Chapter Sixteen: Mad World

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"Stupefy!"

The Muggle man stumbled, falling over his feet as he collapsed to the pavement. The shotgun he was carrying tumbled to the ground and exploded, its shell firing wildly across the lane and just barely missing Harry's shield as he hastily cast a Protego.

He whirled, aiming a Stunner at another Muggle — a woman — who had appeared out of the mist and was running at him while haphazardly waving a kitchen knife. He sent up sparks over both and froze the shotgun for good measure before stumbling forward, cutting through the thick, hot mist with the feeble light of his wand. He spotted Daniyel up ahead as he ran, immobilizing two Muggles who appeared intent on killing each other. They froze as the spell hit them, the woman's face glistening with blood, and Daniyel hurried forward to remove the man's hands from her neck.

"Down! Get Down!"

Harry whirled again and jumped hurriedly aside as a group of Catastrophe Squad wizards barrelled past, their bright red robes standing out even through the cloying mist. They were holding small jars, which seemed to be sucking in the dark mist like a vacuum, leaving a trail of morning light in its wake.

The wizards hurried down the road, spreading out at the intersection and running off in different directions, a growing field of visibility dawning behind them, and Harry glanced up and down the street that had come into focus in the light. Ron was at the far end, crouching over a fallen Muggle, and he could just make out Ernie stumbling out from a gap between two houses, his arm bleeding profusely. Two young girls sat pressed back against the wall of a nearby shop, their arms around each other as they sobbed quietly, their eyes terrified. And fallen Muggles; they were everywhere.

He scanned the rest of the street, searching for any additional aggressors, but all the Muggles were down now, most of them sitting on the ground and staring around in confusion. He exchanged a bewildered glance with Daniyel as he raised his wand to remove the Bubble-Head Charm from around his face and tentatively tried the air, deeming it sufficient. Daniyel removed his protective charm as well, and Harry carefully approached the two girls, who hugged each other tighter and hid their faces when they saw him coming.

"Girls," he said hesitantly, crouching beside them. They looked no older than eleven or so. A backpack was laying at their feet, its contents spilling out onto the village road. "Are you all right?"

"Everyone's gone mad," the smaller girl whispered, turning to him with tearstained brown eyes. "The shop lady tried to — tried to —" She broke off, sobbing uncontrollably, and buried her face in the older girl's shoulder. Based on their easy familiarity and the identical color and texture of their frizzy brown hair, Harry assumed they were related. Maybe sisters.

"Who're you?" the older girl said accusingly, her voice shaking despite her forced bravado. "You're not police."

"Sure am," Harry said reassuringly, scanning them quickly for injuries. He didn't find any. "We're part of a very special task force. Everything will be fine. You're safe now."

He gave them what he hoped was a comforting smile and rose, hurrying toward Ernie as several Mediwizards rushed onto the street with Law Enforcement Officers in tow, fanning out to cover the injured. One approached them, tending hastily to Ernie's arm. Harry looked on until he heard Robards call his name, and he turned to see his boss walking briskly toward him, his robes slightly disheveled but otherwise no worse for wear.

"Potter!" he barked. "Any down on your end?"

"A few Stunned," Harry said, lowering his voice as Robards approached.

"It's the same throughout the village. Law Enforcement's set up a perimeter two miles out, and they're deterring any approaching Muggles. We're setting up a staging area in the pub — round them up for questioning once the Healers are through."

Harry nodded and Robards clapped him on the shoulder and hurried off, following the Catastrophe Squad as they spread throughout the village, vanishing the remainder of the mist.

Harry glanced up, watching the mist dissolve into the sky as he let his thoughts drift momentarily to Ella. She would be at St. Mungo's soon, getting her shot. He had been forced to leave her side, but Robert was with her, and that afforded him the peace of mind to focus on the task at hand. He turned to the street. Sobs and screams were starting to fill the air as the Muggles regained their senses, echoing off the walls and casting their own aura around the place. Within the tangle of grief, he hoped they'd all find answers.

Hours later, Harry walked the quiet streets, empty now that the Muggles had been helped away. The worst of them had been taken to St. Mungo's with the rest gathered in the small village pub to await questioning before being passed along to the Obliviation Squad.

