Chapter 28: In Defense of the Realms
A/N: In order to keep my promise, this chapter weighs in at twice the normal size. Hope that you enjoy it (and that it doesn't play out as too implausible). Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, including a special thanks to the many first-timers.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.
Tuesday, June 19, 2:45pm
Little Wizarding, Surrey
The rotten-egg smell of mercaptan lingered in the air as the ersatz Little Wiz Defense Force mustered in front of Number Four. Brian Willox, Fred Weasley and Sir Evan reviewed the fourteen wizards, witches and muggles in front of them.
They'd been paired off into "Phoenix Teams," each consisting of a wizard or witch matched with a muggle member of MI 5 ¾. Brian and Fred were "Phoenix One," while Roger Granger was paired with George, Emily with Dean Thomas, and five muggle marksmen paired with the remaining Gryffindors. Everyone wore boots, black pants, and jumpers that bore the newly fashioned crest of Clan Potter: the shield of St. George behind a phoenix with outstretched wings, flanked by two upright Gryffindor lions. The wizards carried wands and brooms; the muggles, automatic weapons. All wore belts bearing pockets filled with goodies from Fred and George's shop and MI-5 ¾'s research laboratories.
"Alright," Brian said, "we've got warm medallions and verbal confirmation from Ascot that they've got nasties about. If our intelligence is right, we'll have company here soon enough. You all know the plan…just remember that no house, no street…nothing is more important than everyone getting home safe tonight."
"Excepting the bad guys, of course," Fred added, which earned a laugh from the ranks.
"Weapons checks, then move out," Brian commanded, dismissing his troops. While the witches and wizards retightened their wand holsters and fine-tuned their brooms, Fred renewed the area silencing charm that had been placed around a wall of sand bags propped up against a side fence. The MI 5 ¾ agents proceeded to silently test fire their Sterling automatic rifles and sub-machine guns, until each was convinced that their weapons would work within a magical field of at least modest strength. The agents then holstered their weapons and mounted brooms behind their respective magical partners (each much more at ease with the idea of flying on broomsticks than when they'd begun practicing two nights before). The teams then flew out to their assigned posts along streets evacuated some two hours earlier by a false threat of a broken gas main.
While Fred cleaned up the shooting range, Brian shared a few words with Sir Evan.
"Are you certain that you don't want some on-the-ground backup, Sir Evan?"
"Heavens, no, Brian," replied the elderly knight, who was wearing a World War II RAF uniform that still fit. He touched the sunburst badge pinned to his olive drab jumper. "I've got all the backup I need right here…and if that's not enough…" He reached to the side of his wheelchair and pulled his old service revolver out of its holster.
"Even broke out the silver bullets from my old kit," he said with a smile. "Never know if one of them's going to be a werewolf."
Brian laughed as he handed Sir Evan a bullhorn. "Good luck, then, and good hunting, Sir Evan," he said. He then turned and hopped onto Fred's broom. And with a wave, the last of the eight Phoenix Teams flew off to their appointed post.
2:50pm, Ascot Racecourse, Great Windsor Park
"Ladies and Gentleman, as part of the Grand Reopening festivities, the Royal Ascot is pleased to present the magical debut of the Queen's Wizard, Gryffindor, in `Lord of the Illusion.'"
Harry nervously waved to the crowd from the infield stage as Wally and Ron tried to reassure him through his earpiece.
"Blimey, Harry," Ron said, "you've got Dementors gathering behind you and you're nervous about facing a crowd of muggles?"
"Dementors, I've faced before," Harry quipped back.
"Well, you needn't worry about the television cameras, at least," Wally added, "They've all gone to news updates during the break."
"Right, so I've only got a few thousand to convince that I'm not using real magic, then. Brilliant."
"Quit whining and get on with it," chirped in Mad-Eye.
Responding to that cue, Harry tipped his hat to the crowd as the music that Wally had loaded into the Racecourse's sound system began to play. Wally then started in on their script.
"Don't let his youth mislead you folks," Wally announced, "Gryffindor was born with magic in his blood, and has made magic the center of his life ever since he received his first wand at age eleven."
Harry withdrew his wand from an inside coat pocket and sent a shower of red sparks out its end.
"Status, report, Ron," Harry said into his microphone. Upon realizing that his wand sparks had fried his transmitter, he activated his Order of Arthur badge and restated his request.
