It all seemed like a perfectly normal Saturday to Persephone Greengrass. She woke up nice and early, before dawn; ordered the house-elves to move seeds, seedlings and harvested plant parts from their estate's greenhouses to the family shop in Diagon Alley; and then busied herself with ensuring that she looked nothing less than immaculate for when she needed to face her clients. Her blonde hair dyed to an even golden colour to hide any greying strands, her pale cheeks dusted with just the right amount of blush to highlight her elegant form, and her robes ironed and pressed to perfection. Only when she was satisfied did she let her personal house-elf, Mipsy, off to do the rest of its housework.
Eight o'clock sharp, she pecked her husband twice on the cheeks, just as a proper wife should; and then she was off to tend the masses until close of business that day. No doubt there would be many more visitors than usual, as the weekend happened to be when most magical families actually had time to make their purchases.
At least, those that did not have the wealth or diligence to acquire a house-elf. Or if they were unfortunate enough to be muggleborns. Or – if they were actually rather odd muggles with magical children. Like that strange red-haired woman who never failed to come and purchase magical plants every fortnight at three o'clock on Saturday, along with the required fertiliser. A part of her wanted to turn the woman's requests down, but she paid quite handsomely for her discretion, and never haggled down the prices that she had set.
Three Galleons for a set of six dittany seedlings and two bags of dragon dung? It was at least three times more than what she would normally sell for. But a client was a client, even if she was only a muggle with magical children. A quick tempus charm showed that it was four minutes to three. In exactly four minutes, that strange muggle would come in through that door, wearing that odd white 'laboratory coat' that she always wore over a strange jumper in mottled brown, green and grey colours that resembled the undergrowth of a forest. She would drop a bag of coins on the counter, collect her plants and leave with very few words spoken.
She recalled that the woman had placed an order for a rather rare plant that day. Everfrost flowers were difficult to find in Britain, as they typically required glacial temperatures and darkness to flourish. Seeing that nobody else was in the shop to purchase anything else, Persephone slipped into the basement of the building, where the plant was kept under a permanent cooling charm.
A whip-like crack sounded from in front of her. "Dipsy?" she asked the house-elf that bowed before her. "What are you doing here? Should you not be cleaning the house?"
"Begging your pardons, Mistress Greensies, but Dipsy was asked to take Mistress to little Mistress Daphy. Right now, Mistress Daphy says,"
"Dipsy. You are well aware that I am working at the moment, and I cannot simply leave because my daughter wishes to speak to me," Persephone spoke, looking curiously at her house-elf. It seemed somewhat agitated. "Is something the matter?"
"Mistress Daphy says that it is an emergency, and that Dipsy should take Mistress Greensies over to Daphy,"
"And if it is an emergency, then how is it that Daphne appears to have the time to send you to me? With a message, no less?" replied the Greengrass matriarch. She held up her hand before the elf could say another nonsensical word. "No. Clearly there is no emergency. Return to Daphne and inform her that I will not go because she says so, without any reason at all,"
"B-but..."
"I am your mistress, Dipsy, and she is not. Go back to her and inform her of my answer,"
The bat-eared creature seemed torn between obeying Persephone and her daughter, but ultimately Persephone's orders would always take priority over whatever her daughter asked of the elf. "Dipsy understands, miss. Dipsy will...will do as mistress asks,"
"Very good. On your way, then,"
With another crack, the house-elf vanished from sight. Persephone sighed; the elves were useful around the house, but sometimes their loyalty and enthusiasm could be quite excessive. Now that the elf was gone, perhaps she could attend to her business. After all, the icy plant needed to be re-potted in a specially enchanted glass container.
It all happened so quickly. One moment she was putting her finishing touches on the frost-covered plant, carefully making sure that it was still healthy and strong and ready for transport. The next, she had been thrown violently to the ground by an earthquake. Or so she thought until she heard a deafening boom from the room above, which only barely drowned out what sounded like millions of glass, wood and metal objects all breaking, shattering or tearing apart all at once. More earthquakes followed; for the longest two minutes in her life, she felt herself quiver in terror under the thickest table she could find in the tiny stone room.
Only once the tremors had stopped did she tentatively crawl out from under the table. Most of the plants in the room had been thrown to the ground and their containers shattered. Frowning, she waved her wand and cast a silent repairing charm over all the broken ceramic and earthenware, putting them all back together.
"I should check if the rest of the shop needs repairs," muttered the Greengrass matriarch. She dusted off her robes and pushed open the basement's trapdoor.
Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw the moment she stepped out of her shop's basement. Her shop – or what was left of it – was ablaze. As was the entirety of Diagon Alley that hadn't collapsed. It was a scorching inferno that sent towering flames high into the sky, amidst shattered stonework and shivered timberwork. Perhaps it was only due to the fact that her husband had ordered the goblins to reinforce her shop's stone walls that it still remained standing; the ice-cream parlour beside her had collapsed entirely into a burning pile of rubble, while the joke shop across the alley occasionally sent out gouts of colourful flame as fireworks exploded from the unbearable heat.
"Glacius!" she incanted, forming a spherical shell of ice around herself. It took quite a bit of magic for her to maintain the icy shield, as the ice seemed to melt about as quickly as she could form it. Nevertheless, it was still enough for her to move about despite her blazing surroundings. "Merlin. What on Earth happened...?"
Out in the alley itself, there was literally nobody to be seen. Never mind the fact that just ten minutes ago, it was very much alive with the usual hustle and bustle of business being carried out; there was not even a single personto be found. One person vanishing she could attribute to a panicked person apparating away, whether by house-elf or themselves. The entire Alley, however? That, Persephone could not make sense of.
"Hello? Is anybody out there?" she called out. Only the roaring flames answered her call, devouring the husks of the buildings around hers. She whipped around in panic when she heard the ominous groaning and creaking of a building to her right; Ollivander's wandshop had tumbled to the ground, scattering millions of embers and burning splinters across the street as it did so. Followed by the apothecary, which exploded in a brilliant burst of sparks in all the colours of the rainbow.
The only building that still stood relatively unscathed was Gringotts. The golden lettering above its main doorway had been bleached white and every single window may have been blasted off, but it still stood, and it was not burning like the others. "Perhaps they have taken refuge there?" Persephone muttered to herself.
On the white marble steps leading to the bank, however, Persephone spotted something truly bizarre on the steps. The silhouette of a wizard – robes, hat, wand and all – had been scorched into the otherwise featureless stone. It was as though he had vanished from the face of the earth, leaving behind only his shadow. Looking around, she nearly dropped her wand in horror when she noticed that there were other shadows also burned into the ground about her feet.
A boy eating an ice-cream. A woman and her pet Kneazle. An owl with a message tied to its leg. A couple, their hands entwined. A mother cradling her infant child.
Just what manner of horrifying curse had inflicted such widespread carnage? She felt her stomach churn and bile rose up in her throat.
The sight of the previously pristine bank covered in ash, soot and grime nearly brought Persephone to her knees. She may not have had much love for the goblins – money-grubbing, extortionate fiends as they were – but the bank was to her, as it was for most wizards and witches of Britain, a symbol of stability and prosperity. The tellers' booths had been all blown to bits; goblins and human clients alike had been reduced to ashen skeletons and charred corpses. Some were not even whole, their parts scattered like blackened leaves in a fiery tempest.
"Did anybody survive? Hello? Is anybody there?" she cried out hoarsely. She desperately hoped that there was something – anything – living inside.
"Did you hear that, Nev? Someone's out there, isn't there?" she heard a raspy, croaking voice to her right. It seemed to have come from the consultation offices to the side of the main hall, only barely audible over the crackling flames outside.
"Is somebody there?" Persephone called out more loudly. "If someone is there, do answer!"
"Yes! We're here, in the third room to the right! Neville's with us! Please, come help!"
Third room to the right. The first and the second had collapsed entirely, filled by rubble. The third, however, seemed to be still in fair condition; crumbling ceiling and stuck door aside. "Stand away from the door, I am going to break it down. Confringo!"
A rather ungainly and brutish spell, Persephone hated casting the Blasting Curse. Yet even she could not deny its effectiveness at breaking things that she couldn't vanish properly. The heavy, stuck wooden door broke into a million little pieces as her curse struck it with a bang, letting her finally come into the room. Inside were two unconscious – or perhaps dead – goblins, whose half-melted faces looked as though they had been put under a dragon's fire; a pale, round-faced boy that she knew as the Heir of House Longbottom, with-
"Merlin. What on Earth—Augusta?" she whispered, reaching down to touch the woman's body. Her robes had literally been melted to her skin, and her face was nearly unrecognisable. If it were not for the signet ring on her blackened left hand, she doubted that she could have registered the ancient Longbottom regent's body. "Heir Longbottom? Are you safe?"
Neville only nodded stiffly in response. The poor boy was still staring blankly at his grandmother's smouldering corpse, too shocked to respond. Instead, it was his companion that answered.
