A/N: Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.
This chapter covers Beltane, and some readers may enjoy rereading last year's Beltane celebration first. You can find it in chapter 56 of The Power of Love, "Like a Prayer."
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.
Recommendation: This chapter's recommended fic is "Witches of Westfield" by EJ Daniels. Voldemort is dead, the war is over, and Harry decides to start taking control of his life. It doesn't take long for that plan to fail, as one witch after another moves in with him. How does Harry keep getting involved in these situations?
Final Countdown: 10...9...8...7...6...5...4!
Chapter 47 - You Shook Me All Night Long
Saturday, April 29, 1996. Afternoon.
Filius Flitwick sat at his desk, checking off items on a piece of parchment as he went over the long, involved plans that would be necessary to keep Dolores Umbridge distracted enough the following night so that she wouldn't notice the absence of two teachers and nine young witches. Even Madam Pomfrey had asked at the last minute to go as well, which was good for the students since they'd have more supervision, but it made the problem back at the castle all the more difficult.
Dealing with this had proven onerous enough when Umbridge had simply been the Chief Inquisitor, but now that she was also the headmistress — even if in name only — he wasn't sure how he was going to pull it off. Having several of the castle's ghosts as well as Peeves on board would help, but it might not be enough.
He looked up at the Grey Lady, who was floating serenely on the other side of his desk, waiting for instructions that she could relay to the other ghosts who would be involved. Peeves, for his part, wouldn't be getting instructions — he would simply be aimed in the right direction when the time came, and hopefully wouldn't cause too much collateral damage.
Damage... Flitwick thought. Why is it again that I'm worried about damage? Why simply distract that horrid woman when I can do something a bit longer-lasting? In fact, if I do it right, those who wish will be able to stay at the ritual site all day Monday — something I know Miss Potter and Miss Granger were disappointed to be missing out on this time.
The feral smile that crept across his face must have worried the Grey Lady. "Is something amiss, Professor Flitwick?"
"Not at all, my dear," he replied. "Just a little change in plans."
Sunday, April 30, 1996, Afternoon. 3:00 PM.
When Jasmine regained her balance at the end of the portkey trip — she was improving enough that she didn't fall over every time — she looked around in astonishment, completely overwhelmed by the sight before her. "Sweet Morgana!" she said in a hoarse whisper. "How many people were invited to this?"
"I have no idea," Fleur replied, clearly at a loss herself. The other members of the Hogwarts contingent gazed in amazement at the multitude of witches — mostly blonde and all wearing green tunics — laughing, dancing, and singing in and around Stonehenge.
"It's about time!" came a voice out of the crowd, and soon Sybine, Adrienne, and Apolline managed to work their way over to them.
"Maman! Grand-mère!" Fleur said as she hugged her mother and grandmother. "How many are here?"
"We estimate that at least thirty thousand made it," Apolline replied. "Most are veela from various enclaves around the continent, of course, but there are also many trusted witches from France, Spain, Portugal, Germany, Italy, Bulgaria, Austria, and a few other nations. There's even someone here from Britain."
"How?" Hermione croaked.
"Arranging this by magical transportation would have been complicated, but also inadvisable right now given the state of your Ministry," Adrienne explained. "So we had to use muggle transportation. Everyone used portkeys to get to Paris, and from there we've been filling trains and ferries all week. I've been told that we booked so many seats that we caused problems for muggle travellers, but it was the only way to ensure that the British Ministry wouldn't notice what was going on. It was quite a treat for some who had seldom interacted with the muggle world, though, and that's added to the holiday atmosphere for everyone."
"But how will this work?" Padma asked. "Not everyone will be able to... you know, fit? Unless you're using space expansion charms on the circle?"
"No, we can't do that," Sybine replied. "Even if we could cast such charms with enough power to work, it would interfere with the circle's own magic. We can't celebrate a ritual in harmony with nature if we are trying to overwhelm the natural magic of this place for our own purposes. No, the use of space expansion charms only worked in the Forbidden Forest because there was no pre-existing site of power there. As a result, our charms became part of the magic of the site itself."
