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Chapter 12: A Meeting of Authority

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As Harry and Ron told Hermione about the events of Harry's Voldemort dream, the wizard world was facing an onslaught of... you guessed it... the flu. Everywhere you looked, there were people sneezing and coughing. It was even worse if they were holding a wand. In the Daily Prophet, there were various articles of someone holding a wand accidentally cursing people into St. Mungo's because they sneezed too hard, stories of someone destroying buildings with even a light cough, stories of troublemakers pretending to be sick destroying things, and stories of people claiming to have a cure which truly only landed all of its takers in St. Mungo's. There were also a slightly smaller amount of articles about Voldemort, but truly, it was the flu that had grabbed the wizard world's attention.

Meanwhile, in the Ministry of Magic, Fudge had been sacked. He went to tell the Prime Minister of Britain the events that affected both worlds as his last duty. One issue discussed had been the flu.

"The flu?" the Prime Minister said incredulously. "You're afraid of the flu?"

"It's not that funny. People have been having their heads cursed off because of an uncontrollable coughing fit, or a simple little sneeze could knock over an entire building. People have been going crazy between preventing the flu and the return of You-Know-Who."

A short silence followed for a little while until the Prime Minister broke it.

"The flu, though, seriously?"

"Yes, the flu."

The Prime Minister suppressed a giggle.

"It's not that funny. If I was holding my wand and I started sneezing, this entire office of yours could be destroyed in a matter of seconds."

"Are you threatening me?" the Prime Minister questioned while standing up, his good humor suddenly gone.

"No, I'm merely trying to get it through your thick Muggle skull that we are in danger and need your help. Dumbledore already found one way to distribute an anti-virus... the man knows way too much for his age... but seriously, think about it. If we can catch one disease, what's preventing the next one? One more serious, like, the Muggle cold? (the Prime Minister nearly burst into laughter) Next, we'll be living like Muggles because we can't handle our own magic!" Fudge exclaimed, forgetting that he had had his entire staff at the Ministry scrubbing floors only a few days ago.

"Well, I suppose I can help you-"

"Wonderful!" exclaimed Fudge. "Though, seeing as I am no longer Minister, you must address it with Rufus Scrimegour- he's the new guy. He'll be here soon... farewell, Minister." and Fudge Floo-Powdered himself somewhere with the help of the Prime Minister's fireplace.

A few minutes later, a surlier, more serious man appeared in the fireplace.

"Ah, Rufus Scrimegour, new Minister of Magic, I presume?"

"You presume correctly."

There was an awkward silence for a little while. The Prime Minister desired so greatly for this man to leave his office; Rufus added a sort of grimness that did not provide for a friendly atmosphere.

"So, you're going to help us with our flu problem?" Rufus said to break the silence.

"Yes, of course, I don't see why not..."

"How?"

"Well," said the Minister, "we're obviously going to need to get a doctor with the anti-virus... I could make an appointment with the doctor to come with the anti-virus tomorrow... how much will you need?" The Minister still thought it incredulous that a tiny little virus that goes away after a few days of suffering was possibly going to be the ruin of a world run by magic.

"We don't need too much; we can always make more before it runs out."

"Ok... I was hoping for a specific amount, preferably in milliliters..."

"Million-leaders?"

"Oh, yeah, you don't know... never mind."

"You think we're insane, don't you?"

"Why would I think that?"

"We're all terribly afraid for our lives because these two mass-murderers are on the loose."

"Because of that Moldy-guy, right... wait, two? I thought there was one..."

"It's not 'Moldy-guy' it's V- 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named', and there are two: him, and the flu."

The Prime Minister, despite the grim atmosphere, giggled a little. He could believe that they were afraid of a mass-murderer... but the flu being categorized as one and being feared like one was a little too much.

"The flu? A... a killer? Minister, I don't think-"

"You don't know what it's like!"

"I do, too; I get it every winter, and so does my wife and three children. We haven't died yet, and we didn't get the shot, either... It is a little unpleasant for a while, about a week or so, but then we're as good as new..."

Rufus shook his head solemnly. "You are putting yourself and your family in danger. You don't understand how powerful and dangerous the flu is!"

The Prime Minister burst into laughter, which echoed throughout the room.

"I'm sorry," the Prime Minister panted when he was done. "I'll of course ask for the doctor to come here tomorrow, and he'll bring the anti-virus. Come back then and pick it up at... around four in the afternoon, I suppose."

"Fine," said Rufus, even surlier at the thought of not being taken seriously. "I bid you good day." With that, Rufus Scrimegour stepped into the fire and Floo-Powdered himself to the Ministry of Magic.

When the Minister of Magic left, the Prime Minster laughed to himself for a little while, regaining his composure before he called the doctor.

For several days afterwards, the Prime Minister was still laughing at the idea of a little flu virus bringing the world to an end.