"Yes, we're both fine," Heir Potter answered shakily. Harry, if she recalled his name correctly. He was clutching an arm that was a dark pink and was covered in unsightly blisters, and part of his robes had been burned away. His hair was somewhat singed, though that seemed to be the extent of his injuries. "Well, we weren't injured that badly, at least. Do...do you know what happened, Miss...?"
"Your guess is as good as mine, Heir Potter. I was in the basement of my store when this...event occurred," Persephone answered, mustering back a modicum of propriety. "And my name is Persephone Greengrass. You may call me Lady Greengrass for now,"
"Greengrass? As in, Daphne Greengrass?"
"Oh. So it appears you have met my daughter?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "Well, yes, there is only one Greengrass family in all of Wizarding Britain, Heir Potter. But this is hardly a place to stand around and talk. Did you come across any other survivors?"
"I think I heard some of the goblins take some of the others into the vaults when the earthquakes started, but I didn't see much more when the explosions happened and knocked everything down,"
Explosions. The damage around the alley certainly made sense if it was some sort of oversized explosion. But what sort of careless potion master would be so careless as to destroy an entire street worth of shops? "I see," Persephone replied. "I suppose I shall notify the DMLE later to check on the goblin tunnels. For now, we should go,"
"Go where? The fireplace in the hall's smashed. I saw it break when half the ceiling came down on it,"
Persephone bit back a choice curse word. Taking the Floo would have been the safest way to travel with the two boys. She had never been particularly accurate with her Apparition, and to take two more with her in an attempt to perform a Side-Along Apparition was definitely a recipe for disaster. "Let us have a look around first. Perhaps there would be not damaged," she replied slowly.
Fortunately for the blonde matriarch, she did not have to look very far. She had to suppress an urge to scream in frustration as a house-elf popped into existence in the main hall alongside two people in curious bright yellow outfits that covered them head to toe, save for a smooth mask of black glass that obscured their faces. Of course she could have just asked for her house-elf to come and collect her!
"Mipsy!" she called out. Nothing happened. "Tipsy! Morty!"
Still nothing.
"Dipsy!"
"Dipsy is already here, Lady Greensies!" squeaked the house-elf that had taken the two people along. "Dipsy brought Mistress Daphy and Mandy!"
"Daphne? What are you...never mind. I am simply relieved that you are safe. Were you with your friend, Tracey?"
"No, mother, I was not," Daphne spoke. There was a forced calm in it; the very same that Charles, her husband, used when he needed to break bad news to her. "I was with Orianna when this happened,"
"Orianna? The muggleborn Slytherin? You mean to tell me that you went to—no, stayed in a muggle's house?!" shrieked Persephone in disbelief.
"And this muggle will provide you with a shelter that will protect you from the impending apocalypse that has already begun to destroy the world. Despite your rather cutting words, Lady Greengrass," spoke the other yellow-covered figure irritably. "I see two survivors behind you, yet no package with you. Did you manage to save the plant that I had requested for today?"
Persephone was thunderstruck. This was the muggle that she had been selling magical plants to? Had she just unwittingly insulted her most regular and well-paying customer? Not that her shop would be selling anything else for a while, but her pride as a Greengrass had been severely wounded. Letting her emotions show like that was a terrible slip that would surely not go unnoticed – and certainly not unexploited.
"I assume not," sighed her muggle client. "How vexing,"
"Dipsy can fetch it if it is in Mistress Greengrass' shop. It would be quick, Mistress Mandy,"
"Thank you, Dipsy. Go and do so if you can be quick about it. We have five minutes before the next wave of nuclear missiles will reach us," she ordered. Dipsy, strangely enough, complied and vanished with a crack, reappearing seconds later with the glass jar containing the Everfrost flower in its hands. "Ah, that would be it. Now, we really do not have any more time. Harry, and...I'm sorry, but I do not know your friend's name. Come and link hands so that Dipsy can take us all back to Vault M-3,"
"Back? Back to where?" demanded Persephone. "Dipsy, ignore her! You will take us back to Greengrass Estate! We will be safer behind our war wards than in some muggle building!"
"You will do no such thing, Dipsy. Take us back to Vault M-3," Daphne calmly ordered the house-elf. To Persephone's shock, the house-elf actually obeyed her daughter over her orders. It quickly guided the two confused boys behind her to hold one of the muggle woman's hands. "And mother. Please refrain from insulting our gracious host. She is offering us a chance to live,"
The Greengrass matriarch was far too stunned to react angrily. Her daughter – her own eldest daughter was talking down to her, like a mother to a child! How dare she! Yet before she could reply with an angry rebuke, she felt her daughter's hand grab her shoulder and all of them vanished from Gringotts with a loud pop.
