Chapter Twenty-One
Prelude to War
Harry took Hermione's hand back in his and thought. Both options had pros and cons: if he remained as 'Jamie', there'd be no need for explanations to their fellow students, and he could remain in a room with Hermione... and explore their relationship a bit further. Of course this would mean keeping up the charade, with all the embarrassment that entailed, and risked them being found out. Plus it would mean that going to the toilet and things like that remained a hassle.
If he returned to school as Harry Potter, well none of the embarrassment needed to happen, but he'd need to explain to his fellow students why he had lied to them. And it meant being away from Hermione. But it would mean he could try out for Quidditch, and it took away any risk of being found out.
In the end he decided to do what all smart men did... ask your significant other. "Hermione... what do you think I should do?"
Hermione smiled at him encouragingly, "I think you should go as, you. I'll be proud to be your girl in the open, and no matter what happens, we can stand it together."
"Plus you can always drag him into a broom closet for a quickie," Sirius threw in. Getting evil looks from everyone he quickly amended, "I meant a quick snog! Why, what do you think I meant? Perverts." He grinned at the rest.
"Ignoring the man-child over there," – "Hey!" – "I agree with Hermione," Remus spoke. "We'll contact the Headmistress later, she'll be able to smooth things over to allow your return as a boy."
"I'll contact a funeral service for when the girls who you've been ogling in the shower tear you into pieces," Sirius threw in.
"Silencio," Remus had taken his wand out in a quick move, and silenced his friend. "Enough with your jokes Padfoot, we're trying to be serious here."
The Marauder looked especially pained that he could not make his favourite tired joke right now...
–-
The Sunday Prophet was the best read newspaper in Wizarding Britain, and was known for being delivered on time. That morning it was late however, and in several households – and at Hogwarts – people were wondering why. Finally the parliaments of owls descended on the various Wizarding towns, mansions, and houses, and dropped off the primary source for news to eagerly awaiting recipients.
Many people paled as they read the dual headline.
Black Day for Britain!
Muggle Queen Declares Wizengamot Dissolved while France Frees Sirius Black
by Rita Skeeter
Dear readers! The unthinkable has happened, and the Muggles have got involved in our government! A declaration issued by the Muggle Queen (see page 3 to read it in full) has declared our Ministry and Wizengamot to be closed, and claims its members are guilty of committing treason! One of my colleagues has tried to get a statement from Minister Fudge or another Ministry official, but the Ministry building is closed, for the first time since the War, with no statement forthcoming.
And you'd think that was bad enough news right readers? Well you'd be wrong! Remember Sirius Black, the betrayer of the Potters and You-Know-Who's right hand man? The first Death Eater to escape Azkaban prison, and who was suspected to be hunting down The-boy-who-lived? Turns out, he was in France all along! The French Minister has given him a trial, and they now claim Black was innocent of all his crimes, and have given him asylum! Your faithful reporter, not believing her own eyes when she read this, has looked through the trial transcripts of 1981, and to her immense surprise, it turns out Black was never given a trial in the first place! What does this mean? Was Black innocent all along, as the French claim? Was he thrown in Azkaban without a trial? Are more people sent to gaol for, dare I say it, political reasons? This reporter will be taking a trip to our neighbours soon, to get a statement from Lord Black himself.
One early reader of the newspaper was Arthur Weasley. "Mollywobbles, I'd best go in to work today, this does not look good for the Ministry," he commented to his wife.
"All right dear," Molly nodded. "If you think that's best. But don't worry, surely Dumbledore has everything well in hand."
"I hope so dear," Arthur sighed. He went to the Weasleys' fireplace and threw in some powder on the fire. As the flame roared up and turned green he stepped in the floo and clearly said: "Ministry of Magic!"
Strangely, nothing happened. Arthur frowned. "Ministry of Magic!" he tried again. "Ministry Atrium," was his next attempt.
"Molly dearest, how old is this floo powder?"
