Another story that will probably never be completed so I'm moving it here.
Last Desperate Measures
Part One
The Prime minister, like he regularly did, was waiting in his office long past normal office hours for a phone call from a foreign head of state. Unfortunately, time zones made the hour of this calls inconvenient.
He sighed, looked at his watch, noticing the call should be there in ten minutes, before thinking back to how terrible the last 18 months had been. Countless deaths, many unexplained, and many supposedly the work of dark wizards – he cringed at the very though that it was possible – and thus in the jurisdiction of the "Other Minister".
Being in the jurisdiction of the Other Minister made them very difficult to deal with, he couldn't stop them and he couldn't catch the killers, and he was getting hammered in the press for his supposed voluntary inaction. At least there was some relief he though, smiling grimly, if he was booted out of office; his successor would find himself in exactly the same position with exactly the same problems, serves the bastard right for what he said in the polls.
Looking down at his watch he realised he'd only killed four minutes. While thinking only six more minutes there was a sudden crack, almost like a gunshot, causing the Minister to jump then look around wildly for the source of the noise.
Standing on the rather extravagant and rather expensive carpet in his office was an unknown man dressed in robes, very much like the robes the Other Minister wore. In the low light, the Prime Minister had trouble making out the face. Panicking he tried to move his hand inconspicuously towards the hidden panic button on his antique desk. He stopped though when the robed man talked.
"Mister Prime Minister, we need an urgent talk" he said in a very low, calm and strong voice, before turning around, pulling a short thin stick out of his sleeve, and started muttering things in something vaguely Latin while moving his wand around in a deliberate motion towards the office door and then the window opposite the fireplace on the Prime Ministers left.
The Prime Minister, having heard his voice, now knew who the robed man was; Kingsley Shacklebolt, the man that the Other Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour, had installed in his office 18 months prior.
"Shacklebolt" He stammered at the sudden intrusion, "what are you doing? How did you get in here?"
"I apologise Minister, but this is an emergency, Scrimgeour is.."
The Prime Minister cut him off: "What do you mean an emergency? Why isn't Scrimgeour here, telling me this or … or at the very least, Fudge!"
The Prime Minister thought wildly. He knew Shacklebolt was one of them, Scrimgeour had told him that in his first meeting, but Kingsley never mentioned it, and the Prime Minister wasn't going to risk asking him in case everything here was all in his head. Just imagine what the papers would say is they thought I believed in magic, I can read the headline now!
"That, Prime Minister is what I was getting at. We don't have much time. Scrimgeour is dead"
The Prime Minister took a few seconds to process this.
"Dead? How? What happened to him? Why isn't Fudge telling me this?"
Kingsley sat down in the chair opposite the desk and spoke:
"Less than an hour ago there was a coup. Virtually silent, but very bloody and a lot of people are dead or now under Voldemort's control. I myself just managed to get away. I can guarantee you won't be receiving any visits for the Minister of Magic anymore, and the bloodshed is going to get worse, much worse. As we speak, anyone affiliated with Harry Potter or any other anti-Deatheater organisations is having their doors kicked down, and are being detained, searched, arrested or worse."
The Minister didn't speak for twenty seconds, deep in thought, before asking:
"What can I do?"
"There isn't much that can be done, we essentially lost, not saying we have, but we no longer have any sort of cohesive structure or organisation to fight from… I assume you were briefed on Voldemort's goals and philosophy?..."
"Hmm... Not really, Fudge gave me the dumbed down, sugar-coated and very condescending version of it. Said something about blood purity, they sounded a bit like Nazis. In many ways I'm rather shocked to hear you guys lost; Fudge kept assuring me the problem was being dealt with and it would all be over soon"
"Yes, well, Fudge is – or maybe was, now, I'm not sure he's alive – a spineless arse, and in many ways he personally agreed with Voldemort's views, though not his methods. He looked down on Witches and Wizards from non-magical families and on muggles, which is to say, non-magical people, with distaste. Though he wouldn't want to wipe them out like Voldemort, he just disliked them didn't think they were very good at anything really.
