Of course you know what happened to New Zealand, since you read about it in your history books. I suppose you know about the confusion and the mass panic that gripped the world—or at least you think you do. But do you know about the sense of relief we felt during those first few hours before the reality of what was going to happen to us set in?
Yes, the relief.
Everyone thought we had dodged a major disaster. True, the four and half million inhabitants of New Zealand had died within a matter of hours after Lake Taupo let loose, but it could have been much worse. If a volcanic eruption of that size had occurred somewhere in the United States or Japan the death toll could have easily topped a hundred million. Luckily—we told ourselves—New Zealand was isolated by thousands of kilometers of ocean, and the prevailing winds carried most of the ash to the east, out over the empty Pacific.
My fellow ambassadors at the ICW were particularly smug as the news reports continued to come in over the Wireless. The magical population of New Zealand was small, and most of them lived on the south island down in the Otago Region. This distance allowed the wizards and witches to escape to Australia by portkey as the massive downpours of ash began to blanket everything in sight. Sadly those few who lived on the north island died along with the muggles when the pyroclastic flows obliterated everything in their path.
We spent hours debating what to do next—sweet Merlin, how those old fossils loved to hear themselves talk. Around midnight local time they realized there was nothing the ICW could do about the Lake Taupo eruption, so everyone decided to return to their respective countries. We would reconvene in two days after we had gathered more information.
To my horror I discovered an empty house waiting for me back in Britain. After a short but frantic search I found the note Ginny left on the dining room table. Hermione had called for a clan meeting at the Burrow. Without thinking I apparated from the Lake District all the way down to Ottery St Catchpole. There I found a nervous group of adults waiting for me out in the gazebo overlooking the orchard. Even in the dim light from the Bluebell Flames I could see the fear on their eyes.
Before we go any further I think we should stop for a moment, so I can give you some background information on my clan. (Or my extended family or my inner circle or my kitchen cabinet. Whatever you want to call them, they were basically the only people I trusted. Thanks Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia for turning me into such a paranoid nutcase.) You should know how I really felt about them, and I'm not talking about the rosy propaganda we fed to outsiders.
By tradition we always gathered for holidays and important meetings at:
The new Burrow: Hermione had no desire to raise her children in the old Burrow (which was originally a pig pen), so the four of us tore it down and replaced it with an exact replica of the Longbourn House. The old orchard was also ripped-up and replanted. Hermione prided herself on the wide section of perfect apples, peaches, and plums. Ron and I enjoyed fermenting (and drinking) large batches of hard cider every autumn. Weasley Lightning, we use to call it.
Arthur and Andromeda: Arthur was the most decent wizard or muggle I ever knew—it's as simple as that. Without his moral guidance I would ended up as dark as Tom Riddle. Andromeda always disliked me, probably because of the role I played in the war that caused her so much pain and misery. Still, she was a good wife, and a good grandmother to all the children.
Teddy Lupin: It pains me to admit it, but he was a weak wizard like his father Remus. Being a male Metamorphmagus meant countless witches fell to the ground at Teddy's feet, so he never had anything to prove. For my first godson life was a pleasant dream, and he just went with the flow. I can't really blame him, since I would have done the same thing in his shoes.
Bill and Fleur: Everyone idolized them, but they were off in their own little world. There was always a distance there, no matter how hard you tried to make a connection. They were both so gorgeous and so brilliant and so in love that they didn't need the rest of us mere mortals.
Victoire, Dominique, and Louis: Thanks to Fleur and their Aunt Gabrielle the two girls were very French. They had a habit of looking down their noses at their female cousins and teasing their male ones. To be honest, I didn't like them that much. Louis was Al's best friend, and I considered him to be my third son, so there was sort of a balance there.
Charlie: I could never figure him out. To me dragons were mindless beasts to be hunted down and destroyed, but to Charlie they were living works of art to be studied and admired. This huge gulf between us meant we could never be anything more than acquaintances.