"The black cloud's right behind you," Ron replied from this grandstand vantage point. "It's stopped growing, but I can't make out individuals yet…look like they're holding back."
"Great," Harry replied, "They're going to make me go through my entire bag of tricks."
"It took no time for Gryffindor to master the spellwork of ordinary magicians," Wally continued to read.
Down on the stage, Harry took a white feather out of his pocket, pointed his wand at it, and caused it to float six inches up into the air. There was the smallest smattering of applause from the crowd. Harry then moved on, casting Orchideous to produce bouquets of flowers from the end of his wand. He then set his top hat upside down on a table, reached into it, and pulled out a wine glass. Putting his hat back onto his head, he cast a fountain of wine spell to fill this glass with merlot, which he then drank.
"Careful there Gryffindor," Wally announced, "We might have to check your ID if you want to drink your magic."
There was some nervous laughter from the crowd as Harry put his hands on his hip in an exaggerated pout.
"Merlin, I'm bombing," Harry muttered into his badge.
"You're doing fine, Harry," Hermione said in reassurance, as she shared some dark chocolate with the Queen. "It's the Dementors - they're making everyone ill and ill at ease…keep going."
Harry plowed on, reaching into his hat and pulling out twenty more wine glasses, which he placed side-by-side on the square table. When he ran out of room he cast an enlargement spell that lengthened the table, and recast the wine-making spell which sent spurts of fluid into the glasses. Harry then looked up towards the announcer and stuck out his tongue.
Despite its discomfort, the muggle crowd applauded a trick that they'd never seen before.
"Status, Ron?"
"Keep going, Harry," Ron replied, "I'll let you know when to duck."
"Moving right along," Wally continued, "Gryffindor then began working more complex magic, to the point where he's capable of conjuring a menagerie of magical beasts."
On that cue, the music grew much louder, and fog machines began billowing smoke along the track. Harry doffed his hat and touched the brim with his wand, firing off Weasley fireworks from inside. At first, brightly-colored muggle-style salvos were shot off, but that quickly changed as one of their more elaborate firework creations took form….a large silvery pegasus that launched out of his hat and began to fly around the track. The audience ooohed and aaahed.
Harry then turned and pointed his wand towards each of the professor-filled boxes. Fog began billowing out of each box, and on Ron's cue, each of the Hogwarts professors lit off more of Fred and George's magic. The pegasus was soon joined by firework versions of a tiger, unicorn, gazelle, elephant and flying pig, all in a romp around the smoke-filled infield.
The distraction provided by these fireworks allowed Harry to turn towards the Dementor cloud. As if recognizing an old friend, a few individual Dementors immediately took form and began flying straight towards him.
"Dementors on the attack!" Ron bellowed into his microphone.
Harry smiled to himself as he stretched out his arm and thought about how happy his life had been the past two weeks.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Ron cried out, "Patronuses away!"
The stag that sprung forth from Harry's wand was at least three times the size of any he'd produced before.
It leapt up and over the five boxes, as if to assist in Ron's appeal, then flew straight towards the leading Dementors with head down. The corporeal Patronus of each professor sprang from each of the boxes and followed hotly in pursuit. Ron and Luna joined Remus and Tonks on the Grandstand's rooftop, and four more Patronuses came down onto the field from above. One animal not joining in attack was an otter; Hermione stood alone guarding the Queen, and was too close to the muggle crowd to spell cast, unless it was an emergency.
Many muggles never had the chance to try to make sense of the display, their ill ease morphing into acute nausea once the Dementors dropped down fully within the grounds. Those lucky muggles with sunny dispositions and a slight resistance to the malaise thought they were seeing the best magic show of their lives, with the Patronuses blending in almost perfectly with the firework animals and Harry's presentation.
The first two Dementors took it on the chin (or whatever they had that passed for a chin); Harry's Patronus flat-out destroyed them, sending the black corpses down to the ground. The second wave was beaten back by the other Patronuses, with the silvery pack breaking off in pursuit of those Dementors who chose to scatter. The collective mass of evil that hadn't rushed down to attack Harry took note and fled.
Not in fear, but in satisfaction, knowing that after achieving their primary objective the Dark Lord would see them well-fed that night.
