One-shot: President Bartlet
The White House, Washington DC.
January 20th, 1999.
"Mr President?"
Josiah Bartlet, or, as of about three hours ago, the newly elected President of the United States of America, looked up towards the doorway into the Oval Office. He was currently on one knee, tapping the broad seal of the President within the vibrant blue carpet of the room. His predecessor had left a letter on the Resolute Desk – the blocky, age-old English oak desk that dominated the room – which mentioned, amongst other things, that there was a secret passageway beneath the floor, accessible by lifting the carpet where the seal lay. But he couldn't for the life of him figure out how the thing lifted up.
"Mrs Landingham?" President Bartlet called, standing up and turning to the door, where his personal Secretary – an elderly woman with greying hair that had once been amber – stood, an exasperated look on her face.
"What on earth are you doing, sir?"
Jed paused, debating whether admitting to precisely what he had been doing was a good idea or not. He was still trying to get used to the idea that he was actually the President. Winning an election and giving speeches was all well and good, but actually sitting in the Oval Office, with your photos, your files and your memorabilia on the desk, while your staff moving into offices down the hall, had a way of making it very real. Admitting to one of his oldest friends that he was searching for secret tunnels did not seem, to Jed's mind, very presidential.
He was saved from answering by his Chief of Staff, Leo McGarry, entering from another door on the other side of the room. There were four doors into the Oval Office, his office.
"Mr President, the Joint Chiefs are ready for you."
"Right! Send them in Leo." Leo nodded to Mrs Landingham, and she closed the door softly behind her.
Leo stepped further inside and took up a position standing opposite one of the low couches in the centre of the room. Behind him came several men and women, all in military dress. The Joint Chiefs of Staff, alongside the Director of Homeland Security, the Director of National Intelligence, and the heads of the FBI, CIA, and SHIELD. Then, standing at the back of the room, were two people he didn't know. It was a room full of the most influential people in the world. And Jed was ashamed to admit that he could only remember about half their names. He wasn't proud of it, but it was his first day, so cut him some slack.
Bartlet gestured for the men and women to sit, and they did so as he took up a seat in an armchair, positioned so that he was at the head of the rough circle.
"Mr President," Chairman Fitzwallace – a tall, imposing dark-skinned man with a usually cheerful demeanour – began, "this meeting is classified superior-secret. What we are about to tell you cannot be told to your wife or any other member of staff who doesn't have clearance."
"Superior-secret?"
"It's a separate branch, sir. Equal to top-secret but concerned with a different field."
Bartlet frowned. He didn't like where this was going.
"Mr President, I swear to you now that everything I'm going to tell you is the truth, and I will not make any jokes or jibes. This is, unfortunately, very real." Bartlet leaned back in his chair and gestured for the Chairman to go on. He cast a glance at Leo, but the man's face was unreadable.
"In May 1977, a revolution broke out across the United States. A revolution being fought by a sect of our population we didn't know existed."
The President's expression turned very grim indeed at that, and most people in the room winced.
"It… was not a shining monument to our intelligence apparatus. It appears, through the use of a still highly mysterious and unfathomable power known simply as 'magic' a community of about 70,000 individuals across the continental United States had been living in complete autonomy and secrecy from the wider population."
The only thing that stopped Jed from laughing was the utter seriousness of the Chairman's tone, combined with the ashamed looks that passed across the faces of the CIA and FBI directors.
"Magic?" he repeated, his brain threatening to stall.
"They call it magic, sir," the new Director of SHIELD stated. He was a tall man, also dark-skinned, with an eye-patch over one eye. His name Jed did remember. Nickolas Fury. "However, my scientists and experts have been researching it extensively since President Reagan placed all Magical Intelligence under SHIELD's authority. We believe this 'magic' is, in fact, an energy field of some kind generated by the presence of people, or, if the latest breakthrough is to be believed, all living things. These people, Witches and Wizards, appear to have a genetic disposition towards an ability of some kind that allows them to manipulate this field. How they do this, we don't know, as the Magical Intelligence Bureau has not been very sharing." Fury turned towards one of the men standing at the back of the room – he wore an immaculate black suit and sunglasses, despite being inside.