Percy and Pansy: All his siblings disliked Percy, and it was easy to understand why: he was a boring prig. But he also worked his arse off doing whatever needed to be done, and over the years I came to love him like a brother. Pansy... she was a monster. But she was my monster, and that distinction was important later on.
Sebastian and Livia: The pretty Parkinsons were Slytherins in the best sense of the word: cunning and ruthless in pursuit of their goals. Of course they despised their noble Uncle Harry, but I loved them anyway.
George and Angelina: They were loads of fun to be around, but they were also natural bullies, especially towards Percy and his children. Their behavior never sat well with me. We were friends, but nothing more than friends.
Fred and Roxanne: Fred was the founder and leader of the Hellions, which included Hugo and my son James. They saw themselves as the heirs to the Marauders, which I found depressing. Thanks to their juvenile antics I realized that I never would have been friends with my father James or my godfather Sirius Black if we had gone to Hogwarts together. Roxanne was beautiful, outgoing, and funny. She was my favorite niece, not that were was much competition for the title.
Ron and Hermione: You already know most of the sordid details, but keep in mind that they truly did love each other. Indeed, Ron often boasted of Hermione's appetite in the bedroom. That made for some awkward conversations, since I was perfectly aware of what Hermione was like in bed.
Hugo and Rose: Hugo was the Peter Pettigrew of the Hellions. I know that's a terrible thing to say, but that's how I saw him. Even so there was nothing I wouldn't do for the lad when he got into trouble, which was often. Rose could do no wrong in my eyes. She did plenty of wrong in everyone else's eyes, but to me she was the perfect witch.
Richard and Beatrice Granger: Hermione's parents knew all about their daughter's unorthodox personal life, and oddly enough the approved. Hermione was finally happy, and they had two magical grandchildren they adored. What was bourgeois morality (their words, not mine) compared to that?
Ginny: I loved her. No matter what you might have heard from other sources, never doubt that I loved her.
James, Al, and Lily Luna: James was a brat, and that was more my fault than anyone else's. I was afraid of being a bad parent, so I never had the courage to discipline my children—a fact which made me a bad parent. Al was up right there with Arthur in terms of being a good wizard, but I have no idea how or why he turned out so well. Lily Luna was my princess, and she knew it. In her defense she behaved like a good princess—as long as you remembered to curtsey. If you didn't curtsey then all bets were off.
The Longbottom/Bones family: Compared to the Potters they were a perfect bunch of wizards and witches. They were especially perfect when you compared them to...
The Scamander family: There was so much I hated about Rolf. His robes, shirts, trousers, socks, and shoes never matched. Not once. He was continually smoking or chewing some bizarre magical herb he found in Western Asia or Northern Europe or Eastern Africa. And he adored ridiculous conspiracy theories even more than Xenophilius. But what I hated most of all was that he made Luna smile—something I wanted to do, but never could. At least not with any consistency. Luna became even stranger after their marriage, but that just made me love her more. My other two godsons Lorcan and Lysander would grow up to be pretty strange too (a fact Hermione blamed on Rolf's love of magical herbs) but they were just harmless little tots back then.
"Where are the children?" I asked as I walked up the steps to the crowded gazebo.
"They're inside the house having a sleepover with their cousins," Ginny explained. "Where have you been all this time?"
"I'm sorry I took so long, but my fellow ambassadors droned on for hours after we heard the news."
"What has the ICW decided to do?" Hermione asked. It two o'clock in the morning and a volcano had just destroyed New Zealand, but even that couldn't explain why she was so jittery. "Have they made any preliminary plans?"
"No, not yet. But realistically what can the ICW do?" I asked as I sat down beside Ginny on one of the wooden benches. "What can any of us do about a natural disaster of this size and scope?"
"I'm not talking about the eruption of Lake Taupo itself, I'm talking about what we are going to do when the food starts to run out in a few months."
When Hermione saw the blank look on my face she went into lectured mode. It was annoying, but she did it so well.