"It's only a month old Arthur, remember? Don't tell me this thing is broken again, if the twins –"
"Dear, the twins are at Hogwarts remember? I'm sure it's not on our end this time," Arthur calmed her before Mount Molly could erupt again.
"I'll apparate over." Arthur focused on his internal magic, and popped away.
–-
Apparition was invented before wands were introduced, and one of the few magical 'spells' that was still usually performed wandless. Using a wand helped, especially for beginners, as it took time to learn to find and access ones internal magic without using a wand, but it was not required. In Magical Britain, apparition was usually taught to children the year before they turned seventeen, at which time they would have already learned to cast some spells wandless.
It was also non-verbal, and for this reason some wizards did not consider it a spell at all. Over the millennia there had been some research in how apparition actually worked, but the only conclusion people had come to was that 'it just did'. Some Muggleborns likened it to the science-fiction transportation, the sensation one had when apparating was of being squeezed in an impossibly small tube, which could be a form of quantum entanglement – not that most wizards had any idea what that meant. As long as apparition worked, nobody really needed to know more.
The witch or wizard wanting to apparate needed to focus on the 'three Ds': Destination, Determination, and Deliberation.
Destination: the place where one wanted to apparate to. Most magicals could only apparate to places they had been, but powerful wizards and those with a good imagination could also apparate to new places, if they could picture them in their mind.
Determination: the wizard or witch needed to have no doubts whatsoever about moving themselves to the Destination. Even a little doubt meant that the apparition would fail completely.
Deliberation: the most critical step, and the one that most often went wrong. For apparition to work the magical needed to have their own body completely in mind, as well as the body of others going with them, or splinching could occur.
If three Ds were kept firmly in mind, apparition could bring the witch or wizard to any place they wanted to go within reason. How far one could apparate and how many – if any – others they could take with them depended on magical power. Most magicals could apparate about 500 kilometres over land, but apparating over water was much more difficult for some reason, with most magicals not being able to apparate further than 100km over open sea or ocean. Only especially powerful wizards were able to apparate across vast distances, the number of people who could apparate from Britain to the Americas could be counted on one hand.
Keeping those things in mind, apparition was widely considered a reliable form of transport. It only failed if someone erected an Anti-Apparition Charm... as Arthur Weasley found out as he tried to apparate to the Ministry Atrium, and found himself hitting the invisible wall, and ended up splashing into one of the fountains on Trafalgar Square. As he climbed out, muttering curses, he saw several other dishevelled Ministry personnel standing around, looking confused and angry.
"Morning Arthur," Dempster Wiggleswade, a legal aide from the DMLE greeted him. "Tried apparating as well I see?"
"Obviously," Arthur grumbled. "The floo was out."
"Not just the floo, the Visitor's Entrance is non-functional as well," Dempster pointed off in the direction of the phone booth. "We're pretty much locked out, it seems."
"You don't suppose it has to do with the Queen's proclamation do you?"
Dempster shrugged. "Who knows? There's no protocol for this, that's for sure. Anyway, I and some of the boys have cast a mild notice-me-not on the area as you're hardly the first to try apparating to work –" they were interrupted by a splash, as a rather rotund witch dropped into the water "– and some of the Muggles were beginning to notice," Dempster continued talking after shrugging.
"Well then what am I supposed to do?" Arthur frowned.
"Might as well go home Arthur, once this gets cleared up I'm sure someone will let us know. Unless you want to help out?"
"Sure, I can help. What do you need?"
"Could you go to the Leaky Cauldron and inform Tom? He can tell anyone else about the floo problems and all. After that, might as well go home."
"Sure, I'll do that." Another splash, as a wizard dropped into the water. "What a mess."
"You said it," Dempster shrugged.
–-
The Wizengamot meeting was drawing to a close. They were going over some future agenda points, when the door opened and a clerk rushed through.
"What is the meaning of this interruption?" Minister Fudge asked loudly.
"Minister! The newspaper, look!" the clerk pushed it into Fudge's hands, who began reading it, Dumbledore peeking over his shoulder.