2:56pm, Ministry of Magic
Percy Weasley blew by the Head Auror's appointments secretary with all of the bluster and authority that he carried within his own mind. The Head Auror, whose medallion was still lukewarm in his pocket, was ready and waiting for the Special Assistant to the Minister of Magic.
"We've just been informed that somebody cast a Patronus spell in full view of thousands of muggles," he exclaimed breathlessly.
"I know," the Head Auror replied, "Whose department do you think it was that issued the alert?"
Percy huffed. "Obviously, this is a huge concern for the Minister…what are you doing about it?"
Head Auror Robards sat calmly and slowly counted to three before responding.
"Actually, there have been several different Patronus spells cast. We're fabricating portkeys right now that will send Patronus-qualified emergency response teams to the site."
"Whatever for?" Percy demanded. "Any wizard brazen enough to defy International Laws on Magical Secrecy doesn't deserve the Ministry's aid."
"Shouldn't we be more worried about the reason why a Patronus spell was cast?"
Percy looked at the Head Auror with unqualified contempt. "By order of the Ministry of Magic, you will immediately initiate `Operation Wipe-out'."
The Head Auror shook his head. "And send everyone and their secretary into harm's way, just so long as they can obliviate a muggle?"
"You will follow the Minister's order, Head Auror Robards, or we will find someone else who will."
The Auror bit the inside of his cheeks to stave off a smirk. "As you wish, Special Assistant to the Minister," he replied. He fished a finger-sized crystal out from a hidden pocket inside his robes and set it into one of a series of keyed holes that were inset on the top of his desk. He then touched his wand tip to the crystal key and uttered an authorization incantation. Loud klaxons immediately began to shout out across every floor of the Ministry of Magic.
"You'll be joining us, then, Special Assistant to the Minister?" the Head Auror asked with a smile.
"Certainly…I can obliviate as well as anyone," Percy spit back in reply. "And I'll be using the Minister's portkey, of course." And with that the young wizard turned on his heel and stormed out of the office.
Once Percy turned the corner the Head Auror retrieved a silver mirror from his desk drawer and tapped it with his wand. He smiled grimly when the face of his closest friend and classmate appeared.
"And so it begins, David," Robards told the Head of the Portkey Control Office. "Break out the special shoes."
+++
Magical Secrets Emergency…Magical Secrets Emergency…This is not a drill !…All Obliviate-Qualified Ministry staff and visitors report to the Atrium!
Magical Secrets Emergency…Magical Secrets Emergency…This is not a drill!…All Obliviate-Qualified Ministry staff and visitors report to the Atrium!
Magical Secrets Emergency…Magical Secrets Emergency…This is not a drill!…All Obliviate-Qualified Ministry staff and visitors report to the Atrium!
On every floor and in every Department of the Ministry, wizards and witches dropped what they were doing and obeyed the klaxon's commands. Their movements were calm and well rehearsed. Some would say (in trusted company) that they were too well rehearsed, and indicative of the misguided priorities of a Ministry more worried about keeping their world secret from muggles than keeping their world safe from Lord Voldemort.
A few witches and wizards who'd be happy to tell just about anyone that the Ministry's priorities were off were presently ignoring the klaxon's commands and gathering in Arthur Weasley's office. Many were, like Arthur, Ministry employees; the others had all found reason (or excuse) to visit the Ministry of Magic that afternoon. When the office became quite crowded and the stream of visitors trickled out, Arthur stood on his desk, cast a Silencio spell on his door, and counted heads. Accounting for those deployed elsewhere, Arthur concluded that the trustworthy balance of the membership of the disbanded Order of the Phoenix was present. He tried to give a reassuring smile to his wife, who was looking very nervous, and addressed the group.
"Well," he began, "it's good to see that I'm not the only one risking a hundred galleon fine by ignoring the alarm." That got the smattering of chuckles that he'd been looking for. "Look, if a much lighter purse is all we have to worry about today then I'll be a happy wizard indeed…but as you know, those alarm bells wouldn't be ringing if the first attacks hadn't already occurred."
"We should be out there protecting those kids," Molly lamented. "Heaven knows what Ron's Patronus spell is capable of producing these days."
"Molly, the kids have half of Hogwarts's staff out there helping them," Arthur replied. "And we've got a job to do ourselves here at the Ministry." He looked back at the rest of the group, "And to that end…good luck, and let's go."
