Chapter 37: What they should have known

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Lucius Malfoy was many things. One of them was cruel. And according to the Healer, he also was diagnosed with PTSD. But not many knew that. Still, Lucius rubbed his eyes. Right now, he was attending late lunch with the Minister about some new intern Department whatnot. Not that he cared. Lucius found himself not caring in the slightest in Cornelius Fudge's thoughts of good employees. Now, if he could put some words to demean Arthur Weasley … he would gladly do so.

Although, something else captured Lucius's attention.

A patronus was gliding effortlessly toward their table. That, spelled trouble and emergencies. Because patronus were rarely used. It was only for fast transportations … so if it was needed … for the Minister … hmm, yes. Some emergency, and Lucius would be the first to know all about it. Well, almost.

The wizard levelled his eyes to Cornelius Fudge, his smile not quiet reaching his eyes. But then, all pretense was gone. His smile wiped, as the message was delivered.

"Emergency issue arises within Hogwarts, Sir. All communications have been cut and reports from Hogsmeade say there was an explosion. Dementors were seen roaming in the park without restriction. I repeat, Sir. Emergency issue arises within Hogwarts, Sir. All comm-"

Needless to say, no one was grinning or adorning the polite smile usually reserved for lunches. Right now, people were distraught.

In a daze, Lucius realized he had been dismissed. He saw, more than he heard, the Minister leave with a group of wizards, all going to the Department of Mysteries. But his thoughts were solely focused on Draco. And on the Dementors roaming free within Hogwarts.

Molly Weasley was in the kitchen, trying to cook up a new meal. One she would make for tonight hopefully. Now, things weren't going very well. The mashed potatoes and special pumpkin were delivering a very disturbing smoke and the pot kept on stirring up too much. Well, perhaps she could just not try a new meal. Arthur did like his mashed potatoes anyways. Even if they were a bit too much cooked.

Turning her head to take her wand and switch on the wireless radio, Molly caught her magic clock. All hands pointed to "safe" or/and "at school". Somehow, she registered her husband's hand going to the "on the move" part of the clock before returning to "work". Huffing, Molly turned up the volume of the wireless. Celestina Warbeck was singing, and she didn't want to miss it. Especially since the storm outside was raging like a dragon these days.

Aahhhh, You asked for my forgiveness but I stopped you, I stopped you

I wanted you to understand that I was hurt, I was hurt

But you've left your perfume with my wand, with my wand

I'd give up everything to find-

"Special report, priority to direct." The voice of a reporter, Ameline Garzès, was heard from the wireless, interrupting the song, "This, is a message from the Ministry for Magic: due to an emergency at Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, all wizards and witches are hereby asked to deliver any piece of information regarding the school should anything happen in the next days or so. The Minister has reported an anomaly. All communications with the school are, for now, null. In the meantime, for security reasons, call to witnesses are to be addressed to the Emergency Department, newly raised for the situation."

Molly's mug crashed to the floor. Her eyes were riveted on her clock once again. But this time, the hand of one Ronald Weasley was pointing to "in mortal danger". An anguish cry escaped her lips, just as the floo flared to life, letting passed her husband, Arthur Weasley. He, too, was distraught.

When Bellatrix Lestrange heard the news, she had thought it to be a fluke. When she had heard the news, her mind had told her Xerxès was, of course, the culprit. The brat wanted more attention for his birthday, she had thought with endearment. The gift probably wasn't enough. When she had heard the news, she had used her wand to lift another drink from the buffet in honor of the qualifications championships for duel. When she had heard the news, she had been in quiet pleasant company. When she had heard the news, she had dismissed it like yesterday's garbage.

She shouldn't have.

When, a few hours later, she had used the floo to stagger back to her Manor, Rodolphus and Rabastan had been nowhere to be seen. Which had been the first issue then. But Bellatrix hadn't minded. She never did. With a slight frown, she had wanted to check on Kyla, but her daughter hadn't been in her crib either.

Naturally, Bellatrix had been wary. She had flooed straight to her sister's, only to be met with utter silence. With befuddled rage, the witch had called for the house elves. They never came. Cringing her teeth, Bellarix had resolved herself to go to her mother's house then. And upon arriving, her mother had been shocked to see her.

"What are you doing here?" she had accused, sitting in the sofa, Kyla in her arms. "You are supposed to be in the Wizengamot emergency session."