"That's not all sir, the floo has stopped working, as well as the Visitor's Entrance!" the clerk added. "Sir, we're cut off from the outside!"
"Don't be ridiculous," Madam Umbridge bit at him, "the floo has never failed before. And besides, we can always apparate out of the Atrium."
"Madam, with all due respect, people have been able to apparate out, but nobody has returned yet," the clerk said in a small voice. "We don't know what's going on!"
Minister Fudge finished reading the front page, and was spluttering, "D– D– Dumbledore? What is the meaning of this? You told me Black would not be an issue?"
Dumbledore stroked his beard, "I am sure it is nothing Cornelius. Let the French do what they want, I'll go over their heads in the next ICW and get the murderer extradited to us."
'France then? You made a huge mistake Sirius... now I know where to find Harry,' Dumbledore thought. 'I'll send Alastor to Beauxbatons, the lad will likely show up any day there now. I'll have Harry back under control in no time.'
"Hmm? Did you say something Cornelius?" Dumbledore was roused from his thoughts as Minister Fudge pulled on his sleeve.
"I was saying, what about the Muggle Queen's declaration? Could it have something to do with the Ministry?" Fudge seemed to be panicking. Dumbledore looked in the room, and found more Sunday Prophets had appeared in the mean time. The Wizengamot members were looking worried, and angry, as they read it.
"I'm sure it's nothing, after all, Muggles are powerless," Dumbledore said in a calm voice.
"Minister, we should have the Prophet closed for sedition," Madam Umbridge offered.
"Can we do that?" Fudge looked to Dumbledore for support.
Dumbledore stroked his beard again, "Hmmm... we could... but rather than closing it, we should see about taking control instead. I think if we threaten Mr Cuffe with a stay in Azkaban he'll see reason."
"Right then, we'll do that," Fudge sounded relieved. "I'll send over an Auror to show Mr Cuffe that it will be best not to oppose us."
"A wise choice," Umbridge sycophantically agreed.
"Very well then Cornelius, I think I'd better deal with the crowd now," Dumbledore closed the conversation. He raised his wand, and fired a cannon blast.
"Now that I have your attention witches and wizards, it is time to draw this meeting to a close," Dumbledore spoke loudly as everyone quieted down.
"Pay no attention to the rantings in the Sunday Prophet. Order will be restored soon. For now, return to your homes or work places."
As the crowd began thinning out, Dumbledore bid his farewells to the Minister and Undertoad... err Undersecretary. It was time to send the Order of the Phoenix to France. He overtook some stragglers as they spoke among one another, and was ignoring anyone trying to talk to him. Quickly he made his way to the Atrium, and walked over to the floos... where he found Aurors blocking the way.
"Gentlemen, if you'll let me pass?" Dumbledore tried.
"Apologies Mister Dumbledore sir, the floo is non-functional at the moment," the Auror answered. "So is the Visitor's Entrance for that matter. You can apparate out though?"
"I see," Dumbledore nodded. The floo not working was troubling, but not that new. "I'll do that then." He walked over to the far wall where the Anti-apparition Jinx that covered most of the Ministry had left a hole, and apparated away to the Hogwarts gates. Not many could make the same jump, but he was not considered one of the most powerful wizards in the world for nothing.
–-
Snape woke up suddenly. He was in an unfamiliar place, with a somewhat sterile white ceiling. Someone had dared to place a tube in his arm, and nose! Suppressing a snarl, he gathered his thoughts: 'Okay Severus... you're in some kind of Muggle hospital, and were in a magical coma until now. Can you still feel your magic?' He closed his eyes, and concentrated. 'Yes, it's depleted, but it's there. Good. That means I can get out of here... wherever this. Is my wand anywhere nearby?'