Leo cleared his throat. "Mr President, these two men are Agent K of the Magical Intelligence Bureau, or MIB, and Secretary of Magical Affairs Mr Caleb McAdams. They're both Wizards." The two men stepped forward. The Agent saluted as if he were military, and the Secretary bowed his head in respect.
"Prior to 1977, the magical community was being governed, or repressed depending on who you ask, by an organisation calling itself MACUSA, or the Magical Congress of the United States. This congress doesn't share much with the congress you're thinking of sir. Its seats were hereditary, much like the House of Lords in Britain, and only represented the elite of society. It imposed strong laws in the eighteenth century prohibiting any communication or fraternisation with us, whom they call 'No-Majs'…"
"We're trying to come up with a less-derogatory name," the Director of Homeland Security interjected softly.
"The law was successfully repealed in '65 after mass protests that spilled out into our world."
"How did we not notice these people?" Bartlet asked, growing incredibly concerned and intrigued both at the same time.
"They call it the 'Statute of Secrecy'," Fury stated, still glaring at the Secretary and the Agent. "It's an ancient spell enacted after the Spanish Inquisition. It effectively keeps them hidden from human observation or detection. It's rearranged history to remove their existence, altered important documents, and to some extent, even alters brain chemistry to make people less willing to believe in the fantastical." Bartlet paled, but Fury just grinned. "But it doesn't always work. If someone is acting deliberately to break the Statute, it doesn't work. It's also much weaker in places with high concentrations of ambient electricity. Also, around nuclear power-plants. Willpower appears to also be a factor, as well as things that alter brain chemistry, such as mental illness or drug use. There are extensive reports chronicling experiences during World War II that, upon closer inspection, reveal several confrontations between the Navy and wizards serving the Japanese Empire. Under my predecessor, Director Carter, SHIELD designed a drug that, when ingested, neutralises this spell's effect permanently, leaving no side effects." Fury looked positively thrilled. The Secretary stepped forward slightly, fist clenched by his side. However, the Chairman resumed his speech before he could say anything.
"The exact circumstances of what occurred after the repeal of those laws in 1965 that caused the Revolution will follow at another briefing by the Secretary, but for the purposes of this meeting, all you need to know right now is that, after a roughly three-year conflict, MACUSA was dissolved, and the leader of the revolutionaries – a No-Maj born wizard – approached President Reagan after he won office in 81 asking for assistance in setting up a government that functioned under the rule of law. Now, the Secretary of Magical Affairs – Mr Adams – oversees all elements of the magical community in the continental United States. He is elected, not appointed, and answers to you, then to the Council of Magical Authority – a body made up of seventeen Witches and Wizards representing seventeen magical electorates around the country. MIB's job is to keep the barriers between their world and ours intact."
"Probably a good time to point out that we currently have no power in Hawaii, Alaska, New Orleans, Florida, or Porta Rico, and to say we control west of the Sierra Nevada in more than name would be optimistic at best," the CIA Director mumbled.
The President froze for a split second.
"Did you just reduce the United States from fifty to forty-five and a half states?" he asked, aghast.
"Another government, the Federated Kingdoms of the Druids and Mer, control the entire state of Hawaii, and have considerable influence in California," Fury clarified, "We have strong relations with them, however, so it's not an overly threatening issue. There are about 100 wizards in Alaska by last count, and even less in Porta Rico, so there isn't any government structure in either area. And Florida… well, you'll need to see that to believe it."
"And, no offence Mr President, but the New Orleans magical community has considered itself part of Magical Quebecois, not America, since the Louisiana Purchase," the Secretary said, with just a hint of condescension in his voice.
