Chapter 122 – Summer's End, Part 2
Vernon was very flattered when a gentleman asked to be introduced to him at their club. Certainly, members did take advantage of the chance to network and meet others, but no one had ever actually sought out Vernon before. The gentleman, Reggie Mason, shook Vernon's hand enthusiastically when the maitre de intercepted Vernon as he left the dining room for the bar, to make the introductions.
"Mr. Dursley, I must admit, a week or so ago, I was sitting in the bar by myself after lunch and could not help but overhear you sharing the story of your experiences with magic, and your comments resonated with me. Allow me to buy you a drink, and we can talk about the current situation."
Vernon followed the other man into the bar. He guessed Reggie to be about his age, and from the state of his clearly bespoke clothing, quite successful in whatever business he was in.
"Vernon – may I call you Vernon?" Reggie began, waiting for Vernon to nod his agreement to the familiarity. "I'm a director at Whinging Enterprises, the estate management firm." Reggie had been a member of the club long enough to know that everyone had to provide their name and their business affiliation to begin any conversation. He'd been angling to meet Vernon on his own for a couple of weeks but the timing never quite worked. He finally settled on asking the maitre de to introduce him as the fastest way of making Vernon's acquaintance.
"I'm a director with Grunnings, the drill making firm. Our facility is just up the street; I think your firm manages the building for us," Vernon offered, keen to establish his own pedigree for whatever purpose this conversation was to have.
"As I said when Peters introduced us, I could not help but overhear you telling your associates about your feelings toward magic. Well said! And exactly what's been on my mind, ever since I woke up. How on earth can we trust the very people who made this mess to begin with? I do not understand the Queen and the princes being willing to associate with people from that world. It's an abomination, I tell you!" Reggie began, pleased to see Vernon nodding enthusiastically. "I have spoken to some of my friends and colleagues, and many of us feel the same way. I've arranged for a small gathering of like-minded people to discuss the current situation, and how we might best assure that the rights of us normal people are fully protected. We're gathering next Friday evening."
Actually, Petunia had been saying something about wanting to see a film that had arrived at the local movie theater, but he'd just suggest that they go either Thursday or Saturday. "I believe I can clear my schedule, Reggie, for an event such as this. Things are getting completely out of hand, I tell you. Normal people have to take a stand, to protect ourselves, and our way of life. I'd be happy to meet with others who feel as I do."
Reggie smiled and provided the meeting details, pleased that someone who'd actually seen magic, and magical people right up close, could join him and his friends. Vernon's input would really help galvanize their thinking and lead them to action.
Vernon enjoyed his tea and cigar, while Reggie sipped his Pimms, and Vernon had yet another opportunity to share his experiences with and thoughts about the magical world with another normal person who seemed quite impressed with him.
Vernon and Petunia saw the movie she wanted to see on Thursday evening, and were thus free to spend Friday evening in the Grand Ballroom of the Whinging Hotel with Reggie and his anti-wizard group. "Grand" was certainly not the right word to apply to the rather dingy, smallish room, where an eclectic group of forty or fifty citizens had gathered.
Reggie seemed to be in charge, at least, he was the one greeting people as they arrived and directing them to the sign-in sheets and into the room. He was most effusive in his welcome to Vernon, and fawned over Petunia in a most appropriate manner, as he guided them into the room and got them seated toward the front.
When the meeting began, however, Reggie offered the briefest of welcomes before turning the meeting over to a gentleman named Hiram Riddle. Hiram told his audience that he was from Little Hangleton, and offered several vague references to a career in real estate investments. At least, that explained his connection to Reggie, Vernon thought. Hiram then went on for a while about the evils of wizards, with particular venom reserved for the wizard king, Harry Potter.
Vernon's initial reaction upon seeing Hiram was exceedingly negative. The youngish man was dressed in obviously expensive and conservative clothing, and spoke in a crisp, well-educated manner, but the fellow wore his hair in a ponytail. Vernon had no use for hippies and other abnormal types – in particular, those who did not keep their hair trimmed. However, that negative reaction evaporated the instant Hiram began speaking ill of Harry Potter. Vernon began to nod and applaud the speaker vigorously from that point forward.
Beside him, Petunia was also looking at Mr. Riddle with some suspicion of her own. The clothes were expensive but she followed fashion enough to know that these were the kind of clothes that this young man's grandfather or even great-grandfather would wear. He also did not have the bearing of a leader. He spoke impressive words, and they were well-chosen words, but the impression she got was of a rather bad actor struggling with a script.