Arthur stepped down from his desk, while his son countered a Gringott's-quality locking charm that had been placed on an office closet. The uniforms, weapons and special equipment that had been stored within this cache were quickly and efficiently distributed.
+++
The Order members were not amongst the crowd of hundreds of witches and wizards that were crammed into the central atrium of the Ministry of Magic when the Head Auror appeared with the Portkey Control Office Head and three of his lieutenants. Each of these men carried a box of muggle trainers, which they began to distribute amongst the crowd.
Failing to spot a suitable vantage point from which everyone could see him (and the fine set of office robes he was now wearing), Percy Weasley used a hovering charm to lift himself up to the top of the fountain statue, where he found stable footing atop the goblin's head.
"Attention," he called out, in a magically-aided voice, "Your attention please…I am Percy Weasley, Special Assistant to Minister Scrimgeour, I am Percy Weasley, Special Assistant to Minister Scrimgeour..."
The fact that a fair portion of the crowd was ignoring him led Percy to the false conclusion that his Sonorus spell wasn't working, so he zapped his throat again. "YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE!" he boomed out, at a volume that cause the Minister of Magic below to duck and wince at the same time. Satisfied, Percy continued.
"We have learned that magical spells have been cast within the presence of thousands of muggles at a place called…(he looked down at a hand-written note) Ascot. Scouting parties from Magical Law Enforcement have identified a large area enclosed area near this site to which we can safely and surreptitiously travel, and the Portkey Control Office is presently distributing portkeys for that location's coordinates. Once the portkeys have been activated and we have arrived at our location the plan is simple…. the Auror Department will establish a perimeter, and everyone else is to spread out and obliviate anyone not carrying a wand. Do whatever you must to keep any muggle from leaving the area before their memory can be erased….up to and including the use of stunning and binding hexes. Now then, grab onto a portkey…you all should know your shoe buddies by now…should be room enough for everyone…right, then…listen for the count."
Percy quickly dropped back down to the ground lest somebody shoulder him out from using the same portkey as Minister Scrimgeour.
Head Auror Robards levitated himself up a few feet off the ground, checking to see that everyone had gathered around a shoe (excepting, of course, those that he spotted partially hidden along the perimeter). With an almost imperceptible nod to the latter, he then dropped back down and gave a much more deliberate nod to his friend, whose wand was ready to activate the countdown on his mark. Robards then annoyed Percy by commanding the full attention of the crowd without magical aid.
"Here we go everyone," he resolutely stated to the hushed and attentive crowd. "Portkey activation in five, four, three, two, one!"
Two things happened as the portkeys were activated:
Dozens of witches and wizards purposely removed their hands from the portkey just before they were spirited away from the Ministry; and,
These witches and wizards were immediately shrouded both in darkness and mire, as Peruvian Instant Darkness balls, Portable Swamp disks and bags of belching powder were thrown down upon them from the Atrium's perimeter.
+++
The witches and wizards who did hold onto their shoes were transported to a large empty warehouse on the outskirts of Norwich, some two hundred and fifty kilometers northeast of Ascot Racecourse. Each portkey dropped its riders onto a square within a pitch-sized checkerboard pattern that someone had thoughtfully painted onto the concrete floor.
The Head Auror immediately amplified his voice. "Hold your positions, everyone…this is Head Auror Robards, nobody move from your landing points."
A buzz of confusion traveled across the room as the Head Auror, his friend and three lieutenants strode over to a table, where five brooms and a mobile phone were waiting for them. Robards grabbed the mobile and one of the brooms, then zoomed up above the crowd with the others. As the other four were quickly making head counts, the Head Auror addressed the crowd.
"I need everyone's full and complete attention," he loudly commanded. "At this very moment the Ministry of Magic is under attack. I repeat, the Ministry is under attack by Death Eaters, aided from within by their undercover operatives."
After a moment of stunned silence, a voice cried out.
"Well, what are we doing here, then?"
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named sent Dementors to attack and harass muggles gathered at Ascot," Robards quickly explained, "knowing full well that there'd be at least one wizard there who would respond by casting a Patronus spell. That, then, would cause the Ministry to overreact by activating Operation Wipe-Out, causing those who should be guarding the Ministry to leave it in the hands of those who just took their hands off of the same portkeys that sent the rest of us here."
