doctor recognised Harry and Ron from before, the former carrying a newspaper of sorts, and recognised the third one from their earlier arrest, but the fourth one, dressed in a sort of sterile uniform, was new.
"These are the case seventeen culprits?" asked the new wizard, incredulously. "They look harmless enough..."
"Yup, that's me to a tee..." said the Doctor, "And what's your name?"
"I suppose name's don't matter, seeing as you're likely to be Obliviated later. My name is James Ruddleford. I'm here to evaluate you..."
"Ooh, steady on, we've only just met..." said the Doctor, with a smirk, which James didn't return.
"Smiling in the face of incarceration. Your psychological status is questionable..." commented James, "You may have been right about that, Ron..."
"Apparently being amiable is considered a possible symptom of madness..." uttered the Doctor, rolling his eyes, "Great to know you wizards have a brilliant comprehension of psychological maladies..."
James narrowed his eyes.
"Anyway, back to why I'm here. I can perform a simple test. See if you're a wizard or not..."
"Oh? And that is? I hope it's pleasant..."
James raised a long wooden stick at the Doctor. Clara recognised it as being similar to the ones used by Cephenrene and Idelana on Crixsos.
"What's that?" asked the Doctor curiously.
"A wand, of course..." said James.
"Ah, that makes a lot of contextual and physical sense..." surmised the Doctor, "A channelling method for the psionic energy-"
"Anatomia Revelio!"
There was a flash of sudden red light, along with what felt like a cool gust of wind, but their hair and clothes remained totally unstirred. A few seconds later, the light had vanished, and the Doctor regarded James, studying his wand, looking perplexed.
"What is it, James?" asked Ron.
"The female is certainly Muggle-"
"-Oi, this female has a name-"
"-but...the man is...I have no idea..."
"What do you mean, no idea?"
"He is neither Muggle nor wizard..."
"Those two categories are kind of mutually exhaustive, James. Something must have gone wrong..."
"Yes, quite. There must be something faulty with my wand. I may need to use another...do you have a supply of backup wands in this department?"
"Yeah, in the resource cupboards. Show him, won't you Jonah?" asked Harry. "I think you two need to improve your relationship..."
"Fine, fine..." said Jonah, smirking, "Come on Ruddells..."
"Don't call me that, Reeds..."
James and the wizard named Jonah left the cells, the door sealing behind them.
"Neither a Muggle nor a wizard? Ridiculous..." said Harry, lifting the newspaper he was carrying to his face.
It was right then the Doctor went very cold, very suddenly. There were very few times anything could make him feel like that. The last time was when he had realized Professor Yana was the Master...but this...this was much, much worse. Harry had raised the newspaper, revealing the front cover, where a photograph of a man was pictured. For a few, very brief milliseconds, the picture was just that - a man, a perfectly ordinary man. But then the picture bled away, revealing what the Doctor could only describe as something very not-human, a monster in fact, a monster with blackened skin, a deformed face, and long, claw like fingers. And, to alarm him the most, the photograph was emblazoned with a most disturbing caption:
New Muggle Prime Minister
"My goodness..." whispered the Doctor feebly, "They're here already..."
"Doctor...what is it?" asked Clara concernedly.
"The Demons of the Run are here. I recognise that Carrionite resemblance any day..."
"What are you talking about? Where are you getting this from?"
"That newspaper..." said the Doctor, gesturing towards Harry, "The front page..."
"W-what about it? There's nothing special...oh wow!"
"Do you see it?"
"Well I see we've got a new Prime Minister, that's a bit sudden. Still, I never liked Carlton. Bit of an idiot, to be honest..."
"You...you don't see it?" asked the Doctor. "Of course, there must be a perception filter, shielding his true form. Less psychically aware species will be vulnerable to it, but I'm certainly used to all kinds of psychic filters and could see straight through it..."
"What true form?"
"The new Prime Minister is unmistakably a Demon of the Run...and that is...well, that is a rather frightening concept..."
"I'm not seeing anything unusual..."
"Ok, ok, look harder. Perception filters can be broken if attention is drawn to the real image by someone who can truly see it..."
Clara gazed determinedly at the newspaper cover.
"I still don't see anything..."
"Ok, I'm enhancing your psychic abilities temporally..." said the Doctor, placing his hands delicately on Clara's temples, "Ok, now, look again!"
"It's still the same photo-oh holy crap!" she squealed, covering her mouth with her hands. "It changed! Is that...is that a Demon? They look disgusting..."
