Chapter Forty Five, for your reading pleasure ... earlier than usual ...:D

(Added on 4th September 2013) I just had some inspiration for a scene that would go nicely in this chapter. Check it out!


The effects of the economic meltdown caused by Fire Sale reverberated throughout the world. The state of the modern world economy meant that the fortunes of each country were dependent on the other. Out of these, they were affected the most by the strength of the American Dollar, the British Pound, The Euro and the Japanese Yen. A drop in the value of one of these would affect the entire world market.

But when all four of them failed, and failed so spectacularly … well, "widespread chaos" was far too mild a term to use to describe the situation.

Overnight, the most basic of necessities like bread and water became more expensive than the finest caviar (which in turn became a luxury even the rich could no longer afford). Many a time, a person would order a basic meal in a basic restaurant, but in the five minutes it took for his food to come, it would end up costing him ten times the price.

All of this went through the mind of the Nawab of Pataudi as he paced back and forth, waiting for his Minister of Magic to show up.

The Prime Minister of India had contacted him and his fellows quite quickly once the news had broken out. The fall in the Dollar affected the Rupee severely. While the news was barely a few hours old, the amount of chaos was already building. Something needed to be done to offset the dramatic fall. And gold was their best bet.

'Sahib,' the voice of his personal assistant broke through his thoughts. 'He has arrived.'

'Send him in,' The Nawab replied in Hindi, stroking his trimmed beard.

Only a few short hours back, the King of Spain had called him with wild ramblings about how the wizards could not be trusted. Personally, the Nawab did not believe the man, the monarch did have a reputation of being quite power hungry and sly, after all. He would not put it past the old man to have some ploy cooked up so that he could end up with more power.

Besides, the very thought of the wizards being capable of anything was ludicrous. They were oath-bound!

As such, he had (quite politely, mind you) told the man to piss off, ignoring the standard muttered slight against his chosen profession.

It wasn't as if everyone could live a life of idle luxury subsisting only on a steady income. Besides, while his ancestors and the most of nobility and royalty would scoff at his chosen profession, he still made a tonne of money and had quite a bit of fame and good standing in public as well.

He was brought of his thoughts when the door opened to admit the Minister of the magical princely state of Pataudi.

'Ah,' the Nawab said, glancing at him. 'I am going to require some of your gold.' Turning around he strode to his desk.

'I am afraid I cannot allow that.'

The darkly sinister tones of the wizard stopped the Muggle in his tracks.

'What do you mean?' The Nawab said irritably. In his agitation he switched to English. 'Need I remind you of your oaths, wizard?'

'No you need not, Muggle,' the Minister sneered with venom, completely taking the other man aback by his tone.

'While I cannot be released from my oaths, I can transfer them. And I now owe my allegiance to someone else.' He drew his wand, his posture giving a clear message of aggression as he did so.

Eyes widening, the Nawab immediately pressed a talisman around his neck.

However, the Minister was unfazed when a group of other wizards appeared in the room. The Nawab was quite disconcerted to see him smirk of all things.

'Well, what are you waiting for? Restrain him!' he yelled in Hindi to his guards.

As one, the four other wizards stepped forward…

Only to stand next to the minister, facing the man that they were expected to protect.

'It seems that your guards also owe their allegiance to another, Sahib.' The Minister said in mocking tones. His face twisting in an expression of rage, he raised his wand and cried, 'For the Emperor!'

Outnumbered and outgunned the lone Muggle did not even stand a chance. Multiple jets of light impacted the Nawab, lighting up his body like one of the displays in Fred and George's shop.

The Minister looked at the smoking corpse in front of him. 'Burn this place down. I want nobody here to live.'

'Ji, han,' the former bodyguards replied with a bow.


Harry sat in his office in Buckingham Palace, looking at the television screen in front of him.

The peals of sirens coming from ambulances and police cars gave more than enough credence to the reports of riots he was seeing in the news. People all over the country, as well as the world were going crazy. So far, no serious damage had happened. The Muggles were all busy with harassing the Prime Minister and the government. Those crowds that weren't located in Downing Street or near Westminster Palace were gallivanting around town, looting, mugging, and generally taking part in activities of the destructive mob kind.

A smile broke out in the newly crowned Emperor's face. Project Fire Sale was wildly successful.

Harry had to give Flamel credit where it was due. The ancient alchemist had seen this opportunity quite a few decades back and had started his research into how best he could screw it up. Harry coming into power helped speed up his plans. Soon enough, the right people in the various Treasuries concerning the various currencies were Imperiused, waiting for the order to start buying bonds like they were going out of style.

However it was beginning to wind down now. There was only so much of rioting and shouting and haranguing one can do in a day … and the police can be a bit of a wet blanket.

Harry took out his mirror.

'Robert,'

A man's face appeared. 'Yes, your imperial majesty?'

'Things are getting rather quiet here,' Harry replied lightly. 'I think the Muggles are getting bored.'

'Ah,' the man replied with a smirk. 'That is truly a shame, sire.'

'If only we had something to liven up the party.' Harry said with mock sadness. 'Perhaps an operation or a project…'

'I have just the thing!'

'Good. Roll it out.'

Putting the mirror down, Harry looked out of the windows. The grounds surrounding the palace were a direct contrast to the tumultuous atmosphere in London. While the monarchy had no power as far as the Muggles were concerned (they still didn't know that Harry had made parliament overturn all those laws) the royals were still seen as the face of the government of Britain. And one can't really expect a mob to see reason. As a result, many of the Muggles in the palace wondered why nobody had even set foot in the grounds. Not that they were complaining. Going out anywhere was dangerous, making the palace a bastion of peace and safety.