Bellatrix had frozen on the spot.

"What?!" she had almost screeched.

Without a minute to spare, Bellatrix had rushed to the Ministry. With contempt, she had seen the many worried faces. Fortunately, it seemed people recognized her enough to let her pass without any question. With hurry, she was led by a very young Auror – most definitely a trainee if his stumbling feet weren't proof enough of his less than professional behavior - to the session. And for once, Bellatrix had to admit she was cowed. The room had been expanded to allow every wizard and witches holding seats. All in all, it was around 874 seats given. Hers, was with the Black section, next to - Bellatrix paused when she saw the familiar faces – Sirius, Andromeda and her sister, Cissy. None of them spared her a glance, their eyes were completely focused on the Minister.

Idly, Bellatrix realized Albus Dumbledore wasn't there to preside the session, like he should have been.

"-forces gathered at Hogwarts to break down the wards." Was finishing the Minister. His bowl hat was nowhere to be found today. "As of now, communications are still cut off, but within a few hours, the Castle should be reached and explanations should be held."

As the Cornelius Fudge mumbled some other meaningless words, a witch stumbled into the room, bringing a parchment with her. Her green robes identified her as an Astrowitch. She gave the parchment to the Minister and left in a hurry, most definitely trying to finish whatever work she had.

Fudge, upon reading the notice, seemed to have swallowed whole a lemon. A very bitter one.

"I am informed by the meteorologic department" began the wizard with some difficulty, "the storm was a magical occurrence from Ilvermorny, School of North America."

The statement was received with a deafening silence.

"This means war!" cried out one Amos Diggory, "These Americans! First, they try to undermine us and then they dare attack our very children!"

In the whole clamor that arose the next moments, Bellatrix felt oddly out of place. Never had she felt so alone in that sea of wizards and witches. Also, her mind was crossed with the fact mudbloods and halfbloods were attending the session. She was positively reeling.

Ron wanted to retch so hard, it tore his stomach asunder.

To be honest, he had been scouting the area with Neville and Hermione while the other Gryffindors had been on the lookout in case of troubles. And, then, amidst the rain and thunder, a huge explosion had been heard. Ron and his friends had had just enough time to turn their heads toward the origin before being swallowed whole by a huge tongue of fire. Instead of the burning sensation he should have felt when the fire had reached him, a searing tug in his guts had wrenched him. He had fallen to the muddy floor, hands first on the mud clutching his old wand.

His vison was blurry at best and his hearing had yet to come back, too. Swishing his head from left to right, Ron was met with utter desolation around him. Some bushes were seen a few miles away. Trying not to stare too much, Ron realized that no Castle stood behind him. No. Nothing but his two closest friends. They were talking, registered after a while Ron. To him.

"LRIGHT, RON?" Hermione was shouting, worried. Ron shrugged his head, still shocked at the fact the Castle had disappeared right in front of them.

Neville didn't fare better in his back. He was trembling, looking dumbstruck by the mere thought of Hogwarts not being there anymore. And Hermione was ranting. Oh, and it was still pouring down a drain, noticed the ginger head. The bloody thing wasn't stopping anytime soon either, going by the awful clouds gathering up ahead.

With his two friends, they obviously chose to huddle together and took out the communication rocks, trying to reach the familiar voices of their friends.

"Can somebody receive me?" he asked, his voice trembling. Hermione and Neville both pinched their lips.

"I've already tried." Finally relented Hermione. "Nothing. Bael mustn't be activating the rocks. I can try for a distress signal, but if muggles see the sparks …"

Ron was officially distressed.

They were lost in the middle of nowhere.

"At least, we have our wands." Tried to cheer up Neville, "We'll just have to wait for the Aurors to come. Or Na-Dragons. I don't know where we are." He mumbled the last part.

CRACK

CRACK

CRACK

"See." Smiled Neville. His smile was wiped off within a millisecond. The tell-tale magenta robes of the Aurors were nowhere to be seen. Whoever had Apparated to their spot was hiding. The multiple popping sounds were heard once again. On instinct, the three Gryffindors stood back to backs.

"So, I suppose this is not the Sixth year trying to scare us." Lightened up, Ron, voice cracking with nerves. He received an elbow between his ribs by Neville. Now was not the time.

"Who's there?" shouted Neville to the seemingly empty plateau.

The three Gryffindors tightened their grips on their wands. A ruffling sound was heard in the bushes.

