The Wizarding World

I don't know if you have ever been in the Emerald City on a spring day. Usually the city enjoys an eternal summer, with bright warm mornings and afternoons, often with a brisk breeze to break the heat, and a gentle rainfall overnight, keeping everything verdant. But in the springtime there are whole days of misty, foggy rain, coating the grass and gardens with soft dew and watering the huge blossoms that flourish the rest of the year. The air and smells of springtime are at once relaxing, peaceful, and invigorating, like a pleasant shower after a nap.

It was on a misty day like this that Ozma welcomed one of the largest and strangest collections of delegations ever to visit the royal palace. The British Minister of Magic was there, and the French Ministre de la Magie, and the German Minister der Magie, and Russia's Ministr Magii… Magical ministers from a dozen nations. The Muggle Prime Ministers and Presidents of all those countries came, too, and other representatives from the European Union. None of these exalted persons had ever been to Oz before, and they walked the palace gardens and orchards with wide eyes and continual exclamations of amazement in their various languages. Mingled among them were other visitors, much more usual for the Emerald City: King Bobo of Noland, Queen Zixi of Ix, the King and Queen of Ev, and, neither last nor least, King Rinkitink riding his little donkey. There were even a few ambassadors from the Nome King, although they kept mostly to themselves, sitting at a small table in the corner of the welcome hall, scowling and drinking mineral water.

Harry was required to be there, and he was not happy about it. He and Hermione and Ron sat, stuffed uncomfortably into their finest dress robes, eating little fairy cakes (which were exquisite and melted in the mouth like morning mist), listening to the delegates earnestly discuss the finer points of international diplomacy, bored stiff. The questions to be decided were extremely important: would the Queen remove all the magic from all the wizards everywhere? If so, when? How? If not, would the people struck squib receive their magic back? Would house elves continue to serve wizard families? What about wands and other magical items? What about Disclosure: would the Muggle world be alerted of what was going on?

In theory, Harry was very interested in these questions. But somehow, the way these delegates talked, everything was excruciatingly boring. And, after using a portkey to travel halfway around the world, his body felt like he'd been awake all night… And it was such a wonderful, warm afternoon…

"She can't just take all the magic away," whispered Hermione. "She just can't. Harry, are you listening?"

"What?" muttered Harry.

"Are you seriously falling asleep?" whispered Hermione in a hiss. "The Queen's representative is speaking!"

"Goodness, Hermione, I don't know how you can stay awake," said Ron. "Especially after the Woggle-Bug's speech. I didn't know English had so many ten-syllable words."

"I thought it was very interesting," said Hermione testily. "I had never heard the history of the Nonestic Ocean Treaty Organization laid out in quite that way before. But anyway hush, I'm trying to listen…"

Harry sat up, shaking his head to rouse himself, and tried to attend properly.

"…And thus the Queen," said the elf who was the Queen's representative, "cannot allow things to continue as they were. We know that many of you, especially our friends among the mortals, may find it difficult to truly understand the Queen's distress, disgrace, and confusion. For you, then, the Queen will express herself through song."

Harry and his friends glanced at each other. Through song? Was this… normal for diplomatic negotiations among the fairies?

The various diplomats and ambassadors made space in the center of the welcome hall, and the Queen was escorted in. She had grown herself to full size, and was dressed in a simple, elegant gown of forest green and dun brown, edged with a thin trim of pink lace. The smell of spring rain seemed to follow her in.

She quietly whispered something to her representative, smiling softly, and he stepped back a few paces. The Queen looked round at them all, still smiling — this time with, Harry thought, a bit of sadness — and then closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and sang.

She did not sing in English, but Harry seemed to understand her words nonetheless. The first few bars carried a terrible weight of sadness, loss and hopelessness on a scale that Harry could hardly comprehend.

I lived free under soil, under sea, under sky

Until the chains came round me and took me, rooting me

And sea, soil and sky were lost to me

I was smothered in steel and silence

My endless story was stilled

Then the song changed, and there was a shift in feeling. Subtly, hopelessness became hope, and loss became yearning, although the sadness remained — becoming, if anything, even deeper.