Now that the mist had all but dissipated, there was something about the tiny village of Brycetown that filled Harry with a disorientating sense of foreboding. A sickening familiarity hung upon the streets, which he was certain he had never walked before today. And yet… And yet, he couldn't quite explain the feeling, though it saddled him with dread. It was as if the ground was threatening to rise up and swallow him whole.

The air itself was thick and heavy, weighed down with an undercurrent of magical energy that coated everything like slime even as they worked to dispel it. The entire village still radiated heat despite the bleak midwinter, like the aftereffects of an explosion. And really, it was as if a bomb of magical proportions had gone off here, dragging the Muggles into its aftermath. The valley surrounding them was several degrees hotter than London even though it was so much further north. The heat bounced off the rolling hills, which loomed ominously in the distance.

He approached the pub, his eyes trailing over the signboard outside its door, which depicted a rather serene-looking man dangling down from a tree branch as if it were his private jungle gym and the world a playground. What was about to take place in the pub, Harry reckoned, was going to be a bit darker than its usual festivities. With a sigh, he pushed on the heavy wooden door and slipped inside.

"I don't remember!" the Muggle woman said shrilly an hour later, glaring at Harry suspiciously as he sat across from her. "I'd just picked up me groceries, was payin' Celia, and next thing I know, I'm sittin' in the street! With a nasty gash on my head to boot!"

"So you don't remember any mist?" Harry asked.

She scoffed. "Mist? Mist? I've been assaulted, boy! An' healed with some voodoo magic. An' you're asking me about some fog? I'd like to file a report! I want compensation! I want me groceries! Where are they, eh?"

Harry sighed. "Thank you for your time, ma'am," he said politely. "We'll make sure it's all sorted out. If you could follow me…" He led her out of the makeshift interrogation space that had been set up in the corner of the pub, enclosed by temporary walls and sound-dampening charms, and passed her along to a waiting Obliviator, who hurried her away.

Harry distinctly heard her say, "Have you got me groceries, girl? I paid for 'em, you know! I bet it was that Celia, tryin' to pull one over on me. Have you arrested her?! I don't trust that daft—"

Harry turned away, shaking his head, and surveyed the remainder of the Muggles awaiting questioning. They sat huddled together, several sporting recently healed injuries, staring around with accusing eyes. Many were crying openly. Law Enforcement Officers stood strategically around the magically-enlarged space, making sure the Muggles stayed more or less calm and didn't leave the pub. Nearly two hundred of them — the entire remaining population of the tiny village — had been squeezed inside the small building, and none would be free to go. Not until a cover story was established. And for that, he knew, they were quickly running out of time.

They could Obliviate away all traces of magic, but he couldn't imagine how the Ministry would explain the casualties, and the blockades — which had effectively isolated the village and already made the Muggle news. There were crowds amassing outside the perimeter that had been set up on Robards' orders, largely made up of children returning from the schools in the neighboring town, Muggle police, and growing local news crews — crowds that were barely being kept in check by the Law Enforcement Officers and Magical Catastrophes Squad.

Hermione, who had arrived in the last hour with several others from Kingsley's cabinet, had made several runs in and out of the pub already, and was now speaking to the Obliviator in charge, likely running through potential scenarios. The word "Quarantine" was floating freely around the pub, terrifying the Muggles into an anxious silence. Harry's main priority now was to question the witnesses and try to glean some understanding of what had occurred. But the last six interviews had been about as fruitful as the one with Aida Green, though no less colorful. The Muggles of Brycetown certainly had character.

As far as he could gather, the mysterious fog had descended on the town in an instant — so suddenly and invisibly that no one was aware it had happened. And for all the time it remained, it had taken not just the Muggles' sanity, but their memories as well. No one they'd spoken to could remember attacking a single person — swore they would never hurt another human being. The man who'd wielded the shotgun like a mad soldier had burst into tears upon discovering that three people had fallen at his hands. Had not believed it until he saw the bodies. His only solace, Harry thought sadly, was that he would remember none of it after the Obliviators were through. But the dead would be just as dead either way.