Bartlet shook his head, trying desperately not to drown in all the new information his brain was trying to reject.
"Okay. If history isn't the point of this briefing, then what is?"
Fury handed him a folder.
"They are." He opened the booklet, and on the first page was a photo of two teenagers. A boy and a girl. One had pitch-black hair and green eyes, with the faded outline of a lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead. The girl was slightly shorter than the boy and had hair the colour of burning embers. A thick layer of freckles dusted the bridge of her nose, complimenting her chocolate eyes, and round face. Both of them had a hardness to their visages that suggested they'd seen conflict, despite their ages.
"Harry and Ginevra Potter. 19 and 18 years old. They are currently in possession of the most powerful weapon on the planet." Bartlet snapped up to meet Fury's gaze.
"It's, and again, I promise I'm not joking, an alien space-ship," the Chairman said. Jed's jaw slid open slightly.
"Oh, it's ten million times better than that, sir. Turn the page." Bartlet did so. The photo didn't seem real. It was of a city, easily the size of Manhattan, made of soaring silver metal towers. Flying around it were creatures identical to ancient depictions of dragons, and the entire structure was enclosed within a dome of transparent energy.
"It's an alien metropolis, with the capability to travel through space, launch targeted strikes against any city or facility on the planet with no warning, shield against our most powerful Nuclear assault and transport anyone anywhere in the world instantly. And that's only what they've discovered so far."
Bartlet turned the page again with shaking hands. It held a rough blueprint of the… of the alien city. As well as a GPS tag placing its location in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.
"And it's being controlled by two teenagers?"
"War heroes," the Secretary said stiffly, "Harry, Ginny and the Defenders are the only reason we still have a planet at all. If the world knew what they did…"
"Then tell me. Right now," Bartlet said, staring back at the profile. Written below the picture of the pair were the words – Power levels unknown. Consider subjects to always be armed and extremely dangerous.
"Who are they?"
Three Days Later…
Ginny stood outside the Oval Office, whistling softly to herself. It wasn't the first time she'd been here. She'd met President Clinton before he was impeached and removed from office the previous year. Nor was she surprised the new President had wanted to meet her. After all, everyone wanted to meet her these days. In fact, she had a game running with her twin brothers Fred and George. They called it "World-leader Bingo." Not very original admittedly, but, then again, it didn't need to be. All she needed now was the President of China, and they owed her a prank on anyone she wanted.
The door opened, and the President's Secretary motioned her inside. Ginny entered alone. Most world-leaders had entourages she knew. Mary – Ginny's head of Political Affairs – was working on creating a handpicked version of the Secret Service for her. But it was taking a while to find trustworthy candidates. Ginny thought the whole thing was relatively redundant. No one in their right mind would even think to do anything to her, and anyone with a differing opinion would find themselves sorely corrected when they woke up in her dungeon. Ginny did not consider herself a violent person. But she had two babes to protect now, as well as a fledgling nation to govern. Not to mention, she was technically the leader of an interstellar war, though that was more Harry's domain than hers.
President Bartlet had blondish brown hair and wore a black suit and tie. He wasn't elderly, but nor was he young. In fact, he seemed to have achieved a perfect balance between the two, and he projected a sort of… aura… that filled the room. It was something she'd observed in several people. Harry being the foremost. But it was also noticeable in people like Professor Dumbledore, Will O'Neill, President Matson and Doctor Strange. It was confidence in oneself, combined with willpower and natural authority, that made a leader take that extra step and feel… well, Presidential.
"Mr President," Ginny acknowledged as the President stood up from his desk and crossed the room to her. The Secret Service agents around the room were being very attentive.
"Mrs Potter," Bartlet replied smoothly, taking her hand and shaking it.
"Clear the room everyone." To their credit, the secret service didn't hesitate to follow the President's order and moved to stand outside the glass portico surrounding the Oval Office. The doors all clicked shut, and they were alone.
"Firstly, I wanted to thank you, both from myself and on behalf of the American people, for what you did for us two years ago."