When Hiram had finished his remarks, Reggie led the applause and immediately hustled Vernon to stand next to him at the podium.
"Thank you, Mr. Riddle, for truly clarifying the scope of the enemy, as it were. Those of us who are normal British citizens need to mobilize, to protect ourselves and our families from this scourge of magic! That's why I asked you all here this evening. I met Mr. Riddle through my contacts in real estate, and knew he had a message that many of us would want to hear, and I appreciate your traveling to Little Whinging this evening, sir. I also met another person who speaks with much passion and authority about this evil, a gentleman from our own community! I'd like to introduce Mr. Vernon Dursley, and his lovely wife, Petunia. Mr. Dursley, I think the group would like to hear from you, if you please."
Reggie led the applause for Vernon as he settled his girth behind the podium. For just a moment, Vernon was taken aback; he'd had no idea he'd be asked to speak this evening and had no remarks prepared. But this was his mission and his passion. By the time the applause had ceased, he had his little speech outlined in his head, and he launched into it with gusto.
He began with the essential shiftlessness and probable drunkenness of those with magic, and worked his way toward their essential unnaturalness. He illustrated the latter with some of the things he'd observed in his short stint of wakefulness while at Hogwarts, amplified by some of the stories he'd heard Petunia tell, as well as a few she was pretty certain were pure fantasy. As he thundered toward the conclusion of his rant, he surprised himself, and his wife, with a shockingly blatant call for the normal people of the world to DO SOMETHING about this scourge of magic.
The room erupted in enthusiastic applause and shouting when he concluded his remarks, and Reggie was pumping his hand and patting his back as they stood together basking in the audience's appreciation for a few moments at the podium. A few others ventured forward to speak, all anti-wizard of course, but none had quite the fire that Vernon had.
After the last speaker had said his bit and taken his seat, Hiram stepped up to the podium. Now it was time to get this lot pointed to act on some of the rhetoric they'd heard this evening. He knew that there were a number of other like-minded groups forming up and immediately proposed to connect Reggie and this group of concerned citizens with others in Surrey and even London. People were making plans, and the good citizens of Little Whinging were going to be a part of something big.
Hiram touched a nerve, whether he understood this or not, when he spoke vaguely of taking "action" against magic. This was a group that would be very energized by talk of action, although from the looks of them, actually getting them to act might be a challenge. However, they were full of enthusiasm tonight, and very inspired by all they had heard. This might actually be the galvanizing event that propelled some of these talkers into becoming doers. The room was still abuzz when he invited them all to enjoy tea and some cake as he ended the meeting.
It was several hours later that Hiram was back in Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton. Of course, Riddle was not his real surname – he was a McNair. He and the other followers of Lord Voldemort who had undertaken a series of meetings this Friday with the anti-magic muggles had chosen names that, if searched, would ground their stories, if not in reality, at least in a real place. Most had taken the Riddle surname. They were not aware of the connection of Lord Voldemort to the Riddle family, but they were assured that the family had died out many years before and they were not going to encounter anyone who could challenge the stories they created for themselves. A few chose the Gaunt surname, another family line that ended in Little Hangleton, although one known to have magic. Others ventured forth using their own names, but referencing a base of operations, business or personal, in Little Hangleton.
The Death Eater who was the face of Lord Voldemort in the village had met an estate agent there named Bradley Westman. He was a gregarious fellow, who seemed to know everyone in Little Hangleton and quite a few people in other communities. Even better, his agency had arrangements with other agencies across England. The Imperius curse had quickly caused Bradley to present twenty or so Death Eaters to his colleagues across England. He introduced them as his own friends and neighbors, most in the real estate business in some way to justify the connections. A few introductions turned out to be to people who were favorably inclined to magic, but most hit paydirt, resulting in the Friday evening meetings
Voldemort was astonished at the virulence of the anti-magic movement among so many muggles. He was even more astonished by the ease with which his Death Eaters inserted themselves into those groups. These were not his most polished and mentally agile Death Eaters, either – it was completely shocking to learn that even Hiram McNair had succeeded in getting a group of 50 muggle business leaders all fired up. Muggles were quite a bit more gullible than he'd expected.
This was the first part of his new plan, and it was proceeding smoothly and ahead of schedule.
X X X X X X X X X X
Cornelius watched the small television set he'd set up in his sitting room, his face a mask of concentration.