Nerves acting, Ron sent a stunner toward it. The reaction was immediate. The three friends got flattened by a yellow spell. Literally. They were shoved on the ground by an invisible force, knocking down their breath.

"You mongrels!" hissed somebody somewhere, "you could have been spotted!"

Or, that was what Ron thought the man – the voice was grave enough to belong to a grown man – said. His speech pattern had been way more convoluted and old.

A rough hand grabbed his shoulders and made him stood upright once again. But Ron was still stuck in his position, unable to move a single finger. Which probably stopped him from screaming from fright. The man – he had been right – before him was gruff looking. Adorned in several layers of black clothing, a scarf covering hi lower face and hair greasy enough to put Snape to shame, the man grunted again.

"You're the third group to appear. Hurry."

Ron didn't question it. Perhaps this was one of the famed Na-Dragons. Either way, he couldn't talk. Gazing into the black orbs of the man, Ron didn't see the other men, clothed the same way the man was, grabbing his friends and Apparating away.

Not ready for the gut-wrenching feeling, the ginger did throw up once he found new stable floor. Drenched and dirty as he was, it didn't make any difference now.

"Weasel couldn't hold it in?" a sarcastic voice reached Ron's ears.

Ron ticked.

Of all the people he could have ended up with, he had to end up with Malfoy. Dear Merlin, what had he done to warrant such hate from the fates?

"Malfoy." Acknowledged Neville in place of Ron.

Hermione was staring at her surroundings.

Something Ron did too.

"Where are we?" he asked, touching the walls. It was a weird rock.

"In a secret cave." Answered one of the clothed men.

Ron started, he hadn't seen the man there. And just as he was going to pounce for more information, the man held up his hand.

"Not now." He said commanding, "Just wait for the others to come."

Ron shut up.

He hoped the others were not some Slytherins.

It turned out, they didn't have to wait too long for the black clothed men to make a reappearance. They came back, bringing back Ron's fellow Gryffindors and some two sixth year lost Hufflepuffs.

"That's all there was in the Eastern region."

Ron frowned. They shouldn't have been in the East of anything. Hogwarts was south west of the British Isles.

The leader of the wizards – and was there a witch in the bunch too? Ron never guessed – stepped forward. He handed down to each student a worn out necklace.

"Ew." Said Draco, "Why would you give us this rag?!"

The man ignored him.

"They're protections against enemies." He finally stated when Draco was about to throw the necklace away, "it gives you some sort of communication to another wizard if needed."

"Why?" questioned Lavander Brown. "Why would we need it? And what enemy?"

The girl looked hideous with mud covering her, something that was clearly irking her if the way she was trying to wipe her hands on her robe was any indication.

The man stared at her for an uncomfortable moment before answering.

"I will be short." He began, drawing his wand slightly when it began to glow. Some signs appeared and with a quick flick, they disappeared. "You are not supposed to be here." The man pointed to the necklaces, "they are not just protections, but also translations necklaces. Because we do not speak exactly the same language."

Immediately following these words, sneering was heard. The glaring intensified so much, it shut any remark. The man continued.

"Here, we are not far from Elimith, a small muggle village." The other black wizards shifted in unease, "you were brought here before any of them could see you." The word had been spit with hatred, as if the idea of muggles burnt the wizard.

"What's there to fear from muggles anyway?" sneered Draco once again, "They're defenseless."

Ron tried not to show his frown at the condescending tone.

"Defenseless?" the leader barked a laugh. It was bitter, "No. They're far from it. Right now, every week or so, you will find a dozen wizard or witches executed by their hands. Mostly children, or old men. And if they don't light the pyre for you, they go to their lords, the Stars." He explained casually. "Never cross them if you don't want to end up dead."

"What?" Hermione pipped up, "But the Stars are just a legend?! Does this mean this Rasa person truly exists? And what about the Sentry? And the Queen?" she blurted in one breath. Clearly, she had a grasp on what was happening, and no one else had.

The names Hermione had blurted out seemed to get reaction from the people clad in black.

"Where did you hear those names?" demanded a harsh female voice. It was frozen, unforgiving.

The leader held up his hand in the air to diffuse the tension. He must have communicated with the witch somehow, because she snarled but didn't say another word.

"The Stars are no legend, girl." He grinded out, "They are very much real and they have been purging the land of pureblood wizards for a dozen centuries already."

