Muggle Summer, Wizard's Fall
Author's Note: Thanks for grenoille and clell for comments on earlier drafts of this chapter. And apologies to the Bard…after lifting from Python, I decided to go high-brow with my borrowing.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.
Chapter 66: Project Arcanum
Friday, July 13, 6:00 am, MI-5 Headquarters, Thames Bank, London
As Ron's surgery passed the one-third point of what would ultimately be a ten-hour procedure, Hermione Granger let a yawn escape from underneath her surgical mask.
The vibration of her Art Club badge did much to reestablish her clarity of mind.
She moved quickly to a corner of the operating theater, touch-activated the badge which was hidden underneath her surgical scrubs, and engaged in a brief, whispered conversation.
"Hermione?"
"Go ahead, Harry,"
"The Queen requires our presence."
"When?"
"Right now."
The young witch looked down at her attire.
"Do we have time to change?"
"Steve said as soon as practicable, and given the meeting location, I doubt that formal attire is necessary."
"Is everything okay up in Balmoral, Harry?"
"As far as I know," he replied. "I thumbed out a quick after-action report on my BlackBerry that she was cc'ed on…perhaps she has questions."
"She was awake at this hour?"
"Apparently so…Steve's the anchor point…do you want me to wait?"
"No, go ahead…I need to secure Ron's kit before any of the magical devices walk off, or inadvertently affect the electronics."
"Good idea," Harry replied. "I'll let the Queen know."
Once the Queen's Wizard signed off, Hermione gave her father a badge call. She then approached the Hogwarts Matron and pulled her away from the table.
"I've got to go out for a while," Hermione whispered.
"Is it something that would warrant my return to the Infirmary?" Poppy asked.
The younger witch shook her head. "Harry and I have been summoned to Balmoral. My dad is going to scrub in and take my place here."
Poppy looked back towards the operating table, and then shook her head. "No need for that…things appear to be going well here."
Hermione bit her lip. "I'm sorry, Madame Pomfrey, but I'm afraid that there is a need. He'll be able to contact us using his badge, and then there's the fact that all visitors to Thames Bank need an escort while they're here."
The Hogwarts Matron frowned. "This is more than just a medical facility, then…isn't it?"
"Yes."
"And you are far more than just a visitor here, aren't you?"
Hermione nodded.
Madame Pomfrey snorted. She has suspected as much from the deference that the muggle medical team and gun-carrying guards had shown the young witch.
"As if the wizarding world's problems are enough…now you have responsibilities in the muggle world as well?"
A gloved and scrubbed Roger Granger entered the operating room before Hermione could launch into a lengthy response. So instead she shrugged her shoulders, smiled, and said her good-byes.
Nurse-provided directions led Hermione into a post-op ward, where Ron's bloody clothing and combat gear had been placed on a side table. As she sorted out what needed to be secured and what could be safely left behind, she came across an Art Club badge that was still pinned to a blood-stained black wool jumper.
An idle thought crossed her mind…that if there had been more than twelve badges, then Poppy could have been given one, and wouldn't have needed her father to convey messages from within the operating room. This thought was immediately linked to a concern that had been nagging Hermione since her visit to Carlisle Castle the day before. The thought and concern were then tied together by a guess…a guess that Ron wouldn't be in a position to use his Art Club badge for at least the next day or two.
The young witch nodded to herself, and offered a silent apology to Ron as she unpinned the badge from his jumper and brought it with her to Balmoral.
oo00OO00oo
Hermione's arrival was greeted by more than a few howls.
"Oh, hush," admonished the Queen, as she gathered one of her precious corgis into her arms.
Hermione's eyes followed the Queen's other canine companions as they scurried underneath a bed.
The Queen's bed.
In the Queen's bedchambers.
"Sorry for the welcome, Ambassador Granger," the Queen said with a smile. "They are still getting used to all of this popping in and out."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Hermione replied, as she reflexively grabbed the ends of her hospital scrub shirt and curtsied in front of the monarch.
The fact that the Queen had called her "Ambassador Granger" did not register in her mind. Not much of anything could have registered in a mind that had now zoned in on the fact that the Queen was presently sitting on an unmade bed wearing an RAF officer's jacket over top a dressing gown and slippers.
"Sorry for my delay, Your Majesty," she added, trying to keep her facial expressions neutral even as she spied Harry's rosy cheeks from the corner of her eye.
"No worries, Ambassador," the Queen replied. "Lord Gryffindor was just recounting the mission for us."
"Yes, Ma'am," Hermione nodded. She then noted that the "us" wasn't a plural form of the "Royal We"; Steve, Parvati Patil, and one of the Queen's muggle handmaidens were also in the room.
"How is Sir Ronald?" the Queen asked, noticing the spare Art Club badge in Hermione's hand.
"Still in surgery, Ma'am," the young witch replied. "It will likely be six or seven more hours before they're done."
"Then there is some other reason for you to have his Order of Arthur badge?"
Hermione was caught off guard by the question, and quickly looked down at the emblem.
"Erm, no, Ma'am, I mean...yes, this is Ron's badge, but he isn't using it right now, and I had an idea…"
Parvati couldn't keep her snark in check.
"Hermione having an idea," she said with a snort. "What a surprise."
The bushy-haired witch gave the witch-in-waiting a dirty look, then turned back to the Queen.
"Begging you pardon, Ma'am, but…we haven't yet figured out how to ensure your safety at Carlisle, and…well, isn't the sovereign always a member of their royal orders?"
The Queen, having at least twice as much sleep as anyone else in the room, was the first to catch on. A smile formed on her face as she considered the possibilities.
"We would we pleased to test your hypothesis, Ambassador Granger."
"Hermione?" Harry asked in a low voice, as his Consort offered up Ron's badge to the Queen.
"We know that muggles can use these badges, Harry," she replied. "If Her Majesty is a member of the Order of Arthur by default, then…."
Harry's eyes lit up as he finally understood her logic. He then turned and watched as the Queen set her corgi onto the ground, then pinned the spare Art Club badge onto the lapel of her unbuttoned wool jacket.
"It's 'Clarence', is it not?" The Queen asked.
The fact that the badge lit up in response to the monarch's use of the activation phrase was all the confirmation that was needed.
"How delightful!" stated the Queen. She pressed against one of the badge's rays and "called" Harry. His Art Club badge vibrated and lit up in response.
"So if she can call, then maybe she could jump away from danger?" Harry asked.
"Perhaps we should find out, and give Sir Evan an early morning visit?" the Queen replied.
Harry couldn't help but snort at the thought of the Queen jumping into Sir Evan's Round Tower magical tent wearing her dressing gown and slippers.