His eyes swept over the waiting Muggles again, frustration stealing through him. Another tragedy, and once again they could do little more than sift through the aftermath. Catastrophes had collected the mist, but with the Department of Mysteries still devastated, research and analysis would be limited. He wished he could do something, something concrete. He was tired of feeling useless, tired of standing idly by while the world fell apart around him over and over again. It was more than he could stand.

A child's voice brought him out of his stupor, and he refocused on his surroundings to see them walking past — the two young girls who had huddled at the edge of the street when the mist had fallen. They looked slightly calmer now, walking on either side of a woman who must have been their mother. Struck with sudden inspiration, Harry hurried toward them.

"Ma'am!" he said, tapping the woman on the shoulder. She turned around, the kids still holding on to her hands, and gave him a deeply distrustful look.

"What?" she said stiffly. "I've already given my statement."

He hesitated, contemplating the best approach. She didn't trust him. Didn't believe they were there to help. Wanted all this to be over so she could take her children and run. He couldn't blame her.

"I need to talk to your girls," he said quickly.

She frowned. "No. They're just children."

"Ma'am," he said, "please. It's incredibly important. They might know something crucial."

"They don't know a thing," she said as the girls stared between them, their heads whipping around as the conversation shot back and forth. "They told me as much themselves."

"I'm afraid I must insist."

He reached for his wand, hating himself for it, and shifted it in his hands. The woman's gaze followed it and her expression hardened. Harry was filled with a barely suppressible urge to tell her he would never hurt her, or her children, but he remained silent, waiting, his fingers tapping it lightly.

"Very well," she said, her voice as cold and sharp as a glacier. "Lead the way, Mr…"

"Potter," Harry said, inwardly sighing with relief, and led them into one of the enclosed spaces reserved for questioning.

The woman's name, he learned, was Lavinia Thomas. The girls — her daughters, Lorena and Hailey — were nine and twelve.

"There were no other school-aged children in the village at the time of the incident," Harry said, directing the question to Lavinia. "Why were your daughters here and not in the school in town?"

"We had a late start this morning." Lavinia nearly bit off the words as she spoke. "The girls missed the bus. I had to run to open the pharmacy, so I sent them to the shop to pick up their lunches and have their uncle give them a ride to the school. As you can see, Mr. Potter, that didn't happen."

"They go to Vincent Elementary?" Harry confirmed, glancing at the parchment he had Summoned from the combined pool of records. Ron's looping signature danced across the bottom. He had talked to Lavinia, but no one, it seemed, had thought to question the girls.

"That's right," Lavinia said.

"And, just to be clear, you don't remember what happened while the mist was over the town?"

"I didn't see any mist." Lavinia sounded annoyed now. "Like I already told Mr. Weasley, the last thing I remember before the blackout was standing behind the counter at the pharmacy, entering prescriptions into the system. Next thing I know, I'm lying on the street two blocks away..." She trailed off, her face darkening once more.

"Of course," Harry said quickly, his eyes scanning further down the parchment. "That's fine, I can see the rest of your statement. But I need to ask your daughters some questions."

Lavinia looked annoyed but nodded her assent, and Harry turned to the girls.

"Lorena, Hailey, can you tell me what happened after you walked into the shop?"

"We got attacked!" Hailey said indignantly, and Harry felt a spark of understanding burst to life. "That's what happened! We were paying for our food, and suddenly Mrs. Wilson lunged over the counter and smacked Laurie upside the head!"

"I'll be pressing charges!" Lavinia fumed, her anger boiling over the surface. Lorena was trembling. "That woman won't know what hit her. Touching my babies."

"And then I jumped on her and pulled her hair," Hailey continued, undeterred. "I pulled really hard. And then she let go, and—"

"I'll make sure she rots in prison," Lavinia added, grasping Lorena's hand. "Esther Wilson. Has she been arrested?"

" , please." Harry raised his hands for calm. "We've talked to Esther Wilson. She, like you, has no memory of her actions during the… blackout. We believe she wasn't in control of her faculties at the time of the incident."

"Temporary insanity?" Lavinia said with a scoff. "Anyone who can hurt a child, even if they don't remember it, is an evil person."