"Although in some ways it's not ideal, most of the participants will form concentric rings outside the stone circle," Adrienne continued. "Fortunately the power of this site is so great due to the ley lines that being outside the circle doesn't put one outside the boundaries of the site's power. Those inside the circle will of course feel the strongest effects, but so long as those outside maintain their own circles during the ceremony, they will benefit as well."
"Ley lines?" Padma repeated. "As in, more than one?"
Adrienne nodded. "Muggles disagree on how many are here, but since they don't have magic, they have no idea what they are talking about. There are three magical ley lines that intersect here. All of them were already powerful, but the previous rituals you participated in were done on other sites these lines passed through, so they have been charged up even more than before."
"Is there enough room even taking that into account, though?" Hermione asked. "I visited here with my parents a few times, and I remember that there are a couple of roads, and a village nearby..."
"I've been told that the primary wards are five hundred meters away, and the outer wards are a kilometer away," Adrienne said. "The roads have all been closed, and the closest buildings have been evacuated."
"Let me guess," Hermione said. "Gas leak?" Adrienne nodded, and Hermione sighed at the gullibility of British muggles.
Just then several veela came up, and Adrienne introduced them as volunteers who were helping to get participants prepared for the celebration. Like last Beltane, they were all anointed with sacred oil and given a garland of flowers that had bloomed in the wake of the recent Eostre celebration at Arbor Low: a mixture of pink and white anemone, primrose, bluebells, tiny marsh violets, and a few daffodils.
"Where are the goblins?" Jasmine asked. "I usually see them here."
"They've had to set up a bit farther away than usual, given the size of this event," Apolline answered. "Hopefully you'll get a chance to speak to them as we mingle."
"Before we get started, I need to ask if your friends have been informed about what Beltane is like," Sybine said once everyone had been anointed and received their garlands.
"Yes, they have," McGonagall replied. "Poppy and I will be taking them out via portkey at the conclusion of the official ceremony. According to Gabrielle, in the absence of a suitable partner, the effects shouldn't be so overwhelming as to cause them serious difficulty. Is that correct?"
Adrienne nodded. "That's always been the case before. However, given the fact that rituals performed with Jasmine and Hermione produce so much more power than normal, there's a chance that the effects on you might be different." She looked at the young Hogwarts witches, all with eager expressions on their faces. "That said, I've yet to see one of these rituals produce inappropriate or harmful effects, regardless of the power involved. So even if you end up experiencing stronger feelings or urges than would normally be the case, I'd assume that it's the goddesses trying to tell you something. You don't have to listen, and you don't even have to stay if you're worried; but in my experience, ignoring the goddesses never turns out well."
"I'm not worried," Ginny announced. "I trust Jasmine and Hermione, so I don't think that any changes caused by them will harm me." The others quickly agreed, with none expressing the slightest interest in being sent back to Hogwarts before the celebration had even begun.
"Good," Adrienne said. "Perhaps those leaving early should be positioned here at the outer edge. That will make getting out easier at the very least, and might even minimize the effects a little. Jasmine and Hermione will need to be inside the stone circle itself, I'm afraid..."
"Absolutely not!" came a voice, and when everyone turned they saw that it was Rosalie who had interrupted Adrienne. "Don't you dare separate those witches."
"Rosalie," Apolline said in greeting. "I didn't think you were going to be able to make it."
"Oh, I know that a ritual like Beltane is mostly for younger witches," she replied, "but I can still experience the sheer power of it. I wouldn't miss this for anything."
"Why shouldn't they be separated?" Sybine asked.
"Can't you see, girl?" Rosalie said with a scowl. "These witches are a coven. They're all connected now and they should remain together, especially for events like this! They all need to be in the center — nowhere else will do!"
Sybine looked back at the Hogwarts witches, this time eyeing them much more closely. "Yes, you're right," she said slowly. "The links are very thin, so thin that I hadn't even noticed them, but now that you've told me about them I can just make them out." Rosalie huffed and muttered about someone needing glasses, but soon they were walking through the throng of witches.