The Queen smiled. "Yes, we suppose you are correct, Gryffindor…wouldn't want to stop Sir Evan's heart from the shock." She then walked to the corner of the room, 'called' Steve, and successfully badge-jumped to the other side of the room.
The monarch looked quite pleased with herself, and badge-jumped again, this time to Hermione's side.
Her corgis were not amused, though, and howled after each trip.
"Excellent," the Queen declared. "Now Agent Wall can get some much needed rest."
"Ma'am?" Steve asked.
"There is less of a need for a rallying point to be always by our side if we are able to instantly rally ourselves to a different location, correct?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Steve said (a bit reluctantly).
"Excellent, then you are dismissed, Agent Wall…go to sleep."
"Yes, Ma'am," Steve said, before leaving the room.
The Queen then turned back to Hermione.
"We presume that Sir Ronald will not have need of this badge for at least a few hours?"
"No, Ma'am," Hermione replied.
The Queen raised an eyebrow as she turned her focus towards the young witch's attire. "Were you assisting in the surgery, Ambassador?"
"Erm, no Ma'am…Madame Pomfrey, our school Nurse, is there."
"Ah, yes," replied the Queen. "We understand that you brought more than one visitor to Thames Bank this morning."
Harry jumped into the conversation. "Yes, Ma'am, we brought Ron's father in…not just to be there for the surgery, but….we thought he was owed an explanation as to how his son was injured and what he's been doing for us.
"Sir Ronald's father…he works in the Magical Ministry, correct?"
"Yes, Ma'am, but he took a Wizard's Oath not to reveal what I said or what he saw there, so no worries on that point."
"And what is your opinion of his loyalties?"
"Couldn't be any prouder of his son, Ma'am," Harry replied. "His son Ron, that is."
"We understand your point…there is a prodigal son, yes?"
Harry didn't catch the Queen's meaning, but Hermione did.
"Yes, Ma'am…Ron's brother Percy is, well…a Ministry functionaire who is presently estranged from the family."
The Queen nodded. "Would you recommend, then, that Sir Ronald's father be vetted for a position on the Magnum Concilium?"
Harry and Hermione looked at each other and held a silent conversation. It was Harry that then turned back and said, "Yes, Ma'am, Head Auror Robards and he are about the only ones in the Ministry's upper management that we know well enough to truly trust."
"Excellent," the Queen replied. "We will have the process begun, then."
"Would you like us to ask Mr. Weasley, Ma'am?" Harry asked.
The Queen looked at Harry and Hermione's tired faces and shook her head.
"There are others to whom that task can be delegated," the Queen replied. "Which brings us to other issues…Gryffindor, for how many hours have you gone without sleep?"
Harry caught his breath, and replied cautiously. "Not that many, Ma'am."
"We would be pleased with more specificity."
Harry looked at his watch. "A little over twenty-four, Ma'am."
"And it the same for you Ambassador Granger?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
The Queen sighed. "We wish that these conditions be remedied forthwith."
"Ma'am?"
"You both need some sleep," the Queen replied candidly. "We need both of you at your best tomorrow at Carlisle."
Harry and Hermione looked at each other.
"Still a bit early for using Sir Evan at the Round Tower," Harry thought out loud.
"And the Love….I mean, our tent is presently occupied," Hermione added. She then looked towards the attending witch-in-waiting, and added, "Thanks, but no thanks, Parvati."
The Queen chuckled to herself.
"We are concerned that you both are pushing yourselves too hard," she said. "It is rather tight here at Balmoral…we just dismissed Agent Wall to a cot in our dressing room. Were there a way to ensure….ah-ha!" The almost smug-looking monarch then called out, "Private Dobby?"
A kilt-wearing house elf popped into the room and bowed so low to the Queen that his nose touched the carpeting.
"Yes, Major Harry Potter Sir's Queenie, Ma'am?"
Harry choked on some spittle. Hermione drew pale. The Queen just smiled to herself and chuckled as she patted the top of her bed.
"Private Dobby, we would be pleased were you to change the linens and dress this bed for Major Potter's and Ambassador Granger's use."
Harry choked on some more spittle and Hermione drew paler, causing the Queen's grin to grow.
"Private Dobby be doing that right away!" the house elf said brightly.
After a few seconds time and a blur of activity, the large four-poster bed was made up with Potter-Plaid linens and a crimson duvet that bore the Clan Potter crest.
"Your Majesty," Hermione objected, "We are honored but…."
"And we, Ambassador Granger, would be pleased to have our wishes met," The Queen replied. She then turned to Dobby.
"Would you please ensure that these two actually use this opportunity to rest?"
"Dobby can do that!" he said with a vigorous headshake. He then turned to Harry and Hermione and used some house elf magic to confiscate their BlackBerrys.
"But…"
"We have been frustrated with our ability to be useful down here," The Queen said with a smile. "Now that we have new means of shared communication we will be pleased to determine personally if there is a situation serious enough to warrant your awakening."
"Yes, Ma'am," Harry said reluctantly.
Parvati Patil was grinning from ear to ear as she followed the Queen and her muggle hand maiden out the door into the adjacent dressing room.
"Remember you two…the royal command was to sleep!"
"Yes, Parvati," Hermione chimed in reply. She then turned to Harry and gave him a tired, but still distinctive, "Can you believe this?" look.
Harry shrugged his shoulders and yawned as he pulled down the duvet.
"I think that the ICW delegation can find its way back to the Ministry on its own, don't you?"
"Yes, but…eek!" Hermione chirped, as she was lifted up into the air and levitated over the bed.
"Private Dobby does be promising Major Potter's Queenie," the house-elf said seriously. "Major Potter, Sir and Mistress Consort does be needing to sleep."
"Yes, Dobby," Hermione sighed, as she was gently dropped down onto the mattress. She reached for the edge of the duvet, only to be taken by surprise once more as all of her outer clothing disappeared.
"Dobby!" she hissed, now dressed only in a Potter-plaid thong. "What are you doing?"
"Dobby be helping," the house-elf replied. Nodding towards their matching Potter-plaid thongs, he asked, "This not be how the Great Harry Potter Sir and Harry Potter's Sir's Mistress Consort be dressing for bed?"
Hermione looked down the length of her body, then over towards Harry's. "Erm…Dobby, you can keep the BlackBerrys for now, but badge and weaponry?"
The house-elf nodded, and a moment later Hermione found her MI-5 badge hanging from a necklace, her Art Club badge fixed to bare skin above her right breast, and her "flat-panel" charmed handgun holster fixed above her left. A knife was strapped against the outside of her right leg, while her wand and wrist holster were now tied onto her left forearm.