The prevalent theory was that the public still saw the King in a positive light, despite the woes that befell the world. After all, compared to his predecessors, Harry's public opinion rating was the highest ever.

Of course, Harry knew the real reason. And it was a very simple solution:

Muggle Repelling Wards

While the area the wards had to cover was quite large, they had to do relatively little work. The panic and confusion that was taking place more than helped to ensure that the already distracted Muggles didn't even think of looking at Buckingham Palace.

Snorting, he got up and Disapparated.

Settling down for the night in his bedroom in the Potter ancestral home, he idly wondered what the Muggles would think of Thirst.

The anticipation made him shiver.


The Nawab of Pataudi wasn't the first or the only one to have suffered such a fate. All over the world, similar scenes repeated themselves. In a matter of days, almost every single Muggle royal line met its end.

There were exceptions, however. The King of Spain and his family, for one, had managed to escape the vengeful wand-welding wizards and witches.

As soon as he had heard from Rutgers about the possibility of the wizard king's involvement, the King had packed every single member of the family into his private jet, allowing them to only get the bare essentials.

It was a stupidly dangerous thing to do as the aircraft was filled beyond capacity, but he had no choice. It was a stroke of good fortune that the overloaded aeroplane had made it safely to America with no injuries sustained by anyone.

He did not know what had happened to the other imperial and royal houses, but he did know that his favourite villa and the palace had been ransacked by individuals unknown. He assumed that that meant the magical people. Though, thanks to the recent riots because of the collapse of their economy, it was possible that a regular mob had perpetrated that crime.

But his journey and the survival of his cousins mattered little to the aging monarch at the moment.

That was because he was currently arguing with the President of the United States of America.

'I am telling you, you need to order a nuclear strike!' he fairly shouted, finally reaching the end of his tether. God, how he hated the obstinate, pig-headed, stubborn, arrogant man in front of him! Orange skin included.

'And I am telling you,' the orange man replied impatiently. That is not going to happen. I am not going to launch a nuclear strike anywhere just because you said so. You have no proof that the King of England is responsible.'

'I just gave you the proof!'

The President was unimpressed. 'That is only conjecture. I need hard facts leading the man to hell we are going through. Besides, there is the small fact that British currency is just as affected. I do not care who you are, I am not going to take anything you have to say at face value.'

The sound of the phone on the desk interrupted any further conversation.

'Yes? Send him in then. I will be there in a few moments.'

Setting down the receiver, the President said to the foreign royal. 'I am afraid that I have something important to do now. I am running a country after all, and that country is in crisis. So if you don't mind…'

Not waiting for a response, the president got up and walked out of the boardroom.

'That was rude,' Hermione finally ejaculated. 'He didn't even acknowledge our presence!'

Amanda Rutgers didn't comment, even if she agreed. Instead, she focused on the Muggle. 'Now what do we do, sir?' she asked the king.

'I suppose there is little we can do until we get definite proof,' the old man finally said. He gave them a piercing look. 'I trust that you will see to it?'

'Indeed, sir,' Rutgers replied.

'Good,' the monarch stood up. 'I will head over to the embassy then.' Saying so, he looked outside. There were a large amount of people chanting slogans outside the fence. On top of that there were the distant wail of sirens as police and emergency services dealt with the riots taking place. He knew that the military would soon have to be involved if things did not calm down. And it looked like that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

'I think it would be best if you took a Portkey, your majesty,' Rutgers finally said.

'No, that won't be necessary.' The monarch replied. 'I will be using one of the secret passages where my car and men will be waiting.' He didn't add that he did not trust any wizard at all right now.

As soon as the King left, the Minister and Hermione headed towards one of the exit points located in the women's lavatory.

They had barely reached the Minister's office when the portrait summoned Rutgers again.

'Tell the president that I have a country to run as well,' she snapped at the portrait. She was in no mood to put up with the arrogant Muggle any more for the day. It was high time he realised that she was not one of his underlings. Her allegiance was to the King of Spain, not to the President.

Magically silencing the portrait, she sat behind her desk, pulling the nearest folder towards her.

'If you have nothing of import to add, Mrs Weasley, I suggest you make your way home.' She said curtly, not bothering to look up from the folder.

Hermione stared at her for a long moment before leaving the office in a huff.

The Minister sniffed. And there went another arrogant jerk. She seemed to be surrounded by such people. What's more, this one just couldn't keep her mouth shut and critical information to herself. She was thankful that she had extracted an oath from the idiot woman to keep their financial situation to herself after blurting it out in front of the Muggle.

Hermione stood ramrod straight in the lift as it went down to the atrium. She had done nothing to warrant such treatment by the Minister! Sure, she had slipped up in front of the Muggle President, but that was no reason to get into a hissy fit! And to top it off, she demanded for an oath of silence! That was going too far!

Hermione walked slowly through passage leading from the Minister's private lift towards the atrium. Unlike the Muggle world, the citizens of the Magical Federation of Northern America were a little calmer, if a bit tense. She simultaneously envied and pitied them. They had no idea that all their money had gone.

It was only five days since they had found out about the goblins' desertion and the collapse of the economy, and the Minister had decided to clamp down on the information for the moment. The official story was that the goblins had closed down the bank for some much-needed emergency maintenance. Till that time, the Ministry would be using the reserve gold it had to sustain the economy.

What nobody but the Minister knew was that the reserve gold was there in case of a goblin rebellion. The people might be under the impression that those mutinies were a thing of the past, but the government didn't trust the goblins enough to think the same.

These reserves would be enough for a few more weeks if they managed to budget things well. After that … well, hopefully an alternate solution would be found.

She didn't know what chaos would reign, should the real story get out.