As the crowd tried to process that backstory, and look around to see if anyone they knew had gone missing, the same person who had yelled out the previous question asked a logical follow-up.
"Well, what are we doing here, then?"
"We, sir, are quickly taking stock of how deeply our ranks have been compromised, and preparing ourselves for a fight. Having been tipped off on the Death Eater's scheme, I made arrangements for a small but capable force to stay behind and deal with the traitors…specially authorized portkeys will be activated in ninety seconds to send anyone who cares to join that fight back to the Ministry."
As the Head Auror finished issuing instructions, one his lieutenants flew over to him and passed along a piece of parchment with a hand-written head count. He blanched at the numbers…three-hundred seventy present, sixty-seven missing. They'd also compiled a list of Ministry staff who should have answered the klaxon's call but didn't; Robards counted nine on this list (including four from his own department) that he didn't recognize as members of the Order.
He took a second look, hoping to see one specific name. Not finding it, he asked, "Umbridge?"
His lieutenant pointed towards a corner of the room, where the toadish (but apparently loyal) witch was trying to stay as far away from the return trip portkeys as possible.
"Pity," he thought to himself, as he circled down to where his lieutenants were distributing supplies from cached boxes. Minister Scrimgeour and an animated Special Assistant to the Minister were waiting for him.
"Robards, on whose authority did you develop and authorize this plan?" Percy demanded.
"My own," the Head Auror replied.
"Didn't see fit to trust the Minister?" Percy bellowed with indignation.
"No offense, Special Assistant to the Minister," the Head Auror replied, "but we had to act fast on our information, and given how sensitive it was, there were obvious concerns over how just how far it should be spread."
"And you thought the Minister of Magic couldn't be trusted?"
"Obviously not," Robards replied, "but I apparently had good reason to worry about his staff." He handed the parchment to Scrimgeour, who quickly confirmed his own head count; almost a third of his people had failed to travel with him. He silently passed the list over to Percy.
"What will we find upon our return to the Atrium?" Scrimgeour asked the Head Auror.
"With luck, something similar to what Umbridge and her Aurors encountered during their visit to Surrey two weeks past," Robards replied.
"And what else don't I know about this attack?"
Before the Head Auror could reply, the mobile phone that he'd pocketed upon his arrival rang. Looking down at the Caller ID, he smiled.
"Excuse me, Minister," he said, "But this is an important call."
"Robards here…situation?….good….sixty-seven, at least…yes, I know…no, the toad came with us…no, should be fine, need you in reserve in case he improvises…what?…oh, well that makes sense…thanks, Clan Chief, you too…right."
Percy and Scrimgeour looked at the Head Auror with shock and confusion as he closed the flip-top on his mobile and returned it to a pocket.
"That was Potter, if you didn't guess," Robards said. "He has Ascot secure, and his cover for their magic use is holding. They're working with the muggle authorities to obliviate a handful of folks that still need it…he's lending us Mad-Eye Moody and Professor Flitwick…says that they aren't blending in as well as the others." His eyes sparkled with bemusement. "Imagine that…well, we've got twenty seconds before return…any questions?"
The Special Assistant to the Minister of Magic was about to say something before seeing his boss shake his head with resignation and silently turn towards one of the waiting portkeys. Biting his tongue (hard), Percy turned his tail and followed the Minister of Magic.
3:05pm, Little Wizarding, Surrey
"Break your wands in half and throw the pieces on the ground!"
The group of thirty Death Eaters broke out into raucous laughter. It was good to see that they would have at least one muggle to play with.
After mass apparating into the Park just outside of Little Wiz's protective wards, the Death Eater party had strolled down to Arabella Figg's house. They were disappointed to find nobody home within the empty house, as her possessions (and the contents of several other houses in the neighborhood) had been shrunken down and transported out of harm's way the night previous. Frustrated, the Death Eaters followed through on orders to destroy the only floo connection within the area, and torched the house with a round of incendiary spells.
They had then made their way towards Number Four, with strict orders to rape, pillage and destroy only after they'd taken Harry Potter prisoner. The Death Eaters therefore took pause when they came upon the muggle who dared address them from a wheelchair parked in the middle of the street.
The masked leader cast a Sonorous spell on himself and fired back, "Aren't you muggles taught to say please?"