Draco Malfoy almost fainted. And so did his friends.

The man regarded him weirdly, not knowing how to act.

"Anyway. If you want details, go ask somebody else. What you all need to know is that muggles are very much aware of us. They would do anything to hunt us and hand us to the Stars. Only because the Stars have brainwashed them. But it doesn't stop their crimes." The man breathed in, "Don't go outside without supervision. I would recommend you all stay here an-"

"They can fight." Urged one of the black clad wizard, "They obviously have been trained." Now, if Ron wasn't mistaken, the man sounded desperate.

"They're children." Replied the leader, somewhat weakly.

"And we were younger when we decided to fight. We need them, face it Raoh."

The leader, named Raoh said nothing. He simply evaluated each student with some caution. Pinching his lips, he barked.

"We'll see about that. They'll have to be useful anyway. Lead them to the Queen's third regimen. The Generals will take care of them."

Ron panicked. He didn't like the sound of it all. Being inducted into an army of sorts had not been in any of his plans for the future.

"Take the green ones to Salazar, the yellow ones to Helga and the red ones to Godric. I'll go myself to Rowena anyway."

Protest erupted just as fast on every Hogwarts students lips, names too familiar to be true.

"Empathy links should permit any parents to contact their child." Finished a lanky wizard to an assembly of worried parents, "the link should be stronger with the two parents, else .. well, there won't be enough time, I guess." The wizard's voice withered away under the ferocious glares of all the parents. He coughed slightly, "Alright, would each parent reach for the Healers next to your right. Follow them to the rooms intended for empathy links purposes. As explained earlier, the link you will establish is more than likely to be weak if the child is awake. And short. Expect at most 5 minutes."

The wizard high-tailed out the room as soon as he was not demanded again.

Bellatrix snarled. What a coward. For sure he was no pureblood.

Quickly joining her husband and Healer Schiller to a side-room for the empathy link, Bella interrupted a conversation between Andromeda – that Blood traitor – and her, dare she say it, husband. They spared no attention to her and Rodolphus, not that they needed any. They were deep in a conversation, huddled close so that nobody could hear.

"I told you Ted, the Healers are formal. Only biological parent can come in." she whispered just loud enough for Bellatrix to hear. "They'll be safe anyway."

And Bellatrix froze a millisecond. That was something new. But her husband tugged her toward the side-room, and she could no more hear the hushed conversation. Somehow, something that felt very important just escaped her understanding, and it didn't arrange her mood.

"This way." Curtly ushered Healer Schiller.

The man seemed utterly battered. But Bellatrix could understand. These last few hours had been hectic at best, and tension was high. Actually, bar that. Schiller had family in America. She could bet half her vault contents, threats had already been issued.

"The ritual will be short." Said the blonde man, "Just let a drop of blood down on the goblet" Schiller pointed a wooden goblet, "and repeat thrice the words eat in memoriam." The Healer pulled a couple chairs, "Then, we will mostly wait until the connection is established. After that, you will be able to talk to your son. If he is awake, you will most likely hear what he hears. If not, it will be a void of sorts. Also, don't use your wands or you could cause irreparable damages to your son's head."

The instructions were precise, that much was clear.

Neither her, nor Rodolphus wasted a second. Rodolphus used his wand to prick his finger while she used her knife. It had been a nice gift from her son, too. Hurriedly, she deposited her drop of blood in the goblet and watched fascinated as Schiller incantated and let her and Rodolphus do the same. Very soon, the blood in the goblet slid down and formed a rune on the floor.

Bellatrix's brain translated the rune immediately to "mind link". Without missing a heart-beat, she waited for something to happen. Slowly, ethereal voices reached them.

It seemed her son was awake.

"De Romae quaeris, meridianam, quod ire necesse est. »

« Ago gratias tibi. »

« Salvum itineribus, amicus."

Again, Bellatrix translated. Latin, was, after all, very common. She had forced it upon Xerxès at a young age, and she was glad she had done so. Now, if memory served her right … did her son just asked how to go to Rome?

Rodolphus cleared his voice, and the voices abruptly stopped.

"Son, can you hear me?"

The rune flashed several times.

"Son?" repeated Rodolphus, worried.

"Don't resist!" urged the gentle voice of Healer Schiller. He was rearranging some border runes. "Let your Occlumency shields down."