The anti-magic movement was finally gaining ground in England. There were reports of a number of meetings held throughout the country last night, several of which were covered by reporters at the scene. There was a definite suggestion that action would begin soon. The muggle government was still urging calm, taking a position that the agitators were calling a pro-magic stance. The reporter pointed out that the government had clarified that it was neither for or against magic, but had accepted that there was magic in the world. Taking a line from the insufferable Harry Potter (who was an annoyingly frequent face on the television, along with the muggle royals), the government asserted that those who possessed magic seemed to include both good and bad people, and the government was confident of the good intentions of those working in the magical community to restore the world as best they could.
Something about that kept drawing Cornelius' attention. After several moments of thought, he realized what it was: there was no mention in this about a wizarding government or to any representative from that government. He pondered the messages, and with excitement, spread the assortment of English-language newspapers and periodicals he'd purchased locally across his dining room table. He spent a good half-hour reading and re-reading the articles that he'd already read several times before. No, there was no reference in any of this to Amelia Bones or anyone from the Ministry.
The fact that Harry Potter seemed to be the face of the wizarding world to the muggles was not of particular interest or concern. But it did raise a question: Was it possible, with all else that's been going on, Madam Bones had not yet found the time to make a courtesy call to the muggle Prime Minister?
Cornelius had recognized his vulnerability to losing his position of power as Minister of Magic several years ago. He was confident that Dumbledore was ready to move, to step beyond the walls of his ancient castle in Scotland and take control of the wizarding world. Cornelius liked being powerful and in-charge, and he wasn't going to give that up, and certainly not to someone like Albus Dumbledore!
Cornelius had always regarded Potter as a key pawn in a chess game. Dumbledore thwarted his attempt to adopt the boy last year, but that was hardly the only move Cornelius had planned. Oh, no, he'd had formulated other strategies to protect his position as Minister! Potter was no longer a pawn, he was clearly on Dumbledore's side. But one of Cornelius' other strategies had been unfolding, and while it seemed thwarted by the Ministry when it came to light a short while ago, maybe all was not lost! Possibly, it even paved the way for his return now.
Cornelius thought back on his contacts with the muggle Prime Minister over the past year. They were infrequent, to be sure, even as things deteriorated with the increased Death Eater activity. But he'd introduced the notion that there were some evil wizards out to wreak havoc in the world, and proposed that the muggle government could help Cornelius get matters under control. How convenient! Admittedly, things hadn't panned out as Cornelius had expected, but he'd introduced a notion that aligned beautifully with what eventually occurred, and even with the messaging offered by the muggles' own Royal Family. There was hope!
He had met with the man three times, mainly to discuss the Wizarding Registration Act. That had been a brilliant idea, if Cornelius did say so himself.
He'd grown up with stories about Bowtruckle Fever; two of his uncles had contracted it from a traveling business associate when the Fever had last been a health hazard in England a hundred years ago. He recalled stories of the children in the family brewing the potion to keep them alive; it was such a simple potion, even a muggle could brew it!
Between the careful use of the Imperius Curse and some good Obliviation charms, he'd been able to take this germ of an idea from his youth and turn it into an almost-successful move to cement his role as the leader of the wizarding world. And it might pave his way back into power now.
The Bowtruckle population itself, never very large, was restricted to a few small and isolated islands in the Indian Ocean. Hybridian Viper Weed was notoriously difficult to eradicate, but it was controlled, and kept at a distance from susceptible Bowtruckles. The last outbreak of Bowtruckle Fever was traced to a few wizards who'd traveled to the islands and returned to England with the infection. The few wizards today who were in regular contact with Bowtruckles, now better informed about the transmission of Bowtruckle Fever, always use very sophisticated decontamination charms when working with them, just in case, as do all visitors to those islands. There was no resistance to Bowtruckle Fever in the wizarding world today, and no stores of the potion needed to keep sufferers alive, because only a few cases of the Fever had been seen in a century. But that could change, very quickly.
At their first meeting to discuss the Wizarding Registration Act, in addition to proposing registration and a more accurate census, Cornelius had introduced the Prime Minister to the notion that wizards were susceptible to the same ills as muggles. He explained that their bodies processed illness differently, so they were not threatened by illness as muggles were. Cornelius proposed using vaccinations to prevent wizards from contracting and then spreading illness to muggles; if a wizard gets measles and it does not bother him or her, why risk the wizard passing measles to muggles as the wizard goes about his or her business? Why not get the wizards vaccinated, so they don't pose a risk?