Amanda cradled her head as she sipped the last of her fourth mug of steaming hot tea that evening. The last reports that she had received over encrypted communications channels were from the radar installations near Scapa Flow, which had gone silent after it had reported a single airborne object heading its way. That had been an hour ago; approximately the same time when the Vault was again rocked by nuclear explosions over a period of five minutes. Since then, there had only been total silence. Silence across civilian frequencies and military frequencies alike, without even the slightest hint of a properly-encoded channel on any frequency.
It was, quite literally, an extinction of technology. An event that she had envisioned and dreaded, and yet it had finally come to pass. She wished that she had smuggled a stronger drink into the Vault, but she hadn't managed to figure out a way to reprogram the sentry bots to disregard banned substances before the bombs fell.
A gentle hand slowly rubbed circles on her arm. "Ma cherie, you could not 'ave known that zis would 'appen," Lucille whispered into her ear. "Dinner will be served soon. Please look a little less troubled,"
"That would be rather difficult, Lucille," sighed Amanda. "The world has, pardon my language, gone to shite. Everything has fallen apart. The government we once served? The last message that I had received from HQ was that both Buckingham Palace and Whitehall had both been hit by nuclear weapons. No expected survivors. We have a nation without leaders – if a nation that has burned down to the ground has any right to be called one any more,"
"Yet we are still alive, non?" said the brunette woman soothingly. "You often said it yourself. Where zere is a will, zere is a way,"
The copper-haired scientist snorted in amusement and set down her empty mug. "You always seem to find a silver lining to everything, Lucille. There is small wonder that our daughters prefer your company to mine. In any case, enough pitying myself for the time being. I do believe that it is time for dinner,"
"Indeed it is. I 'ave been told by Daphne that zis...'ouse elf of theirs...is a most competent cook. Zough I 'ave my doubts zat 'e can do anything with ze nutrient paste from ze extruder,"
Amanda pulled a face at the reminder of what the only food available in the Vault was. Nutrient paste, a precursor of the biogel that was used to keep cloned or created embryos alive, was not exactly the most delicious food around. In fact, the closest description she had of it would be a mushy, sticky slurry that resembled a moss-green toothpaste. One that smelled faintly of fresh grass clippings, and tasted much the same. It wasn't ever intended to be eaten as food, though it was definitely one of the most nutritious things that one could ever consume.
"Dinner. If it weren't for the fact that sustenance was necessary to life, I would pass on that disgusting paste," groaned the geneticist, rising up from her overseer's chair. "Please tell me that we at least have salt down here. We did bring some along, didn't we?"
The answer, it seemed, was that she did not need to worry at all. Not while a house-elf was around. The moment that she entered the vault's dining hall, a most enticing aroma filled her nostrils. Caramelised onions and a rich brown gravy were slathered all over a thick roll of roasted pork, which was itself sitting on a bed of browned and buttered baked potatoes. Beside it sat a pile of beautifully fluffy bread rolls, toasted to perfection. And even as she took in the incredible dinner laid out before her, Aveline was walking out of the kitchen with a huge steaming bowl of peas, with Tracey following closely behind her while munching on a croissant.
"Oh, mum! We've just finished making dinner," Aveline said excitedly as she set the bowl down on the table. "You wouldn't believe how good Dipsy is with cooking. It's really delicious!"
"Thank you Miss Ivy!" Dipsy called out of the kitchen. "Dipsy loves miss' kind words!"
"Eh-heh...he's also kind of excitable,"
"I can see that," Amanda commented. She spotted Zoe surreptitiously licking her fingers after nicking a bit of the roasted pork. "The bigger question is, I am absolutely certain that the only foodstuff available in this vault is...well, the disgusting nutrient paste. The quartermasters certainly have not provided anything else, as this was never meant to be a residential or garrison vault by any means. Would you care to—oh, never mind, I think I know the answer to that,"
Zoe, Aveline and Tracey all grinned at each other. "Magic!" they replied in unison, giggling when Amanda groaned in response.
"Still, is it appropriate to celebrate like this when the world is burning with atomic fire?"