Sir Evan raised his bullhorn back to his face. "Doesn't apply to Lord Moldyshorts and Death Idiots like yourselves," he replied. "This is your last warning…snap your wands, remove your masks, and put your hands on top of your head."
Ever mindful of what happens to those who go against the Dark Lord's orders, the lead Death Eater nevertheless decided that anyone brazen enough to make fun of their leader's name had to be dealt with immediately. He snarled and raised his wand towards Sir Evan's head.
"Avada Kedavra!"
But given that the killing curse requires a two word incantation, and that transport via Sir Evan's Order of Arthur badge required only one (which was uttered just as soon as he saw the wand pointed towards him), the lethal green beam found as its mark the back of an empty wheelchair.
"Where'd he go?" asked one Death Eater. "Sure you didn't Reducto him?" asked another. "Sure he was a muggle?" asked a third.
"Doesn't matter," replied the frustrated leader, as he pointed his wand up towards the sky. "Finally got enough of a reason to conjur the Dark Mark." The group then continued the short walk towards the Dursley's.
+++
Having witnessed the exchange from a rooftop perch a block away, Brian Willox decided it was time to break radio silence.
"Sir Harry, have you got Sir Evan?" Brian asked.
"I've got him," replied Ron, speaking on his mobile from an empty box near the top of the Royal Enclosure. "He nearly plopped down right onto my lap."
"How are things at Ascot?" Brian asked.
Having retrieved a fresh earpiece and microphone Harry broke into the conversation. "We just finished out here. All safe and accounted for, unless you're counting Dementors…what's your situation now, Brian?"
"We've got thirty-three, I repeat thirty-three Death Eaters about to turn the corner onto Privet Drive. They've set fire to Mrs. Figg's house, ignored our commands, tried the killing curse on Sir Evan, and just cast the Dark Mark," he replied, as he peered into his binoculars. "It's floating up over the corner of Privet Lane and Persimmon Path ...Phoenix Four, looks like you've got the safest approach to fuel that fire."
"Copy that, Phoenix One," came the reply, "we see it, and we're on it."
"Good," replied Brian. "Sir Harry, when might we expect the cavalry?"
"From what we've heard," Harry replied, "there won't be any help from the Ministry any time soon...they've got a fight on their hands…but we'll be there, just as soon as we can."
"Hold your position, Sir Harry…you do still have the Queen there don't you?"
"Well, yes, but…"
"But there's a backup plan in place that doesn't require you presence here, Sir Harry. Stay put and let us do our part."
"He's right Harry," Ron interjected. "Still don't know if they were planning a second wave here at the racecourse."
It took nearly all of Harry's powers to overcome his "saving people thing" and listen to logic.
"Fine," he finally said. "Just keep yourself and my future in-laws safe, would you Brian?"
Several different voices talked over each other on the radio, each trying to ask, "What was that, Harry?"
But Emily Granger, as the muggle member of Phoenix Team Four, was too busy to hear Harry's reply. She was presently undoing the covers on two leather pouches strapped to her belt while her wizard partner, Dean Thomas, got his broom up to a hover. After checking that the safety was turned off on her holstered Sterling, she gingerly swung a leg over the broom behind Dean and wrapped both arms securely around his waist. They then swooped down off of their rooftop perch and started to slowly and carefully make their way towards Mrs. Figg's.
Mrs. Granger and Dean Thomas had been assigned to monitor/guard the northeast street access to the warded zone. Like the other seven wizard-muggle pairs, they hadn't been tasked with trying to keep the Death Eaters from getting inside the warded zone. Instead, their mission was to keep the Death Eaters within the wards, blocking their escape until help arrived. Their secondary mission was to clamp down on any evidence of magic use observable from beyond the evacuation zone.
Dean carefully inched the broom forward between houses, dropping down into successive backyards after clearing each fence. When they reached Mrs. Figg's backyard, they activated the timers on three smoke bombs that Mrs. Granger had been carrying and quietly tossed them towards the rear of the house.
By the time each exploded with a small "pop" Phoenix Four was safely perched on a new rooftop with a good view of the fire. Dean then cast a blowing breeze charm towards the plumes, which pushed the columns of thick black smoke towards (and around) the Dark Mark, effectively screening it from distant muggle eyes. Their secondary mission completed, they flew back to their original position.