"Accio wand," Snape croaked out, his voice unused and strained. He heard something hit the inside of the nearby cabinet, and smirked. Carefully he took out the various tubes the Muggles had placed on him, and tried to stand up. He almost collapsed to the floor, but caught himself in time. Somehow he made his way over to the cabinet, and opened it. Inside were his clothes, filthy and torn, and his wand. He reached out for it, and then saw himself in the mirror on the door.
They had dressed him in a Muggle gown of some sorts, and... they had washed his hair.
'I will murder them all, how dare they!' Snape fumed for a bit. Then he noticed that the Muggle machine next to his bed was emitting a loud tone. 'Best get out of here... these Muggles get to live for now.' Snape focused on his internal magic, and disappeared from the room/
Only minutes after he left a nurse rushed in, she had been on a coffee break and when she returned she saw the alarm light for their John Doe room light up! But as she opened the locked door the unknown man was not in his bed, or anywhere in the room... he had disappeared. Panicked, she ran to call her superiors, who would soon call the police.
–-
"Avada Kedavra," Snape watched with satisfaction as the Killing Curse hit the unfortunate man from behind. Finding a Wizard home was easy once he had apparated out of the hospital, he had had the luck to see an owl fly with a parcel attached to its legs, and followed it. He saw a few street signs, revealing he had crossed the Flemish-Walloon language border at some point, so at least he knew somewhat where he was, either in Belgium or the north of France. The dead man had just taken the newspaper when Snape had killed him.
Snape undressed the corpse and put his clothes over his, then transfigured them to fit him better and turn black instead of the bright colours they had been. He then picked up the newspaper and snarled again as he read the date. 'I've lost several days? Curse you Potter!' The newspaper was in French, but that didn't matter, since Snape liked to pretend to be a pureblood he had learned the language years ago. Snape's eyes narrowed as he read the front page article.
'They actually gave the mutt a trial? That was a huge mistake, now I know where to find you.' Thoughts of revenge ran through his head as he made his way into the now empty house, and made himself something to eat. The man had been living alone, well at least that meant he didn't have to take care of someone else now. The question now was, report to Dumbledore, or go after Black and Potter directly?
Snape yawned, and realised he was still tired. He cast an alert charm on the house so he'd be notified if anyone came nearby, then went to the small bedroom and decided to catch some sleep before he continued the hunt. Dumbledore could wait.
–-
Dumbledore arrived at the Hogwarts gates, and opened the gates with a gesture of his wand, then he walked up the path to his school. He made his way to his office untroubled, but almost as soon as he sat down, the alarm charm indicated Professor McGonagall was waiting to be let up.
"Albus, have you found them?" McGonagall looked harried.
"Found who, my dear?" Dumbledore was truly lost for a moment.
"Harry and Hermione! And Severus, and Remus of course," McGonagall clarified. "People are asking about them Albus, and I don't know what to tell them. On op of that, there's the Sunday Prophet and all the questions it raised!
"Albus, what does it mean? Is the Ministry really closed? Did they say why the floo was shut down?"
"I think it's best if we stopped the paper delivery for now," Dumbledore decided. "I'll erect the mail wards. As for the Ministry... I'm sure whatever is going on, is just a temporary issue. The floo has been shut down before, I am sure it will be up again in no time.
"If that is all?"
"Albus... what about the DADA and Potions classes for the upcoming week? We can't miss too many more of those."
Dumbledore sighed, "I will contact Horace, perhaps he will amenable to an offer to return... and I am sure I can get Cornelius to lend us an Auror for a while. Thank you Minerva."
McGonagall left, and Albus stepped over to his floo. If it was down everywhere, that was troubling indeed... he tested it, and found he could not get a connection to anyone.
'Most troubling,' he thought. He took out his wand, and cast a messenger patronus: "Loquor Patronum". A majestic silver phoenix escaped from his wand and waited for a message.
"Go find Alastor Moody and tell him: 'Alastor, the fugitive is in France. Go to Beauxbatons and bring him back at all costs'". The phoenix nodded, and flew away through the wall.