As for Nazis, that would be a rather accurate comparison. Voldemort believes that pure-bloods, that is magical people whose ancestors were also purebloods, are superior beings. He believes that half-bloods, people with part magical he are lesser beings, but still beings that can be tolerated – though we suspect his long term plans may include their eradication, and he believes that muggle-borns, people who are magical with no magical ancestor are subhuman, happily seeing their eradication.
As for muggles, well, they don't even exist on his sliding scale of humanity, let alone compassion."
The Minister once again thought in silence, processing everything Kingsley had told him. The info was much more than what Fudge had said. Fudge had sugar-coated everything. Made it look like Voldemort was going to be a pushover. He was clearly wrong, a perfect example of a slimy worm for a politician, make sense as worse don't have bones.
"They're basically Nazis then. Blood supremacy and all that nonsense." He paused, "Are you capable of winning this war?"
"There are no guarantees" he replied simply.
"That's not good enough. You need to guarantee the safety of the public. If you can't do it then I'll have to take measures into my own hands, before it spirals out of control and I'm forced to tell the public what's happening."
Kingsley at that moment considered obviating the Prime Minister right there and then. He was supposed to protect the Statute of Secrecy, instead however he seeked to bring this discussion under control, it was reaching the point where the Prime Minister was going to lose control at the, now former, Ministries ineptness.
"Prime Minister, I'm not sure there is anything you could do. You're talking about wizards well versed in hiding themselves from the non-magical population. There are spells that make magical locations invisible to you, there are spells that cause you to shy away from such places for no particular reason, there are so many I would have to spend days explaining all of them.
As for a guarantee; I can't promise anything. I believe that in the long run that Voldemort will be defeated, but it will take time. The magical population supports the defeat of Voldemort, but this coup has been silent. Many people won't notice anything has happened until the new government starts changing laws, starts rounding people up and all that other nasty business. What they'll need is a trigger. Eventually something will break and the magical populace with go into open warfare. Hopefully, we will win."
The Prime Minister made a decision, he couldn't trust the wizards to win their war and protect the population.
"Kingsley, I need you to help me. I'm going to call some people from the DoD over. I want you to discuss the possibility of normal soldiers joining this fight with them. I know you're going to protest, thinking we can't or aren't able, but I will guarantee our soldiers could make an impact when this trigger you speak of happens. You teach them whats-his-name's tactics and they'll get the best of the best ready the fight them."
Kingsley sighed. This wasn't what he wanted to do, and he wasn't convinced they would be able to help. He just came to warn the Prime Minister what happened so he'd be informed.
At that point, the phone rang. Also sighing, the Prime Minister, glancing at his watch, saw that the foreign president was late with his call; he'd probably been fiddling with his secretary again, forgetting he had this conversation planned for twenty minutes ago. Putting on a fake tone of pleasure he picked the phone up and spoke to the President.
"Mister President … Yes, all is well, how are you … I'm sorry, an important meeting came up, seems my secretary forgot to pass the message on … We'll reschedule for tomorrow … Yes, sorry about that" He finished the conversation with "bye" and hung up the phone.
Kingsley spoke first, hoping to maybe get away from what the Prime Minister had planned.
"You know the President also has a magical counterpart…"
"I don't even want to think about it. The conversation would be very strange for a start and I'm not sure what it would achieve. Anyway, back to what I was saying" At this, Kingsley sighed again "I want you to speak to the men from the DoD. I know, you'll have issues with them keeping secrets, but I can guarantee they'll keep yours. Half the stuff they get upto I don't even hear about, and I'm the bloody Prime Minister"
Sighing for the millionth time that night, Kingsley agreed.
"One thing though, I need to go do some things before they get here…"
"Whitehall is just down the street, Kingsley; they'll be here in five minutes when I make the call."
"I know, but I need to check with some of my people first. I need to get some intelligence and see who is safe and what we have left. I can be back here in three hours."
The prime minister glanced at his watch and frowned when he realised that mean another very late night.
"How do I know you'll come back? You might just run off!" the Minister exclaimed.
"If I wanted to, Minister, I could leave now and no one here could stop me. Look, I'll demonstrate."
Kingsley stood up, moved to one corner of the room and disappeared with a crack, before appearing on the other side of the room.
The Prime Minister had though he'd seen it all when Fudge came into his office through the fireplace of all things and turned his teacup into some sort of small and furry rodent. Now he had seen a man teleport across a room and he was sure he could do it over much greater distances. At least I know how he got in here now.