"Phoenix Four returned to roost," Mrs. Granger called out.
"Roger that," said Brian, as he reached into a sleeve pocket and withdrew an eight-inch long laser device. "Phoenix teams, bug out…I repeat, all phoenix teams, bug out….phoenix fire's on the way."
"Roger that," came the reply, as seven pairs of wizards and muggles packed their brooms for flight.
Brian looked over at Fred (his "Phoenix One" wizard buddy), who already had one hand on his broom.
"Coming?" Fred asked.
Brian shook his head as he turned the laser pointer on. "With all the smoke…now shoo…you'll be in charge at the rendezvous point."
Fred nodded and patted Brian's shoulder. "Keep your head low," he said, before jumping onto his broom. He then swooped down to the South, away from the Death Eaters and over the backyards of Little Wiz towards the prearranged meeting point.
Meanwhile, Brian looked down the street towards the pack of Death Eaters that was too arrogant (or too stupid) to spread out. He aimed his laser beam at a pointy hat within the crowd and voiced an authorization code into his transmitter.
One-hundred and thirty kilometers away, within an unmarked warehouse on a nearly abandoned airbase, an RAF pilot on loan to MI-5 ¾ toggled cross-hairs over a bright red spot and pushed a button on his computer joystick. He watched his LCD display with satisfaction as a five-hundred pound laser-guided bomb cleared the struts of a remote-controlled drone aircraft that had been circling Little Whinging and started it's fifty-thousand foot descent.
Following a long-standing tradition of aircraft bombers and artillery men, the bomb casing exterior had short, hand-written messages for the intended targets. One side said "Don't Mess with Muggles," while the other was a tad blunter:
"Hocus Poke This Up Your Arse!"
"Target acquired, feather's away," the remote pilot called out. "Smoke's pretty think, Phoenix One…we'll need constant sparkle."
"Roger that."
Predictions by MI-5 ¾ weapons laboratory engineers that strong magical fields would wreak havoc on the internal guidance systems of so-called "smart" munitions had been confirmed by Wally the week previous, when he had driven across Little Wiz's ward boundaries with a dud bomb in the boot of his Bentley. But as the hemispherical wards that protected Number Four extended up no more than 400 feet above the ground, 99% of the pathway of a bomb dropped from 50,000 feet was free of magical interference, and the ability to self-correct course was magically lost for only the last few seconds of descent.
Much more worrisome were the mundane factors that had, for the most part, always limited the idea of "window-point" accuracy for laser-guided weapons to the minds (and presentations) of defense company marketing departments. "Smart weapons" rely upon clear and constant "sight" of a laser beam's reflection to adjust tail rudder angles and make in-flight course corrections. Smoke commonly interferes with this sight, even when the forward observer who has identified the target maintains a continuous laser beam spot. And the ability of the forward observer to maintain a constant "sparkle" of laser light on a target is always far from certain; even at a terminal velocity of more than six hundred miles per hour, a bomb dropped from 50,000 feet takes almost a minute to reach ground. And a lot can happen during that minute.
The clear view that Brian initially enjoyed allowed him to target his laser beam device from a well-hidden vantage point. Fifteen seconds after the bomb was released, however, the group of Death Eaters turned the corner onto Privet Drive, where a tall tree blocked Brian's view. Brian scrambled along the rooftop hoping for a better angle, and discovered that the only clear sight line required him to stand straight up on the roof crest. Which is what he did, without thought of personal safety.
The Death Eaters had just gathered in front of Number Four when one of them spotted someone standing on a rooftop pointing a wand down towards them.
"Expelliarmus!"
The force of the spell blew Brian backwards, while his "wand" was flung violently out of his hand. Both were thrown to the ground.
The Death Eater who had cast the disarming spell used an "Accio" to take a closer look at the wand that had been raised against them. He then pushed the button located on one end of the metallic rod, thereby proving two separate facts:
Battery-powered laser pointers aren't damaged by Accio spells; and,
Curiosity can kill more than just cats.
The ten seconds of time during which the Death Eater played with his new toy was just enough for the bomb's sensors to reacquire its target and trim its tail in course correction. The bomb hit the ward boundary only twenty feet off course, and hit the ground a second later, thirty feet off-target into Number Five's front yard.
Given the specified accuracy and precision of the weapon, it was a direct hit.