It seems that in 1815 a large volcano in Indonesia called Mount Tambora had erupted, and the following year—1816—was referred to as the "Year Without a Summer" by historians. "Eighteen Hundred and Froze to Death" and the "Poverty Year" were two other gruesome nicknames from that era. Mount Tambora sent so much ash into the atmosphere that it actually cut down on the amount of sunlight that reached the surface of the Earth. This lowered the temperature around the world by nearly a degree, which caused several major famines.
"Really?" I asked.
Voicing skepticism on my part was a mistake, and Hermione immediately jumped down my throat. She explained that the "Year Without a Summer" was only the most famous example of a "volcanic winter", as the phenomenon was known. The eruption of the Peruvian volcano Huaynaputina in 1600, and the eruption of the Icelandic volcano Laki in 1783 had also lead to famines when global temperatures dropped thanks to the ash floating high in the atmosphere.
"Alright, I believe you. But won't it be different now? The muggles have much more advanced farming techniques these days."
"Harry, Mount Tambora launched under 200 cubic kilometers of ash into the atmosphere. According to the latest reports from the muggles, Lake Taupo was a supervolcano that launched over 3,000 cubic kilometers of ash into the atmosphere. That means global temperatures are going to drop by ten degrees for at least two or three years."
This information didn't mean anything to me, so I turned to our resident Herbology genius. Neville was sitting between Susan and Hannah, and he was holding hands with both of them. It was nauseating... and adorable. "Professor Longbottom, what's your expert opinion on all this?"
"If the muggles are right, then the regular crops here in Britain won't survive until harvest. The time between the last freeze in spring and the first one in autumn will be too short. Canada, Scandinavia, and Russia are also looking at near-total losses. The southern half of the United States might be safe, but I'm not sure about that. Even in normal years the Yanks sometimes have killer frosts in what they call their Deep South."
"Won't the muggles simply clear the equatorial rainforests in Africa and South America where it will stay warm, and plant their crops there?" Fleur asked.
Neville shook his head. "The soil in any rainforest is very poor. The nutrients are locked-up in the living vegetation. When a tree dies it quickly decomposes thanks to the heat and humidity, so instead of staying in the soil the nutrients are recycled by the other trees. If the muggles try to plants crops there, they're going to need a lot of artificial fertilizer to make it work."
"Keep in mind that there isn't much modern infrastructure in the Congo or the Amazon basins," Richard Granger added. "You wizards can teleport yourselves anywhere in the world. But we muggles need ships, harbors, and railroads to move the tractors, seeds, and fertilizer into those regions. And then the harvested crops would need to be transported to other countries before they rot. Building that much infrastructure in less than a year's time will be a difficult proposition."
"What about Asia?" I asked.
"If depends on if the monsoon season is affected by the drastic change in temperature," Hermione explained. "If that happens there will be famines in India, Bangladesh, and Pakistan. Big ones. China imports some food, but they are self-sufficient for the most part. However Japan and South Korea both need to import a large percentage of their food."
"We have the same problem here," Richard said. "Britain imports about 40 percent of our food, and once other governments realized what's about to happen no one will be willing to sell us their surplus food. That's if there is any left, which there probably won't be in a year or two."
All this information was too much for me to handle, so I just blurted out: "Bloody hell, how many people are going to die?"
"We have no idea," Hermione admitted. "But at this point I don't think anyone does."
"Toba—which is also in Indonesia—was the last supervolcano that we know about, and it erupted over 70,000 years ago," her father explained. "According to DNA analysis, the total human population dropped from around a million to less than 2,000 breeding pairs. That's how bad things got. Now there are seven billion people facing the same kind of ecological disaster, except we don't have the same margin for error. Not only will we be facing a prolonged winter, we'll also be facing billions of starving human beings who will steal and kill in order to survive."
"I think the larger governments will be forced to declare martial law and nationalize the entire world economy," Beatrice said. While Mr Granger enjoyed keeping up with the latest scientific research in his spare time, Mrs Granger preferred following the great game of politics. "It will come down to a race between our industrial ingenuity and mother nature."
