Chapter 6: Remains
Five hundred feet below the surface of the North Sea, a team of US Navy divers were scouring the bottom for any remains of the 'Powell'. They had searched threes sites already, and these had proved to be negative. This was the last site they had to check, but they only had half an hour to look as a storm was arriving soon.
One of the divers, nicknamed 'Fish' because of his diving skills, manoeuvred himself around a rocky outcrop, his torches providing him with little visibility in these cold, dark waters. He wished he was at home in Florida, or cruising around the Caribbean, diving in the warm clear seas, searching for shipwrecks or just enjoying the myriad of life that inhabited the region.
A tiny scrap, and Fish's heart stopped. He ran his hand over the suit, checking that the cover material of his pressure suit, and that the pressure in his suit was stable. At this depth, and if his suit failed, he would be crushed like a twig under a station wagon's tyre. He breathed a sigh of relief as he discovered that he had only scratched a small spade on his utility belt.
Remembering his mission, he continued round the rock, and stopped in disbelief. The 'Powell' hung in the water; its nose smashed against the bottom, and half the ship leaned at about forty-five degrees from the bottom. Then halfway up the ship, a massive hole that had obviously been the result of an explosion and had nearly blown the ship in two. The rest of the hull went up steeper than the front, and was held precariously on an underwater ledge.
Fish took a closer look at the hole. An idea of a terrible accident began to occur to him. The explosion had taken place directly under the cruise missile tubes, and the incident had seemed to describe a terrible accident that had cost the lives of over a hundred US navy personnel. He had to be sure, however. He signalled to the others and the support ship that he had found the wreck and was going in to investigate.
He moved up towards the hole, and swam inside. He was in the remains of the magazine room, and only a few bits of casing were left of more than forty missiles. He walked around the room, examining the blast hole. He trod on something soft. He looked down to see he had stepped on a dismembered arm, bearing a "USS Powell" tattoo. He immediately jumped back, causing anxious questions from the rest of the team who were watching him.
After fighting down his breakfast, Fish continued looking around. Something on the floor caught his eye. It was a missile casing, pointing exactly opposite the hole and embedded in the hull. That wasn't what attracted Fish's eye, however. This casing was a different colour, a slightly lighter grey than the other warhead casings. He picked it up, and nearly dropped it in surprise. The only marking upon the case was a flag, a red cross on a white background, with a Union Jack in one corner. The Royal Navy. This was a British missile.
'Okay' he thought, 'it could just be one loaded on the ship after restocking from a British supply ship.' Both navies used similar weapons, and regularly topped up off each other's supplies, particularly after joint operations. 'Well, there's only one way to be sure.' He radioed the support ship, and asked whether or not the 'Powell' had been carrying British missiles. He waited a minute, and then the answer came.
It hadn't.
It took several hours for the Hogwarts students to break through to the surface. The roof of the corridor outside had collapsed at one end, providing the students with a crude ramp to the upper levels. There were no upper levels however, and when they reached the ground floor, they were walking in the winter sun. As soon as Hermione, Parvati and Ron had bought Lavender up and everyone was out of the dungeon, they all took the opportunity to look around.
Most broke down in tears and gasps immediately. Others were too overwhelmed to do anything except stand and stare. Hogwarts had been destroyed, totally and without exception, and now was nothing more than stone pieces. The bomb had taken each story of the building, and had lifted blocks, some as big as cars and pushed them over half a mile away to the opposite side of the castle. Everything was black, black and dead. The forbidden forest was now flat, and only a few far off trees were standing, and even these were charred and leafless.
Hogsmeade, the school gates and Hagrid's cottage had simply disappeared off the face of the earth. Then they stared at the crater. The bomb had landed on the opposite side of the lake, and a crater a thousand feet across and nearly three hundred feet deep had formed, encompassing most of the lake. The massive temperatures generated by the blast had evaporated all the water, leaving the bottom visible and heavily burnt. The sand on the bottom, however, had suddenly become sparkling, almost like crystal or glass. Everything, everywhere, for about ten miles around the crater had been blackened and burnt by the blast. The quidditch stadium, where Harry had so many memories, had been blown away completely, leaving only six short, blackened, metal stumps where the goal posts had stood.
And a new realisation had set in. Everyone else was dead. They had all hoped that maybe at least some of the school had survived, but many now realised that they had lost everything. Ron took it particularly hard. He had lost his two brothers and his little sister, and he collapsed into a heap, and no amount of comforting could reach him. Many others had lost relatives, such as Parvati's twin sister, who had had herbology. The greenhouses had been destroyed, leaving only their concrete floor.