But among the mortal souls I could serve

I could ease the sore of spirit

I drew joy to them and loved them

Still chained, yet now tied with tenderness

And with a final shift, the yearning song turned again to loss, this time even more crushing and despairing than before.

When the steel was gone a silence descended

No more joy I drew, no more anguish to ease

No more assistance or affection to be taken

Only hollow wilderness with no hope of water or living wood

For all the eternity of the Earth's days.

It was a loss of hope but also loss of sadness itself, leaving only a meaningless existence stretching onward forever. The song ended there, leaving Harry with a horrible emptiness inside. He struggled to snap out of it, to bring himself back to the present. The Queen did not open her eyes again; she simply turned and walked back out the way she had come, leaving a leaden silence that clung to the room for more than a minute.

Finally Harry took a few deep breaths and got control of himself. It was bad, but it was no worse than the effect of a Dementor, really. Chocolate — he needed chocolate.

Hermione had her face in her hands. Ron was staring at the ground where the Queen had stood, his eyes wide, face haggard. He looked older than Harry had ever seen him.

"It's ok," said Harry. "We need to get some chocolate."

Hermione lowered her hands, nodding. Harry could see her face was smeared with tears. Wordlessly, she stood up and walked over towards the food tables.

"You ok, Ron?" asked Harry.

"I don't know," said Ron. He sighed. "You know, Harry, when I first met the Queen, in that dungeon, and I saw how the evil wizards had messed her up, I swore I'd never do any magic again, and I broke my wand. We all did. Since then, I won't lie to you, I've had some second thoughts. It's been hard, you know. Really hard. I was starting to think, well, maybe I'll just pop round to Ollivander's again, you know?"

"Well, yeah," said Harry. "Giving up all magic forever. I mean, that'd be crazy."

"But it's not crazy," said Ron firmly. "And after hearing that song, I'm sure — well, I'm pretty sure. I can't do it any more. I can't bear to know that it's my magic that's been causing all this pain. I mean, did you see her? She's devastated, Harry. She's had a thousand years of torture. And for what? So that we can have magic. I can't do it any more. I just can't. I… I won't."

Harry didn't know what to say. He groped for words.

"I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into," he said. "I mean yeah, I've thought about giving up magic. For months now. Ever since we found out about the Queen. But, Ron, I lived the first half of my life without magic. I had no idea about magic. It was awful. Why do you think wizards pity squibs so much? So many little things about everyday life… And you couldn't be an Auror anymore. What would you even do?"

Ron barked a bitter laugh. "I've never been great shakes as an Auror anyway," he said. "Not compared to you. That's probably why I was charging in to every battle early on. I felt like I needed to prove something…"

Harry tried to compose an answer, but just then Hermione came back carrying a platter of chocolate. The Wizard of Oz arrived with her, bearing glasses of fairy ale (watered down, Harry had been told, to make it potable for mortals).

"So! What did you think of the Queen's song?" asked Oz. "I don't think I've ever heard anything half so beautiful and terrible."

"I'm definitely giving up magic," said Ron. He still had the same haggard expression he'd worn since the Queen stopped singing, looking like he was staring Death herself in the face.

"I tried to tell him," said Harry, "he can't, it's too hard, he doesn't understand…"

"I want to give it up too," said Hermione quietly. "I broke my wand as well. I don't think I can keep it up, though. Not because it's too hard. Remember, Harry, I grew up as a Muggle too. But I have this Ministry position… and we're doing so much great work to help the house-elves and the other magical creatures. If I gave up magic, how could I keep doing that?"

"Very good points," said Oz quietly.

"And the house elves have a huge transition in front of them," said Hermione. She picked up a dark chocolate brownie and mashed it into her mouth, finishing it in two bites. "I was talking to Kreacher a few weeks ago. Do you know that the Black family used to breed their house elves, like prize dogs? Kreacher always wanted to have children, but the Black family wouldn't let him."

"That's horrible," said Harry. "Why didn't he ever tell me? I would have let him."