Noticing that Harry had been similarly equipped (with the addition of his charmed sword hilt pasted onto the back of his neck), she shook her head, smiled, and said, "Thank you Dobby, we'll take it from here…okay?"
Dobby gave a deep bow, then popped away.
The snarky comment forming on the tip of her tongue was lost when Hermione turned towards her near-naked boyfriend and was captured by the intense focus of his green eyes.
"Harry?"
"I was so afraid, Hermione," he whispered. "I thought I had lost you."
"Oh, Harry," she said sympathetically, as she fell into his arms. "I love you."
"I love you to," he replied, as his lips searched for hers.
A few minutes after Hermione's lips were found, Harry's hands found the soft curve of her thigh. Her eyes lit up with surprise, and she rolled off of his body with a giggle.
"Oh, Harry, we…we can't!"
"We can't what, Hermione?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows.
"But…but this is the Queen's bed!"
Harry shrugged. "I always thought that our first 'first time' would be memorable, but talk about memorable locations!"
"You….Harry Potter, you are incorrigible!"
"And you, Hermione Granger, are very…"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence!" Hermione warned.
"Even if it's true?"
"Especially if it is true!"
The banter was interrupted by a frowning house-elf that popped in between them.
"Does Major Potter and Mistress Consort be needing separate beds to be following Major Potter's Queenie's orders?" he asked.
Harry was very close to hexing his house-elf friend before he thought better of it.
"No, Dobby…we were just about to close our eyes."
"Does Dobby need to be staying in bed between Harry Potter Sir and Mistress 'Mione?"
"No, we'll be good," Hermione said with a laugh. She kissed Harry on the tip of his nose, then rolled onto her side facing away from him. "Good night you two."
Dobby turned towards Harry.
"You win, Dobby," the Queen's Wizard said with a resigned grin on his face. Once he rolled onto his side facing away from Hermione, Dobby the house-elf nodded his head with approval, and popped away.
8:28 am, The Ministry of Magic
The five-person ICW Delegation began to pop out of the Ministry of Magic's inbound floos exactly forty-eight hours, two minutes and thirty seconds after Percy Weasley had invoked the two-day waiting period for their investigation (it would have been closer to forty-eight hours on the dot, had the floo network not been intentionally slowed down to more closely monitor traffic). Percy was again there to "greet" the Internationals, looking far less harried and surprised then during their first encounter.
"Good morning, good morning to you all," he said with false cheer, as he handed each member of the delegation an oversized identification badge attached to a lanyard necklace. When the Emperor's Wizard questioned the need for nametags that read "ICW" in six-inch tall letters, Percy insisted that it was only done to ensure that every Ministry worker would know to provide them with any requested assistance.
Telling the five-member delegation that a room had been prepared for their use during their investigation, Percy led them past the wand check and into a waiting elevator that whisked them directly up to the first level. Thorson, the Norwegian King's Wizard, didn't much care for the fact that this space was adjacent to the Minister of Magic's office, but Percy explained that this was only so that they'd be that much closer to his office, and that he would be at their disposal during their review.
Silencing and eavesdrop detection charms were cast just as soon as Percy left the room. This effort was focused enough to miss the fact that the Special Assistant to the Minister was casting charms of his own other side of the doorway.
The sound barrier charm that Percy cast was strong enough (by design) for the international delegation to miss the alarm that blared out ten minutes later, announcing that the Ministry of Magic was under attack.
8:45 am, Azkaban Island
The overworked, underpaid and always inebriated warden of Azkaban was sleeping off his latest hangover on the office couch when the magical painting that hung behind his desk roared to life.
"Open the gates!" shouted the portrait of a splendidly dressed nobleman. "Open the gates! 'Tis Gloucester that calls!"
When this announcement went unanswered, the portrait muttered, "Where be these wardens that they not wait here?"
After a few more calls, the portrait finally got a growling response from a just-wakened wizard.
"What are you on about?"
"Mark me!" bellowed the painting, after spotting the horizontal source of this response. "And haste ye to hear it, that ye, with wings as swift as meditation or the thoughts of love, may sweep to thy Ministry's defense!"
The noisome wizard scowled. "Whazz'at…meditation…love?" With a shake of his head he rolled over to face the wall and added, "Bugger off!"
"Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms?" lamented the portrait. "Good God! These wizards should such stomachs bear!"
Seeing no other recourse, the elegantly dressed nobleman unrolled a scroll and read crass words that were strange to his oil paint ears, straight from script.
"Initiate Prison Lockdown. Ministry Defense Plan Alpha-One-Bravo."
The clearly spoken orders from the Minister's office caused the warden to immediately sober up. He jumped to his feet, winced at the pain this motion caused within his head, and asked the portrait to repeat what was said. When the magical portrait complied, the warden swore loudly, then immediately drew his wand and turned towards the five glowing crystals were set along the side of his desktop.
A unique sequence of five wand tip touches to these crystals, when combined with an authorization incantation, set klaxons ringing throughout the prison. The warden then touched the crystals in a different order, and said a second incantation that caused the frame portrait of the Duke of Gloucester to swing away from the wall.
The warden ducked under the swinging frame, then stood and removed emergency portkeys from a hidden cache. The wizard then ran out to the mist-shrouded prison yard, where he was soon met by the prison's full complement of guards and other personnel. The portkeys were distributed, authorization codes were called out, and the island left to prisoners who were all locked within their cells.
Thirty seconds later, automated "lock-down" wards burst up from the prison's walls and arched into a shimmering, menacing hemispherical dome.
Barely a minute after Azkaban was abandoned by its guardians, stunned and bound bodies began to appear onto its bare-dirt grounds.
oo00OO00oo
The portkeys hidden within the Ministry-provided nametags caught the ICW delegation by surprise.
Four of the five Internationals stepped out of the cascade of flashing lights and onto the grounds of Azkaban with wands drawn. Those wands were quickly dropped when painful discharges of electrical energy shot down from the thick fog and struck their wand-bearing hands.
"Damn that stung!" shouted the King's Wizard, as crouched low to the ground and tried to shake out the pain. He looked out into the thick mist that enveloped the group and asked, "Where did that spell fire come from?"
"Given the poor sightlines, and that the lightning struck not the tallest of us, but those who were holding wands, I'd say it was a passive ward boundary," opined his Japanese colleague.
"So where are we, then?" asked the Swedish witch.
"A convenient distance away from the Ministry of Magic, no doubt," replied the Emperor's Wizard. He then turned towards his Maori friend, who was already working on the visibility problem using wandless magic.