Ginny waved the President off. "We didn't do it for fame or heroism. We did it because we were the only ones who could. If we hadn't, the world would have ended."
Ginny shivered involuntarily at the memory.
"Regardless. If even half of what I've read is true, you and your husband deserve public holidays named after you."
Ginny smiled softly, "Well I appreciate the sentiment, Mr President."
"And your children are well? I understand you only gave birth a few months ago?" Bartlet asked, looking her over. Ginny examined his expression, trying to decide whether he was genuine. The man had three daughters, and by all reports was a family man, but you could never be sure with politicians.
"The twins are very healthy, thank you. Pregnancy is far less painful for witches than muggles as I understand it, and I had the benefits of not only Atlantis's advanced magic and technology but also my mother – who has seven children's worth of experience – to help me through."
The President seemed to like that answer, as he gestured for Ginny to join him on the couches in the middle of the room. They sat across from one another, and Bartlet stared at her for a moment, before sighing.
"Mrs Potter. I've only had this office for the past three days, and in those three days, I've learned so much it isn't funny. I've learned government secrets that would have all the worlds reporters frothing at the mouth, I've had complex military deployments explained to me, and I've had meeting after meeting with my cabinet secretaries to outline my agenda for the next few months. And alongside all of that, I'm being briefed on the existence of a secret society of Witches and Wizards that exist all over the globe, and about how you saved the world."
"I've been briefed by my experts, but, I would like to hear it from you if would."
Ginny was taken aback for a moment. That had not been what she was expecting at all. But then she smiled. It seemed Mary had been right after all. President Bartlet was, genuinely, a man who wanted to do right by his people. A man who honestly cared about right and wrong. And Ginny knew full well that the number of people like that in the world was precious few indeed.
So, she told him a story. She began on a cold Halloween night in 1981, and told the story of how Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldemort, had tried to kill a baby-boy, and how he was defeated by a mother's love. She narrated how that little boy grew up unloved and uncared for, and how, on his eleventh birthday, he returned to the magical world. She spoke at length of Hogwarts Castle, it's magic and its mystery. And she told him of a little girl who trusted something she shouldn't have, and how she was scarred forever because of it.
On she went, telling tales of Basilisks and Phoenixes, of magical tattoos, Dementors, and Ascended Beings, of four friends torn-apart by betrayal and war, of the Home that Lily Potter left behind. She told him of Jessica Jones – the bravest Slytherin to walk those hallowed halls – and of Mathew Murdock – a boy who refused to surrender, despite the whole world shunning him. She wove tapestries and watched as the President listened, enraptured by her every word. The Triwizard Tournament, the night of the Yule Ball, when she and Harry had completed their bond. Then she told him of the Horcruxes, and of Voldemort's return from the dead. The founding of the Defenders Army came next, and the battle where she herself had fought Voldemort to a standstill in the Ministry of Magic. She held nothing back. Not the cruelty of Umbridge, the horror of Voldemort's presence, or the radiance of Will and Clarissa O'Neill.
Then her tale began to draw to a close. She explained how she and Harry had gone in search of Atlantis, how they had restored life to the ancient city, and how it had all culminated in a battle in the skies above Hogwarts. Voldemort, dead on the paving stones. The castle, a pile of rubble, and ruin.
When she was finally done, she sat back, and President Bartlet looked at her with such newfound respect that she couldn't help but smile.
"I want you to know," he said at length, "that you will always have a friend in the United States government. So long as I am President, the US will always be ready should you need help."
"The world is vulnerable Mr President," Ginny told him, "the Sorcerer Supreme is dead, and the Sanctum Sanctorum destroyed by Voldemort. It has been rebuilt it's true, but much of what Doctor Strange was working on has been lost, and only Professor Dumbledore, who is also dead, might have been wise enough to understand it regardless. We do not know how long the Doctor's enchantments on the dread Dormammu's prison will last, especially given the Destroyer's attempt to destroy our universe very nearly succeeded."