Just as she was thinking these thoughts, a roar of sound cut off all noise in the atrium.

It took a moment for Hermione to recognise the voice, but when she did, she sprinted the last few feet into the atrium proper.

Reaching her destination, Hermione stopped dead as she clapped eyes in the scene in front of her. Right in the centre of the room in front of the fountain, sat a large tiger Patronus. Perched on top of its head was something that Hermione had never seen in a Patronus before: A crown.

She had a very bad feeling about the identity of the creator of this construct.

'My fellow magical brethren,' the ethereal animal said in a voice that was definitely her former friend's. Yep, that explained the crown. Though, Hermione wondered how the animal had changed form. She knew that his Patronus was a stag. 'I was once born Harry James Potter. As many of you know, I am known throughout the world as the only survivor of the dreaded Killing curse. What most of you may not know is that recently it was found out that I am related to the Queen of England on my mother's side. Due to the tragic demise of her majesty's family, I ended up inheriting the throne, making me the first magical king in centuries.

'But that is not why I have sent this recorded message to you. I have glorious news that I wish to share. Over the years, after much negotiation and treaties, the various member nations of the International Confederation of Wizards has decided to join together into one empire, with me as their emperor. As of yesterday, at nine in the morning, Greenwich Mean Time, I was formally crowned Emperor of the newly named Wizarding Empire.'

About to squeeze past two elderly warlocks to get closer, Hermione froze. "Emperor"? He had actually managed to declare himself Emperor? Well, that did give some proof towards his involvement in the meltdown of the Muggle economy. And if he was being truthful, then the King of Spain for one wouldn't be able to ever return to Spain. Suddenly she feared for the other imperial and royal houses.

'However, with this good news comes some saddening news.' The apparition's voice turned sorrowful. 'Due to some disagreements a few years back, your country, the Magical Federation of Northern America, had since left the International Confederation and, due to actions taken by your previous minister, were not privy to much news from the outside world, which included the negotiations that formed the empire. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of the goblins you bank with.'

Hermione's eyes widened when she realised what was about to happen. Diving in, she desperately tried to fight through the large crowd that had now formed at the atrium. She had to stop that recording at all costs. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see at least one Auror doing the same thing.

'The goblins, as is their nature, have been rather … enthusiastic to join us.' Harry's Patronus continued speaking, unheeding of the reactions its words were generating. 'Thus, they saw fit to turn up on our shores, asking for inclusion. To ensure full cooperation, they not only decided to speak to the goblins we bank with first, but they also thought to take all the money that was there in your vaults. They have melted every single gold, silver and bronze coin that was ever there in your bank, made bars of the metals and brought it all with them along with all the other raw metal.'

Hermione froze in the middle of the crowd. All around her, gasps of disbelief could be heard as people started to process what was just said.

'Unfortunately,' the magical representation of the King, no, Emperor, started speaking again. 'The actions of your goblins came to light a few scant hours ago. And so, we wish to express our regret that all of you had to needlessly suffer. We would also like to apologise for the small part the formation of the empire had in it, no matter how inadvertent it may be. However, we are, regrettably, unable to return the gold. Your current Minister, a Miss Amanda Rutgers, and her government have refused our repeated requests to meet us or our diplomats. While this would not be a problem, the fact that all the coins have been melted down and thus technically no longer considered currency of your fair country complicates things. As such, sending the money back could be seen as an act of invasion, while asking the goblins to mint the metal back into your currency could be seen as an act of counterfeiting. And we have no intention of perpetrating any of that as we do not wish to go to war with you. And that is despite the fact that your ambassadors have been rather non-responsive, and could almost be considered hostile.

'Therefore, I offer this solution: come to Britain or any other colony of our empire and give your details along with proof of identification to the nearest Gringotts branch – currently the closest colony would be Canada. Within a few working days, you will have your money back. We have also negotiated with our goblins for reparations and they have agreed to pay an additional fifteen per cent of your vault's worth rounded up to the highest Galleon.

'Of course, as we do not have the authority to produce currency in the name of your monarch, we are forced to use Galleons of the Empire. Thus, you will not be able to return back with your money as doing so might cause many diplomatic problems that the Empire does not wish to be a part of. We do regret to inform you that we found it necessary to inform our border patrol officers to make sure not a single Knut goes through customs. But fear not, for I, Harry, first Emperor of the Wizarding Empire offer any witch or wizard coming from the Magical Federation of Northern America and their family citizenship and place to stay with discounted property prices should they wish to do so. Of course, that is provided that they meet the necessary requirements expected of any good law abiding citizen of the Empire. I hope that this is enough to alleviate the grief and difficulty you all may have faced thanks to the actions of the goblins you trusted with your money.

'Thank you for your time, and please accept my deepest sympathies for the troubles you are currently facing thanks to the inadvertent consequences of the formation of our glorious empire.'

With that the Patronus faded away, leaving chaos in its wake.

Knowing that she was too late to stop the news from getting out, Hermione had turned around and promptly started making her way to the lifts , listening with half a ear as the Patronus spoke. As a consequence of that, she had quite a head start. By the time the first signs of anger spouted out, she was halfway up to the Minister's office.

All but sprinting down the corridor, she blew past the secretary with a hurried 'This is urgent!'

Throwing open the door, she burst into the room, startling the Minister.

'What the hell is the matter with you woman?!' Rutgers shouted irately. She had just about recovered temporarily from the stress of the day and one of the objects of her bloody frustrations decides to show up by violently bursting into her office.

Hermione was far too worked up to even take offence at the Minister's tone.

'Seal – seal the office,' she wheezed. 'Everyone knows.' Panting, she collapsed into the nearest available chair.

