THE MUGGLES STRIKE BACK.
Captain David Manteit, REME was nervous. Here he was in London, riding in a black cab and he was headed for Parliament. In the pocket of his dress uniform was a letter that cordially requested his presence at the office of Sir Albert Doore MP on Thursday the second of July – 1996. To say that it was extremely rare for a Captain of the Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers to be summoned to meet with a Minister of Parliament was a gross understatement.
The summons was made even more mysterious by the manner in which it all happened. A week ago, David was called before the divisional commander who handed him the letter personally. He then proceeded to tell David that no one was to know about this summons and that, effective immediately, he was on leave from his unit and that David's Commanding Officer was currently being informed that he was to be seconded to another unit for an as yet undisclosed period of time. The Divisional Commander also informed him that he was to breathe a word of this to no one… or else.
"Or else what sir?" To this day, David has no idea why he asked.
"Or else the end of your Army career would be the least of your concerns, Captain."
David came out of his reverie when the cab came to a stop outside the front of Westminster. He was still somewhat in a daze as he paid the driver and alighted the steps to Parliament, his head swimming with possible reasons behind his summons. It was the most vicious of cycles, like a pair of squabbling siblings, one part of his mind would put forward a possible explanation, then another part dismisses it because of x, y, z, only for the first part to come back with a more ridiculous possibility.
Walking through the front doors, the foyer was its usual bustle of activity, the sea of suits, the sprinkling of uniformed security, the constant din of voices in muted discussion, none of it took away from the grandeur of Westminster. White and black marble adorned the floors, with great white and grey marble columns that supported the high vaulted ceiling they spoke of the majesty, and history of this place, the seat of power for the United Kingdom and Great Britain.
Imagine what these walls have seen and heard, David mused, if only they could talk.
And then they did.
"Captain Manteit?"
With a start, David turned to face the voice. He was met by a sergeant of the army. About his height, short cropped red hair, keen green eyes, the faintest sign of tattoos on his wrist, hinting at a full sleeve of ink work. The man had a no nonsense look about him, which was underscored by the fact that the emblems on his uniform indicated that this sergeant was a member of the SAS.
"I'm Sergeant Jamieson, would you follow me please sir?"
SAS? Curiouser and curiouser.
David followed the SGT to a bank of lifts, and they entered the one on the far-left hand side. When the doors closed, Jamieson took a key from his jacket pocket and inserted it into the lock beneath the floor buttons. As he turned it to the left, a wall panel slid to the side to reveal another bank of buttons. All the floors were numbered B 1 – 6, indicating basement levels, which before now David had no inkling even existed. The SGT reached out and pressed the button labelled B-04 and the lift began to move.
"Ooh – Kaay…" David muttered to himself, Jamieson glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and allowed himself a sly grin.
"It's a mite disconcerting sir I'll grant you, but all this cloak and dagger shit will make sense soon enough."
"Don't suppose you can tell me where we are going?"
"You suppose correctly sir. Truthfully, it's not my place to say."
The lift came to a stop and the doors opened to reveal a long hallway, completely lined with oak panels. On either side at regular intervals, brass light fittings illuminated the hallway, casting a warm light that accentuated the panelling. At the end of the wall sat a desk which stood guard over a set of double doors. Sitting at the desk was a woman in her late 30's, or so David guessed.
"Morning Moneypenny." Jamieson said, broadening his Scottish accent as he did so.
The lady behind the desk laughed, not out of mirth, more out of exhaustion.
"Wish you would get different material Boyd."
David turned to the SGT. "Really? Boyd Jamieson?"
"Dad wanted to come right out and name me Bond, big Connery fan. Mum threatened a fate worse than death if he did, seeing as I am an only child, I reckon she still didn't completely let him off the hook."
David's eyes widened then shot a quick look at the woman, who he hoped wasn't named "Moneypenny". She just smiled sweetly at them.
"Oh Boyd, you know what they say about sins of the Father." She turned to David.
"Captain Manteit? My name is Hannah, Sir Albert's assistant, please go in he is expecting you."
Jamieson made the 'after you' gesture as Hannah stood and opened the doors for them.
"Captain Manteit and Sergeant Jamieson Sir Albert." Hannah announced as she stood aside to let them past. The room itself was what one would expect a sitting MP to be comfortable in. The same oak panelling on the walls, with more ornate versions of the light fittings that was in the hallway. On one side of the room, portraits of former Prime Ministers lined the wall, going back to Margaret Thatcher. Her Majesty's portrait stood pride of place at the far wall, above the desk of Sir Albert. The desk itself was of a heavy Victorian style with 2 large leather chairs in front. On the other side of the room sat a leather couch in front of a large television that sat atop a liquor cabinet. The only other hint of the 20th Century was a computer that sat on Sir Albert's desk.