"It's too late now," said Hermione. "He's too old."

"I thought house elves were basically immortal?" said Ron.

"They are," said Hermione. "Or they would be, if wizard families didn't work them so hard. Kreacher looks old because he's literally spent his life away working for the Black family. He's too weak to have children."

"Oh my god," whispered Harry. He felt sick to his stomach.

Silence fell on the table. None of them could look at each other.

"Well, I can't give up magic, either," said Harry. "I'm an Auror. It's what I've always wanted to be. I don't know what else to be. I'll be one as long as the Ministry needs me."

Oz sighed and took a long drink. "Negotiations seem to be settling toward a very long, slow, gradual reduction of magic over time. No more being struck squib. Instead, everyone's magic will just gradually get weaker. Spells will last for shorter and shorter times, and will be less and less effective. Things like that. Until, in twenty years, forty years, maybe a hundred years, there won't be any spells left at all."

"What about house elves?" asked Hermione.

"They'll still work for wizard families," said Oz, nodding. "For a while, anyway. They are very helpful for disabled wizards, for example. In fact some are proposing that the house elves be shifted around somewhat, allowing them to change households if they wish to, to help poorer families as well. They do so love to feel that they are of service. — And it's been suggested that they can help wizards by enchanting more magical items. Creating magical teapots and stoves and clocks… making broomsticks that can be steered without magic… mixing potions. All the little cantrips that help wizards get through the day."

"What about Dr. Leach?" asked Hermione. "The one Leach's Syndrome was named after? And all the patients at St. Mungo's who need the help of doctors like him?"

"I was just speaking with Glinda about that kind of thing," said Oz. "I think the solution there will involve teams of elves and fairies that visit hospitals around the world and give assistance where it's needed."

"Wands?" asked Ron. "Will our wands still work?"

Oz shook his head. "No, wands don't work without a wizard's magic." He smiled and drew out his own. "My own wand is electric, of course. Anyone can use it." He toggled the tip's light on and off with its hidden button. "But it's mostly for show."

Silence fell. Ron put his head in his hands and drew a shuddering breath.

"It's no use," said Ron at last. He wiped his eyes. "I can't get that song out of my head. I just can't. I'm sorry."

Oz reached out and took Ron's hand.

"Eventually," he said, "we will all lose our magic. The distinction between muggles and wizards will disappear. But it won't be that bad. With the house elves to help us, we can still make and use magical objects. And you will still have all your knowledge of magic."

"Knowledge of magic?" said Harry. "What use is that, if we don't have the magic itself?"

Oz smiled. "I invite you to think about your own successes as a wizard, Harry," he said. "Especially your time at Hogwarts, when you were just a child, but still managed to fend off and eventually defeat the strongest dark wizard of our time. Your first year, you and Dumbledore kept the Philosopher's Stone away from Voldemort, not because you were more powerful than he, but because you had a greater understanding of the workings of the Mirror of Erised. Your second year, you defeated Voldemort's shade with a basilisk tooth. The third year you used an Hourwick. Can you name even one time that you succeeded because you simply had more magical power?…"

Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it again.

"I am a squib, but I have been celebrated for a century as the wonderful wizard of Oz," said the little old man, smiling. "I have found that one's greatest strength is not magical power. It is skill, subtlety, and good sense."

Harry stuffed a brownie into his mouth, and swallowed it down with fairy ale. He looked out over the green-leafed grassy lawn and down into the luxuriant orchards. He would remain an Auror as long as he could, and after that… well, maybe he would still be an Auror. An Auror without magic. It would be difficult… very difficult. A great challenge, in fact.

…A tremendous challenge. But maybe this challenge wasn't a bad thing. Win or lose, at least he'd have a completely clear conscience.

There was movement in the garden down below, and Harry suddenly spotted the Queen of the Fairies sitting by herself under a cherry tree. The wind had risen, and the blossoms were shaking on their branches, and dozens of flowers were drifting down covering the grass around her feet. Her crown was on her head. Her eyes were still closed, but she was smiling, just a little.