'Knows what?' the Minister replied tersely.

'About the money,' having caught her breath, Hermione resumed speaking in a normal voice. Quickly and concisely, she explained what happened in the atrium.

'That son of a bicorn!' the Minister finally exclaimed, ramming her fist down on her desk. Potter's (or whoever the hell he was) move was a masterstroke. Something told her that the tyrant already knew of the gag order the Ministry had put on the news of the goblins' disappearance. Not only had he caused panic, but he had also lured people to his empire.

And that was another thing that bugged her. In hindsight, perhaps it was not a good move to withdraw all their ambassadors and refuse to communicate with Britain. With to their exclusion from the I.C.W., and their reliance on the King of Spain and the magical state of Canada to give them any information, their actions ensured that the empire practically formed right under their noses. They were now currently the only free magical country in the world. At least, that is what she assumed. She had no idea how far the empire spanned. But, knowing Hermione's accounts of that bastard, she wouldn't put it past him to convince every single member-state of the I.C.W. to join the empire.

Personally, she was surprised that the King (or, as he was now, Emperor) had not demanded that the two Weasleys be sent back. She knew that had he done so, he would get his wish. The fact that he had all their gold would ensure that the extradition would happen regardless of the Minister's wishes.

The worst bit was that he was also technically well within his rights to hold onto the gold. If he was correct and those treacherous goblins had melted down all their coins, there was no way they could claim that the gold belonged to them.

The only thing distinguishing the Galleons, Sickles and Knuts of one country from another was the visage used on the coins. Different countries carried a different face. Sure there was no exchange rate, and the Galleons of one magical nation were the same value in another, but it was more to do with the principle of the thing.

Ancient goblin enchantments ensured that the metal could not be melted down at all by anybody … except for the thrice cursed traitorous goblins.

Amanda shuddered. There were fifteen of the old Pureblood families here, having emigrated with everything they owned from Europe and Britain. They held quite a bit of power. And none of them were going to be happy at having all their liquid wealth and heirlooms missing.

And to top it all off, they were going to have to deal with the problem of mass migration. It would be stupid to hope that people didn't start packing their bags to move out of the country en masse after that speech. They had a simple choice: live here in poverty, or go there and be rich again. Richer, if the Emperor's promises rang true.

They did not know the horrible truth.

'Things couldn't get any worse,' she mumbled. At least that villain was still crippled.


Around the same time as the Minister was rubbing her temples and cursing the new Emperor, events were unfolding across the world.

As soon as the Emperor had given the order, runes placed in many different sites in the world started glowing as their makers activated them.

The runes took a few moments to charge. Once done, they released their magic, crafting a spell. A Vanishing Charm to be specific.

Soon enough, the substance the charm was targeted at started vanishing by the megalitre.

It took some time for the Muggles to notice it. After all, they were currently occupied with other things.

But they eventually found out. And when they did …

Panic levels rose to a new high.

'Sir, they require you on deck. Headquarters is calling.'

The crusty old man looked up. 'They are?' he replied in Arabic, the principal language the crew used aboard the ship.

'Well, it's about time.' Grumbling, the short man got up and headed out towards the deck, following his underling.

It had been nearly two whole weeks since he had been given orders to stop all engines and drop anchor wherever he was at the moment, and while food and water supplies were still high, the crew were getting antsy and restless.

Not for the first time, the captain cursed the bloody economy. Some idiot had done something monumentally idiotic and as such had sent the whole idiotic thing crashing down. And the people who could do something about it were just running around in circles in response. Like the bunch of idiots that they were.

He still did not understand why they didn't just simply reset everything. Just pretend that what happened did not happen and continue. As far as Mahmoud was concerned, the whole economics thing was imaginary rubbish thought of by a bunch of idiots.

But nobody listened to Mahmoud. No sir, he was just a lowly humble captain of a ship as far as they were concerned.

Well, he was the captain of a super tanker carrying, well, a boatload of oil. But that hardly seemed to matter to the executives of Shell, the company employing him.

Reaching the bridge, he picked up the receiver and spoke into it.

Perhaps it was the quality of the connexion, but the voice at the other end sounded rather panicked and, dare he say it, scared. It took a few minutes for Mahmoud to understand what was being said to him.

'Very well,' said Mahmoud once the instructions became clear. 'It shall be done.'

Putting down the receiver, he barked out an order.

'Turn her around. We are heading home.'

'Why?' the first officer asked.

'I don't know why,' the captain said impatiently. 'All I know is that headquarters wants this ship turned around and heading home at full speed. So get to it!'

What Mahmoud and the rest did not know was that they weren't the only marooned super tanker being told to return back to base.

While the regular ships ferrying perishable goods like food and the like were allowed to reach their destination docks, the ones carrying oil were told to stop wherever they were.

After all, while food was perishable, oil wasn't. And there was a chance of the economy recovering.

But that was before every single major oilfield that supplied crude oil to the world dried up overnight.

Thanks to that, all major exporters of oil frantically placed calls to their ships to return post-haste.

Mahmoud did not know it (and mainland wasn't stupid enough to tell him) but the goods he was transporting back home was now the most valuable and expensive commodity in a world where one had to practically float a loan to buy a stick of gum.

And so, Operation Thirst had weaved its magic.


The President of the United States of America looked out into the distance as the people around him bickered on.

He wished it was still yesterday.

Because yesterday, Congress, in an unprecedented show of unity, had unanimously voted for a bill that would help with the economic nightmare they had found themselves in.

What was more, the Europeans had shown the same level of unity as well, nearly repeating the bill Congress had made verbatim.