"I …" began Xerxès's hoarse voice, "Are you really there?"

"of course, we are here, Xer." Admonished Bellatrix, speaking for the first time. "Now, we don't have a lot of time. Something happened at Hogwarts. What is it? And where are you?"

Xerxès took a lot of time to answer. And the pained look from Healer Schiller told them enough to realize time was almost up.

"We're doomed. I am doomed. Mom, there's a war …" the voice broke down, some sound were heard, "Di Immortales. Help me. You don't understand" rumbled Bael somewhat crazily, "they do not eat, they do not take showers … they do not sleep! Get me out of this mad house!" his voice was downright begging.

"What is happening, Xer?!" urged Rodolphus frantic.

"Stars! Th-"

The rushed voice abruptly cut off.

"I couldn't keep it for longer." Reasoned Schiller, a bead of sweat rolling down his brow, "And I think we might want to report to the Minister."

"You think?!" snapped Bellatrix, grabbing her wand and tightening her hold. "Rod', let's go."

Ron glanced at the crowd.

After the revelations, which had yet to properly sink in his brain, the wizards had led them to a huge room. And there, the shocking young faces of Hogwarts founders had greeted them sternly. Ron was still openly gawking.

"Ron." Shushed Hermione, "They are all …"

"Famous." Cut the ginger head, following the light footsteps of the black men to the huge crowd.

"No." whispered the witch. She tightened her hold on both Neville and Ron's arm. "Look at their faces. All of them." She pointed to the crowd. "They are all teenagers. As in young. Not dead."

Ron did take a thorough look at the crowd. He gulped when he saw barely older faces than theirs.

"What does it mean?" asked Neville worriedly.

"It means they are no other people capable of fighting." Snapped one the black clothed men, "Watch your tongues. Here, we all have suffered from the Stars. Don't think that because you were suddenly flinged here, you are the only martyrs."

Ron sensed a bitter story behind the words. He had the sensible reaction not to push for it.

"What are we waiting for?" demanded Seamus.

The boy had been just behind Ron and practically throbbing with energy.

"You will be sorted as the General will see fit. If you can't fight, you will be asked to teach. Or do something useful. We can't very much let you all out of here."

"And why is that?" demanded Parvati Patil, "We've done nothing wrong. We are not your prisoners!"

The black clothed men had the gall to outright laugh at the remark.

"you really don't know anything, do you?" he rhetorically asked. And from the blank faces he received, he explained, "Alright, listen well. A few centuries ago, the brightest witches and wizards of their age regrouped. They were named the sacred 28. Together, they created a new form of magic. The sentient buildings. There were supposed to be imbued in enough magic to grant the buildings any action it wanted, it was supposed to be a revolution. The problem, was that during the inauguration, things went awry. The magic got out of control, and brutally robbed of their magic the wizards and witches. The sentient buildings reacted violently and pushed them out. When the wizards and witches regained consciousness, they were surrounded by what we now call the Stars." The man looked at the Hogwarts students and pursed his lips. He explained some more. "The Stars are sentient beings capable of taking any form they want, and they grow stronger when they absorb magic. Needless to say, with the sentient buildings, they have wreaked havoc on us, looking to absorb all of our magic. They have even turned the muggles to chase us. To hunt us." The black man talking stopped, "Right now, almost the whole Isles are barren of any magical folk living freely. We are all in some refugee. Our parents … they decided to make a rallying call, to ask for help. It never came, and the Stars came swooping them. Never saw them back. We only can rely on the Queen, now."

Ron was feeling terrified.

"But … what happens to … muggleborns? I mean, they don't know anything and …" Hermione was trembling.

"Muggleborns? I don't know. They aren't primary target anyway. Somehow, the Stars love the blood of the original 28, so worst case scenario is to be a pureblood or of their descent. Most of the time, muggleborns are ignored. If not, they usually find the squibs who then give instructions to join us."

Ron tried to sit. This was … so much.

"And … how do we come back?" he finally asked.

The man seemed to hesitate.

"The Queen and her advisors are probably talking about it. I heard they thought it was the Stars that brought you all here. They seem to think a lot of you are purebloods." He pointedly looked at them all. Ron squirmed. He never had hated his status as much as now. "They will try to reverse whatever brought you here once the war is over."

"But!" Hermione ticked, "That war you talk about is centuries long! We could be stuck for years here before coming back!"