As the dense fog began to lift, a half-dozen prone bodies came into view, scattered within the walled grounds. Taking in the sight of guard towers and the smell of fresh sea air, the King's Wizard announced, "They've sent us to their Azkaban Prison!"
"It appears so," replied the Japanese wizard, as he strode towards the nearest immobilized body. Reaching down and feeling a pulse of the man dressed in blue Auror robes, he added, "Though I suspect that these people would know with more certainty."
Noting that an electrical penalty had not been applied to the Maori sorcerer's wandless cloud communing, the Emperor's wizard crouched down next to the nearest body and cast a wandless variation of Finite Incantatum.
"What's going…where am…who are…oh, Merlin, they didn't?" the revived wizard mumbled.
"It appears that somebody most certainly did," replied Matsuhisa. Grabbing the hand that was reaching for a wand, the Shinto priest added, "That would be unadvisable, sir, given the apparent warding of our location."
The downed wizard stared at the Japanese spell caster for a moment, then patted the portion of his sleeve that covered his holster.
"The wand has gone missing, anyway," he observed. Glancing furtively at his surroundings, the wizard then reached for the badge that used to be pinned to his chest.
"Damn," he swore.
"Missing something other than your wand?" Matsuhisa asked.
Head Auror Robards nodded and sighed.
"My badge."
oo00OO00oo
9:15 am, Ministry of Magic
As the smoke cleared from a diversionary false alarm that was set up to get most of the MoM staff out of the Ministry, the mercenary Dutch Charms Master slumped down onto a chair in front of the Minister of Magic's desk.
"One down, one to go," he murmured, as he pulled a stamina potion from his robe pocket.
"Well, time is wasting away, Vanderwood," Scrimgeour snarled. "We didn't pay you to sit on the job."
The young Dutch wizard rolled his eyes.
"Just need to catch my breath," he replied. "That was by far the easier of the two."
"So it worked, then?"
The dreadlocked wizard looked around Scrimgeour's office. Not seeing anyone else about, he said, "Guess you'll have to ask me to be sure."
"Right, then…where is the British Ministry of Magic located?"
The Dutchman furrowed his eyebrows.
"I have no idea."
"Sure you're not just saying that to cover your arse?"
The young wizard rolled his eyes and held his wand tip towards his heart.
"I swear on my magic that I have no idea where the British Ministry of Magic is located," he stated, quickly adding, "Aside from a guess that it is most likely someplace within Britain."
The Charms Master paused for a few moments, then cast a Lumos spell as confirmatory proof.
"Right then," he declared. "As soon as you're done shipping folks out of the Ministry and have closed down the floo network, I can move on."
The Minister of Magic nodded, and activated communication mirrors that linked him with Umbridge and Percy Weasley. Once they gave an "all clear," Peter Vanderwood cracked his fingers, rolled his neck muscles, and stared intently at Rufus.
After thirty seconds of incredibly focused thought, the young wizard raised his wand towards the Minister of Magic's chest and whispered, "Fidelius."
Rufus braced himself for the same kind of chest-pounding that the last spell had delivered, and watched nervously as long wisps of magical memory were drawn out from the air and into the Dutchman's wand. The flow of inbound magic quickly grew…from two or three per second, then ten or twelve, then to a continuous attack of energy from all directions. The young wizard's eyes bulged out and his wand arm began to tremble, but he kept his aim true…even as his wand began to overheat and burn his hand.
As this rush of magic grew buffeted him with a loud roar, Scrimgeour tried to cover his ears…only to find his body immobilized by both the spell's connection and the onslaught of gathered knowledge that was racing by his sides. He winced at the pain, and imagined that his ears were no bleeding just like the Dutchman's.
But still the Charms Master's focus stayed true, and his wand held firm.
The wave of magic drawn into the office began to channel itself into a whirling vortex of energy, as if a tub of bath water were draining into Vanderwood's grip. Scrimgeour was now shouting an open-mouth cry that couldn't be heard above the roar, until the tornado of magic collapsed down on itself, and disappeared into the butt end of the Charms Master's wand. And with a snap, all of that magical energy…all of the knowledge that the Fidelius spell had stolen from the world…was discharged out the front end of spell caster's wand and square onto the Minister of Magic's chest.
The impact sent both wizards spiraling backwards, and they fell to the ground unconscious.
oo00OO00oo
When the Minister of Magic was later revived by Percy Weasley, his ears rang so loudly with pain that he couldn't hear the Special Assistant's words. Scrimgeour batted away Percy's wand, realizing that the younger wizard was going to attempt to heal his burst eardrums, and struggled to his feet. Stepping over the still unconscious body of the Dutch wizard, the Minister of Magic lurched towards a locked cabinet of healing potions that had been gathered just for this potential outcome.
"Minister, can you hear me now?" asked Percy, after two different potions had been downed.
Rufus snorted as he looked around his bruised and battered office, and nodded.
"Weasley…how….how did you get to the Ministry this morning?" he asked with a painful wheeze.
"Well I…I….I can't recall!" Percy said with wonder.
Scrimgeour's lips formed a thin smile. "That is something worth hearing, then."
It was only fifteen minutes later, and with no small amount of reluctance, that the newly-formed secret keeper passed two slips of paper to his two Special Assistants.
The first read, "The Ministry of Magic is located beneath Central London."
The second stated, "The Ministry of Magic can be reached by magical methods of transportation."
9:30 am, Azkaban Island, North Sea
Introductions made after all six stunned high-level Ministry personnel had been wandlessly revived by the ICW delegation established that Azkaban Island was presently a "stooge-free" zone. Amongst the handful of now-wandless wizards who had been ambushed, stunned and rendered from the Ministry to Azkaban were Gawain Robard's two most loyal lieutenants, his buddy from the Portkey Office, and Hit Wizards Numbers 1 and 2. Robards and the other two Aurors had been meeting with MLE Director Oswald, while the two Hit Wizards and Portkey Office head had been called into a separate meeting by Matilda Hopkirk to review Hit Wizard team deployment procedures.
A more complete picture of who was considered loyal to the Minister's Office (and who was not) came when a third wave of witches and wizards arrived via three separate portkeys. Within this group of twenty were several non-Slytherin student interns, including Peanut Butter Brigade members Lisa Turpin, Lavender Brown, and Ernie Macmillan. The balance were either parents of non-Slytherin students (like Hannah Abbott's mum), or Ministry workers who had been critical of the Minister's office.
These witches and wizards had responded to an general alarm and gathered in the Atrium, where they were informed that the Ministry of Magic had come under attack by muggle nerve gas. As the space began to fill with foul-smelling smoke, they were instructed to form into pre-assigned groups and take hold of distributed emergency portkeys.