Sir Albert Doore himself sat behind the desk. He was a man in his 70's and was the quintessential MP. Thinning grey hair and of moderate build, it was his eyes that gave away that there was something 'more to him'. A deep blue, the bags beneath them said that Sir Albert was not a stranger to late nights, but the eyes themselves suggested a sharp mind and a vast experience. To his left stood a man that looked to be in his mid 40's, wearing what David could only assume was Academic's robes. His hair was jet black except for signs of grey at the temples and was neatly slicked back. He was a thin man with skin so pale that David wondered when was the last time the man had been outside these walls.
Both David and Jamieson walked into the office and stopped just short of the two leather chairs, not knowing what else to do, David stood at attention, while Jamieson, stood a step behind him at the at-ease position.
"Ah Captain, so good of you to come. Relax man I'm not Prince Philip, please sit." Sir Albert said as he gestured to the chairs. David moved to the chair, but Jamieson remained standing at ease behind him.
Sir Albert opened a folder that sat on the desk in front of him.
"David John Manteit," he read. "Graduated with a degree in Electrical Engineering from Cambridge in 1988, attended Sandhurst Military College, graduating with the rank of Second Lieutenant in 1991."
"Spent some time supporting UN forces in Bosnia 1992. Went back to Cambridge to attain a Master of Engineering in 1994, promoted to Captain last year." At that point, Sir Albert stopped reading and pulled a thick document from the file.
"Your master's thesis Captain is what drew our attention…" Sir Albert held up the paper.
"The Effects of Electro-Magnetic Pulse on the Human Nervous System. What prompted you to make this topic your thesis Captain?"
David sat back in his seat and considered his response. When it came to explaining concepts of science and engineering to a stranger, there was a fuzzy line in the sand. Assume the stranger had your knowledge or better, you will lose the audience's attention and will have to go back and explain every second word and concept. That just leads to everyone getting frustrated. On the other hand, assume the audience knows next to nothing and you risk them feeling patronized and talked down to, leading to frustration with a sprinkling of anger. The trick was finding where the line is and get as close to it as possible, but not crossing it.
"Well, we have known about EMP and its effects on electronics since the 1950's, but it wasn't recognised as a threat to equipment till the 1960's. With technology moving forwards ever since and our equipment and lives being more dependant on electricity, it was only a matter of time before EMP weapons became part of our inventory."
"True," Sir Albert allowed, "but how does that affect people?"
"Sir it is still very much an unknown. There is a suggestion that it will affect the Central Nervous System and possibly the brain, but that is with sustained contact. We know devices like Tasers can shut down the Nervous System by essentially overloading it. On the flip side, an electrical jolt from a defibrillator can restart a human heart. It follows that if EMP can affect anything with a current, that can include people."
Sir Albert nodded. "Excellent Captain, in fact, your research has helped our work here immensely."
Naturally, David's curiosity was peaked. Beyond peaked, his head was churning out questions at a rapid rate and it was all he could do to keep his outward appearance to remain calm and poised. David had been in the military long enough not to be surprised at Sir Albert's possession of his file, but the fact that his master's thesis was what seemed to be the primary reason for his presence was simultaneously the source of some answers, but many more questions. Time to cut through the pleasantries.
"If I may ask Sir Albert, why am I here?"
Sir Albert leaned back in his chair, crossed his fingers on his chest and grinned.
"Tell me Captain, do you believe in Magic?"
Chapter 2
David slumped back into his chair and blinked, quite literally blind-sided by the question.
"Magic Sir?"
"Yes" nodded Sir Albert, "Magic, Hocus Pocus, Abracadabra, Witches, Wizards, you know, magic."
Shaking his head and looking at the faces of the robed man behind Sir Albert and then to SGT Jamieson, both just looked at him impassively. Deciding that honesty was most likely the best policy, David looked back at Sir Albert.
"Its all make believe sir. It's the stuff of entertainers or fairy tales, nothing but trickery and slight of hand."
"Really?" Sir Albert grinned, he turned to the man standing at his shoulder. "Edward?"
The man reached into the sleeve of his robe and pulled out what looked to David to be a simple stick and simply pointed it in David's direction.
"Accio cap." Without warning, David's officers peaked cap flew from where it sat on his lap to the man's hand. Before David could react to that, 'Edward' swished the stick over David's file on Sir Albert's desk and it began to rise into the air.