Hermione, Draco and Harry began searching for survivors. All knew that there was no chance at all of anyone surviving, but they had to be sure. They where returning to the others when Hermione fell down a hidden hole in the loose stonework beneath their feet. Draco and Harry rushed to help Hermione. Draco had given up insulting Hermione, realising that she knew more about this than anyone else, and was probably the group's, and therefore his, best chance of survival.
They pulled Hermione up (she had managed to grab a edge before falling in completely). Harry was more interested in the gap, and pulled out his wand, murmured lumos, and searched the bottom of the hole. He saw something move, and climbed down with Hermione to take a look.
They found a body, barely alive, and trapped under a large stone buttress that had fallen down on top of her. Her bright red hair instantly revealed her to be Ginny, barely conscious, and looking surprised and relieved at their arrival.
"Ginny, are you ok, what happened to you?" Asked Hermione; whilst Harry tried to levitate the stone work off of Ginny.
"I'm...okay. I was running down this corridor, when, when that thing struck. I was knocked unconscious by something, then I woke up, I was down here, and I've been waiting for rescue since." She glanced at Harry, who had just managed to shift the stonework. He put his hand underneath Ginny, to try and lift her up, and felt something damp.
"Ginny, are you injured?" asked Harry, thinking he had felt blood.
"No," she replied, " I, well, I, lets just say I have been here for nearly a day now, and I haven't been able to move."
Ten minutes later, they had her to the surface, to be greeted by an ecstatic Ron, and the two embraced so much it looked like they were going to crush each other. It was a single relief, in the midst of many great disasters, but it couldn't do anything but help raise moral slightly.
But they found no more survivors, and as the morning sky rose higher into the cloudy sky, they all accepted that Ginny was the only other survivor. Several people complaining of feeling of tiredness and stomach problems did not help the matter. None of them had eaten since the previous morning. In general, the outlook wasn't good, and it was about to get a lot worse.
A/N Well, R/R plez. The sand turning glittering is a story from the Tests in the Nevada desert. As the temperature rises, all the various compounds that make up each individual sand grain melt and mix with other sand grains. As this mixture cools, it solidifies and a primitive glass is produced in little 'blobs', over the surface of the sand.
Five hundred feet below the surface of the North Sea, a team of US Navy divers were scouring the bottom for any remains of the 'Powell'. They had searched threes sites already, and these had proved to be negative. This was the last site they had to check, but they only had half an hour to look as a storm was arriving soon.
One of the divers, nicknamed 'Fish' because of his diving skills, manoeuvred himself around a rocky outcrop, his torches providing him with little visibility in these cold, dark waters. He wished he was at home in Florida, or cruising around the Caribbean, diving in the warm clear seas, searching for shipwrecks or just enjoying the myriad of life that inhabited the region.
A tiny scrap, and Fish's heart stopped. He ran his hand over the suit, checking that the cover material of his pressure suit, and that the pressure in his suit was stable. At this depth, and if his suit failed, he would be crushed like a twig under a station wagon's tyre. He breathed a sigh of relief as he discovered that he had only scratched a small spade on his utility belt.
Remembering his mission, he continued round the rock, and stopped in disbelief. The 'Powell' hung in the water; its nose smashed against the bottom, and half the ship leaned at about forty-five degrees from the bottom. Then halfway up the ship, a massive hole that had obviously been the result of an explosion and had nearly blown the ship in two. The rest of the hull went up steeper than the front, and was held precariously on an underwater ledge.
Fish took a closer look at the hole. An idea of a terrible accident began to occur to him. The explosion had taken place directly under the cruise missile tubes, and the incident had seemed to describe a terrible accident that had cost the lives of over a hundred US navy personnel. He had to be sure, however. He signalled to the others and the support ship that he had found the wreck and was going in to investigate.
He moved up towards the hole, and swam inside. He was in the remains of the magazine room, and only a few bits of casing were left of more than forty missiles. He walked around the room, examining the blast hole. He trod on something soft. He looked down to see he had stepped on a dismembered arm, bearing a "USS Powell" tattoo. He immediately jumped back, causing anxious questions from the rest of the team who were watching him.
After fighting down his breakfast, Fish continued looking around. Something on the floor caught his eye. It was a missile casing, pointing exactly opposite the hole and embedded in the hull. That wasn't what attracted Fish's eye, however. This casing was a different colour, a slightly lighter grey than the other warhead casings. He picked it up, and nearly dropped it in surprise. The only marking upon the case was a flag, a red cross on a white background, with a Union Jack in one corner. The Royal Navy. This was a British missile.