–-
Arthur had apparated back home from the Leaky Cauldron. He had done his job, informing Tom that the floo was out of commission, and there was little else to do. There was simply no way to get into the Ministry building, and it was not a working day anyway.
He was taking apart a Muggle leaf-blower in his shed now, but was interrupted from his work by someone knocking on the door.
"Yes dear?" Arthur poked his head out, and was surprised to see not just his wife, but several men unknown to him.
"Oh, I wasn't expecting guests," Arthur apologized.
"Arthur, they say they are here for you," Molly offered, looking a bit afraid.
"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" Arthur smiled.
"You are Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office?" one of them asked.
"Yes, yes," Arthur answered. "Are you here from the Ministry? I tried to go in today, with the newspaper and all, but –"
"Mister Weasley, we're going to have to ask you to come with us," the man interrupted.
"May I ask what this is about?" Arthur fished for his wand slowly.
"You have read the Proclamation closing the Ministry have you not?" As Arthur nodded, the man continued, "on behalf of Her Majesty, we're requesting you come with us to a secure location where your involvement in this illegal organisation will be researched. If you are found to be innocent of any crimes and be loyal to the Crown, you have nothing to worry about."
"Err... this is rather irregular," Arthur hesitated. "Who did you say you are with?"
"We are part of the South West England Pacification Squad," the man answered. "Sir, I must ask you to give us your wand and come with us. You have my promise you will not be harmed."
"Well... I suppose," Arthur said. "Here's my wand," he handed it over to one of the other man's subordinates, who took it carefully and placed it in a transparent bag which he sealed.
"Mollywobbles, could you contact Dumbledore about this? Don't worry dear, I'll be back as soon as I can," Arthur reassured his wife, and went with the man.
–-
Several Ministry personnel were safely rounded up in such a manner, but it didn't all go so well.
Brandon Yaxley was the son of a squib, and a nephew to the 'suspected' Death Eater Lysander Yaxley who was currently the third highest ranking member of the DMLE. His father Leonidas, Lysander's older brother, had been kicked out of the family mansion (both literally and figuratively) when no Hogwarts letter came for him at the age of eleven. Forced to survive on the streets he had the "fortune" of getting caught up in the ranks of the war orphans following the second world war, and had eventually enlisted in the army. He had never risen past sergeant rank, but always appreciated the opportunity the British armed forces had given him. They had paid for his education, and helped him become a well rounded 'Muggle'. "Leo" Yaxley hadn't thought about his birth family in decades.
Brandon had been born in the mid seventees after his father retired to become a teacher, where he had met his future wife at the school. In the year before he turned eleven his father had revealed the magical world to him, since the chance existed Brandon might get a letter for Hogwarts or one of the lesser schools. However, his birthday came and went without an owl. Brandon kept the existence of the world in mind though, and on occasion had seen a store or house his fellows couldn't. When he had brought this up to his father, Leo had theorized Brandon was a squib as well, and could see past Muggle repelling wards.
Like his father, he enlisted in the army as soon as he could, and after several years of service he proudly held the rank of Corporal. So when the secret order came from up high calling for soldiers with experience in such matters, Brandon had signed up. And now he was the section leader in charge of securing the end of the strange Diagon Alley where the Daily Prophet and one of the Muggle-owl post exchanges was located. Eight people made up his team: four fellow squibs like him, who were all standing out in the open pretending to be wizards, and three Muggleborn wizards who had enlisted, covered by Notice-me-not spells or invisibility cloaks. Throughout the Alley, as well as in the known magical villages, the same set-up was used. Another full platoon was standing by near Trafalgar Square, where the only known entrance to the Ministry was located.
Brandon was currently watching the comings and goings of the Wizarding populace on what by all accounts should be a quiet Sunday afternoon, but now something seemed to be happening.
"Heads up lads, we've got company," he commented to his Lance Corporal, indicating two men clad in red robes that made their way to their position.
"Morning," Brandon greeted the front one, stepping in his way and blocking his way to the office of the Prophet.