At their first Beltane, Jasmine and Hermione had felt the magical energy swirling through the crowd and experienced a pull to join the singing and dancing; yet because neither had been comfortable with such situations back then, they had resisted and instead kept to the fringes, mostly just watching. This year, they were far more comfortable with what was going on and mingled freely, enthusiastically participating in the revelry around them.
For the next five hours they led their group — which even they were now starting to think of as a coven — in singing and dancing their way around Stonehenge. It wasn't a conscious decision on their part, but they essentially walked a spiral around the ancient stone ring, circling around and moving ever closer to the center. Along the way they met a large number of witches from all over Europe.
At one point Daphne pointed to a cluster of darker-haired witches and whispered to Tracey, "Is that who I think it is?"
"Who?"
"The tall one in the middle."
Tracey peered more closely. "Sweet Morgana, it is!" she exclaimed.
"Who are you talking about?" Apolline asked.
"Isn't that Mrs. Zabini?" Daphne said.
"Oh, yes," Apolline answered. "That's the witch from Britain I mentioned, though she's originally Italian and apparently found a couple of old acquaintances from home."
"Can she... I mean," Tracey said awkwardly, "she does know this is an all-witch celebration, right?"
Apolline laughed. "Yes, she was informed, and she brought a... friend of hers who is visiting from Italy. She insisted that she didn't do such things normally, but when the nature of the ritual was explained in detail, she decided that she really wanted to stay and experience the entire event rather than leave early as you will be, and that was her solution."
Daphne's and Tracey's eyes widened, and they promised each other not to mention this to Blaise.
As they walked through the crowd, the young witches from Hogwarts became so caught up in the festive atmosphere that they didn't realize how much of the awe they felt at meeting so many interesting witches was being reciprocated. The magnitude of these rituals' effects was only discussed in hushed tones among the veela, and of course the full truth about the prophecy was kept well hidden. Rumors abounded, however, and so many were anxious to meet the English witches who were spoken about in reverent whispers.
Among the non-veela witches even less of the full story was known. They had simply been told that change was fast approaching and that they would have a chance to participate in a Beltane celebration with the young witches who were going to make that change happen. Combined with what they knew had been experienced by a few select colleagues the previous Beltane, that had been more than enough justification to make the trip.
Dexter Feelgood, a trainee healer who had been brought into Hogwarts to cover for Madam Pomfrey while she attended to a sudden family emergency, struggled with the diagnostic charms he was casting on his latest and only patient. He was sure he was doing them correctly, but he kept coming up with contradictory results.
"You say she fell, right?" he asked.
"Absolutely," responded the tiny professor who had brought her in. "She tripped on a trick step on one of the staircases."
"Sounds pretty hazardous — why hasn't anyone fixed that?"
The professor shrugged. "Tradition, I guess."
"She's got an awful lot of bruising and injuries," Feelgood observed with a frown.
"It was a lot of stairs that she fell down," the professor explained, shaking his head sadly at the lamentable state of his colleague.
"I'm concerned about what some of my diagnostic charms are telling me, but I should have her on her feet and back to work in the morning," Feelgood said confidently.
"It was a lot of stairs," the professor said again, "so you should probably keep her longer."
"What?" Feelgood asked, looking down at the small man.
"You want to keep her under heavy sedation and observation," he continued, waving his hand in the air in front of him. "You want to keep her here for at least twenty-four hours."
That suddenly felt like a good idea. "Yes, sedation and observation sounds about right," he responded, heading off to fetch a potion to keep the pink-clad witch asleep. When he returned to the bed, the small professor was already gone.
Sunday, April 30, 1996, Evening. 8:15 PM.
When they finally reached the causeway that would take them into the circle that surrounded the megaliths themselves, they were greeted by two people they hadn't expected to see. "Phoebe! Areto!" Jasmine and Hermione called out as they rushed forward to hug the two tall veela. Jasmine, though, immediately pulled back and started looking around and behind the other two.