Of course, wizards did not get measles or most of the other ailments addressed by the vaccine. It was not that they had those illnesses but suffered no symptoms, as Cornelius suggested; they didn't even carry the germs that gave anyone the diseases. But the muggles didn't need to know that.
Under the guise of testing vaccine for use with wizards (obliviated from memory once the testing had been done), Cornelius had used the Imperius Curse to cause a well-respected member of the Potions Guild to introduce a latent virus for Bowtruckle Fever into the muggle vaccine supply. The muggles had been using it for nearly a year now, with no adverse effect on themselves. Once the wizarding population was given those shots, though, Bowtruckle Fever would run rampant, with potentially devastating consequences.
At his second meeting with the Prime Minister, about eight months ago, Cornelius introduced the idea that wizards suffered from some maladies that did not impair their muggle cousins. He proposed that it would do much to cement relationships between the two groups if the muggles had on hand a significant store of the potion that was most efficacious in treating the worst of the wizard ills. He was prepared to use the Imperius Curse on the Prime Minister if it was necessary to procure his cooperation, but it turned out to be unnecessary.
The Prime Minister was a consummate politician, after all. He was only too happy to cause his government to have a contractor begin gathering a stockpile of the necessary ingredients and preparing batches of the medicine. All his conversations with the wizard minister had assumed that Fudge was their leader, and would continue to be the one who directed the affairs in the wizarding world. However, that might be short-sighted. If the ultimate or eventual result of the Wizarding Registration Act was to incorporate wizards into the existing political process, the Prime Minister wanted to be known as the man who anticipated the needs of the wizards and was sure to have his government ready to provide them with needed medicine. These witches and wizards might have votes someday!
The last meeting hadn't been a meeting really – Cornelius had firecalled through to the Prime Minister's office to report that the movement against him and those aligned with good had begun, and he needed the military assistance of his allies in the muggle government.
As Cornelius thought through each conversation, and considered what flowed from each conversation, he began to develop a story that was consistent with all that came before and would insert him back into the unfolding events as the leader of the wizarding world, at least in the eyes of the muggle government.
When Cornelius was confident that he'd created such a version of events and that painted him as the victim of a plot by the evil wizards behind this latest incident, he could establish that he had now returned to save his people. Of course, this was true only if no one from the Ministry of Magic had made contact and shared information that could contradict him. That was a risk he had (and was very willing) to take.
All he needed now was access, a way to reach the Prime Minister. There was a picture in the Ministry, in the corridor just outside the Minister's office, which was linked to one held in place by charms on the wall of the Prime Minister's office, through which visits were traditionally announced. That was clearly not available to Cornelius. He'd have to arrive unannounced.
He was also mindful of the possible presence of a member of the Auror corps tasked to work with the muggle government. There was certainly one there before Voldemort unleashed the sleeping spell, and he had to assume at least one continued to serve there. He'd have to take a chance there, although if he arrived after work hours, it was possible that the Auror will have gone home for the day. An Auror would recognize him immediately, and know that he was an escaped prisoner. That would not do.
Another big question: had anyone dismantled the floo connection on the fireplace in the Prime Minister's office, or had there been any security installed on that floo connection? He was not aware that there had ever been any security on the floo in the Prime Minister's office – who from the wizarding world would ever want to visit there? Given all that had been going on in the world, it was really unlikely that anyone had disabled the connection. No, the risk was probably more that someone thought to add security, but if no one had visited, they might not have thought anything about it.
Another careful read through the newspapers established that the Prime Minister was in England, as there were mentions of his conducting meetings in London.
No time like the present, was there?
Cornelius brushed off his most conservative business robes, and spent a few extra minutes making sure he looked the very image of a successful, if slightly overworked, politician. He apparated from his flat back to Knockturn Alley, and used the floo by which he'd arrived there from the Ministry to go instead to the muggle Prime Minister's office. It was just nearing 6 p.m., a time he'd had at least one of his meetings in the Prime Minister's office in the past. He hoped for the best.
Timing is everything in this world. Cornelius found himself stepping out of the floo into a darkened and empty office, with no one around. With a "harrumph" and look of annoyance, he tapped his foot for a few minutes, considering his options. Did he want to just have a seat and wait the man out? He did not want to appear as an intruder – he felt it was best to be seen actually arriving via floo, to reinforce who he was. Plus, it was only just after business hours – what if the Prime Minister had an evening engagement and was not returning until tomorrow morning? Worse, what if an Auror assigned to work here had reason to enter the office, even in the Prime Minister's absence, while he was waiting?
