Chapter VIII: Salem Witch Hunt
"What's going on up there?"
Ron Weasley ran through the Atrium with a look of confusion rubbed all over his face. His eyes were beady, nose pinned up and his bottom lip protruded out and shook. Across the grand hall were wizards shouting to one another and screaming. It did not take long for them to realize that Muggles were watching them from above.
"Excuse me," Ron said when he stopped in front of short wizard with a balding head. "I don't really know where I'm going."
"Everyone's watching some box back in Miss Vendetta's old office. Got funny knobs and everything."
"A television?"
"Yes," the wizard said, extending the vowel.
"Blimey, must be a Muggle artifact. Where exactly is her office?"
He was pointed in the direction Ron just came and down a few levels. Looked like her office was in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. Ron knew he had heard the name before, but couldn't remember where. In any case, if Ron could see what was happening through the Muggles' eyes, it was an opportunity he couldn't miss.
"Pardon me," Ron said as he pushed aside a few lost witches. He rushed to the large, beautiful fireplace plastered with oak and maple and carved into forever swirling circles. Using Floo Powder left on the side in a small, stone bucket, Ron tossed it inside, making the fire glow green. Then, Ron stepped inside and said clearly, "Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."
Poof. Boom. Ron appeared in front of, actually, in front of no one. Usually there was somebody there to greet him and check to make sure he belonged. However, there was nobody at all. Across the corridor, Ron could hear the hoots and shouts of wizards. As he approached the room, a few repeated words were heard clearly. 'Evil, Witchcraft and Burn'
When Ron finally entered the room, he could barely find enough space to fit his body. Feverishly, he attempted to squeeze himself through the crowd and toward the television. He made it halfway through until he was elbowed right in the nose. Ron stumbled to the side and found himself much closer to the television screen.
"That's the Durmstrang Institute!" Ron shouted. The crowd already seemed to know as they hushed him.
Icy snowflakes fell from the pure white sky. They fell upon a school flooded with blood red robes and a professor waving away the camera. The shots were taken from high above, perhaps a helicopter. Suddenly, a solemn looking wizard stepped from the crowd and drew his wand. He shook it at the Muggle camera, and a bolt of blue lightning struck it.
Suddenly, the world swirled around them, and they were falling. The helicopter full of Muggle reporters fell onto the ground and smashed into a smoldering great fire. The television screen became fuzzy.
"That was Professor Karkaroff," a wizard said to a fellow witch in the crowd.
"How would you know?" she replied.
"I saw him at the Triwizard's Tournament! It was him all right. That red haired boy was right. That was Durmstrang."
"I don't understand how the Muggles can see them," Ron said.
Rumors spread about the room like a wildfire. The only way to put it out was with answers, something Ron surely did not have. If such a great, hidden place like Durmstrang could be seen, it was probable that all magical places were now visible. What could possibly destroy all those enchantments? Was it a countercurse of some kind? Ron shook his head and tried to push his way out of the room until he heard someone shout,
"That's Bill Weasley!"
Abruptly, Ron turned around and saw Gringotts Bank. Standing outside was a boy with flaming red hair tied into a ponytail and matching freckles. He wore cool shades and a black, draping robe. He was talking in very calm manner to the Muggle reporters, unlike just about every wizard seen so far.
"Turn it up, turn it up!" two witches shouted at the same time. Another wizard fiddled with the knob and attempted to pull it out completely.
"No, you turn it," Ron said to him. Finally, the wizard got it.
"…much to say," Bill said.
"Are you working for a terrorist country?"
"No."
"Are you a spy?"
"No."
"Are you here to harm us?"
Bill smirked a bit, but eventually shook his head. The reporter sighed and then leaned in. He whispered something into Bill's ears. In turn, Bill said, "Yes." Immediately, the Muggle reporter shouted,
"He admitted it! His people want to kill us!"
"I didn't say that!" Bill said offensively. "I really didn't. He asked me—"
"I asked him if he had any intention of killing mankind and you heard him, he said yes."