'Okay' he thought, 'it could just be one loaded on the ship after restocking from a British supply ship.' Both navies used similar weapons, and regularly topped up off each other's supplies, particularly after joint operations. 'Well, there's only one way to be sure.' He radioed the support ship, and asked whether or not the 'Powell' had been carrying British missiles. He waited a minute, and then the answer came.
It hadn't.
It took several hours for the Hogwarts students to break through to the surface. The roof of the corridor outside had collapsed at one end, providing the students with a crude ramp to the upper levels. There were no upper levels however, and when they reached the ground floor, they were walking in the winter sun. As soon as Hermione, Parvati and Ron had bought Lavender up and everyone was out of the dungeon, they all took the opportunity to look around.
Most broke down in tears and gasps immediately. Others were too overwhelmed to do anything except stand and stare. Hogwarts had been destroyed, totally and without exception, and now was nothing more than stone pieces. The bomb had taken each story of the building, and had lifted blocks, some as big as cars and pushed them over half a mile away to the opposite side of the castle. Everything was black, black and dead. The forbidden forest was now flat, and only a few far off trees were standing, and even these were charred and leafless.
Hogsmeade, the school gates and Hagrid's cottage had simply disappeared off the face of the earth. Then they stared at the crater. The bomb had landed on the opposite side of the lake, and a crater a thousand feet across and nearly three hundred feet deep had formed, encompassing most of the lake. The massive temperatures generated by the blast had evaporated all the water, leaving the bottom visible and heavily burnt. The sand on the bottom, however, had suddenly become sparkling, almost like crystal or glass. Everything, everywhere, for about ten miles around the crater had been blackened and burnt by the blast. The quidditch stadium, where Harry had so many memories, had been blown away completely, leaving only six short, blackened, metal stumps where the goal posts had stood.
And a new realisation had set in. Everyone else was dead. They had all hoped that maybe at least some of the school had survived, but many now realised that they had lost everything. Ron took it particularly hard. He had lost his two brothers and his little sister, and he collapsed into a heap, and no amount of comforting could reach him. Many others had lost relatives, such as Parvati's twin sister, who had had herbology. The greenhouses had been destroyed, leaving only their concrete floor.
Hermione, Draco and Harry began searching for survivors. All knew that there was no chance at all of anyone surviving, but they had to be sure. They where returning to the others when Hermione fell down a hidden hole in the loose stonework beneath their feet. Draco and Harry rushed to help Hermione. Draco had given up insulting Hermione, realising that she knew more about this than anyone else, and was probably the group's, and therefore his, best chance of survival.
They pulled Hermione up (she had managed to grab a edge before falling in completely). Harry was more interested in the gap, and pulled out his wand, murmured lumos, and searched the bottom of the hole. He saw something move, and climbed down with Hermione to take a look.
They found a body, barely alive, and trapped under a large stone buttress that had fallen down on top of her. Her bright red hair instantly revealed her to be Ginny, barely conscious, and looking surprised and relieved at their arrival.
"Ginny, are you ok, what happened to you?" Asked Hermione; whilst Harry tried to levitate the stone work off of Ginny.
"I'm...okay. I was running down this corridor, when, when that thing struck. I was knocked unconscious by something, then I woke up, I was down here, and I've been waiting for rescue since." She glanced at Harry, who had just managed to shift the stonework. He put his hand underneath Ginny, to try and lift her up, and felt something damp.
"Ginny, are you injured?" asked Harry, thinking he had felt blood.
"No," she replied, " I, well, I, lets just say I have been here for nearly a day now, and I haven't been able to move."
Ten minutes later, they had her to the surface, to be greeted by an ecstatic Ron, and the two embraced so much it looked like they were going to crush each other. It was a single relief, in the midst of many great disasters, but it couldn't do anything but help raise moral slightly.
But they found no more survivors, and as the morning sky rose higher into the cloudy sky, they all accepted that Ginny was the only other survivor. Several people complaining of feeling of tiredness and stomach problems did not help the matter. None of them had eaten since the previous morning. In general, the outlook wasn't good, and it was about to get a lot worse.
A/N Well, R/R plez. The sand turning glittering is a story from the Tests in the Nevada desert. As the temperature rises, all the various compounds that make up each individual sand grain melt and mix with other sand grains. As this mixture cools, it solidifies and a primitive glass is produced in little 'blobs', over the surface of the sand.