"Very well, Kingsley, in three hours we'll have our chat" he sighed, he had to trust this man it seemed, at least he'd been trustworthy for the last 18 months as his assistant.
Kingsley got up, pulled out his wand, and did some more funny movements while muttering strange Latin words, removing the spell he had cast earlier, before disappearing with a twist and a crack.
o0o0o0o
Three hours later, Kingsley apperated into the Prime Minister's office at 10 Downing Street for the second time that night. In spite of the Prime Ministers best efforts he still flinched at the sound. The same couldn't be said for the two gentlemen seated in front of the Prime Minister's desk, clutching tumblers filled with fine Scotch whisky.
The older gentleman, probably in his late fifties, decked out in a fine officers uniform, jumped back and raised his tumbler with a threatening stance, preparing to throw it at Kingsley. The younger gentleman, wearing his field uniform in barracks dress, probably in his late thirties or early forties didn't bother with threatening and threw the tumbler hard at Kingsley as soon as he stood up. Kingsley easily blocked the tumbler with a weak shield before he'd even gotten his wand out, the tumbler shattering into dust.
The Prime Minister was particularly surprised at this; he felt he could finally say nothing could surprise him anymore when he saw a demonstration of teleportation a few hours previously, but he quickly realised he need to get this under control before the two officerss, particularly the younger one, started resorting to fists to deal with this strangely dress man, now with ripped and burnt robes, who appeared out of nowhere.
"Gentlemen; sit down."
The officers quickly glanced at the Prime Minister thinking what the Hell was going on, before relaxing somewhat when the prime minister, with false absentmindedness, took another sip of Scotch, before continuing
"I apologise that I haven't said anything about this meeting, but I couldn't. Anything said would seem ridiculous and preposterous without some proof." The Prime Mister took his time to see the two officers still standing, having not returned to their seats, while noticing they were a seat short for the new arrival. "As I said, sit down, Gentlemen. I'll ask someone to bring you another chair, Kingsley"
"No need Prime Minister, as you said, you needed a demonstration."
Kingsley pulled his wand out of his sleeve, once again did some things the Prime Minister assumed were required in magic and silently conjured a very comfortable chair – probably more comfortable than the chair the Prime Minister sat in – out of thin air, which landed at the narrow end of the table, facing across the table towards the fireplace.
The two officers gasped at this new sight and the Prime Minister, having seen such things a few times before, sat impassively before speaking.
"As I said, ridiculous and preposterous, if I had said magic was real before Kingsley arrived I would be laughed at"
"Magic?" the officers replied in unison, before the younger colonel continued alone "You can't be serious."
"I'm quite serious, Colonel, and we have a very serious matter to discuss" Kingsley said as he sunk into his chair. "Anyway, Prime Minister. Introductions?"
"Yes, yes. This is Brigadier Sir James Peterson, commander of UK Special Forces" the Prime Minister said, gesturing to the older man "and that is Colonel Frank Ronson, UKSF liaison to the Secret Intelligence Service" gesturing to the other, younger officer.
"Gentlemen, this is Kingsley Shacklebolt" pausing for a second "a… uhh… What were you again?"
"An Auror, assuming you didn't mean the obvious, though as of a few hours ago, I am not." Realising the two officers probably still hadn't caught on he added "I am also a wizard."
Peterson and Ronson sat quietly waiting for the punch line. It was pretty unusual, neither of them had much time for jokes that wasted their precious time at home and none of them expected the Prime Minister to attempt one. As if the Prime Minister was reading their minds he spoke in a serious and non-joking manner
"There is no punch line, Gentlemen, we have something very important to discuss."
o0o0o0o
It took Kingsley a good fifteen minutes to convince the two officers that magic was real and that they weren't have two very realistic hallucinations. He demonstrated many things, from transfiguring the Prime Ministers prized antique desk into a very large pig – something that nearly caused all of his personal effects to fall off the table if Kingsley, with another flick of his wand, hadn't caused them to hover – with which he turned the pig back into an antique desk, to changing the two officers and the Prime Minister's suits and uniforms bright pink.
From there he got into a deep discussion about the current state of the wizarding world, the various factions, who's on whose side and of course, Harry Potter.
