THE WORLD'S HERO
It had been just three years since Voldemort reclaimed his throne as king of terror; since he sent death eaters to take out the World Trade Center. He sacraficed his own men. Deatheaters, but men none the less. Twenty of them were in each building, together casting a simple spell designed to bring something to a person. Harry had used it in his fourth year to help him best the dragon in the Tri-Wizard Cup.
Inside the lumbering steel giants that were the twin towers, forty wizards of Muslim heritage waited patiently for their orders. The twenty Deatheaters in tower #1 all turned there heads to the eastern-most wall where a completly black owl, resembling more a Vulture then the nocturnal message carrier of the wizard world, had spooked the two female stock brokers with window desks as it flew across the room and dropped a bullet shaped capsule near the foot of one of the Deatheaters. The owl turned quickly in the air, a grace to it's movements a bird of that size should not be capable of, as the nameless Deatheater knelt to pick up the capsule. He then unscrewed it as he straightened, his eyes reading each word with Rapt attention.
His facial features lit up as he read each word. Screwing the capsule back together, he turned giving all nineteen other deatheaters a silent nod, the grin never leaving his face. He nodded to the last one, when simultaneously they reached into there traditional muslim garb and each drew out a peice of wood, varying in size from 9 to 11 inches, in types from ceder to pine.
With practiced precision, they pointed at the same window the owl had flown in from and started chanting "Accio American Airlines Flight 11 from Boston, Massachusetts to Los Angeles, California."
All around them the various muggels stopped going about there daily business and gave them weird looks. A couple of ppl tryed to talk to them; ask them if they were okay, but nothing. There eyes were all closed, persperation forming over there features as they sternly repeated the chant over and over again, in perfect unison.
One of the women near the window they were pointing pushed her chair away from the desk and drew her cell phone, the other woman just sat there, open mouthed. The first dialed security. "Security please. Hello? Yes. There's twenty some men in here with what looks like magic wands pointing them out the window and chanting something weird over and over again. Probably religous fanatics. Could you come and get rid of them?"
As she hung up the phone, she began to hear the rumbling of a massive engine. Then screams peirced the air, not quite muffling the sound of the engine. She turned wondering what the commotion was and as she stared out her open window, it dawned on her.
A plane engine.
Just then the sound of steal, brick, and office supplies being bent, broken, and destroyed along with screams, gasps, and hurried footsteps filled the air. Her eyes made contact with the pilot, obviously muslim, just before the nose of the Boeing 767 ran over her. An explosion followed within milleseconds engulfing the rest of the room in flames.
People begain rushing down the stairs, fleeing for there lives. Not yet did they grasp the gravity of the situation how ever. Many stayed at the foot of the building, sheilding there eyes as they gazed up at the billows of smoke coming out of one of the taller stories the jumbo jet had apparently gone through.
They thought it was an accident and waited to be called back up to work. Media was crawling all over the place interviewing anyone that would care to give them there opinion.
Then the air filled with a quiet rumbling, which steadily grew louder. The basic events of the first building, Muslim people drew sticks from their traditional garb and begain chanting "Accio United Airlines Flight 175 from Boston to Los Angeles." had transpired minutes earlier.
The roar was now so loud, hot dog carts, newstands, and windows were shaking with such ferousity, one would suspect the molecules to seperate.
Screams filled the air as a jumbo airliner, 40-odd stories up, came into view seconds before it crashed into Tower number 2 raining glass, crumbled chunks of plaster, and even dismembered peices of human bodies down on the thousands below.
A few hours later, despite passionate magical efforts from various Aurors, medical, and other powerful wizards, including the headmaster from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore, two symbols of American Culture and economy caved in on eachother, covering a sea of fleeing Muggles and Wizards of all nationalities and persuasions.
It didn't matter what you were on that faithful day. Thousands of people died in the first great terrorist attack masterminded by one man. Not a Saudi excile poluting the thoughts of muslims, leading them to perform acts of great feat, evil feat, but great feat. No. Even mister Bin Laden wasent completly responsible. He answered to another. A man, no a Being of outerworldly power whose voice hissed like that of a snake. A being who people in the wizarding world feared to even utter the name of.