Now it was Ginny's turn to sigh.
"It is not only magical threats we must fear either, as I'm sure Director Fury has informed you." The President nodded gravely.
"Thanks to our discovery of Atlantis, we won't have to worry about alien invasions like the Captain Marvel Incidentany time soon, and Harry is preparing a team to use the Gateway to explore the galaxy; get a feeling for the climate of things out there."
"So the Director tells me," Bartlet said, "though I'll admit to you that he didn't seem happy about the fact that he didn't have any control over it. He takes global security very seriously."
"As do we, Mr President." Ginny paused, an idea forming in her mind. Ginny had been unsure exactly how they were going to explore the entirety of Atlantis when so much of the City's technology was beyond them. It was true Ginny had an instinctive knowledge of how the systems worked, thanks to the Ancient Gene embedded in her DNA as a Pureblood witch, but she didn't know why they worked. Or how to fix them if they became damaged. Large sections of the outer city had been flooded – both during and before Ginny's rising of the city from within the Antarctic ice – and the machinery in those areas had taken extensive damage. The team of scientists working on the city now – led by Filius Flitwick, the former Charms Professor at Hogwarts – was comprised almost entirely of wizarding scholars. They had about ten muggle scientists – mostly the parents of muggleborn students, or the spouses of witches or wizards who had married muggles – but only one of them actually had extensive training in Physics. The rest of the team was comprised of five British Unspeakables who'd survived Voldemort's destruction of the British Ministry of Magic, a group of Cursebreakers and Wardbinders on loan from Gringotts (Harry had actually gone to the Great Citadel – the Goblin Capital City hidden deep beneath the Sahara Desert – to speak with the Grand Imperial Magistrix of the Goblin Nation to secure the deal), about fifteen French and Catalan Wizarding Scholars who'd supported them against Voldemort, and some of the Ravenclaw House members who'd been members of the Defenders Army.
Harry was also worried about defending Atlantis should another wizarding nation decide to attack them. Since establishing themselves as an independent Wizarding Kingdom the previous year, two different secret forces – one from the Magical Caliphate of Northern Africa and the Middle East, and one from the Russian Department of Magical Oversight – had tried to breach the city shield. Both had failed, but it did highlight that they needed a defence force of some kind. They had a battalion of soldiers from the Federal Protection Authority – the military of the Federated Kingdoms of the Druids and Mer – stationed at the city as part of their treaty with President Matson, and a contingent of Aurors from France and Catalonia. Still, together they numbered less than fifty men and women. If there was a military threat to the city – muggle, magical or alien – they would be severely outnumbered.
Maybe, just maybe, she could solve two problems at once.
"But, I am willing to admit that we are a bit over our heads," Ginny said carefully, studying the President's face. He kept his face well-controlled, as any good politician would, but Ginny saw a hint of curiosity spark in his eyes. President Josiah Bartlet was a learned man, a Nobel prize-winning Economist as a matter of fact; the chance to gain new knowledge would be a powerful tool to use.
"The magical world is significantly… backwards, when it comes to our studies of science, both mundane and advanced, and we would be highly appreciative of any help the United States could give us in understanding all the advanced technology and magic inside Atlantis. Also, if Director Fury is as concerned by national security as we are, I see no reason that we can't coordinate our efforts to protect the Earth against any potential threats that might come our way."
"I see…" The President said, a smile growing on his face. Bartlet stood up, and Ginny did the same.
"Well Mrs Potter, it certainly has been informative talking to you. I will be sure to think over what you've said, and I'm sure we can come up with a plan of some sort that can benefit Atlantis, the United States, and the whole world."
"Likewise, Mr President. I look forward to speaking with you again." Ginny shook Bartlet's hand, then vanished, her body dissipating into golden dust, leaving the President of the United States to chuckle to himself as the Secret Service barged back into the room.