With the Japanese expected to follow soon, it was anticipated that things would start to return to normal. Of course, the journey would be excruciatingly slow, but this was a major step in the right direction.

And then the oil had disappeared.

As of two months ago, the expert predictions that were made said that oil shortages would only be felt decades later. The world was basically assured that fossil fuels were present, and present aplenty.

Thus, humanity was caught quite flatfooted with the sudden disappearance of the liquid black gold.

The countries of the Middle East, where the biggest oilfields were, had immediately gone into lockdown. Tankers were instructed to turn around, and everyone was doing their level best to hoard and protect their stash of oil.

The one small upside to this was that the Saudis, who had till now been sitting pretty as they were the least affected by the storm created by the economy going for a toss, were panicking as well since what little of their economy that had managed to survive went up in flames. The President couldn't help but feel a small amount of schadenfreude here. They were gloating till they found out that they had gone dry.

It was only with the sudden cutting off of the stuff that the President realised how much humanity depended on oil. The thing was like a drug. And mankind was the junkie that had been forced to go cold turkey in the middle of a high.

Countries like Japan were the most affected. Having no indigenous oil source of their own, they were dependent on imports. No oil meant no heating, no electricity, and most importantly, no other imports of food. They had their nuclear plants, but you can't really eat that.

Of course, the United States wasn't any better off. The problem was that nobody here in the room realised that.

'We will be fine without the oil,' said the army general dismissively. 'After all, we have our reserves, and I am sure that our country can handle things.'

It was only thanks to his long experience in life that The President did not roll his eyes.

The analyst at the other end of the room, however, had no such life skills. Nor did he have any reason to hold back.

'Is today a special day, or are you always this stupid?' the young man asked rather rudely. 'For your information, general, you have no clue just how screwed we are. Let me put it in terms small enough for you to understand. We use up Sixteen million barrels of crude per day. Out of those, only eight million come from within the country. The other eight million come from outside. In other words, we use up double the amount we produce. And when I say, "we", I mean everybody in this country. And that would happen to include the military, which, funnily enough, happens to be the biggest user of oil in the country! Or did you think that your big ass shiny tanks run on sunshine, rainbows and unicorn poop?'

The old general wasn't going to take things lying down, however. 'So people will have to take a walk instead of getting in their cars.' He snorted derisively, 'Big deal!'

The analyst slowly brought a palm up to his hand. 'General, I suggest you stop. Just … stop. Because I am pretty sure that the collective intelligence of the entire city is coming down every time you open your mouth.'

'Now, you listen here, boy! I will not be –'

'Enough.'

The room fell silent at the tired proclamation given by their leader.

'As much as I don't like saying this, the kid's right.' The President said finally after rubbing his temples.

The analyst, who was about to open his mouth to deliver what was no doubt a smug comment, suddenly closed it when he spotted the deadly look being sent his way by The President.

The blond head of state leaned back and closed his eyes. Oh, how he wished that he could utter those two words that he was so famous for.

Problem was that he couldn't do that. With the way things were, people were technically volunteers. Of course, he used that word because he was afraid that the real term might just offend some of the members in the room. It was best not to even think about it.

'General,' he finally said. 'Let me apprise you of the situation. Fact is that we are very dependent on oil. Not just as fuel, but for other things too. For example, one of the products of crude oil happens to be lubricants. And everything that involves any mechanical movement whatsoever needs to be lubricated; guns, vehicles … everything.

'Our analyst here,' he nodded to the young man sitting there, 'has described the full situation to me before I came here. I now give the floor to him, provided that he behaves.' He sent another look at the analyst. 'The same goes for everyone here. This is far too important for petty issues.'

The analyst cleared his throat.

'As I said before, we import eight million barrels of crude per day, while another eight is produced from our oil fields. The effect all our oilfields going dry have on us are … bad. What few flights we could allow to operate before the incident have now been grounded. In addition to that, we have had to suspend all non-essential transport. That means all public transport; buses and trains. Personal transport, like cars will run as far as their individual fuel tanks will take them. After that, the people will be forced to abandon them. Ambulances, the police and fire services are still running, but they are heavily regulated now. There will be blackouts soon.'

'Blackouts?' said one random person in a suit. 'Why?'

The analyst made sure to sigh very softly. 'That would be because we depend on the oil to run our hydro-electric power plants which generate the electricity that the country uses. Without the oil the plants can't run. If the plants can't run, well, simply put, there will be no electricity.' He shook his head.

'Anything and everything running on electricity is going to die. The immediate problem of that happening will be the hospitals. With no electricity, their ICUs and other services will stop working. That means that a lot of critically injured or ill people are going to die. The same goes for premature babies. While it is true that they have generators as backup, that isn't going to last very long.'

The analyst stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts. His daughter had been delivered prematurely and was in one of those neonatal ICUs. Initial predictions for her survival had been good, even promising. But now … he suppressed the sob that was threatening to come out.

'Of course, spring has begun right now,' He said, after clearing his throat twice. 'I am not looking forward to summer or winter. Heating and air-conditioning also depend on electricity. This winter will be the bitterest, harshest and coldest we have ever seen in modern times while summer will be equally unbearably harsh and hot in many areas. There will be no heating, no air conditioning, no clean water, no manufacturing of goods, a breakdown in communications, and this is just the tip of the iceberg. I …' he paused again. 'We are heavily dependent on both electricity and oil … losing them … and so suddenly … it is unimaginable. There are probably another hundred other ramifications that we haven't been able to account for yet.'

As he paused to take a sip of water, he doubted that he could afford another glass. 'Another pressing issue is going to be the food. Procuring that will be a problem for the average citizen.'

'How so?' another person the analyst did not recognise said.