"Out of my way man, I'm on Ministry business," Dawlish said in a surly manner. Fudge had ordered him and his colleague Selwyn to go 'rough up' Barnabas Cuffe, and he preferred to get that annoying business over with.
"What Ministry?" Brandon saw his other men had taken position, and felt secure enough to antagonise the Auror.
"The Ministry of Magic, you fool. What are you, a Muggle?" Dawlish sneered.
"Didn't you read the Sunday Prophet today? By order of Her Majesty the Queen, the Ministry has been shut down. So I ask again, what Ministry?"
"Who cares about some delusional Muggle?" Selwyn interrupted. "Get out of our way, or you'll be sorry."
"I take it you don't intend to stand down?"
"Bloody Muggle loving scum," Selwyn growled, and whipped out his wand. In a quick move, he cast a spell towards Brandon, which hit a shield that one of Brandon's wizard subordinates had quickly cast.
Selwyn got no chance to fire another one, as multiple pulses of 1200 volts rushed through his body.
"How do you like getting tased you scumbag?" yelled the man holding the device on him.
"Enough Smith," Brandon ordered. Turning his attention back to Dawlish: "I suggest you surrender your wand now sir."
"What... what will happen to me?" Dawlish carefully handed his wand over to Brandon.
"You'll be taken to a special facility where we will question Ministry personnel on their involvement in this illegal organisation. Should you be found innocent of treason, you'll be freed in no time and a position for you will be found in the new government, should you wish one."
"I was just following orders," Dawlish offered. Brandon rolled his eyes, and let the wizard be carried off.
For some reason none of the onlooking crowd commented on two Aurors being subdued like that... Brandon assumed correctly the Auror force was highly unpopular.
–-
Fudge sat at his desk getting angrier and angrier. Nobody had returned to the Ministry after being sent off, and the entrances were still blocked!
Then his Undersecretary knocked on his door and let herself in.
"Dolores, please tell me you have good news," Fudge pleaded. He had sent her to take charge of getting the floo back up and running, since he had other matters to attend to (read: was lazy).
"Those incompetents say they have no clue why the floo is down Minister," Umbridge complained. "They say it is as if the magic refuses to work, which is of course preposterous!"
"How soon will it be fixed?"
"They can't say," Umbridge added. "Minister, are you sure this has nothing to do with that Bones woman?"
"How can it possibly... hang on, didn't she claim to be speaking in name of the Muggle Queen?"
"I believe so," Umbridge nodded.
Fudge rose from his seat, "those bloody Muggles! I know what to do."
–-
John Major had Tony Blair with him in his office when they heard someone clearing his throat. "Hang on Tony, I'll be right back," John informed his direct competitor and the man who was likely to win the next election, despite whatever he could do about it.
He stepped into the corner, and looked at the painting.
"Muggle, the Minister for Magic will speak to you now. Send that other Muggle away, and he'll come speak with you," the painting said in a snooty tone.
"What Minister? There is no Ministry of Magic," John countered. "You can tell your boss that I am not interested. And for his sake I'd not try something foolish either."
"You cannot speak of the Minister like that," the painting scoffed. "Hang on, what are you –"
John took the painting off its hook, and dropped it in a drawer on his desk. "Sorry about that Tony, had to take care of the rubbish. You were saying?"
–-
"They did what?" Fudge nearly exploded from anger at the painting's counterpart's report.
"The Muggle took my frame off the wall, and dropped me in some dark place," the painting repeated. "He claims there is no Ministry, and that you are not to try to apparate to him."
"We'll see about that," Fudge sneered. "Dolores, go fetch me an Auror squad. We're going to take care of that upstart Muggle, and then we'll have him talk to that Queen of his. Nobody makes a fool of the Ministry!"
Before Umbridge could answer, the lights went out throughout the Ministry.
A/N: Before I get complaints about how easy the Muggles appear to be "winning": see the chapter title.
And exactly what is happening at the Ministry will become more clear next chapter.