He quietly walked to the door to the office, and listened for any sign of activity outside in the secretaries' space. All was silent.
Annoyed, Cornelius fished some floo powder from a pocket in his robes and returned to Knockturn Alley. He was lucky. The little man in the picture on the Prime Minister's wall who usually arranged visits for the Minister of Magic had wandered to visit with a portrait back in the Ministry, and returned to the picture just seconds after the green light faded from the floo.
Cornelius was very anxious to meet with the Prime Minister. Having made up his mind and worked out his approach, he felt that there was nothing to be gained by waiting. He decided to have dinner himself, and try to visit again in a couple of hours.
Cornelius would have loved to visit one of the finer dining establishments on Diagon Alley but knew that was folly. He'd be recognized. While he was probably safe from being apprehended if he stuck to Knockturn alley, he had no intention of eating in any of the grungy pubs in this part of the community. That left the muggle community off Diagon Alley. He had to apparate, as there was no chance of his going through the Leaky Cauldron unrecognized. There were several safe places scattered around London for apparition. Most were near the Ministry, so those were out of the question, as were the ones near Diagon Alley, but Cornelius remembered others, in more "muggle" areas. He selected one near Covent Garden, enjoyed a most delectable Indian dinner, and was back in Knockturn Alley two hours later.
The seedy pub whose floo connection he had been using was much more crowded now, and Cornelius felt a twinge of discomfort. He kept his eyes down as he slowly threaded his way through the foul-smelling throng. He hadn't thought about the number of patrons a pub like this would attract at various hours of the day. He realized only now that he'd only been in the place at what were probably its slowest times. He chanced a quick look up to get a sense of the crowd, and was horrified to recognize several miscreants who he thought he'd sent to Azkaban, at least one of whom he knew had been sentenced to be kissed.
Fortunately, the floo connection was in a fireplace in an alcove behind the main room and not in the fireplace that warmed the pub. Cornelius was able to slink around the outside of the room, head down and collar up, avoiding contact with anyone who might realize who he was, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the floo without attracting any unwanted attention. In a second, he was gone.
And he was in luck!
He stepped out of the green flames into the Prime Minister's office to find the man himself sitting alone behind his desk, looking tired and frazzled, and now a bit edgy.
Brushing a bit of soot from his robes, Cornelius strode confidently over to the desk to shake the man's hand, muggle-style, while schooling his features to mirror the Prime Minister's work-weariness.
"Mr. Prime Minister, good to see you again. Cornelius Fudge, I'm sure you remember me."
The Prime Minister looked at his guest – his unbidden guest – and thought to himself how difficult it would be to ever forget this annoying person. He was about to nod for Fudge to take the seat across from his desk but realized it was unnecessary, as Cornelius had already sat down.
"Bad times, bad times, I tell you!" Cornelius began. "I called for your help too late, and my enemies were able to prevent your troops from arriving to help me. But I do appreciate that you came to my assistance. And then, no great surprise, they were able to create this terrible mess. I was able to escape from my enemies, but it was difficult. And things are dire, dire indeed."
The Prime Minister had quite enough problems of his own, and was actually feeling grateful for the cooperation he'd been getting from the magical people lately, so he was a bit surprised to hear the tone of Fudge's assessment. He took a breath to respond with a question about what, exactly, was "dire" when Fudge was already speaking again.
"I've been watching developments here in England from abroad, and when I saw that Harry Potter on the television with your royal family, well, I knew I had to get in touch with you somehow. I put aside the personal danger to me in returning to England while control of the Ministry is in the hands of the perpetrators of this disaster." Cornelius was actually referring to the disaster of his ouster as Minister, but he wasn't going to clarify. The misdirection suited him perfectly. "That boy is aligned with the very worst element in the magical world. A menace, actually. I fear for your royal family, consorting with the likes of him!"
"What do you mean, Fudge? The Royal Family is quite taken with the young man, and we've been told he's the King of the wizarding world, for goodness sake." The Prime Minister was clearly confused by Cornelius' characterization of Harry. The Queen herself seemed very fond of the young man. In his many years in service to the government, the Prime Minister had learned that she was a very astute judge of people. If she felt the young man was a good sort, that should be good enough for him. Shouldn't it?