Utterly dumbfounded, David stood and waved his hand over and around the files, looking for hidden wires and the like, anything to help his rational mind make sense of what he was seeing. Seemingly amused by the look of incredulity on David's face, Sir Albert gestured towards Edward. "Point made Edward." With a curt nod, Edward returned the stick back to his sleeve and the folder immediately slapped back down onto Sir Albert's desk.
David looked at Sir Albert and Jamieson as he unsteadily sat back down, none seemed phased by what had just happened. Eyeing Edward warily all he could manage was to utter "How...?"
"Magic Captain." The smile on Sir Albert's face diminished slightly as he went on. "Those are just parlour tricks, any 12-year-old witch or wizard can do them." He then looked up at Jamieson. "Sergeant, be a good lad and fetch the captain a brandy." Looking at David, "I find it's an excellent tonic in moments such as these."
A few moments later, Jamieson appeared at David's right hand with a snifter of brandy, placing a consoling hand on David's shoulder as he did so. "There you are sir." David accepted it graciously and took a sip, allowing the liquid to sit in his mouth for a moment before swallowing it down.
"Good lad." Sir Albert said, then his look became very serious indeed.
"David," Sir Albert began, using his name for the first time, "I am going to tell you, in broad terms, who we are and why you are here. I need to know if you are 100% with us before I give you any detail."
David just looked at Sir Albert blankly. "Very good sir."
"David," Sir Albert began, "You are in the offices of the Ministry of Defence Against Magic, or MODAM for short. Our purpose is to act as a line of defence between the magical world and ours should we ever be needed. We are made up of people from across Britain's military, intelligence and scientific communities and at the moment, our primary focus is the development of technology that our agents can use to nullify the phenomenon that you and I know as magic."
David's bewilderment was quickly giving way to intrigue. "Why do you need me?"
"Quite frankly David, I believe you are exactly what we are looking for. We believe EMP is the key and you have just the right combination of knowledge and experience. You possess an in-depth knowledge of electro-magnetic pulse, coupled with enough military experience to understand how it can be deployed and the technical skills to make it happen. What say you?"
David sat back and steepled his fingers in front of his lips in thought. This was James Bond meets Dr Who level stuff. Up until 5 minutes ago, David thought this just happened in movies or novels, but here he was being presented with a genuine once in a lifetime opportunity. At the end of the day, there was only one real answer.
"I'm in Sir Albert."
"Excellent!" bellowed Sir Albert clapping his hands together in glee. Jamieson relaxed from his military stance and took the chair next to David's. Edward, for his part simply uncrossed his arms. It did not go unnoticed by David that as he did so, Edward's empty hand emerged from the inside of his left sleeve.
Sir Albert leaned forward and plucked up his office phone. "Hannah? Would you please fetch us some morning tea? Captain Manteit will be staying with us." He looked up at David. "Get comfortable David, there is much I need to tell you."
CHAPTER 3
"MODAM was founded in 1980 under the direction of the then Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher." Sir Albert began. "It was in response to an incident in the magical world."
"Hang on…" David interrupted, "The office of the Prime Minister has known about this since the 80's?"
"More than a century actually." Edward informed him. David gave Sir Albert an accusatory look which at turn made Sir Albert bristle, but only for a moment.
"I understand you will have many questions, Captain." Sir Alberts said placatingly, "but if you are patient all will be revealed."
He went on. "But yes, the Prime Minister knows about magic, him, a few others and us. You see, it's monstrously complicated, but in a nutshell…" Sir Albert paused to gather his thoughts.
"Magic users in Britain make up only about 0.1% of the population, not very many at all really, but they are governed by a Ministry of Magic. If there is a Ministry of Magic, it follows there is a Minister of Magic, yes?"
"Yes" David agreed.
"However, the Minister of Magic is not like say the Minister of Defence in that he does not answer to the Prime Minister. The Minister of Magic is more like the Prime Minister of magical Britain, separate and not beholden to the offices of Westminster."
"He only communicates with the PM if an incident occurs that could possibly affect the lives of…" Sir Albert turned to Edward, "What do you call us again?"
"Muggles," Edward turned to David. "It is a term we use for anyone that doesn't have magic."
David just nodded, unsure if he liked being called a 'Muggle'.
"Hmmmf," Sir Albert muttered, clearly not a fan of the term either. "At any rate, as I said an incident occurred in 1980 that was quite dire. Old Maggie Thatcher was informed out of a sense of courtesy, but she was also told point blank that there was nothing she could do about it and that the Ministry of Magic would handle it."
A piece of the puzzle fell in place for David. "I only know Margaret Thatcher by reputation, but I imagine that did not go over well."