"What are you looking for?" Areto asked.
"You didn't bring my goddaughter?" Jasmine asked with a pout, causing the new mother to laugh and Hermione to poke her in the side.
"Of course she didn't," Hermione said. "They wouldn't bring infants to something like this!" She then looked at the two veela with a worried expression. "Uh, that is right, isn't it?"
"Oh, definitely," Phoebe said. "This is not an appropriate place for children. We hated leaving them behind, but we couldn't imagine missing this — not after how wonderful it was last year."
"It was difficult finding someone to watch them," Areto added. "So many of those whom we'd normally ask were already coming here. And so many others also have infant daughters that they needed help with in order to come tonight."
"In the end, the Theledrion had to organize a special team to provide childcare for all the witches who wanted to come today," Phoebe concluded. "I think there are at least two hundred little girls who were conceived at last year's Beltane, not to mention all the other children who needed to be taken care of."
"Wow," Hermione said as her eyebrows rose in surprise. "No one told us there were so many!"
"Any plans on getting knocked up again?" Jasmine asked suggestively.
"Jasmine!" Hermione exclaimed, causing the other two to laugh again.
"Certainly not," Areto said with a grin. "I only just got back into shape, and it will be another six months at least before we'll be allowed back on active duty."
"Even then, it will only be part-time," Phoebe put in. "As important as the job of the Amazzi is, all veela regard motherhood as the higher calling. Caring for and raising our daughters will always be our first priority. That said, dealing with two infants at once is hard work. We had merely hoped that one of us would conceive, not both, and I'm not sure how we'd handle even one more child."
"We might have another in a few years, but not while Aella and Diantha are still infants, at any rate," Areto said.
As with last year, incense sticks and small drums were distributed, and Jasmine could see that the milling throngs of witches around Stonehenge were quickly forming up into organized, concentric circles around the ancient megaliths.
"Time to get into our places," Adrienne said as she began showing the Hogwarts witches where to stand and explaining what would happen.
"This looks an awful lot better than I remember it being when I was here with my parents," Hermione said quietly as they finally approached the massive stones. "As muggles we weren't allowed too close, but still..."
"Sharpaxe told me that the goblins have kept this site in good repair to honor those who originally built it," Apolline explained. "They've had to hide how well-preserved the site is from the muggles, but for this Beltane celebration, they agreed to pull back the concealment and glamour magic they use. Few non-goblins have seen the site like this for over a thousand years at least."
Sunday, April 30, 1996, Evening. 8:30 PM.
This year Margaux entered the circle and stood next to the small fire in front of the altar stone to lead the Beltane celebration. Because of how well last year's event went, they chose to honor the same four goddesses — Artemis, Aphrodite, Ishtar, and Isis — and all four of them had waist-high statues arranged around the altar. After applying a Amplifying charm to herself so she could be heard even out to the farthest circles of witches, Margaux called out, "Welcome, sisters! And welcome, spring!"
The response was almost deafening, with more than thirty thousand witches all around them cheering as the sun began to set on the distant horizon.
"Some of you are new to celebrations like this," Margaux continued, "but you all know that Beltane is, more than any other holiday, about love and life. On previous holidays we have commemorated the gradual progression of light against the dark and of spring against winter, but today we celebrate their victory and with it, the ultimate victory of light, love, and life!
Once again, a thunderous cheer arose from the multitudes, and both Jasmine and Hermione felt the expected stirrings of magical energy building up around them. Although they were focused on Margaux, they knew that for as much as two hundred meters in every direction, motes of concentrated magic were rising up from the ground and joining the currents of energy swirling around and emanating from each of the witches.
"Because this date is first and foremost about love, I'm sure you are all with your closest loved ones right now," Margaux said. "This is a celebration of victory, so tonight is a night for dancing, for singing, and for loving! Tonight is when we will all share in the experience of the sacred union of the goddesses with each other, as well as of the goddesses with the earth." She stopped and looked directly at Jasmine and Hermione before adding, "Indeed, we will probably be experiencing it on a far more direct and personal level than has previously been possible."