Fred Weasley had ignored Brian's direct orders and, rather than land at the prearranged meeting point, had ducked behind a tree to a spot where he could keep an eye on his partner. Having witnessed Brian being thrown from the roof, Fred was flying at top speed towards him when the smart bomb detonated. The blast knocked him off Fred broom, his body landing fifteen feet away from Brian's.
George Weasley, who had seen Fred fly back to rescue Brian, was on route to rescue his brother when the bomb went off. Having been partially shielded from the bombblast by a house, he managed to stay on his broom (later claiming that the force was no greater than a typical bludger). After using words Mrs. Weasley would have conjured soap over, he quickly landed his broom in between Brian and his brother.
"Two down," he cried into his microphone, "Brian Willox and my fool brother down…I need medics now!"
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Wednesday, June 20, 4:00am
10 Downing Street, London
The muggle Prime Minister had learned the hard way to treat the assurances of newspaper publishers with a large dose of skepticism. He also considered the British public's faith in the electronic news media to be quite secondary to the trust that they put into their morning newspapers…which is why he had waited until the wee hours of the morning before addressing the small painting in the corner of his office.
"You there," he said to the small portraiture, "I want a meeting with the Ministry of Magic immediately."
The rather ugly looking man within the frame, his eyes closed tightly, ignored him.
"Wake up you little gnome," the Prime Minister said in raised voice. "Fetch me Scrimgeour or I'll bring the Queen's Royal Wizard around and have him give you a good hexing."
The portraiture opened one eye and grimaced.
"The muggle Prime Minister's `request' has been conveyed to the Office of the Ministry of Magic," the painting replied tersely.
"Good," the P.M. said with no small amount of authority. He then returned to his desk and waited, while reading the front page of the last of the major dailies to have been rushed to his office.
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The Scot's Daily Journal
Wednesday, June 20, 2006
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Salmon Spoils Royal Ascot Reopening
Windsor Great Park (RPI) - Thousands of spectators took ill during the opening day of racing at the Royal Ascot, forcing authorities to cancel the last four races of the day. Ministry health officials later attributed the mass outbreak of upset stomachs, ill ease and general despondency to a massive case of food poisoning.
"It was the salmon mousse," said Ministry Health Department spokesperson T. Gilliam.
More than six hundred individuals were taken to area hospitals, with one hundred thirty admitted for overnight observation. The Queen and members of the Royal Family in attendance were reportedly not among the victims. The symptoms surfaced immediately after the third race, and put a damper on a spectacular display of magic performed during the debut of "Gryffindor," a highly talented teen-aged illusionist who, according to Palace insiders, recently received a royal appointment as the "Queen's Wizard."
see "Queen's Wizard," page 8
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Gas Main Explosion Rocks North Surrey Neighborhood
Little Whinging, Surrey (RPI) - Two men were seriously injured and several homes destroyed when a ruptured gas main exploded Tuesday in the suburban London community of Little Whinging. Local officials, noting that the neighborhood had been evacuated some two hours previous when the leak was first detected, expressed relief that the injury toll wasn't higher. More than two hundred residents spent the night in shelters while gas company workers and emergency responders worked to determine the extent of the pipeline breach and evaluate the structural safety of lesser-damaged residences. The underlying cause of the rupture is still under investigation.
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Before the P.M. had time to turn the page to learn more about Sir Harry the small portrait raised its tinny voice.
"The Office of the Ministry of Magic regrets that its representative is not able to consult with you at this time," it said.
The Prime Minister looked up at the portrait. He'd been informed that the Ministry of Magic had been secured hours ago, so they couldn't blame this avoidance on the fighting.
"Minister Scrimgeour sends his regrets?" he asked in clarification.
After a few seconds silence, the painting responded. "The Office of the Ministry of Magic regrets that its representative is not able to consult with you at this time."
"Wonder if he's been sacked," the P.M. thought to himself. He stood and headed over to his leather-bound office couch, where he sat and addressed the portrait a final time. "Well, whomever the Ministry's representative turns out to be knows where to find me."
Looking down at his watch, the P.M. decided it was time to end a very long day by stretching out for a very short kip. What magic lay beyond the sun's rise was something he could certainly wait to see.
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A/N: The plural form of "patronus" should be patroni, but I've stayed with what's used in canon (despite my nom de plume)
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