The analyst gave a strained smile. 'Our stores are located quite far from our homes. Getting to a place to buy food is going to be a problem for many, as it isn't walking distance. And all this is before our money became worthless. Oh, and I just remembered: garbage. Yesterday, when we had no money but all the oil in the world, or at least, when we thought we had all the oil in the world, cleaning that was a luxury. Now … with no oil and no money … it is an unattainable dream. It simply will not be possible.'

'What about solar power and other alternative sources? Surely we can rely on that?'

The analyst only shook his head slowly. 'We can't. To begin with, all the plants in the country that are involved in the production of renewable energy, which is basically solar, wind, or geothermal energy individually make up one per cent of America's energy demands. And that is the maximum amount. If I am not mistaken, geothermal and solar technologies make up less than that amount. Storing and transporting energy from those sources has never been feasible. And we cannot erect new plants because, well, we need oil to do that. We need oil to manufacture the parts used in solar and windmills, we need oil to construct geothermal plants, and we need oil to lubricate the moving parts in windmills. And we haven't even touched the oil requirements that will have to be met in transportation and installation. Of course, we could go for biogas, but the problem with that is space. Because you will have to use farms, that generally grow food crops. And let's not forget time. Those crops don't grow overnight.'

'There has to be some good news,' the same person asked.

'Well,' the analyst replied. 'We have reserves of exactly seven hundred million barrels. But even if we are careful, it isn't going to last for more than a year. There are going to be pressing requirements everywhere. Prioritising is going to be hell. But we are going to have to do it, and we will have to do it very carefully and very wisely. Because that is all the oil we have now. And my team and I are all of the unanimous opinion that searching for another oilfield is not advisable. We simply cannot afford it.'

A heavy silence permeated the room.

'Don,' The President said after a moment. 'What have you found out from your investigations?'

'Sir,' the same person who had spoken to the analyst said. 'Investigations are still underway.'

'Underway?' The President looked incredulous. 'What do you mean, "Underway"?! It's been two fucking weeks! You had the people responsible right there! In fact, you still have them in custody. What the hell have you been doing till now! Did I, or did I not tell you to give this your first priority? That everything else could wait? Did I also not tell you to use the directors and all the resources from the N.S.A., F.B.I., The Department of Homeland Security, the Secret Service, and the goddamn C.I.A. if you had to?'

'Indeed, sir, you have but –'

'THEN WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?!' The collective in the room flinched reflexively at the sudden influx of noise. It looked like their leader had finally reached the end of his tether.

'Well,' the director finally answered, completely unfazed. 'We have been interrogating them, and agents from the F.B.I. are now having a go at them as we speak while Homeland is poring over the files along with the Secret Service. But, not only have we not found anything incriminating so far, the suspects are all proving oddly resilient.' He opened the folder in front of him. 'All of them have the same story, that they don't remember doing what they did. Either they are highly trained, which we doubt because that would represent a security breach far too large for anyone to have not noticed, or … well, that they are actually telling the truth. Additionally, the C.I.A. has not found even a page hinting at any nefarious activity or incriminating any individual terrorist or terrorist organisation. It is almost as if nothing was planned beforehand. That it was all spontaneous.'

The President frowned. 'That is strange …' he finally said thoughtfully. 'They have the same story?'

'Yes,'

'And they all have been kept in isolation?'

'Indeed. And we are considering using techniques best not talked of in this room too. That we are considering it on American citizens should prove how desperate we are getting.'

The director's frank assessment was a mark of the President's administration and the sheer stubbornness and willpower the man had. He had toiled endlessly to ensure that the various departments all worked together. The fruits of his labour culminated in a team of people, answerable only to him, overseeing all the operations going on in the various departments. They had to make sure that there is interdepartmental awareness and open communication. If it was good enough for his organisation, it is good enough here.

He was so happy with his accomplishment that he had decided to name his committee the same way he named all his pet projects: By using his surname.

The President sat there for a long moment, a curious expression of thoughtfulness on his face.

'Gentlemen,' he finally said. 'I think we should adjourn for an hour or so.' He got up and adjusted his suit. 'Don, give me that file.'

The man in question was confused. 'Mr President, are you saying that you have a lead?'

'I am not saying anything,' The President replied inscrutably. 'The file, please,' he extended his hand out for emphasis.

Handing the file over, the room watched bemused as the commander-in-chief walked out with a strange expression on his face.

'You think he knows something?'

'I have no clue,' the analyst answered. 'All I know right now is that I am hungry and they have readily available free food here. That's not an opportunity I am willing to pass up, given the times.' He hurried out.

'The kid has a point,' the old general said grudgingly, also getting up.


The President smiled as he saw the fire in the fireplace turn green.

He knew that Rutgers would come. A few moments speaking to the King of Spain ensured that the little witch would have no choice but to answer his summons. He wasn't going to stand for her saying no to him a second time. Just who did she think she was to say no to him?

He had no tolerance for her arrogance. After all, his superciliousness was enough to fill the room! He was quite aware of his ego, and was very proud of it.

'You called, Mr President?' Rutgers finally said as she stepped into the room. She had a rather surly expression on her face. No doubt the King of Spain had given her a verbal thrashing before sending her here.

He smiled, taking his time responding. He knew very well how to play this game.

'Well, Mrs Rutgers,' he said, deliberately ignoring her title. 'I have a question for you.'

Taking out the file, he outlined what the senior director of his team had found out in his investigations into the Federal Reserve.

'I find it quite a coincidence that they all have the same answers,' The President said in conclusion. 'An almost magical coincidence…'

Rutgers, who had by then adopted a serious look said, 'They sound like the victims of the Imperius Curse and a memory charm to boot.'