"What good will muggle machines do if it's too cold to grow anything?" Ron asked. He wasn't being rude or condescending to his mother-in-law. He was genuinely curious to hear her answer, and so was I.
"Honestly I'm not sure. Vertical farming and aquaculture have shown a great deal of promise over the past decade, but I don't know if those technologies can be adopted on a large-scale in such a short period of time. Of course we muggles have been building greenhouses since the time of the Roman Empire, and they should prove useful during this crisis."
"We visited the Netherlands a few years ago to take a look at their largest greenhouses," Susan said. "They seem to go on forever."
"The Dutch muggles have over twenty-five thousand acres under glass," Neville explained. "A lot of that space is used to grow flowers, but converting them over to other crops should be easy enough. If the muggles work together, I think everyone will be surprised with the results they can achieve."
"But you're forgetting that greenhouses are easy break into," George said. When everyone glared at him, he raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'm sorry, but it's true. Like Mr Granger said, if enough muggles are starving it will be impossible for the local Aurors to stop them from stealing the food being grown indoors."
"They are called police officers," Hermione said in a distracted voice. "But George is right. If law and order breaks down, things could get ugly very quickly."
"This whole discussion is irrelevant," Pansy declared from the other side of the gazebo. "The muggles will either survive, or they won't. That is none of our concern. Instead we must focus all of our efforts on protecting and feeding our own kind."
"We can't just let the muggles die," I hissed.
My magic spread out across the trees of the orchard like a dangerous mist. The others were so unsettled that they cleared a path between me and Pansy. Over the years I had tolerated her pureblood bigotry, but this was going too far.
"Potter, you said it yourself: the ambassadors to the ICW are a bunch of dithering old fools. If you suggest working with the muggles during this crisis, they will just ignore you."
"Harry, she's right," Arthur said quietly. "If you want to preserve your political viability, you can't mention the muggles back in Switzerland. At least not yet."
"However," Pansy continued, "if you provide the ICW with some sensible ideas on how we can feed ourselves, they might listen to you despite your blood status and your young age."
Giving Pansy a magical thrashing during a late night duel would have been emotionally satisfying, but she was right. I had more important things to focus on.
"So, can we feed ourselves?" I finally asked.
"Most of our farms are surrounded by Notice-Me-Not Charms, so they should be safe," Ron offered.
"I'm not sure about that," Hermione said. "The wards around the Burrow are extensive, but I can get my parents past them with one simple spell. In a worst case scenario we could be looking at billions of starving muggles out scouring the countryside looking for food. Will a Notice-Me-Not Charm or even a Fidelius Charm hold up under that kind of intense pressure? We don't really know the breaking points of our magical wards, and one incident is all it would take to destroy the Statute of Secrecy forever."
"And if the muggles think we are hoarding or stealing their food, it will start the witch hunts all over again," Percy added.
"There are loads of hidden greenhouses where we grow potion ingredients," Neville said. "If the muggles can convert their greenhouses over to basic food production, then so can we."
"The deserts of North Africa are honeycombed with caves and tombs built by ancient wizards." Bill said. "With some help from the Goblins we could convert them into underground farms."
"Would they be willing to help us?" I asked.
"I think so, but that help will cost us plenty of galleons."
"The bloody Goblins probably want us to starve to death," Ron muttered.
"Don't be an idiot," Bill snapped. "They hate us, but they don't hate us that much. Besides, they can't earn any profits if all their customers are dead."
"The Goblins live in the tunnels below Gringotts, which means they already have underground farms. Would they be willing to sell us food?" I asked.
"They tend to be very concerned about long-term security, so I doubt it. They might be willing to sell us seeds, but not food."
"Any magical home in France worth its salt has an extensive wine cellar," Fleur offered. "Subterranean mushroom farms are also popular in my homeland."
"We could convert all nine levels of the Ministry of Magic into artificial greenhouses," Susan suggested.