The other Hogwarts witches looked at their two friends, knowing intellectually what Margaux was referring to, but wondering how powerful of an experience it was going to be. "Now I'm almost sorry that I insisted the boys not come to watch," Ginny whispered to Luna.
"You know Ron wouldn't have let that happen," Luna whispered back. "And as much as I wish I could have provided a distraction for you, I don't think Ron is ready for that."
Ginny's eyebrows shot into her hair.
Margaux turned to the altar and threw a small sacrifice of incense into a central fire after asking for the blessings of each of the goddesses. As she did so, the amount of energy moving through the crowd increased, and Jasmine could hear pockets of chanting, all in different languages. Looking through the massive stones, she could see that some of the witches were swaying slightly as magic flowed out of and around them like a multi-colored river of power.
Sunday, April 30, 1996, Evening. 9:00 PM.
Because of the large number of participants, they decided to forego the ritualized distribution of seeds, so Margaux moved right to the courtship of the goddesses. Like last Beltane, the choice was left to the goddesses instead of the veela leaders picking representatives as was tradition. And, like last time, the goddesses were asked to choose vessels instead of representatives — a word which Margaux made a point of emphasizing for the sake of the non-veela participants, most of whom were only just then beginning to realize how and why this Beltane celebration would be so much different from anything they'd ever heard or read about.
In theory, anyone could have been chosen — and with more than thirty thousand witches participating, there was no lack of choice. In reality, everyone who knew anything at all about the circumstances surrounding these rituals expected Jasmine and Hermione to be chosen again — including those two witches themselves, which was why neither of them were surprised to see their garlands begin to move and grow just as they had the previous year.
What was surprising was how they grew. Unlike last year, Hermione's garland grew up and out into the horns of the Hunter while Jasmine's grew out and down into the flowing locks of the Hunted. Both witches wore startled expressions, though Hermione's was tinged with anticipation while Jasmine's showed a hint of trepidation. Neither was conscious that this was the magic of the ritual working through them, helping them to play their roles while still allowing them to be fully present in their own minds.
Thousands of drums started beating out a slow, pulsing rhythm so powerful that it penetrated the goblin wards and could be heard all the way in Amesbury, causing local muggles to think that a storm was coming. They were right, though not in the way they imagined.
Inside the circle, the two vessels of the goddesses could only hear their own hearts beating as the Hunted began to slowly back away from the Hunter.
Hermione was not used to playing the role of the pursuer, but she seemed to instinctively know what to do as she began to move towards her prey. Her prey, in turn, began moving more quickly. Magic pulsed and rushed around them both as Jasmine went first to the earthen bank that encircled Stonehenge, then gradually worked her way inward toward the altar — always moving closer to the center and never getting entirely out of sight of her Hunter.
Jasmine was used to the chase, but only as the one doing the chasing — the hunt and the chase was what she enjoyed about playing Seeker. Being the Hunted like this was a new experience, and her breath came ever faster as she wove in and out of billowing green and hard grey. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, not in fear but in anticipation. Her blood rushed loudly in her ears, not in anger but in desire.
Soon she came to realize that despite being the Hunted, she was more in control of the chase than the Hunter. She could slow down to let the Hunter approach more closely, then at the last second twist away to increase the distance between them once again. She was the prey, but she didn't want to elude the Hunter entirely. Thus it was her choice of where and when she would allow herself to be caught.
Jasmine smiled slyly. She was the Hunted, which made it her hunt.
They were surrounded by witches, but Jasmine saw none of them. She had eyes for no one but her Hunter, locked in an eternal dance which Jasmine was leading, now hopelessly far, now just out of reach. Finally they came to the altar, where the Hunted permitted the Hunter to capture her at last. She had enticed and tempted, testing the Hunter's resolve to ensure that she was worthy, and now she granted the Hunter her reward: herself and her love.
