Hermione opened her eyes slowly, filtering the light as it entered her eyes. After a few seconds, she was able to open them fully, and stared around the room she was in. She realised she was sitting down, and suddenly realised that she couldn't move her arms or legs. Her memory struggled to remember the events of the past few days, and then, like a dam bursting, the images and the voices filled her head, the explosion, people yelling, crawling out of the dungeons, seeing the remains of Hogwarts, being captured by the muggles, of being taken to this place, hands, faces behind masks, and then…nothing, like some had cast a black sheet over her senses. A single tear rolled down her cheek. She tried to wipe it off, but with no mobility it simply slid down her face and then dripped on to the floor.
The room she was in reminded her of her parent's surgery. The walls were white and sterile, and the lighting was provided by a single neon strip-light in the centre of the ceiling, which cast a white-blue light over the entire room. She was sitting behind a grey, metal table, and there were two similar styled chairs on the opposite side of it. There were no windows, and a single door, painted in the same colour as the walls, and with no handle either, just a black square where the handle should have been. She looked up and saw a camera in one corner of the ceiling. She glared at it, suppressed feelings of fear and anger beginning to resurface.
The room reminded her of one of those interrogation rooms that were in the movies she watched when she was at home. This suspicion seemed to be confirmed when the door opened, and two men quickly walked inside and sat down. One was carrying a laptop, which he set up on the table in front of him. They were both dressed in military uniform, and both were wearing rather unnecessary sunglasses. Both were thickset, and their haircuts reminded Hermione of Crabbe and Goyle, but their faces were not as cold and determined as the soldier's in front of her.
"Name?" Asked the one on the left, who had the laptop.
"What?" Replied Hermione, who was unprepared for questions.
"Name?" Answered the other soldier.
"Hermione, Hermione Granger."
"Good, age?"
"Sixteen, my birthday is the 19th of September."
"Yes, we know. We have a copy of your birth certificate."
"Then, why do you want my age?" Asked a puzzled Hermione
"Confirmation of who you are. Right then, my name is Mr Smith," said the soldier on the right, "and this is Mr Jones." He gestured to the man next to him.
"You don't put much effort into making up names, do you?" Replied Hermione, sarcastically.
"We don't have to, most people who are in your position are usually too frightened to worry about our names."
"And why should I be frightened, this is Britain, after all." Muttered Hermione. Mr Jones pressed a key on the laptop. Hermione yelled as she felt an electric shock pass through her body. She tried to move, but couldn't, and she crunched up her face in agony as the current increased. Then it stopped, and Hermione started breathing with ragged breaths, her eyes wide in shock, her hands in fists, and she was muttering things like 'bastard' under her breath. She stared in disbelief at the two soldiers; they were as unemotional as ever.
"Right, I hope you will be more cooperative now." Said Mr Smith. Hermione nodded weakly. "Let me explain something about your situation. You are currently being held at RAF Staxton, a military base in northern England, near Whitby, if you want to be precise. You will find that your limbs do not have any mobility, that is because before awakening you, we placed local anaesthetics in each limb, and we also took the liberty of attaching electrodes in various places all over your body. Believe me, if you chose not to cooperate, you will find this experience to be very uncomfortable. Do I make myself very clear?"
"Yes," whispered Hermione, her voice trembling.
"Good, now, where were we, oh yes, what was the facility which the bomb destroyed?"
"It was a school."
"Really? You see, it wasn't on the D.F.E.E's computer list, are you sure?"
"It wasn't an ordinary school, it was a magic school."
"Oh, you mean magic like Paul Daniels, or David Copperfield?"
"No, proper magic, witchcraft." Hermione struggled with each word. "Not that stupid muggle stuff."
"Muggle, what do you mean, muggle?"
"Muggle, as in non-magical, like you, your muggles, the soldiers that captured us were muggles."
"Ah," said Mr Jones, "That will explain what the other boy was going on about."
"What other boy? " Asked Hermione, looking up.
"Pale boy, blond hair, Draco Malfoy, I think his name was, kept saying he was going to kill all the muggles, along with his dad, his dad was going to kill all the muggles in the world, and so it went on. Not the most pleasant chap." Hermione ground her teeth in anger.
"What did you expect? Hello, we've destroyed everything you've ever counted as normal because we made a mistake, oh well, never mind, no hard feelings, eh, of course not. Ha ha ha." Hermione looked up at the ceiling. "What about the others?"
"The others, which ones?"
"All of them" shouted Hermione, her face going red.
"Apart from Draco, another boy, Harry Porter, Potter, something like that, he's awake, but he's not saying anything. The seriously injured girl, she's being treated, along with a red haired boy, who seemed to collapse with radiation sickness symptoms shortly after arriving. A red haired girl, she's still asleep, we haven't questioned her yet. A black lad, he's been questioned, and we have allowed him to see his parents. Your own parents are here as well, Hermione."
"What? Where are they?" Asked a bewildered Hermione.
"Outside, you can see them in a minute, you just have to answer a few questions. So, you say this is a 'magic' school, tell me, were you forced into any unsavoury practices, naked dancing, torture, sex rituals, stuff like that?"
"Of course not, don't be stupid, nothing like that, we just learnt things like charms, spells, potions." The soldiers looked at each other curiously. Hermione realised how ridiculous she must have sounded.
"So, no 'black magic' then, or stuff like that, you know, stuff that could injure or kill people?"
"No, no way, we were students, those people that attacked you were death-eaters, they are muggle-haters, and they were the ones attacking and killing you lot, not us."
"We don't think so, somehow."
"Why not?"
"Our two governments do have contact, you know, if there were these death-eaters, we would have been informed."