'I'm sorry, what curse?'

'The Imperius Curse,' Rutgers replied. 'Here, I'll write it down.' She took a pen and paper from the desk and scribbled the name.

'Well, that makes sense,' The President said when he saw the word. 'I thought it was "Imperious" as in "stuck-up". Clearly, it isn't'

'A common misconception amongst many of our students as well,' Rutgers replied with a smile. Adopting a more neutral expression, she continued speaking. 'The Imperius is one of the three Unforgivable Curses. It subjugates the will of a person and puts them under the total control of the caster. A person under the Imperius is said to be "Imperiused", and will do and say whatever the caster tells him to do.' She looked around. 'It's best I show you.'

Moving to the window, she opened it, and summoned a squirrel she spotted on a nearby tree.

'My transfiguration skills are crap,' she said, as if that explained everything. 'Now, watch:'

Plonking the still surprised squirrel down on The President's table, she pointed her wand and said, 'Imperio.'

The President watched, fascinated, as the animal in front of him did things no other in its species could ever do. He doubted he would ever forget the strange and bizarre sight of watching the rodent dance a slow waltz with his pen.

'According to the law, casting this or any one of the other Unforgivable Curses on another human being will land a person in prison for the rest of his natural life.' Rutgers said, as she lifted the curse. 'And with good reason too,' she added with revulsion.

'What are the other two Unforgivable Curses?' The President asked faintly.

'There is the Cruciatus Curse, which is quite an effective torture curse as it causes unimaginable amounts of pain.' Rutgers replied steadily. 'I have heard cases of people actually going irreversibly insane from prolonged exposure to the curse. A good example would be Frank and Alice Longbottom, a British magical couple from a prominent family. They are still in the long-term mental ward. Please don't ask me to perform that curse, as I cannot do it.'

The President, having regained his composure, raised an eyebrow. 'And why not?' he asked.

'To cast it, you need to consciously want to cause someone pain. You have to revel in it, want it to happen.' Rutgers said in a low voice. 'It is not something I can bring myself to do. Even to a squirrel. The Imperius was a stretch as it is.'

'You said that there were three,' The President said after a long moment of silence. 'What is the third?'

Rutgers grimaced. 'Avada Kedavra.' She said in a whisper, as if afraid to say it too loud. 'The killing curse … it kills instantly. There is no surviving it. If it hits any part of your body, you are instantly dead. In the curse's history, nobody has survived being hit by it. Well, there is one survivor.'

'Oh, and who is that?'

'The current King of England.' Rutgers said dryly. 'He survived it as a baby … Managed to reflect it too!'

She cleared her throat. 'And speaking of which, I have some news for you: a few days back, the King of England just declared himself the Emperor of the newly named Wizarding Empire.'

There was a long silence as the Minister of Magic looked at The President expectantly.

'Well,' the Muggle finally said. 'That's … good news, I suppose.'

The Minister was aghast. 'Do you not get what I just said?!'

'Yes,' The President replied calmly. 'I did.'

'This is clear proof that he is involved in our problems!' she practically screeched in response.

'I am sorry,' the man replied, not sounding sorry at all. 'I was not aware that you had managed to figure out who had cast this,' he consulted the paper in front of him. 'Imperius Curse already.'

'Of course we haven't –!'

'Then you have no proof that he is involved.' The President interrupted with an air of finality. 'I am aware that the King of Spain and many of his peers are probably left powerless thanks to this new political move, the news of which I appreciate, by the way, but do not expect me or this country to be involved in your politics. Violence, especially of this nature, is counter-productive, and bad for business. Thus a nuclear strike of all things is not the appropriate response. It certainly isn't a response whatsoever no matter what the situation is. I will not be responsible for the beginning of the end of the world. Now, I don't want to keep you waiting, I am sure you have a lot of work to do. Good day.'

Sitting back, he gave her a look of clear dismissal. Amanda had no choice but to turn around and head back to her office, seething.

The day will come when that Muggle realises just what he was dealing with. And when that day came ... she would be there to laugh in his face.


Harry leaned back in his chair, a frown on his face as he processed the documents in front of him.

Once the Muggle economy had failed and the oil had vanished, the general consensus was that they would now be more accepting to wizard rule, having no choice but to recognise The Wizarding Empire as a nation in its own right.

Unfortunately, they refused to see reason. Even the deaths of a majority of their royal and imperial houses hadn't changed their aggressive stance.

'How dare they threaten us like this,' Belby blustered. 'What sheer arrogance! They did not even bother to initiate a dialogue. They have even refused to recognise your imperial majesty's sovereignty!'

'Indeed,' the Lead Unspeakable, now overseeing the cohesion of the various Department of Mysteries into one organisation, said sombrely. 'They have been quite aggressive too. Promising to, "bomb us back to the stone age" with a "flick of a button" if we don't part with our gold and swear allegiance to one of them.' He picked up the document in front of him and leafed through it. 'I believe they wish us, all of us, to give our allegiance to the Muggle King of Spain. Also,' he shifted uncomfortably. 'They have demanded that we depose you, your imperial majesty, and hand you over to them to "face justice".'

That statement was met with cries of universal outrage and shock throughout the room.

Harry held up a hand, silencing them all.

'I take it that everyone here is opposed to this?' he said mildly.

Not waiting for a response, he soldiered on. 'Well, so much for diplomacy. Here I was thinking that we could still reason with them.' He sighed. 'It was a foolish hope on my part, I suppose.'

Robards was quick to speak. 'It never is foolish to hope for a peaceful solution, my liege.'

'Indeed, sir,' The Minister of Magic, now the Viceroy of Avalon (as the area that was known to the Muggles as Britain) said. 'That they chose the path of violence is their fault.'