"Yes. It seems to be in poor taste to celebrate in times like these,"
"Oh, cheer up for once, Ori. You too, 'Mione. We're alive, at least, and we don't have to eat that...whatever that green paste is. That stuff is really gross, and thank God for Dipsy's food-transfiguration magic. Anyway, where'd Harry and Nev go? I swear they were here just a couple of minutes ago,"
Aveline looked about. "No idea. Did they go back to their rooms? And where's Daphne?"
The door leading into the dining room slid open again. Daphne marched into the room, wearing a stony expression on her face. Behind her came Persephone, whose eyes were puffy and red, as though she had cried for some time. Astoria was trailing closely behind Persephone, likewise looking much the same. "Is something the matter, Lady Greengrass?"
She opened her mouth to speak, but Daphne's hand on her shoulder silenced her. "We will speak once everyone is seated. I have...an announcement to make," she said curtly. Her lips were drawn thinly, and her eyes had a glistening sheen of tears in them, though she evidently refused to shed them. "Potter. Longbottom. Go inside, I will not hex you, curse you or jinx you. House divisions mean nothing here, as we are not currently in Hogwarts,"
The fact that it was likely forever remained unspoken. If the nuclear bombs hit London severely, then there was a good chance that the rail line leading away from Platform Nine and Three Quarters had been obliterated. And even if it were to be repaired, did Hogwarts even remain? And would there even be enough students to fill it? What about the teachers?
"Very well. Everyone, please be seated," Amanda said, motioning to the empty chairs. A snap of Dipsy's fingers, and every single chair slid backwards just enough to let everyone sit; another snap, and they slid forward again once everyone had seated themselves. "Thank you, Dipsy. Now, you had something to say, Daphne?"
"Indeed I do," Daphne said, glaring at her mother. "As of two hours and fifteen minutes ago, House Greengrass has effectively gone extinct in all its male lines. Therefore, as my family ring indicates-" she held up her left hand, where a gleaming golden ring sat on her little finger, bearing the golden oak tree of the Greengrass family, "-I am the head of House Greengrass, as its oldest living female of the bloodline. As our family home appears to have been destroyed by this...nuclear fire, I humbly request of Mrs. Flynn shelter and her hospitality for...well, until we are able to rebuild our home and return to it,"
Daphne paused, as though waiting for a reply. Amanda raised an eyebrow and looked to the others for assistance. Her daughters looked completely lost, as did Harry. Lucille seemed to understand some of what had been said; but, like herself, did not know how to respond. After an awkward pause, Neville cleared his throat. "Uh, if you want, I can help you out here. She's asking for your permission to stay in your...vault?"
"I understand that, but how am I supposed to respond?" Amanda sighed.
Neville looked at the house-elf, who stood to one side. "Dipsy – it is Dipsy, right?" he said. The house-elf nodded enthusiastically. "Could you get a loaf of bread and some salt?"
The house-elf vanished and reappeared with a croissant on a plate and a cupful of salt. "Close enough. So—uh, you're supposed to offer the bread and salt to them. They're not allowed to ask for it, as it's supposed to be freely given,"
Feeling a little foolish, Amanda awkwardly accepted the croissant and salt and offered it to Daphne. The blonde tore off a small piece and dipped it into the salt before eating it. Persephone and Astoria likewise did the same. "Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Flynn. I shall repay this kindness in kind for the days to come," said Daphne formally. As soon as she had said so, a golden glow surrounded both Amanda and herself momentarily, taking both of them by surprise. "Well, that was unexpected. I did not think that invoking the hospitium was binding when only one side was magical," mused Daphne.
"I assume that was some kind of ritual for...hosts to welcome guests?" Amanda asked.
"That is part of it. The other part is to stop guests from harming the hosts, and vice versa," said the new Lady Greengrass, who glared daggers at her mother. "Muggle or magical, we are in the same predicament, mother. It would be best if we worked together, instead of insulting them for the lack of a gift that we possess,"
Persephone looked as though she had chewed and swallowed an entire lemon, but stiffly nodded all the same. There was an unsettling coldness in the way Daphne treated her mother; it was as far from a normal mother-daughter relationship as Amanda thought it should be. In fact, Amanda could have thought Persephone was some kind of stranger to Daphne, given the way the two acted to each other! She made a mental note to address it later, when everything settled down.
"Wait, how come Neville didn't do that? Or Harry?" Zoe pointed out.
"We don't really follow those rules. I mean, my mum and dad don't, but my gran does," Neville said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Gran made sure that I knew about it in case we ever visited a more traditional Wizarding family, like the Malfoys, or...well, the Greengrasses,"
"Wonderful. So it appears that yet another scion of the older families is forgetting his roots," snarked Persephone.