"Not necessarily"
"Pardon?"
"Look, most wizards' think muggles are, what's the word, basic, I suppose, they think you couldn't cope with these guys, I guess."
"Hmm, that is unfortunate." Began Mr Smith, "very well, we are finished with you, a medical team will come in here in a minute and neutralise the effects of the anaesthetics, and remove the electrodes, and then you are free to leave with your parents. All you have to do is sign this," he pulled out a sheet of paper, and held it up in front of Hermione.
"What is it?" Asked Hermione, straining her eyes to see what was written on the paper.
"It is merely a document stating that what you have told us is true, sign that when the medical teams has finished and we will let you out to join your parents."
"That's it?" Asked a puzzled Hermione, "Aren't you going to hold me here or something?"
"What's the point?" Answered Mr Jones, who was closing up his laptop. "Where are you going to go otherwise? Just be thankful that you do not have to stay, trust me on that. Goodbye." Hermione watched with an expressionless face as the two soldiers stood up and went to door. Mr Smith put a thumb on the black square, waited impatiently for a moment, and then the door opened. The two soldiers quickly left the room, leaving the door open for a couple of nurses to come in and position themselves around an anxious looking Hermione.
The Prime Minister sat down at his desk, his eyes gazing blankly into midair, his mind busy going over today's appointments. He had to meet his Scottish Secretary at nine o'clock, and discuss the evacuation procedures that were in place. The effect of the fallout had turned into a worst-case scenario, and the clouds containing the remains of the atomic blast were drifting further south, threatening both Edinburgh and Glasgow, and their four million inhabitants. Around two million of them had already been evacuated by the emergency services and the armed forces, but there were still many problems, particularly on the main motorways, where thousands of abandoned cars littered the roads, and many of the cities' remaining inhabitants were in state of panic.
At ten, he had a videoconference with the leaders of the EU, followed at eleven by one with the US president, then a quick lunch, before reviewing the latest military reports and drafting new press releases. The opposition leader had scored a few more points against him by pointing out the Prime Minister's absence from parliament during the whole affair, and this did not do his confidence and good at all.
His eyes gazed back to an unopened report on his desk. His secretary had just dumped it on his desk a few minutes ago. He broke the security seal, gave a tired yawn, glanced at the clock (quarter to eight), and turned his attention to the report below.
His jaw dropped, his eyes widened, and his let go of the pen he was fiddling with in his left hand. The wizards, they had attacked an army convoy, they had killed twenty-four soldiers, destroyed six armoured vehicles. They were hostile. A thousand ideas flashed through his head. They all pointed to one conclusion. His brow narrowed in anger. He picked up the phone on his desk, and began dialling a number, when…
'Pop' and right before the Prime Minister's eyes appeared the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge. He looked like the Prime Minister, tired, ragged, and angry.
"What do you think…" Began the wizard, but the Prime Minister interrupted.
"Pardon, what do I think? You have a real nerve." Fudge looked amazed. He stared at the Prime Minister in disbelief. The Prime Minister got up from his seat. "Don't play innocent with me, Fudge, you lying piece of scum, it was you all along wasn't it, yes, its so clear now. 'It was these other wizards, we are fighting them', poppycock, did you think I wouldn't find out? Pretend to be innocent, why don't you. It was you who responsible for all those bombings, and killings, and then saying how cruel and pathetic we were when we tried to defend ourselves, then attack us again. Don't play games with me, I know exactly what your plan is, distract us with some rubbish that it's these 'death eaters' or something, and then stab us in the back." Fudge tried to speak, but words failed him. His face had gone white.
"I get it, you were scared, we are finally beginning to catch up to you with our technology, and you got scared, we might overtake you, and then come down on you, so clever, you know, but I realise our mistakes now. Believe, you are going to regret the day you messed with us. You better leave, before I have you arrested." The Prime Minister finished, and sat down again, he turned on the T.V on his desk as Fudge, still bewildered, prepared to apparate, his face still in a state of shock.
"Good
morning, this is the eight o'clock news, with Moira Stewart. Ladies and
Gentlemen, we have news that will shock you, and that seems so unbelievable,
that you won't believe it is possible, but I assure you, it is true, and you
will see genuine evidence for what I am about to say. Magic is real. It is as
real as you or I.
This is
not a joke broadcast; this news item is being repeated around the world at
exactly the same time, so please listen carefully, because the government may
stop this programme at any time. As I said, magic is real, very real. A few
minutes ago, this station received pictures showing wizards, yes, you heard me
correctly, wizards, and using spells to attack British Army personnel. After a
heavy firefight, according tour sources, our brave soldiers pushed back the
wizards, despite being outgunned and suffering heavy casualties.
It appears that these wizards were responsible
for many terrorist attacks in Britain and across the globe, including the
infamous Whitehall blast, and the destruction of two RAF tornados in the Scottish
no-go area. In fact, ladies and gentlemen, it is believed that the nuclear bomb
deployed by the British armed forces was actually being used to attack these
wizards.
Evidently, these wizards, and to hazard a guess, witches as well, must be hostile to warrant a…" The transmission cut out, but the damage was done. The Prime Minister heard a 'pop' in his ears, and turned to see that Fudge had disappeared. He pulled out a bottle of Brandy from his desk and began opening it, when his secretary's voice came through the intercom.
"Sir, the switchboard is being rapidly bombarded with calls. I got the French Premier on line one, the US President on line two, the German chancellor on line three, and the Russian President on line four." The Prime Minister finished pouring out a glass from the opened bottle, said thank you to the secretary, and picked up the phone and pressed one.
"Bonjour Monsieur President…"
A/N Not what you was expecting, was it? R/R please.