Harry did not respond for a long time.

'Very well,' he finally said. 'Thomas, you have everything ready?'

'Yes sir,'

'Good,' Harry grimaced.

Seeming to brace himself, Harry then addressed the room. 'Then we shall have a vote: Those in favour?'

Everyone raised a hand. It was clearly unanimous, even if the members had disapproval clearly writ on their faces.

'Then I give Hellfire my approval.' He said with distaste clear in his voice.

His proclamation was met sombrely by the newly named Imperial Council.

It wasn't something they really wanted to do.

But it was necessary. The Muggles had drawn the line in the sand, so to speak.

It was time to take a stand.


'Teddy!'

James practically burst through the common room of his and his brother's private quarters. He paused upon seeing that they had company.

'What is it, James?' Edmund asked.

'I just heard over the wireless that dad's going to be on soon.' James said after nodding at Lisa, Edmund's best friend. While they did share many of their friends, the brothers got along quite well with two diametrically opposite people who couldn't really stand each other. Lisa practically hated Matthew, James' best friend, and the feeling was mutual. The only time those two got along was either when James and Edmund were present.

'Well, lead on then,' Edmund said throwing down the cards carelessly and standing up. He jumped back with a curse when the deck exploded spectacularly, earning him an amused glance from his brother and a glare from his friend.

The three children entered James' room where a few of James' friends were lounging about, grouped around the wireless.

James was quite an outgoing person, meaning that despite his status as Prince, he had a rather large circle of friends who all knew each other to a certain extent. Almost all of them were from Slytherin with a few from the other three houses. Of course, Edmund was there to ensure that there were few, if any, useless hangers-on who had decided to befriend his brother because of his title. The useful hangers-on were left alone, though.

Edmund, on the other hand, tended to form friendships with people from all the four houses. Perhaps it was his luck, but the people he knew generally did not know each other. Meaning that unlike his brother, he did not have a large group, but many smaller groups of friends. He had no time or energy for hangers-on: Useful or useless.

'And now, a public announcement from his Imperial Majesty'

The room fell into a hush at the announcement.

'My dear subjects,' Harry's clear voice filtered out through the device. 'It is with a heavy heart that I speak to you today.

'As all of you know, our world was rocked by a dramatic change in the political climate. What was once an international body made up of different nations beholden to Muggles, has banded together to form a free independent Empire, led by wizards, for wizards. This is truly a joyous occasion.

'However, the Muggle world has had their share of excitement as well. However, their events haven't been as glorious and freeing as ours.

'The Muggle economy is vastly different from ours. I will not go into detail, but suffice to say that there were some pitfalls and shortcomings that the Muggles failed to foresee. And due to this lack of foresight, their economy has blown up like a house made from a deck of exploding cards.

'Additionally, they also relied heavily on a substance they call crude oil. This source was a finite one, and it has, as was inevitable, gone dry. This is something that they, again, failed to foresee.

'Now, at this point, I am sure that many of you must be asking, "How do Muggle matters concern us?" well, the answer is simple. They are now crippled. Their undying greed, combined with their knowledge of us and our resources will be enough to have them demanding that we fix their problems.

'Messages have already come in from various Muggle sources demanding that we part with our gold, and sacrifice our assets and time to pull them out of the hell they have created by themselves.

'They have been soundly refused. Gone are the days where we wizards and witches would bend to their will. Gone are the days when we would do whatever those creatures tell us to do.

'Our ancestors made a mistake once in allowing wizardkind to be fettered to those Muggles. Now that we are finally free, we can stand up to this abuse. And we can show them what magic can do.

'And so, I henceforth formally declare the empire at war.'

The statement had the whole room erupt in whispers.

'It is finally time cast off the shackles once and for all. It is finally time to be free of the taint of these Muggles and their polluting ways.

'However, some sacrifices must be made. Tomorrow's edition of the Daily Prophet will contain information of different magic-safe zones. Families have seven days to evacuate to those areas if they haven't done so already. Anybody requiring assistance is advised to contact their ministry. Those found in these zones after the requisite time is up will be compulsorily moved without their possessions and will be liable to a fine of one hundred Galleons. Additionally, zones that have been classified as Muggle-heavy are now restricted to all civilians as the Imperial council has deemed them too dangerous for wizardkind to wander out in.

'I realise that this probably will be hard on you all, and so, I ask that you take heart and be strong. Dark days might be looming in front of us, but they will soon pass. And they will pass as quickly as humanly possible. That is something I, as your emperor, assure you. Thank you.'

The announcement of the Emperor was all that the pupils and teachers could talk about the following morning as they waited eagerly for the newspaper to arrive.

In addition to the full list of the different zones deemed safe for magical habitation, other changes were also put into effect.

Chief amongst those was the revoking of the Statute of Secrecy and the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery that was soon going to be put into effect in ten days' time.

'Did you know about this?' One of Edmund's housemates asked curiously.

'No,' Edmund replied. 'Dad does not tell us everything.'

'Oh. Well, I am glad that this is finally happening.'

Edmund nodded. He and every one of the first years remembered their lessons in Muggle Studies so far. They were thus fully aware of the pollution that Muggle technology was creating, the changes to the environment and the harm it presented to the natural world. Additionally, Edmund had heard from older years about the dangers of their nuclear energy.

But that was nothing compared to what they had learnt from their history lessons. Every single student in the school had been educated on the ways Muggles had enforced their rule on wizardkind.

In short, according to the populace, the coming war was going to be a battle of independence.

It was time to show those Muggles what wizards can do.


I hope elmoryakhan is reading this, and is happy with the cameo they requested.

Till next time then!