Voldemort.
It had been just three years since Voldemort reclaimed his throne as king of terror; since he sent death eaters to take out the World Trade Center. He sacraficed his own men. Deatheaters, but men none the less. Twenty of them were in each building, together casting a simple spell designed to bring something to a person. Harry had used it in his fourth year to help him best the dragon in the Tri-Wizard Cup.
Inside the lumbering steel giants that were the twin towers, forty wizards of Muslim heritage waited patiently for their orders. The twenty Deatheaters in tower #1 all turned there heads to the eastern-most wall where a completly black owl, resembling more a Vulture then the nocturnal message carrier of the wizard world, had spooked the two female stock brokers with window desks as it flew across the room and dropped a bullet shaped capsule near the foot of one of the Deatheaters. The owl turned quickly in the air, a grace to it's movements a bird of that size should not be capable of, as the nameless Deatheater knelt to pick up the capsule. He then unscrewed it as he straightened, his eyes reading each word with Rapt attention.
His facial features lit up as he read each word. Screwing the capsule back together, he turned giving all nineteen other deatheaters a silent nod, the grin never leaving his face. He nodded to the last one, when simultaneously they reached into there traditional muslim garb and each drew out a peice of wood, varying in size from 9 to 11 inches, in types from ceder to pine.
With practiced precision, they pointed at the same window the owl had flown in from and started chanting "Accio American Airlines Flight 11 from Boston, Massachusetts to Los Angeles, California."
All around them the various muggels stopped going about there daily business and gave them weird looks. A couple of ppl tryed to talk to them; ask them if they were okay, but nothing. There eyes were all closed, persperation forming over there features as they sternly repeated the chant over and over again, in perfect unison.
One of the women near the window they were pointing pushed her chair away from the desk and drew her cell phone, the other woman just sat there, open mouthed. The first dialed security. "Security please. Hello? Yes. There's twenty some men in here with what looks like magic wands pointing them out the window and chanting something weird over and over again. Probably religous fanatics. Could you come and get rid of them?"
As she hung up the phone, she began to hear the rumbling of a massive engine. Then screams peirced the air, not quite muffling the sound of the engine. She turned wondering what the commotion was and as she stared out her open window, it dawned on her.
A plane engine.
Just then the sound of steal, brick, and office supplies being bent, broken, and destroyed along with screams, gasps, and hurried footsteps filled the air. Her eyes made contact with the pilot, obviously muslim, just before the nose of the Boeing 767 ran over her. An explosion followed within milleseconds engulfing the rest of the room in flames.
People begain rushing down the stairs, fleeing for there lives. Not yet did they grasp the gravity of the situation how ever. Many stayed at the foot of the building, sheilding there eyes as they gazed up at the billows of smoke coming out of one of the taller stories the jumbo jet had apparently gone through.
They thought it was an accident and waited to be called back up to work. Media was crawling all over the place interviewing anyone that would care to give them there opinion.
Then the air filled with a quiet rumbling, which steadily grew louder. The basic events of the first building, Muslim people drew sticks from their traditional garb and begain chanting "Accio United Airlines Flight 175 from Boston to Los Angeles." had transpired minutes earlier.
The roar was now so loud, hot dog carts, newstands, and windows were shaking with such ferousity, one would suspect the molecules to seperate.
Screams filled the air as a jumbo airliner, 40-odd stories up, came into view seconds before it crashed into Tower number 2 raining glass, crumbled chunks of plaster, and even dismembered peices of human bodies down on the thousands below.
A few hours later, despite passionate magical efforts from various Aurors, medical, and other powerful wizards, including the headmaster from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore, two symbols of American Culture and economy caved in on eachother, covering a sea of fleeing Muggles and Wizards of all nationalities and persuasions.
It didn't matter what you were on that faithful day. Thousands of people died in the first great terrorist attack masterminded by one man. Not a Saudi excile poluting the thoughts of muslims, leading them to perform acts of great feat, evil feat, but great feat. No. Even mister Bin Laden wasent completly responsible. He answered to another. A man, no a Being of outerworldly power whose voice hissed like that of a snake. A being who people in the wizarding world feared to even utter the name of.
Voldemort.