Harry sighed inwardly, wishing there was a way to talk to Hailey and Lorena alone. At this rate, he might well have to resort to using magic after all, if only to isolate them. "According to the officer who apprehended you, Mrs. Thomas, you were within two feet of stabbing a man through the eye with a ballpoint pen when he stopped you."

She blanched. "That's… that's not true. I would never. I'm a pharmacist, for God's sake. I help..."

"I understand," Harry said, imploring the woman to believe him. "And Esther Wilson said much the same thing. She would never…" He trailed off and looked into her eyes, the rest of the sentence quite unspoken. They lapsed into silence. He was just debating some way to remove Lavinia from the room when a soft voice cut through the quiet, barely louder than a trembling whisper.

"Her eyes were all… all dead and empty. Like a ghost."

Lorena's voice shook as she spoke, and Harry, Lavinia, and Hailey all turned to stare at her.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked softly.

"Mrs. Wilson," Lorena whispered, folding her small arms across her chest as if the memory left her cold. "She was all nice and smiling, and normal. She was going to give us candy. I saw her reaching for the jar. And then it got really… really cold. Like a ghost walked into the store. And her eyes just went all blank and gray and… and she jumped on me. She was like a zombie." She looked like she was about to cry.

"And then what happened?" Harry pressed as Lavinia slipped an arm around her daughter's shoulders, trying his best to keep his voice even and calm. "Do you remember?"

Lorena nodded, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. "She was squishing me. It really hurt. I couldn't breathe. And then Hailey was screaming, and Mrs. Wilson let me go. And then we ran. Outside…"

"And then?" Harry prompted.

"It was slimy," Hailey said, shuddering. "The air was all thick and slimy. And hard to breathe. And it was hazy. And all the adults were running round, trying to hurt each other. Mr. Summers was chasing Mrs. Brown with a bat..."

"It was so scary." Lorena started crying, the tears slipping down her face. "We just hid. And hoped they'd stop."

"It went on forever," Hailey added. "People were just running back and forth. We were sure they'd see us. I thought we were done for..."

"And then, and then… the people in the cloaks came," Lorena whispered. "And the air got better. And all the adults fell down. And now it's like they all forgot what they did!" She shuddered.

Lavinia brought her arms around her daughters and pulled them to her sides, her face stricken. Harry drew back, lapsing into thought. They had felt the magic, but it had not affected them. The younger one especially. And they had not seen the mist… simply its shadow. And that alone allowed them a better view of the events unfolding than anyone else. He wasn't quite sure what to make of that. It had been long proven that children were more resilient than adults at avoiding physical injury. Perhaps their minds, too, were better protected to ward off Dark magic. An interesting thought — one he was sure Hermione would have an opinion on. The one thing that was clear, however, was that the girls' account confirmed the theory they were working with: something Dark and menacing had descended on this little village and taken the Muggles under its control. Or, more accurately, someone — because Dark magic didn't suddenly just sprout from the earth.

"Have you seen anyone odd in the village lately?" he asked them. "This morning? Yesterday? Anyone who's a stranger?"

His thoughts were whirling still as he searched their faces. He couldn't imagine why someone would want to cause this sort of chaos, to attack this sleepy village, which had no wizarding residents listed on the register and was so small it didn't even host a school. The biggest building, besides the pub they had taken over, was a tiny church. No, it didn't feel like an attack. He was no curse-breaker, but if anything, it felt like… a rebound. Like an attempt to break down some powerful Dark magical barrier that had gone horribly wrong.

Hailey and Lavinia shook their heads, but Lorena spoke again, her soft voice barely audible in the stillness of the room.

"Erm — there was someone walking, yesterday, along the road to school. I saw them from the bus."

"In the storm?" Lavinia said, her tone slightly incredulous.

"Uh huh," Lorena said, nodding. "They were just walking in the snow. They looked lonely."

Harry frowned. "What did they look like?

"I dunno," she said quietly, her arms still folded protectively across her chest. "I couldn't see much, with the snow. They were dressed all in black and had a hood up. It looked super cool."

"Cool?" Harry echoed.

"Uh huh," she said again. "Cool. Their coat was all swirly and trailing. It was so pretty." She paused, biting her lip. "Like a magic cloak!"