"We've made advance on the front, though." Commented meekly another black clad wizard – he wasn't that old too, 15 at best, "So, I'd give a couple years. Apparently, a spy department has opened, and it's going quiet well. Thanks to Aluka and Raoh."

The man who talked seemed genuinely happy about the fact the end of the war was approaching. The others, not so much.

Whatever, Ron needed rest. Also, he hoped Bael could find a way out, wherever he was. He had yet to see his metamorphmagus friend.

Ron was sitting on a bench, forlornly looking at the floor. Around him, his Gryffindor friends were here. Some paces away, Ron could also see the Slytherins. And scattered around the two groups were a couple of sixth year students.

"They said we'd have a few days before being induced into their … army … of sorts." Painfully said Neville, "In two days time, a colonel should fetch us, and I quote "assess our abilities". After that, we should be scattered to different parts in this hide-out."

"This is not a good idea." Mumbled Hermione, "We shouldn't scatter."

"But for them, it is." Countered Ron, "Fresh wands to pick a fight, with apparently, moderate usage of magic – I don't know if you've seen that dude over there, he was barely able to lift a rock. So, of course we'd be assets for them. Their only issue is that we all want to leave. So they will prevent any communications between us. Divide us." Mumbled the ginger head.

Hermione and Neville frowned.

"Then … could we use the same rock things Parvati used for the … duel thing?"

Ron shrugged.

"It wasn't that effective. It required somebody to always wave his wand over the rocks. No … we need something like the parchment. Or better yet, the mirrors Maureen and her father used."

Hermione pinched her lips.

"That's magic we don't know …" she supplied, "perhaps if we could talk to some educated wizard here …"

"Dunno." Whispered Neville, his eyes gleaming. "Shouldn't we at least make sure everybody is here? Because, if only the people in Hogwarts park were touched, that means Thaddéus and all the sixth year, and the rest of our group, should be down here. And Bael, too."

"They probably were picked up like we were." Said one Slytherin. Ron recognized Theodore Nott, "And Thaddéus is big enough to take care of herself. She must have fled long ago. I doubt that old cogger would have let herself being taken like we were." He bitterly said. "It's her fault anyway. This whole mess is. We're stuck here, in another era with teenage Founders, with nothing but our wands and some scrap of history! Is there somebody here, that listened enough in history of magic to tell us where we are down the troubles? And what is that war about? Apart from the blood purge, that is."

A huge silence echoed.

"Perfect!" sneered Theodore, "Just when we need the nuts, they're not here!"

The other people ignored him. They were all on their last nerves.

"If they need to end the war, perhaps we should help." Proposed Dean, "I mean, even Ron saw that they are awful at magic. Probably because they don't have anybody to teach them. If we were to help, we would accelerate the process, and we would be able to go home faster."

"I'm not committing to war!" shouted somebody. "We could risk our lives!"

"I'll do it." Exclaimed Ron, "I don't have any other choice anyway. I'm a pureblood, and if what they say about the Stars is true, then I'm first target here. As all purebloods are."

People looked at him funnily. Or with pity.

"You're not honestly believing what they say!" squeaked Susan Bones, "It's impossible! That would mean we time travelled like … A thousand years!"

Some students began to agree with her. Slowly, a divide was forming. And weirdly enough, both Gryffindors and Slytherins were on the same side.

"It doesn't matter, now." Shouted Tracey Davies, "We're all in the same shit, and just in case you hadn't realized, Bones, they talk the archaic way! We've seen the very faces of the Founders! Of course it is real! And we're in very deep!" she managed to blurt out, "If we want to leave this place, then we'd better to our best to leave this whole mess with the Stars behind, which means using our own wits! You don't have to fight to be a part of the war effort anyway." She finished.

Ron and Neville were glued to her words. Susan seemed to cow in front of the Slytherin's words, but she stopped whatever she was about to say. Her eyes were transfixed on someone standing behind them.

"Hum, hum." The someone cleared its throat.

Ron turned back to see who was there. He almost fainted.

For in front of them, there was none other than the Queen. Garbed in golden armor and a heavy looking crown, her young face stared at them all. And when Neville was about to say something, he got shoved in the wall by one of her … guards Ron supposed. They were also clad in black, like the wizards that had collected them.

Ron gulped.

"She's barely an adult, I say." He mumbled to Neville when the Queen's form disappeared from their view. "We're screwed big time."