The crowd gasped and pointed their fingers. They started to swarm upon him, an angry mob with cameras and microphones. Hundreds of questions were shouted, mainly about killing mankind. Bill finally closed his eyes, and shouted in a very commanding, deep voice,
"Enough!"
The cool, calm Bill was gone. Instead, a plum red Bill with clenched teeth emerged.
"Yes, I am a wizard. I can hurt you if I wanted to! But I have no desire to do that. If I did, you'd all be dead right now. However, I'm just a curse-breaker at this bank here. We mean you no harm."
"Liar!" a reporter shouted. "Why would a powerful, magical person like you have to work for a living? He could just kill us and take our money. You heard him. If he wanted to, he would!" The group continued to hiss and gasp. It was no use. They didn't want to hear the truth; they just wanted to cause more chaos and drama.
Abruptly, Bill disappeared. The Muggles awed and screamed and gave mixed reactions. The reporter turned around and stared into the camera.
"Reporting live from what they called Gringotts Bank. If you've just tuned in, we have gotten a confession from one of the wizards. They desire to kill mankind. We will not stand for it. If you see a wizard, no matter how innocent they look, report it right away. Or, if you are braver, take care of them yourself! Don't be afraid! Don't turn your back! This is Francis Michael Donaway, signing off."
"Aha!" Warren yelled as he swung the door open. He held Hamlet high above, ready to smash the head of any Death Eater that walked through. However, after seeing that it was only a young man, he slowly brought the book down and stepped forward.
Harry stared back at him and then to the woman shivering her wand. "I'm sorry, I'm looking for a certain place, and I'm a bit lost."
"Oh, I see. So who are you, and what are you looking for exactly?" he said suspiciously.
"My name is Harry Potter and I'm looking for 172 Stony—"
"Let the boy in, Warren!" the woman yelled. She ran toward Harry, grabbed his arm and pulled him into the house. Then, she picked up a large blanket curled up on the couch and draped it around Harry's cold body. "There, there, warm up. Sit right there." She pointed to the sofa sitting in front of the crackling fireplace.
"I've heard that name before… Justine, where have I heard this boy's name?"
"He's the Boy Who Lived," she replied and looked back at Harry's face. "Sometimes I thought you were just a myth. Even with all those reporters claiming to have interviewed you. I know how they lie."
Harry nodded. "Yes… I'm sorry, you're being so nice, so kind to me and all, but I really need to get to 172 Stony Road."
"Haha, my dear, you are at 172 Stony Road."
"Then you are, Mrs. Corryton?" Harry said. She flinched. "I just thought, well, Mr. Corryton is supposed to live here and—"
"Yes, but no one really calls me that anymore. Justine Yellowbird. That over there is Warren Corryton." She pointed the middle aged Muggle. Harry knew it had to be Chad's father.
Harry sighed to himself. "This is very hard for me to tell you."
At first, Justine didn't understand. She arched her eyebrows and lifted her cheeks, forming little apples around her cheekbones. However, Harry's sorrowful tone and shifty eyes told her the news was not pleasant at all.
"It's about my son, isn't it?" she asked. "Did you know him? Were you two friends?"
Harry nodded. "Yes. Well, I only knew him for such a short while. He was in the Ravenclaw House, and I helped him once get back to his group of friends."
"Chad didn't have friends," Warren said as he turned around. "You don't have to lie to us to make us feel better. When we held a funeral for him two years ago, only his head master and Professor Sprout showed up. Apparently, Chad was very good in, oh, what was it…"
"Herbology," Harry interjected.
"Yes, that's it! Herbology. Something to do with plants… Anyway, no one else showed up. That tells you right there how popular your son was."
"He was only a first year. It was barely into the first semester," Harry said. "He didn't get a chance to make friends."
"He's right, Warren. I'd like to think that Chad would have done very well at Hogwarts if they didn't let him die… Professor Dumbledore told me he fell victim to the attacks of the Blue Bloods. Was that true?"