"Indeed, the woman that went head-to-head with the Trade Unions, set the SAS lose on the Iranian Embassy in London, then went to war with Argentina over a couple of frigid islands in the south Atlantic? No, I can assure you she did not take it well. It was a week later that I was handed the job."
"What was this 'Dire Incident'?" David asked.
"There was a rogue faction gadding about the magical world in the late 70's. They believed in the purity of the magical world, that only 'pure-blood' magic users should run the place, and rule over the rest of us non-magical folk when it comes to that."
"No offense Sir Albert, but sounds like you are saying that an evil wizard wanted to take over the world. Sounds very Tolkien-esque sir."
"I know, I can't really explain this and give it the gravity it deserves, Edward, would you mind?"
Edward stood up right and looked at David.
"The Wizard's actual name was Tom Riddle, but he chose to go by the name Lord Voldemort." Edward began. "He was one of the most powerful wizards of his age, but rather than use it for good, he became obsessed with power. Rumour has it he had something of a miserable childhood, which probably contributed to his madness. In any case it wasn't hard for him to be able to gather followers to his cause, other pure-bloods, witches and wizards that could trace their magical lineage back generations believed as he did. They held an almost Darwinian belief that as they had pure blood, not mixed with muggle, or 'mud-bloods' that they were the most powerful and it was their right to rule."
David looked up. "Muggles? Mud-Bloods?" judgemental lot aren't you?" David had an in-built dislike of bigotry and bigots. He was developing a dislike for magic users.
"We are not ALL like that!" Edward growled. "While I will admit that most in our community have an overall dis-interest when it comes to mug… non-magical folk, only a small few believe as Voldemort did. But he had enough followers that Voldemort was able to cause real concern. People disappeared, or were threatened in their homes, some were kidnapped and tortured, especially anybody that would stand up to him, like my cousin and his wife."
Regretting his comment, David asked, "What happened to them?"
"Frank and his wife Alice were both Aurors,"
"Kind of like Magical Plod" Jamieson opined. Edward glared at him but went on.
"There is much more to Aurors than that. Frank and Alice were both kidnapped and then tortured to the point of madness. They are alive, if you can call their condition living and locked away for ever in hospital. All I have left of my family is Frank's mother, my aunty, and Frank's son, Neville. He's only a kid still and he has nearly lost everything."
Edward then paused, a solitary tear running down his cheek as a swathe of memories came bubbling forward from wherever it was Edward had buried them. Everyone else in the room remained uncomfortably silent. It was then that Hannah entered the office with a tray of sandwiches, scones and tea. At first she paused, unsure what to do as she surveyed the faces in the room. Then her eyes locked on Edward. She set the tray down, poured a cup of tea and walked over to Edward. "Here you go Mr Longbottom, have this." She handed the tea to Edward and put her arm around his shoulders.
"Come with me, we will get some air shall we?" Edward glanced to Sir Albert who nodded and patted Edward on the arm. Edward simply bowed his head in reply and allowed Hannah to lead him out the office.
David turned back and looked at Sir Albert and SGT Jamieson.
"Will he be alright?" David asked with genuine concern.
Sir Albert considered for a moment before answering, "No, at least not completely at any rate. It's a heavy burden he carries, he and his cousin were close when they were young and Edward was devastated when they found his cousin and what… Voldemort did to him."
"Is that why he is here with us?"
Sir Albert smiled at David as a teacher would smile at a student who had uttered something utterly profound.
"Part of the reason yes." Albert went on. "Edward was dissatisfied with the Ministry of Magic's handling of the whole affair, seems some of this chap's acolytes escaped prosecution due to wealth and position. Eventually the whole affair was hushed up, no one wanted to talk about it or dig it up again."
They sat in silence for a moment, mostly to give time for David to process everything that he had just heard. For his part, David's mind started to feel like it was wrapped in cotton wool, so much information that in it's turn, generated so many more questions. One question however kept pushing it's way through the maelstrom in his mind.
"If I may have one final question sir?" Sir Albert nodded and gestured for David to proceed.
"Clearly the British public has no idea about this magical world, and you said the magical world views us with an air of indifference correct?"
Sir Albert nodded, "Is that your question?"
"No sir." David continued.
"Does this Ministry of Magic know…" David quickly glanced at the letterhead of a internal memo on sir Albert's desk, "about the Ministry of Defence Against Magic?"
Sir Albert's lips curled into a grin and his eyes took on a mischievous glint. "No, and we are working very hard to keep it that way for as long as we can."
David grinned and sat back. That one sentence told him everything he needed to know.
"When do I start?"