So strong was the magic within the boundaries of the stones that as they kissed and fell to the ground, they were engulfed in a light that would have been blinding had Apolline not been quick enough to once again cover them in the emergency shelter she had brought. A deep thrumming filled the air as the magic of the ritual began rushing from all over the site inward to the Chosen Couple.
Recognizing that events were moving far more quickly than anticipated, Adrienne grabbed a stunned McGonagall and pushed her hard towards Poppy and their students. "Get them out, now!" Unfortunately none of the young witches seemed able to move, too mesmerized by the shimmering emergency shelter and the sight of so much visible magical energy crashing into it from all sides. Poppy and Minerva had to work together to get them all into a group where they could grab the portkey.
"Is this supposed to happen?" Minerva asked worriedly.
"I have no idea!" Adrienne cried, her voice abruptly cut off as Apolline roughly spun her around and covered her mouth with her own. All around, thousands of couples and groups were already on the ground, tunics shed and limbs intertwined as they jointly celebrated the union of bodies, magic, and spirits which represented the creation of life itself.
"Morgana help us," Minerva whispered as Poppy said the activation phrase, whisking her, Poppy, and their students back to Hogwarts.
More and more magical energy poured out of the copulating witches and into the center of Stonehenge, but neither Jasmine nor Hermione noticed because they were far too focused on each other as their own magical energy began to pulse and grow. Pressure and desire increased until they could no longer hold it back, and when the Chosen Couple finally found release, they unleashed an explosion of combined magic — theirs, the earth's, and that of all the other couples — that made what happened the previous Beltane look like a Christmas popper.
As the wave of energy exploded outwards from the shelter, it impacted the other couples along the way and pushed them over into climax as well, causing them to add even more energy to the tsunami of magic. When it finally burst over the outermost circle of witches, the power was more than enough to overwhelm the goblin wards before spreading out to cover Wales and most of England in the magic of the ritual, even reaching as far as Yorkshire in the north.
Deep inside the Cheyenne Mountain Complex in Colorado Springs, Colorado, computers registered a massive light source of unknown origins at 51 degrees 17 minutes north, 1 degree 82 minutes west. Programmed to monitor for thermal readings that signalled either missile launches or nuclear events, the computer system initially got stuck in a loop when it couldn't identify the type of energy from the data being transmitted via the strategic early-warning satellite.
After two and a half minutes, a failsafe subroutine broke the loop and began flashing warning signals at several different consoles. By the time the senior watch officer instructed the satellite to focus its cameras on Stonehenge, the goblin wards had reformed and there was nothing to see. Suspecting a system malfunction, but not wanting to take any chances, Colonel Ryan ordered the chief master sergeant to have the site examined on the next pass of a KH-11 reconnaissance satellite, then left a message to have the system checked for errors.
Twenty minutes later, he left as the new shift came on duty and completely forgot about the incident.
Not far from Stonehenge in Wiltshire stood a hidden manor house. Once a magnificent estate owned by an old and proud magical family, in the last half hour it had become a site of near total ruin. The building still stood — barely — but none of those who lived there were conscious enough to notice. The simple truth was that the building and its residents had become imbued with too much dark magic not to be devastated by the wave of energy produced in Stonehenge, though most weren't dark enough to utterly be scoured away as the dark creatures had been in the Forbidden Forest a year earlier.
Indeed, there was only one resident who was that dark, but he had a strength of will housed in his unnatural body that went far beyond that of any normal creature. That alone allowed him to cling tenaciously to life, albeit greatly weakened from the experience.
In the Ministry of Magic in London, magical detectors of all sorts started malfunctioning and then simply stopped, overloaded from the wave of energy that had passed through the building. Employees on the night shift in both the DMLE and the Department of Mysteries started to panic, wondering if they'd been subjected to an attack, and soon the decision was independently made in both departments to call in their superiors.