The group assignments had struck some of these witches and wizards as suspicious, as they were disproportionately Potter-friendly. But fears that this was some type of ruse, or that they'd be sent into harm's way had been dampened, by the fact that their groups also included Slytherin students and older pure-blooded bigots. These Ministry loyalists, however, had all taken their hands off of the portkeys just before they sent the others to Azkaban (instead of to Hogsmeade, as they'd been told).
It didn't take long for the entire group of witches and wizards to find commonality, once the members of the ICW delegation introduced themselves, and explained why they had been visiting the Ministry. The Minister's Office had been involved, for reasons that became clear once they began to brainstorm on not just how they'd get off of the Island, but how they might return to the Ministry.
A quick check of the prison complex confirmed what had already been suspected…the guards had abandoned the island to its inmates, thinking that they were needed to thwart and imaginary attack on the Ministry. The lockdown wards that kept prisoners within their jail cells also prevented the new arrivals from using their wands.
That Azkaban would incarcerate witches and wizards who could use wandless magic (beyond apparition spells) was something that had not been anticipated during ward construction. Exploiting this gap, however, still required a good deal of collective thought. The Maori and Japanese wizards employed a very different style of magic…there was, for example, no wandless version of the Portus spell in their repertoires. They did have a type of messenger spell on hand, but these were caught up by passive outer wards that intercepted all types of magical communication.
All types of direct magical communication that was known to the Ministry, that is…as was demonstrated when Lisa Turpin proposed a clever use for Rongo's cloud whispering skills.
9:45 am, Orkney and Shetland Desk, Met Office, FitzRoy Road, Exeter
The young Muggle meteorologist whose Met Office duties covered weather advisories for the Orkney and Shetland Islands had just returned to his desk with a fresh cup of tea when he saw something rather odd.
He stood up onto his tiptoes so that he could peer into the office cube next to his.
"Oi, Jerry…come take a look at this!"
"What's that…another naughty web site that slipped under the Department's filters?"
"No, nothing like that…just take a look."
The weatherman's cube-buddy shook his head, and reluctantly crab-walked his office chair out into the aisle and into the next work station. He frowned when all he spied on his mate's computer screen was a satellite image.
"What's caught your fancy this time?" he asked. "More clouds shaped like Posh Spice?"
The weatherman waved dismissively. "No this is for real…you know that island past Fair Isle that's always covered in clouds?"
"Yeah, what of it?"
The weatherman pointed to a spot on his huge display.
"What do you think this means?"
The Muggle Weatherman leaned closer to the display, then frowned.
"So they've changed into something resembling the letter W…is that all?"
"No…I mean yes…when have you ever seen clouds form up that way?"
"Okay, so it's not something you see every day…what's with all of the excitement?"
"Know how the boss is moaning over the budget cuts all the time?"
"Yeah."
"Know how he says the public has gotten complacent, and taken weather reports for granted?"
"Where you going with this?"
"Publicity, my boy…publicity. We send pictures of this out to the press, and given them some ideas on what it might mean. They put it on the news, attribute it to us and our department, and we're famous."
"More likely infamous," his mate replied. "What possible meaning could a W-shaped cloud have?"
"Hmmm…let's see," the weatherman said. "It's Friday the 13th, which is always an unlucky day….the W could stand for 'warning,' or maybe…..win. Hey, that's it!"
"What?"
"Not 'what,' you oaf…the W stands for 'win.' All we need know is to check the sports pages and figure out who is playing, and suggest that it's a sign that one team or the other is going to win today."
"Sure that this isn't an excuse to web surf on company time?"
"No, no…this is all business-related. You take football and cricket, while I peruse the Racing Post."
The weatherman snorted at the suggestion, but the clear skies currently over the Highlands would give him enough time to follow this lark for a bit.
oo00OO00oo
10:15 am, The Bunker, Balmoral Castle
When a lumbering, dead-to-the-world Steve failed to respond to either mobile or badge-call, Wally gave the Queen her first opportunity to anchor a badge jump.
"Begging your pardon, Your Majesty," he said, after gathering his bearings (they were in a small sitting room with the Queen's muggle handmaiden and Padma Patil, who had taken over for her sister). "We've got some problems in the wizarding world."
The Queen was not amused by Wally's elaboration…not by the method of delivery, mind you…it was information itself that was so disturbing. She glanced at a wall clock and sighed.
"It is a sad state of the Realm when we can go no longer than four hour's time without need of Gryffindor and Ambassador Granger's services."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Wally replied. "Shall I wake them, then?"
"No, no, we shall do that necessary task," the Queen replied, as she activated her borrowed Art Club badge.
Harry Potter was sleeping far more lightly than Steve was, and woke instantly when his Art Club badge began to vibrate. He panicked when he realized that it wasn't Ron who was trying to call him, and made a snap decision to immediately badge-jump to the Queen's side.
"What's the emerg…" Harry called out, with both drawn wand and drawn sword.
"Oh, my," said the Queen.
"Oh, baby!" hissed Padma Patil, who was the on-duty witch-in-waiting.
"Nice response time," noted the Queen's muggle handmaiden.
"Nicer bum," snarked Wally.
Finally realizing that the Queen was not under attack, Harry followed Wally's and Padma's line of sight down to his tartan thong and blushed a deep red that travelled halfway down his chest. Sheathing his sword, he turned towards the Queen and asked, "You called, Your Majesty?"
The monarch tried not to smile, but failed.
"We need your attendance, and that of Ambassador Granger's," she replied. "Would five minutes' time be sufficient for your needs, Gryffindor?"
Harry scowled at Padma and Wally, who were trying to ogle and stifle their giggles at the same time. He then returned his attention to the Queen, called for Hermione on his badge, and summoned up the shreds of his dignity.
"Thank you, Ma'am, that will be fine…and, erm…sorry about…."
Hermione's response allowed Harry to badge-jump back to the bedroom before figuring out the least embarrassing way to complete his sentence.
Dobby's help with his clothing then allowed Harry to spend most of those five minutes explaining to Hermione why he had just jumped bare-arsed to the Queen's side.
oo00OO00oo
The news that Wally had brought to The Bunker kept the snickering to a minimum once Harry and Hermione returned to the Queen's location dressed in fresh combat blacks.
The Weasley Twins had provided on-the-ground confirmation of what muggle sentinels had observed from a distance…hundreds of Ministry of Magic employees had suddenly appeared in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade with word that they had just escaped a muggle poison gas attack. There was a lot of ongoing confusion about who got out in time and to where. The ICW delegation was nowhere to be found, as were more than a few members of the Peanut Butter Brigade. Efforts to determine whether they had been trapped inside the Ministry were thwarted by the inability of anyone to remember where the Ministry of Magic was located, how Ministry personnel had escaped, and how they might be able to return.