"Harry Potter? Fudge mentioned the name a few times, said he was the Boy-Who-Survived or something. Said he was a child who had managed to survive Volde-"
Kingsley cut the Prime Minister off.
"Prime Minister, I ask that you don't say that name anymore. Somehow, we have no idea how; he's started being able to track dissenters with it. I myself was very luck to not have been killed only a few hours ago, and, after meeting with my fellow Order members-" Kingsley paused as everyone nodded their understanding at what the Order was, "-we're pretty sure that's how he found many of us. Three confirmed dead so far, and half a dozen barely escaped with their lives."
"How is that possible?" Colonel Ronsen responded.
"As I said, Colonel, we have no idea. It's perfect for him really; the only people who have ever dared to say his name were people who actively opposed him, an almost fool proof way to track and deal with dissidents." Kingsley finished with a sigh.
The older officer responded first.
"We could easily exploit this. Set up and ambush then simply call out his name! We could gather intelligence very rapidly and remove the enemy very quickly. I assume, Colonel, that SIS would be happy to help with interrogations?"
The Colonel responded with a slight grin, "Yes, sir."
"Wait one moment" Kingsley said firmly. "It's nowhere near that simple. As soon as they know they're outmatched they'd simple disapperate away and then bring back reinforcements, maybe even Vold-, You-Know-Who himself."
"Is there a way to stop people from disappearing-"
Kingsley cut the Prime Minister off.
"Disapperating"
The Prime Minister continued.
"Disapperating then, is there a way to stop it?"
"Yes there is, Prime Minister" Kingsley rubbed the bridge of his nose before speaking again. "You would need a few witches or wizards there to set up anti-disapperation wards the moment they apperated in. Which gets to the next problem; how do you propose to capture several very violent and dangerous Death Eaters? You can't just run up to them and jump them. Most death eaters could cast a spell every second; many of the more talented ones could cast two or more per second. You haven't got the firepower to deal with that, let alone non-lethal fire power needed for prisoner capture."
The two officers grinned. Both had gotten the impression during Kingsley's initial descriptions that the wizarding community knew very little about modern non-magical weapons and warfare. Kingsley just proved it.
"Kingsley, what do you know about guns?" the Brigadier said.
"Not much. We were given a demonstration during Auror training so we knew about them if we ever encountered them, but I've never actually had to use the training; big, heavy, clunky things that fling bits of metal or whatever you stuff in one end at very high speed in the general direction of your target. It takes a long time to 'reload' and produces enormous clouds of white, acrid smoke in the process?"
Now the Prime Minister joining in on the grinning, even he, a man who had never touched a gun in his life, knew Kingsley's knowledge on weapons and warfare was very outdated, probably by hundreds of years. If the 'Death Eaters' also shared Kingsley's views and understanding on non-magical weaponry then this would be a cake-walk.
"Kingsley" the Colonel responded, "You understanding of weapons seems a little - and by that I mean a good few hundred years - outdated. I'm going to take a leap of faith and assume you – and the rest of the magical community - also have no clue about modern tactics and warfare."
For the first time ever, the Prime Minister saw a slight bit of confusion on Kingsley's face.
"What do you mean outdated? What's outdated about what I said?"
The young Colonel was first to respond.
"Well, let's see, for starters; Guns haven't been muzzleloaders in about 150 years, we stopped using blackpowder with its clouds of acrid white smoke in the late 1800s, nearly every gun made in the last 100 years has been capable of repeated firing before reloading, with modern guns being able to shoot dozens and dozens, or more, bullets before reloading, and modern machine guns can fire nearly a thousand rounds per minute, with some in the few thousand rounds per minutes range. As for prisoner capture; we have various weapons at our disposal that are nonlethal and very effective; flash grenades that blind and disorientate the enemy, tasers than stun and incapacitate the enemy from a distance and rubber buckshot that can be used in normal shotguns but don't kill the enemy, only causing great pain to them. Capture won't be an issue, assuming your people can stop them 'disapperating' away"
Kingsley hid his shock. He had no idea the muggles had this capability, and in some ways he thought this reflected poorly on the wizarding community, how could we have been so blind? How could we have not realised what the muggles had achieved without magic? In some ways he now thought Arthur had the right idea, trying to find out what muggles could do without magic. They really were ingenious in some ways.