In the Prophecy Room down in the Department of Mysteries, most of the way along row ninety-seven, a fake prophecy sphere that had been working to overcome the protections on the shelf on which it sat shook and cracked before going black, the dark magic running it having been negated by the wave of energy from Stonehenge. All of the other prophecy spheres on that shelf were safe once more.
Albus Dumbledore was in the home of Elphias Doge, outside of Mockbeggar in Kent, discussing plans with his old friend when he paused as he felt a wave of magic wash over him. Looking closely at Doge, he realized that his old schoolmate hadn't felt anything, which meant that either the magic could only be noticed by those who were especially strong and sensitive... or by those who had already been directly exposed to enough of it.
It only took him a moment to remember the date. Of course — Beltane, he thought ruefully. I should have been prepared.
"Is something wrong, Albus?" Doge asked.
"Not exactly," he said with a sigh.
"Perhaps I can help?"
"Not with this, I'm afraid. I'm not sure what any of us can do."
"Is... is this about You-Know-Who?" Doge asked in a fearful whisper.
"No, nothing like that," Dumbledore insisted. "There are changes coming, my old friend. Changes that none of us are prepared for."
"Dangerous?" Doge asked. "Harmful?"
"Yes and no, which is the problem," Dumbledore answered cryptically. "I've spent a lot of time studying the path I think we're all unknowingly on, and as best as I can tell, a great deal should improve."
"But?" Doge prompted.
"But at the cost of changing some important, fundamental aspects of our culture," Dumbledore said.
"Oh, dear... that can't be good."
"Not for those of us who have spent so many decades living in and defending that culture," Dumbledore agreed. "Very soon, wizards like you and me may not even be able to recognize magical Britain anymore."
"I don't think I like the sound of that," Doge said fretfully. "Can anything be done?"
Dumbledore's voice grew heavy. "I've invested a great deal of my life in trying to improve things in our society, trying to correct the many injustices around us while working within the boundaries of our cultural traditions. Unfortunately, I've mostly failed."
"No!" Doge protested. "You've done so much good—"
"I've done good, yes, but I've also caused harm," Dumbledore interrupted him. "And the fact of the matter is, I haven't done nearly enough good. The situation for muggleborn, for example, is still quite grim, wouldn't you agree?
Doge hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly nodded.
"And thus my dilemma," Dumbledore continued. "My way of doing things hasn't achieved enough, even after several decades. Another way of doing things may achieve all that I have desired... and quite a bit more that I never would have imagined. So I cannot justify opposing the changes I see coming, yet I'm not sure how or if I'll be able to live in it."
Both wizards were silent for quite a long time after that, each lost in his own thoughts about the future.
In Hogwarts, several witches — both young and old — were deep in contemplation about what they had seen and experienced earlier that evening. Minerva McGonagall was on her second glass of Scotch, desperately worried about her two favorite students and what might have happened to them. Padma Patil was rereading what little information she had on rituals and goddesses, hoping to find answers. Luna Lovegood simply smiled, content in the belief that everything would turn out fine.
Hannah Abbot looked longingly at the closed bed curtains of her best friend before retreating behind her own.
Sunday, April 30, 1996, Evening. 10:30 PM.
When Amelia Bones floo'd into the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, she was thoroughly annoyed to have been called in for an emergency so late on a Sunday evening. All anyone could tell her was that all of the monitoring devices had been overloaded — underage magic, international portkey and apparition, everything. Magical Britain was suddenly and inexplicably vulnerable in so many ways that she didn't even want to think about it, and she simply hoped that they'd find some way to fix the mess before any unsavory elements caught wind of their weakness.
She hadn't walked three steps before she heard the sound of the floo behind her; upon turning around, she found herself face-to-face with Saul Croaker.
"Saul," she said in greeting as he cleaned the soot from his robes.
"Amelia," he responded gruffly.
"What brings you into work at this late hour?" she asked.
"Sorry — classified. You?"
"Same."
He looked at her with an indecipherable expression for a moment, then said, "Maybe we should meet up later to compare notes on things we shouldn't tell one another?"