Anticipating Harry and Hermione's immediate concerns, Wally provided a roster of known locations for members of the Art Club, Clan Friends and the Peanut Butter Brigade. Arthur Weasley and Luna were still at Thames Bank, waiting for Ron to come out of surgery. Remus was now minding Poppy, having relieved Roger Granger so that he could return to Cumberland Lodge and his wife for some much needed rest. Sir Evan was anchoring the Prime Minister's undisclosed location, the Twins were making repairs to their shop, and Tonks was taking a kip at Hogwarts.
Returning to the false attack problem, Harry called for Dobby, who informed Harry that the Ministry's house-elf staff had been evacuated, and that they had no idea of how they might return. This additional clue was all that Hermione and Harry needed to turn to each other with the same conclusion.
"Fidelius Charm."
The Queen and Wally were not unfamiliar with this type of magic, as this type of protection had been discussed (and eventually discarded) when wards were designed for Windsor, Number 10, and the like. Questions on why the Ministry had taken this step, and what might be done to counteract it, were placed on the back burner in favor of locating the ICW delegation, or any of the other Peanut Butter Brigade members who might have gone missing.
This decision prompted Wally to bring up a second piece of potentially relevant information. MI-5 ¾ analysts who had been tasked with continually scanning the newswires and Internet for any bit of odd news that may have been magically related had seen the Met Office's press release, and forwarded to Wally a weather satellite photograph centered over an island in the North Sea. Hermione took one look at that same image and gasped.
"Padma, take a look!" she ordered. When the witch-in-waiting looked across the conference table at the picture, she asked, "Ehwaz?"
Hermione shook her head, and turned the photograph around so that it faced Padma.
"Ehwaz reversed," the bushy-haired witch declared.
"How can you tell if it's reversed or not?"
"Got to think that north was assumed to be the imaginary top of page," Hermione replied.
"Could either of you stop and translate for the rest of us?" Harry asked.
Hermione looked up at Harry, then to the Queen.
"The magical rune Ehwaz is shaped similarly to the letter W," she stated. "Except that the outer lines are relatively longer…just like it's shown in this image."
"And this matters, exactly…how?" asked Wally.
"This island is almost always shrouded in clouds, right?"
"That's what the Met Office says."
"And now, all of a sudden, the cloud cover breaks up and forms this message?"
"What kind of message could this be, Ambassador?" asked the Queen.
Hermione placed the satellite photograph in front of the monarch, then rotated it 180 degrees.
"The rune Ehwaz, oriented this way, most commonly stands for transportation, Ma'am."
"It's a big part of the rune set equations used to make broomsticks fly, Your Majesty," Padma offered.
Hermione nodded, then rotated the picture back around.
"But, Your Highness, when you write a rune upside down…we call it reversed…the opposite meaning is indicated."
The Queen nodded. "So in this case, the opposite of transportation is…"
"Confinement, Your Majesty."
The Queen pursed her lips in thought. "And you propose that these clouds may have been manipulated by magical means?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Is this a traditional form of magical communication, then?"
"No, Your Majesty," Hermione replied with a smile. "In fact, I've only come across one witch or wizard who is capable of this kind of weather magic."
"Rongo!" Harry exclaimed.
Hermione nodded. "We may have just found the location of the ICW delegation."
"They've been banished to some remote island in the North Sea?" asked Wally.
Nodding in agreement, Hermione replied, "Not just any old island, Wally…they've been sent to Azkaban."
"Right then, time to organize a rescue effort," Harry declared, as he looked down upon the photograph. "Doesn't look that far away from the Scottish Coast and Fort George…we can run a squadron of brooms out from there."
"Don't you think the prison's been protected against that type of assault?" asked Hermione.
Harry frowned. "Probably warded against inbound messengers spells or owls as well."
"Need to think outside the box," Padma declared. "Maybe use Muggle means of transportation?"
Steve followed on this suggestion with his own survey of the satellite photograph. "Could fly Sea Kings out there…treat it as a marine rescue operation?"
Harry shook his head. "Wards might play havoc with any attempt to land on the prison grounds….unless…"
Hermione grew instantly nervous at the gleam that developed in her boyfriend's eye.
oo00OO00oo
Wally's eyes narrowed when, ten minutes later, Harry presented him with his very own charmed flight helmet.
"Rambo?"
Harry smiled. "I thought about nicknaming you Dolce & Gabanna, but it wouldn't all fit on one line."
Wally rolled his eyes. "But…Rambo?"
"Steve's idea, actually," Harry quipped.
"Really?" asked Wally. "And he is the final arbiter on these types of decisions?"
"Well, I could have asked Mad-Eye Moody, couldn't have I?"
The secret agent closed his eyes and sighed.
"So how do I go about changing my moniker?"
"Only by doing something incredibly brave, or incredibly embarrassing," Harry replied with a smile.
"Well if that's the case," said Wally.
"What?"
"Never mind."
Wally waited until Harry's back was turned before he badge-called Hermione and made a suggestion.
A delighted Hermione, in turn, had Dobby wait until Harry was wearing his helmet before he secretly altered the script that ran across the Queen's Wizard's forehead.
Harry couldn't get Wally to explain why he was snickering during their motorbike ride from Balmoral to the village of Crathie, one-half mile east. The RAF had constructed a staging area there, and one of its heavy-lift helicopters had been made available for the Queen's Wizard's use.
The crew chief of that helicopter gave Harry a strange look as he backed his motorbike into its cargo bay.
"Why a Bonny?" he asked.
Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I inherited it."
The serviceman squinted, and then asked, "Why Conan?"
"What do you mean?" asked Harry.
The crew chief pointed towards Harry's flight helmet.
"How'd you earn the nickname Conan?" he asked again.
Harry frowned, and whipped the flight helmet off of his head. He stared at the place where "Seeker" had once been written, then stared sternly at Wally.
The muggle secret agent winked, drew an imaginary sword from a back-mounted scabbard, held it in a heroic pose.
"You did say that accommodations could be made for doing something embarrassing, right?"
Harry shook his head. "This is what I get for jumping to the Queen's defense?"
Wally laughed. "No, Conan…this is what you get for flashing the Queen your manly loincloth."
11:45 am, Over the North Sea
A very nice dream involving royal bedrooms and a skyclad girlfriend was interrupted by a gentle shake on the shoulder.
"Five minutes to Skull Island, Conan."