"That's one all right. They're here, just as Cephenrene predicted they might, using perception filters to take on human form. But somehow they're in a position of power, and that means we may have less time than we thought..."
"What are you two going on about now?" chastised Harry.
"Harry, look at the front cover of that newspaper..."
"What are you talking about?"
"Just look..."
He did so.
"New Muggle Prime Minister. What about it?"
"Look at it again. And look exactly where you don't want to look, that very corner of your eye, the exact tipping point of the whole perception filter. The White Witches on Crixsos had some degree of psychic and perceptive ability, Cephenrene certainly did, and so that ability should have passed onto you... but you still have to concentrate to utilise it..."
"What are you-" he began, but broke off, suddenly horrified just as Clara had been. "Oh my God...it changed! What the hell is that? How did you even do that to me? Is this a mind trick or something?"
"No, it's your own mind overriding the perception filter, led by my suggestions. The post of Prime Minister is now occupied by a monster, and that could mean disaster for your people..."
"Harry, what is he talking about? I can't see anything wrong with the - holy crap, what the ever loving shit is that thing?" exclaimed Ron, suddenly fearful.
"See, he's broken it as well, it's not a trick..."
"Why the hell does it mean disaster for us?"
"Because that monster is a Demon, and he is going to hate anything connected to the Queen, any witch, any wizard..."
"You're talking about this Queen again..." snapped Ron, still not breaking eye contact with the picture, disturbed, "What Queen?"
"The Queen of the White Witches. She is the reason for your abilities, and she's at risk. I need to find her before that monster does..."
"Why should we believe you?" asked Harry.
"Come here, and I'll show you..."
"No way. I have no reason to trust you..."
"Yes, you do, and you know it. You can sense that I am someone to trust, just like Cephenrene did. As you've shown, you witches and wizards have fairly developed psychic abilities, and you can perceive things ordinary people can't. You have already sensed that I am trustworthy..."
"Who...who is this Cephenrene you keep mentioning?" asked Harry.
"Let me show you. Trust me. I'm the Doctor..."
Harry edged forwards towards the bars.
"How will you show me?"
"Information transfer..." said the Doctor. He reached between the bars, and placed his hands gently on Harry's temples, just as he had done to Clara. "By psychic connection. Relax, and close your eyes..."
Harry did so, albeit apprehensively.
"This doesn't look weird at all..." coughed Ron.
"Bloody hell..." remarked Harry, suddenly, "How are you doing this? I can see into your mind..."
"Just relax..."
A few seconds later, the Doctor dropped his hands, and Harry opened his eyes, amazed.
"Harry...are you alright?" asked Ron concernedly.
"What he said is true, Ron...he showed me his memories...it was just like a trip into Dumbledore's pensieve..." stated Harry, "We are in danger..."
"What, how?"
"Doctor, can you show him too? It's hard to explain what you've just shown me..."
"Harry, you can't expect me to-" interjected Ron.
"Trust me, Ron..."
Ron regarded Harry curiously.
"Ok, then, fine..." said Ron. The Doctor did the exact same thing to Ron, filling his mind with the relevant memories and the significance of the Demons.
"Well, I'll be buggered..." said Ron, a few seconds later, "You actually were telling the truth..."
"Now, will you two help me in saving her? You know what's at stake..."
"Why us?"
"Because you were here right at this moment, that's why. And you seem a lot more cordial than that Denzel..."
"Harry?" asked Ron, "S-should we?"
"I suppose we have to..." said Harry. Ron nodded.
"Great! Now, we must get to the TARDIS at once...the blue box, wherever you put it. We need to get moving, we don't know how much time we have..."
"But surely we could justify this to the Auror department?" said Ron, "You should show them like you showed us..."
"It's difficult enough to show two people, let alone a whole department! There isn't enough time! Who knows how close the Demons are to finding her?"
"Yes, yes...of course..." said Harry, unlocking the main doors to the cell.
"What on Earth did you show them which made them so willing to help us?" demanded Clara in a whisper as the wizards fumbled with the door.
"The truth. I didn't just show them my memories, but their potential future. You remember how the White Witches were dependent on the Queen? If she died, they would all perish?"
"Yeah..."
"The same applies here. They are the products of her transitimisation. If she dies, and she's certainly at risk of that-", he paused, to straighten his bowtie, as he often did prior to moments of anxiety, "-Every single witch and wizard on Crixsos and Earth will die..."