Ginny squeezed my hand. "There is also the Chamber of Secrets and the Slytherin dorms below Hogwarts. It would be a nice change to put them to good use.
Luna, who was perched-up on one of the wooden banisters with Rolf, decided to join the conversation. "We know some Yeti who have settled in Antarctica. They've cut some very large caves into the Queen Maud Mountains down there. Several of them are larger than a Quidditch pitch."
"And what do your friends the Yeti grow in those caves," a grinning George asked.
"Hallucinogenic lichen, among other things" Luna replied.
"Let's try sticking to point," Hermione snapped.
"And what is the point?" I asked.
"The point is that Merlin himself had a hidden cave, so they became a status symbol among wizards like that idiot Salazar Slytherin. If the ICW moves quickly enough we can put these caves to good use like Ginny said. With enough hard work we should be able to make it through the upcoming volcanic winter. But you must convince them to start immediately. In a few weeks time it might already be too late."
"So we have a rough plan for our side of the border, but what about the muggles?"
Hermione looked away in shame. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but for once Pansy is right. The situation with the muggles is out of our control. All we can do now is focus on saving as many witches and wizards as we can."
"What about your family and the families of the other muggleborn? What about the squibs? Will we just turned them away if they ask for our help?"
The only answer I received was silence.
Two days later the horror of what was about to happen was starting to sink-in. Back at the ICW the mood had gone from smug satisfaction to outright panic. I asked for permission to address my fellow ambassadors in the oblong meeting hall, something I had never done before. The current Supreme Mugwump let me speak, more out of curiosity than respect.
You must keep in mind that while I was the youngest member of the ICW by over forty years, the fact that I was a half-blood worked in my favor that day. The other ambassadors—most of whom were purebloods going back ten or more generations—assumed that I was an expert on the muggles. They were eager for any information I could give them, since it was impossible to get anything useful out of their usual sources.
While millions of clever people like the Grangers had recognized the long-term implications of a supervolcano eruption, the muggle governments and the muggle press had nothing to say on the subject. The word famine was never used on the television, the radio, the internet, or in the newspapers. It quickly became clear that a government-sponsored news blackout was in effect all around the world, and even the purebloods understood that was an ominous sign.
In a trembling voice I read the speech Susan and Hermione had written for me about the effects the Lake Taupo eruption would have on the global climate. Several other ambassadors confirmed that the planet was facing a volcanic winter which would last for about two or three years. It seems that magical historians had also documented the connection between large-scale volcanic eruptions and famines in the past. They even had some scraps of information about the eruption of the Greek island of Santorini, which caused the total collapse of the Minoan civilization back in the second millennia BC.
In closing I suggested that we move the majority of our agricultural production indoors and underground to protect it from both the cold weather and the threat posed by the starving muggles. This idea went over well. A bit too well, if you know what I mean.
When I sat down the decrepit Russian ambassador stood up to speak. "My colleagues, the boy—
(I could have crushed Pavel in a duel, but the Russian wanker always called me the "boy" during debates. They all did. That would change soon enough.)
"— is right about the filthy mudbloods. I have seen with my own eyes what they are capable of when their sources of food disappear. They become mindless beasts who will devour the flesh of their own sons and daughters. We must cut off all contact with them now, before the vermin can turn on us."
After dealing with Tom Riddle and his Death Eaters I thought I knew all the slurs purebloods used to describe the muggles. During the dozen speeches that followed I learned that Tom had only scratched the surface. Trust the muggles? How can you trust such vicious animals? According to my fellow ambassadors the only course of action was to find a deep hole, cast some nasty wards around it, and then hide there until the worst had passed.
Work together with the muggles to find a solution to our common problems? That idea was never considered—not even for a second.
As I listened to those bigoted and cowardly speeches something inside of me snapped. Like Hermione I had dreamed of reforming the magical world from inside the system, but now I realized that would never happen. The ICW in its current form had to go. The future depended on it.