Harry opened his eyes, stared at the helicopter's crew chief, then nodded and sat up straight. He was only slightly surprised that he had fallen asleep during the brief flight…while it was very loud within the cargo hold of the CH-47 Chinook helicopter, he was also very tired.
"Thanks," he yelled back, as a smirk came to his face. It wasn't the new nickname that amused him, but rather the nickname given by Muggle sailors and aviators to mist-shrouded Azkaban Island. While there weren't any 40-foot tall apes on the island, what a Muggle would encounter were they to visit would seem just as strange, and just as dangerous.
"Where's Rambo?" he asked.
"Up front," the crew chief said with a grin. "Tossed his biscuits three times already… now he's looking out the cockpit's front windows trying to avoid number four."
Harry grinned. "Cheeky bastard deserves it," he muttered to himself, as he unbuckled his safety restraints. He then stood and made his way towards his tail-facing motorcycle. As he double-checked his saddle bags, he caught the Muggle crew chief giving his ride a close look. He seemed no less interested now then when Harry had ridden the bike up the helicopter's rear door ramp an hour previous.
"You really going to ride that out the back, Sir?" he called out.
Harry just smiled and nodded as swung a leg over its seat. Tapping into his charmed flight helmet's comm system, he called out, "Hey Rambo, going to come back and send me off?"
There was a snort on the other end of the "line," followed by, "Willing to risk me decorating your flight suit with dry heaves, Conan?"
"Nothing a bit of magic wouldn't clear up, Rambo."
"So long as you do it outside," the secret agent replied, as he walked onto the deck and made his way to the motorbike. "Wouldn't want any magical interference to make this ride any bumpier than it already is."
"Two minutes!" yelled the crew chief, as he bent down and began to release the tie-downs that had held the motorcycle in place during the flight. As his two passengers engaged in conversation that he wasn't privy to, the Muggle muttered to himself about the absurdity of it all. He'd hosted his share of special op types and their gear during "dark" flights over hostile territory…watched boats launch off the flight deck and into the water, and Land Rovers drive off the ramp and onto dry land. But this was just crazy…a motorcycle jump from 8,000 feet? Without a parachute strapped onto the rider's back?
Once the ties were unfastened and stowed away, the crew chief gave Harry a "thumbs-up" to indicate that he was free and clear of any restraints. He then helped Wally clip into a safety harness, before latching himself onto a separate lanyard. At sixty seconds to drop, the crew chief stepped up to his control station and lowered the rear door until it was level with the flight deck.
"Something wrong?" the amused airman yelled towards Wally, who was clinging with white knuckles onto the back of a jump seat.
The MI-5 ¾ Agent shook his head tersely, not believing how nonchalantly the crew chief was walking around the bay with the back door opened to air and sea.
The crew chief walked to Harry's side for the final count as the helicopter cruised at 160 knots over open water. When the young wizard kick-started the motorcycle's engine, and kicked back the stand with the heel of his dragon-hide boots, the normally tight-lipped crew chief couldn't help but ask a question.
"You some James Bond type, Sir?" he yelled, as Harry revved the engine.
Harry turned towards the man, and smiled.
"Something like that, Sergeant," he replied with a grin.
The crew chief snorted, then counted down with his fingers from five. As soon as the last finger dropped down to form a closed fist, Harry launched Sirius's motorbike out the back and into the open sky.
The crew chief watched with disbelief as Harry's "normal" descent halted a few seconds later, and the motorbike powered into a wide left turn.
"Better than Bond," the crew chief muttered, as he closed the door.
The sound of some uncharacteristically coarse language over the helicopter's internal radio system broke the man's musing. When he called up to the cockpit and asked what had prompted the cursing, he was instructed to look out the aft side bubble window.
What he saw caused the crew chief to launch into his own coarse comments, more out of admiration than of anger.
oo00OO00oo
Given the seriousness of his mission, Harry Potter probably shouldn't have taken the time to pull his motorcycle up next to the helicopter that had brought him to Azkaban and gestured to the pilot as if he wanted to race. But with the weight of both the Muggle and magical worlds seemingly on his shoulders, he thought it was the perfect time to, if only for a few minutes, act his age.
"Erm…Lord G?" Wally asked weakly.
"Go ahead, Wally."
"The helicopter pilot is asking if you are challenging him to a drag race."
Harry responded with a hearty laugh, and an ersatz "wheelie." He then snapped off a roguish salute towards the helicopter, and shot forward as he pushed the bike's speedometer just past 200 mph.
As soon as it was well established that his motorbike could out fly the Chinook, Harry dropped into a dive and headed towards the island below. He pulled up a mile short and a thousand feet above the sea, and pulled out his trusty pair of omnioculars from a saddlebag. A group of witches and wizards were facing towards them and waving their arms from the center of the prison's "exercise yard" (poorly named, as Azkaban's prisoners were never let out for exercise). All except the tallest, who was focusing more on the peculiarly shaped clouds above the island than on Harry.
Spotting Head Auror Robards within the crowd, Harry tried to fire off a messenger Patronus, only to watch it strike up against an invisible ward and dissipate. Worried that his charmed motorbike might stall if it hit that same boundary, Harry used additional Patronus spells to scout out the hemispherical ward boundary.
A quick badge call to his wardmistress girlfriend prompted Harry to hover just above the ward boundary, some seven hundred feet above the waiting crowd (the thinking being that if Harry or his ride were incapacitated when he crossed the boundary that one of the wand-wielding wizards or witches could stop his fall with a spell). He then reached into his bag, and pulled out a small metal box that was tethered to a scale-sized parachute.
After flipping on a switch mounted on one side of the box, Harry called up towards the hovering helicopter.
"Seeker to Ralph…Seeker to Ralph."
"Thought my nickname was Rambo," Wally weakly protested.
"I'm thinking you've earned a new name after the dry heaves."
"Ha-ha…very funny, Conan…what can I do for you?"
"I've sketched out a ward boundary, and activated a canary."
"Hold on, then," Wally replied.
Harry dropped the "canary" a few moments later, once the slightly-green MI-5 ¾ agent announced that the helicopter had locked onto the electronic device's signal. The box's parachute fluffed full with air, slowing down the device's descent enough so that Wally could relay altimeter readings.
"Six hundred feet…five hundred…four hundred…"
"It's past the ward boundary," Harry noted. "Everything still working?"
"Affirmative," Wally replied. "Two hundred…one…hold on, Harry…the canary died at one-hundred and twenty feet."
"Damn," Harry muttered. "Must be another type of ward…I'm going in for a closer look."