"Might be a good idea," Bones said. "Shall we meet in your office in an hour?"
Croaker smirked. "That would require telling you exactly where I work, which is also classified. Nice try, but no — we'll use yours. See you in an hour."
It was nearly midnight before he finally made it up to the DMLE, but she was still there working. "Amelia?" he said as he knocked on her open door. "Still have time?"
"Unfortunately, yes — take a seat," she said, gesturing across her desk to the empty chair.
"Do you want to start, or shall I?" he asked.
She eyed him closely for several seconds before deciding to take the first step. "A little after 9:30 PM, every single magical detector we have was overloaded by a wave of energy of some sort. Everything from underage magic detectors to the devices we use to monitor incoming and outgoing international portkeys and apparition. Everything is still down, too, though no one can explain exactly why they aren't working. I have no idea what it will take to get them back up, especially since I can't exactly advertise the fact that we have such a huge problem."
Croaker nodded. "That sounds about like what happened to us. We have all kinds of experiments and detectors running down there, and they were all overloaded at about the same time." He reached into his robe and pulled out a piece of parchment. "One especially robust device — and no, I won't tell you what it's normally used for — was able to record a bit of the magical signature before it was overloaded as well." He passed it over and watched her carefully.
"It doesn't mean anything to me, unfortunately," Bones said after a moment as she handed the parchment back to him, but he waved it away and said it was a copy she could keep. "Do you recognize it?" she asked.
"I didn't," he said slowly, "but another Unspeakable said that it was similar to some anomalous readings we've picked up every so often over the past few months. Nothing nearly so powerful, of course, but there is probably a link."
"What do you know about these other readings?" Bones asked.
"Not a thing, I'm afraid," Croaker said, his light tone belying the frustration he clearly felt. "Whatever we picked up was very weak, very distant, or probably both. We couldn't even get a direction. All we can say for sure is that whatever hit us a couple of hours ago wasn't a one-time event. Nor was it the first time."
"How worried should we be?" Bones asked with a frown.
"Oh, I'm worried," he admitted as he stood. "Nothing should have been able to penetrate to some of our devices downstairs, so whatever caused it, we have no idea how to defend against it."
Bones sighed. "Very well, I'll let you know if we learn anything new."
"I'll do the same," Croaker said. "One of the Unspeakables seemed to be making progress in fixing our devices. If he comes up with a solution, I'll send him up here to help with yours."
"Thanks," Bones said as he left her office. Once she was alone, she pulled out a file from a locked drawer and looked at a short recording which Auror Tonks had made of the magical signature at Arbor Low over a month earlier. It was an exact match for the one Croaker had just left her.
"Shite."
Monday, May 1, 1996, Morning. 6:00 AM.
When Jasmine and Hermione finally came back to themselves, they had no idea what time it was. Despite not feeling any need for food or water, though, they were pretty sure that they'd been at it for quite a while. Stories they'd heard from Fleur about losing track of time told them that such things were possible during these powerful rituals, but they had never known if they'd ever end up experiencing it themselves.
They just hoped it wasn't next month already.
While Jasmine took a peek outside the shelter, Hermione checked the time. "It's only Monday morning," she said with a sigh of relief. "So we're still safe. What's it like outside?"
"About what you'd expect," Jasmine responded as she returned to her girlfriend, looking a bit shellshocked. "Just, you know, more."
"More?"
"Much more."
Hermione huffed and went to look for herself, only to return a few seconds later with the same shellshocked expression. "Yeah, quite a bit more," she said. "That's gotta be some kind of record going on out there."
"I wouldn't have thought some of those positions were even possible!" Jasmine said in wonder.
Hermione gave her a sly look. "We could always give them a try to see how possible they really are..."
Jasmine grinned back. "For science!"
As happened all through the previous night, waves of magical energy continued to pulse across most of England and Wales. None were as powerful as the initial wave, but all were strong enough to prevent the monitoring devices in the Ministry of Magic from being repaired and to maintain the suffering of those who had given themselves over to dark magic.