"Enough, mother. The hospitium has been invoked, and you are well aware that means that you must be courteous to the host and the host's other guests," Daphne warned her mother. She then turned to Amanda and gave her a strained smile. "Well, I think it has been a long day, and many of us are likely famished. Shall we start on the meal?"
Relieved that Daphne had offered her a way to defuse the awkward situation that they were in, Amanda wholeheartedly nodded. "Please, enjoy. I have to admit that I do not know what magic was used to create the meal from the nutrient paste, but I do hope that it is as delicious as it looks and smells,"
Needless to say, the geneticist was not disappointed after she had eaten her first bite. Aveline was not joking when she said that Dipsy's cooking was delicious. If anything, she had grievously understated just how good the house-elf was at cooking. Within half an hour, every plate had been polished off, leaving nothing behind. And just when she thought that things couldn't get better, Dipsy simply snapped his fingers and every single piece of dinnerware simply vanished and the table linens magically cleansed of all crumbs and spills.
"Well then. I was going to suggest that Orianna and Zoe do the washing up, but that seems to have been taken care of. Thank you again, Dipsy,"
"Not a problem, Mistress Mandy! Dipsy is glad to be of service!" it squeaked, giving a small bow.
"Now then. Today's events must have been quite exhausting, not to mention traumatising for some of us. Perhaps we should retire for the evening to calm our nerves. Harry, Neville; you two will share a room on the floor nearest the reactor chamber. Zoe, Orianna; you two will be sharing a room next to the kitchens. Given your masses, you will only use the lower bunks on each bed. Astoria will take one of the top bunks, and Hermione will take the other. Tracey, I hope that you would not mind sharing a bed with Orianna? I have to admit, this vault was never designed to accommodate so many people,"
The woman looked about ready to protest again – likely to demand a room of her own – but a quick glare from Daphne caused her to put on a straight face again. Tracey, however, scooted over to Orianna, latching tightly on to her arm with an impish smirk on her face.
"Daphne and Aveline, you will be sharing a room next to the cloning chambers. Given that it still has many things still inside, it may be a little...cramped. I am sure that you will manage, however. As for you, Lady Greengrass-"
"Persephone. With my father's death, Lady Greengrass is myself," Daphne corrected her.
"Ah. Persephone, then. There is an empty storage room next to the boys' room that could hold a single bed or a bedroll, but has none at the moment. I am sure that we can find you something-"
"There will be no need for that," she replied curtly. "I shall simply conjure one,"
"Very well, then. Valerie, William - I hope that the room near the climate control system will not be too noisy for you. The fans can be a bit...squeaky,"
"That room with lots of fans? A silencing charm ought to do the trick," William replied with a shrug.
"What about you, mum?" Aveline asked, "I don't think I've seen any other rooms around,"
She let out a sigh. "I'll be sleeping in the Overseer's Office, in the chair. Lucille will be taking the couch there,"
Truthfully, however, she knew that she would get little sleep. The Overseer's Office still had the only working link to the outside world, through the encrypted comm channels that linked it to the military communications network all over Britain. Though the fact that several waves of nuclear weapons had probably levelled most of Britain, she dearly hoped that someone out there was still alive.
A/N:
A character development chapter is in order, I think, now that things have settled down slightly. I'm sure that there are questions about how the (previous) Lady Greengrass was behaving with regards to Daphne, her house-elves and the others. And also how Daphne behaved so curtly to her own mother.
So even the magical side of things has been thoroughly destroyed as well by nuclear fire. If there would be any magical survivors left, how would they survive the nuclear wasteland left behind? Perhaps in two hundred years' time, we shall find out.
NecroJake: Well, we'll soon find out, won't we? Whether the magicals got vaporised by nukes, or irradiated to death, or if they somehow find a way to survive the hellish world left behind.
Draed: Oh, the boys are there. Just not that many of them. After all, surviving the initial nuclear blasts is virtually luck-of-the-draw, about whether or not someone is shielded from the initial heat blast, the radiation, the blast shockwave, and any shrapnel that may be thrown about thanks to the initial blast shockwave.
Foul Steak: I can confirm neither have been vaporised. The nukes were not big enough. Ministry of Magic PoV might be a little ways off; Whitehall, which is where the Ministry of Magic is, ate a direct hit from a nuke. Part of the risk of being on the same spot as a lot of non-magical government offices, heh.
Synthesis is shelved for the moment. Better to leave it alone than to write uninspired, inane drivel.