"He's a very powerful wizard, Prime Minister. He can muddle thoughts, influence people, make people like him – he's that strong!" The Prime Minister paled bit as he thought back to his first meeting with the wizarding Minister; hadn't he caused a world leader to forget their call scheduled for that night, so he could meet with the wizarding Minister himself? They can do this?
Cornelius saw what he thought was a slight waver in the Prime Minister's conviction, and he moved aggressively to exploit it.
Cornelius spent two hours in the Prime Minister's office, working through this carefully-constructed story, taking the man through the current events with which he was familiar, adding a spin or twist to the story that cast Potter and Dumbledore and the others in the worst possible light. The story was shocking, involving a level of political intrigue and deceit that appalled the man. In fact, if he hadn't known for a fact that this man was the Minister of Magic, the Prime Minister would never have believed it!
The meeting was never interrupted this evening because the Prime Minister's plans had changed at the last minute. When the Prime Minister realized that the after-dinner entertainment was a musical performance by an entertainer for whom he'd never cared, he stayed for just a few minutes before quietly slipping out, and returning to his office. He staff had all gone home, which included of course the staff member who also served as an Auror in the wizarding government. The little man in the painting never stayed in his picture once the Minister was obviously gone for the day; he prefer to visit with his friends in other portraits in London.
When the meeting finally drew to a close, the Prime Minister summoned the heads of his Army and Navy to discuss an attack on the stronghold of the evil wizards behind the atrocities that had been unleashed against the world. He'd learned that they were holed up in an ancient castle in Scotland, and had someone who could guide them in for a strategic airstrike.
X X X X X X X X X X
Harry had spent an enjoyable evening with his friends playing exploding snaps in the Gryffindor common room, but was finally persuaded by Hermione's persistent nagging to get going on his summer assignments. He truly loved that about his friends. This king business? His marriage to Severus Snape? All the other things going on? No matter. Hermione was fixated on his doing his summer homework, and relentless in her insistence that he get working on it.
His grades for the prior year had been surprisingly satisfactory; he was certainly proud, and thought he detected a slight smile on Severus' face when they discussed Harry's accomplishments. Of course, that meant that he'd be proceeding on with more advanced studies in some difficult courses in his final year, and when the course assignments and book lists were distributed, he had to get working on some rather demanding assignments.
Harry found Severus in his lab, making a mess with some of the ingredients he and Neville had brought back from the Winter Lands. Several destroyed cauldrons were stacked against the wall, and the way things were bubbling and oozing in the cauldron currently over the flame, it appeared this batch of whatever was not going well, either. And Severus looked absolutely fascinated by the whole process, not a bit put out about the failures accumulating.
Rather than interrupt, Harry quietly took a seat at his desk off to the side, and put a shield in place, just in case. He opened his books, took out a parchment and quill, and started working on his summer essay for his advanced Charms class.
Harry was vaguely aware of the ravens. They'd been back for several days now, whispering and chattering, but not saying anything clearly enough for Harry to make out. As he'd said he would, he told Severus about it, but given the fact that Harry had no idea what, if anything, they were trying to convey to him, he and Severus decided to wait and see if this ever became clear.
After about an hour of work on his Charms essay, Harry realized that the ravens were whispering more loudly, and he thought he heard words. He put down his quill, and sat very still, concentrating.
Visions of rooms filled with people filled his head. He heard random words, but detected a pattern. These appeared to be muggles, decrying the scourge of magic, and planning to take action against it. There were lots of images of the same basic thing – were there lots of these gatherings?
Then there was an image, more familiar to Harry from the scenes of movies he'd sometimes seen on the telly at the Dursleys, old war movies. There were troops with their weapons and it looked like they were running into helicopters and other transports. Harry had never really enjoyed war movies, so he pondered why on earth he'd think of that now.
The last image was of a raging battle, with bombs being dropped from airplanes and troops (the troops he'd just seen?) hiding behind trees, shooting at their enemies. Parts of this image seemed familiar, but with all the smoke from the bombs and guns, it was hard to see. Harry was aware of trying to turn, to see the scene from a different angle, to see if there were any landmarks that would help him identify the location.
Finally, Harry was able to see where this battle was raging. It was right outside Hogwarts, and the bombs were falling on the castle and all over the grounds. The troops were in the Dark Forest, using the trees as cover as they shot at the people in the castle. Someone was attacking the castle!
Harry stood blindly, knocking over the stool on which he'd been sitting. He felt his blood run cold. He had heard the ravens clearly this time:
"It has begun."