"Alright, I'll help, but only when you've proven your capabilities to me." Kingsley replied, getting out of his deep thought.
"Excellent." The Prime Minister replied, refilling his tumbler. "When can you start? The Brigadier can start straight away."
"I'll need a bit of time" Kingsley responded, back in deep thought, "I'll need some time to organise a new safe house. I have little doubt the Death Eaters are ransacking, if not burning down, my house as we speak."
"We can organise you one, Kingsley" the spook offered.
"No, don't worry; I can do it myself and it will only take me a day or two." He replied before turning to the older officer. "I'll want to bring some of my people along to see your demonstration. Not only that, but I'll need them to demonstrate abilities, tactics and equipment, along with the magical animals the Death Eaters will probably use."
"What sort of magical animals are we talking about?" the Prime Minister asked hastily. "Fudge once told me he was bringing dragons into the country! I hope you don't mean they'll start riding them!"
Kingsley chuckled.
"Not likely Minister, dragons are practically impossible to tame." He said as he stopped chuckling and realised the Prime Minister was actually worried, before putting his deep and reassuring voice back on. "Dragons are uncontrollable; the only thing that would happen if they tried is that they lose a lot of people. I can pretty much guarantee they'll use giants. They did last time and this time we failed in our negotiations to get them on our side; seems they didn't appreciate being wiped out to near extinction by the government. Another thing I can guarantee is werewolves. The largest group of them is lead Fenrir Greyback, a bastard who wishes to infect children and we're pretty sure is a paedophile. Now, not all werewolf's are like that, but many are, a good friend of mine, a fellow Order member, is one – someone I'll bring along as he'll be able to give you a better idea about their numbers and capabilities."
"Actual honest-to-God werewolves?" the Spook exclaimed. "Full moon, silver bullets, holy water, and all?"
"Silver bullets and holy water?" Kingsley asked, slightly confused.
The Prime Minister explained. "In werewolf myth and legend, they can only be killed with silver bullets and holy water."
Kingsley laughed. "How did you ever get such a crazy notion? They'll be killed like most other creatures, old age and physical trauma, though when transformed they are significantly more resilient than a normal human."
"You mean to say being able to transform under a full moon isn't crazy?" replied the old Brigadier in a very flat tone.
"No, that's exactly what happens. People infected with Lycanthropy transform into werewolves when exposed to the light reflected off the moon. Best not ask me how, as I don't know" Kingsley finished.
The Prime Minister was next to speak:
"Is there anything else to discuss?" he said, looking at each of the officers then the auror in turn.
"No, Minister" each of them replied, before the Brigadier continued alone.
"Very well. So, we're in agreement; you'll get your people together, we'll meet at Hereford – I'll get you the exact locations later, drive to RAF Hereford, we'll demonstrate some of our weapons and capabilities, and from there we'll set up a meeting with some other officers from the Regiment, some more spooks and whoever else needs to be there. From that we should be able to work out what we need to do."
The brigadier looked towards Kingsley in case he had anything to add.
"So, three day from now?" Kingsley glanced at the clock on the wall, realising it was now in the early hours of the morning. "Including today I think."
With nothing else to say, Kingsley got up then disapperated with a crack.
o0o0o0o
"Prime Minister, that was easily the strangest thing I've ever seen. Are we sure it was real?" the Colonel asked.
"What are the chances we're all having the same delusion? With one of us experiencing it for a good seven years? I – unfortunately - think it's very real, and a very real threat. If only half of what they said is true we'll need their help, and they'll need ours. While we can probably deal with anything they throw at us, we would lose a lot because we don't know what they are throwing."
"Too true." The Brigadier responded.
"On a lighter note" the Colonel said with a small smile, "At least this will be easy on the conscience."
The older Brigadier smiled too at those words, but the Prime Minister seemed slightly confused.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, think about it. One of their leaders is paedophile who is infected with something pretty much akin to HIV, the rest are practically aristocratic Nazis, hell-bent on genocide and world domination. Shit, I'd pay to pull the trigger." He finished with a smirk
The three of them chucked at that as they prepared to finally leave for the night.