Harry nodded once again. "Yes, it is true. Chad was very smart and brave. If only he were here today…"
Warren mumbled to himself. "The Blue Bloods… Who were they? Why did they attack my son?"
"Well, they were like the Death Eaters. I'm sure Mrs.Cor, Mrs. Yellowbird has spoke about them. They only wanted purebloods to live. And so, anyone that wasn't… I'm sorry, I didn't really want to tell you this."
Warren shook his head. "Of course not. I know what you're saying and it's the same thing my ex-wife has been saying for the last two years. It's my fault he's dead."
"No, Mister Corryton. You didn't kill him. It was the—"
"It was the Muggle blood in him!" Warren yelled. "I've heard it many times. If only Chad had a wizard for a father. Oh, Mister Potter. I shouldn't be yelling about this so late at night. Do you need a cup of tea? Yes, of course you do. Justine, get him one."
"Yes, your majesty," she said. Pop.
"Mr. Corryton, I came here not only on the behalf of Chad but also the magical community. You seem to be one of the few Muggles that are not ready to kill a witch when they see one. I need someone like you to tell these Muggles they have us all wrong. We have to stop the chaos because it gets worse."
"What do you want me to do? Parade down to the news channel, show them my witch ex-wife and explain to them that not all witches are bad? That I even married one and bore a son at one point?"
Harry nodded. "Something like that. They need to see we're good, before they start making accusations against us. I've read about the Salem Witch Trials. I know how Muggles can get." He paused, realizing he was talking to one. "Sorry."
"Don't apologize. You're right. And, I'm afraid to tell you, that accusations have already been made. If I reveal myself as a supporter of your kind, I'll be locked up or burned with you."
Pop.
"Did you want sugar with that?"
"Yes please."
Pop.
"Burned? How can they burn us?" Harry asked appalled. "It's been centuries since they did that sort of brutality. Don't they have laws against that sort of thing?"
"Probably, but when it comes to fear, Muggles will do anything. I should know. I married Chad's mother even when I already knew she was a witch."
"So, she told you?"
"No," Warren said and shook his head. "I saw her do that thing she does. Popping in and out of the air."
"Why weren't you afraid then?"
"I loved her. She could have really had three heads, and I still would have loved her."
"If only more Muggles were like you," Harry said. "So, you're going to do nothing to help me?"
"I cannot. I'm sorry, Mister Potter."
Pop.
Justine handed Harry a foaming cup. "Drink it slowly, it's hot. You wanted tea too?"
"Yes, Justine," Warren said.
"Men. Can't lift a finger on their own."
Pop.
"Don't drink it," Warren said and motioned his hand over Harry's cup. "She makes horrible tea."
"Then why did you ask her for one if you hate it so much?"
"To get her out of the room… Mister Potter, I may not be able to help you in the way you wanted. However, I advise you to look into Chad's passing and others like him."
"What do you mean?"
"Other students have died at Hogwarts. I wish I could tell you more, but I'm terrified if Justine overheard me that—"
Pop.
"Thank you, Justine," Warren said and immediately changed his voice. He grabbed the tea and placed it down on a table. However, Justine didn't leave the room. Instead, she stood there waiting.
"Oh, yes, the tea, it's lovely," Harry said. "I must be going now."
"So shortly? But you just arrived," Justine protested.
Harry nodded. "I really must go. Thank you for the tea and your time." As Harry headed for the door, Warren walked up beside him and whispered into Harry's ear.
"Remember what I told you."
"I will," Harry whispered back.
And with that, he left 172 Stony Road with more new questions than answers. Investigate other students' deaths? What for? How could they be connected to the unveiling of magical buildings? Harry knew Warren was hiding something but desperately wanted to help. After getting back into the boat, Harry sat, wondering where to go next. He couldn't go back to Hogwarts, and he had no idea where to start with Warren's advice. There were only two best friends Harry could think of and one of them didn't live too far away. However, it was in the Muggle part of London. Harry had to hide his wand and keep his mouth shut.
"Hermione, I hope you're home."