At Hermione's instruction, he turned off the motorbike's magical controls, and dropped unpowered (and unharmed) down through the outer wards. Once on the other side, Harry quickly turned the motorbike back on, and let out a sigh of relief when he regained magical flight control. From that point it was a quick and simple descent down to the second ward boundary, which was defined by a second canary that Harry had let hang from the end of a fifty-foot long length of rope.
The violent dismissal of a second messenger spell at this second ward boundary caught Harry's attention. The fiery incineration of a broomstick that he had pulled from his saddlebags and tried to drop to the group of witches and wizards beneath him was downright scary.
Head Auror Robards looked up at the hovering Queen's Wizard, then pointed towards the top of a guard tower. Harry cottoned on, and flew to a spot five feet to his side of the shimmering ward boundary that enveloped the tower's observation deck. Fortunately, this wards didn't intercept sound waves, allowing Harry to shout questions across to the Head Auror, once the older wizard climbed the tower's stairs.
Harry took off his helmet and hung it from his handlebars. "Well, well, well…what's all this, then?" he glibly asked, with a wave towards the shimmering wards.
"A whole lot of trouble for witches and wizards," Robards replied grimly. "It'll fry anything magical, along with anyone in contact with the magical objects."
Harry nodded. "I take it you're not able to bring down the wards from your end?"
Robards shook his head. "The Warden disappeared before any of us arrived, and activated a separate ward that makes wand use impossible on this side …unless you're wearing the right kind of charmed pendant."
"Which you aren't?"
Robards snorted. "They relieved me of my portkey badge and wand when they ambushed me at the Ministry."
"They being Rufus and friends?"
"That would be the most obvious answer."
Harry smiled grimly. "So they've decided to go nuclear."
"What's that?"
"Oh…muggle saying," said Harry. "They hidden the Ministry of Magic and locked it down…nobody in or out. Not that we'd know how to get in even if it wasn't hidden."
Robards thought about this information for a few minutes, then frowned. "Fidelius?"
"That's our thinking."
"So how long before your brilliant girlfriend develops a work-around?"
Harry smiled. "She's working up some ideas even as we speak...could always use a hand, if you've got the time."
Robards shook his head as he glanced down at the spot where his badge used to be. "Well, it appears that I'm in the job market, so…."
"Excellent," Harry replied. "Just have to get you all off the island, then."
The older wizard nodded, then looked up at the helicopter that was hovering a few thousand feet above their heads.
"Got room in that beast for thirty witches and wizards?"
Harry looked up, then nodded. "I think so, although getting it down here in one piece may be an issue…what's set up on the outer ward boundary?"
"Normal stuff," Robards replied. "Anti-apparition, message interception, owl redirection, muggle repellent..."
"Not sure that the pilot will fancy the idea of flying through that, even if the canary made it past."
"Canary?" asked the Emperor's Wizard.
"Muggle magic detector," Harry replied.
Robards nodded. "The edge of the boat dock is just beyond the wards."
"Really?" asked Harry. "Well would make things somewhat easier…let me get on the phone with them."
"Great," said the older wizard. "And while you're at it, can you ask if they've got extra clothing or blankets?"
"Erm…sure…what for?"
The defrocked Head Auror smiled grimly. "We'll need to leave wands and anything that's imbued with magic on this side of the barrier."
Harry puzzled over that comment. "So…any clothing that's got cooling charms or magical water repellents applied?"
Robards laughed at the situation and nodded. "Figures that this would be the day that I'd wear my magically animated boxer shorts."
Harry's eyes went wide at the implication, and he looked down to the prison grounds, where Lavender, Lisa Turpin, and Mrs. Abbott were huddled with the other witches and wizards.
"Oh, Merlin… I know some of those witches!"
The Head Auror snorted. "Then here's hoping that they are all wearing muggle knickers."
oo00OO00oo
It took more than an hour to improvise a method to safely transfer the stranded witches and wizards from the guard tower, across the ward boundary, and then down to the Muggle helicopter that hovered with an opened hatch just off the end of Azkaban's supply dock. Harry appropriated the Chinook's rescue basket, and tied it onto his length of rope. He then had the trapped witches and wizard climb into the basket one at a time and tip it over the tower's edge. RAF-issue blankets allowed the rescued individuals some measure of modesty as they left their climate-controlled clothing behind. Of course some of the witches didn't mind disrobing in front of Harry…Lavender Brown's blanket slipped open "accidentally" a few times, and Hannah Abbot's mother displayed no qualms at all about showing off her matched set of black muggle undergarments.
While none of witches and wizards were happy about escaping from the prison without their wands, charmed wedding bands, or any other magical personal items, they did take comfort when the Japanese wizard and Rongo volunteered to protectively bury the lot using their wandless magic before they crossed over.
Leaving the Azkaban prison population behind was an easy decision to make given how cramped the Chinook's cargo hold became once the stranded witches and wizards were coaxed (and occasionally coerced) into the muggle flying machine. Harry freed up some room by shrinking down his motorbike and transfiguring the blankets that each rescued party wore into simple robes.
The plan to transport the rescued witches and wizards to the nearest inhabited island was rethought once the Norwegian King's Wizard provided some surprising information on the sovereignty of the Shetlands. While muggle control of the islands had been pawned off to the Scottish king in 1468 by King Christian I of Norway, magical control of this crucial portion of the Norsca Network had been retained. The Norse Ministry of Magic therefore still held jurisdiction over the islands, and while the stranded British witches and wizards would be welcomed as refugees or guests, there wouldn't be an easy way for any of them to return to Great Britain through magical means.
While more than a couple of witches and wizards thought that staying away from the control of the British ministry would be a good thing (given how they'd just been treated) some had families back home, while others were anxious to openly side with Harry and the Queen against Scrimgeour and his lackeys. Harry tried to modestly shy away from these offers, but was smart enough to realize that this group could serve as an excellent nucleus to the magical Home Guard that the Scottish First Minister had seemed so eager to lead a few days back.
So the decision was made to head South, and carry the group a slightly longer distance to a remote portion of an active airfield on the Orkney Islands. Hermione badge jumped to the landing zone soon after they arrived, carrying a pack full of clothing, as well as portkeys to Hogwarts and a bag filled with confiscated Death Eater wands for the group to sort through for potential matches. After distributing these items, she asked the ICW delegation to join her for an impromptu conference on the tarmac.
"On behalf of the Her Majesty the Queen and her Muggle government, I wish to offer our humblest of apologies for your treatment this morning at the hands of the Ministry of Magic," she said formally.
The Japanese wizard waved off her concerns.
"We are well aware of the political realities you face, Ambassador," he replied. "What is the current state of communications between Muggle and Magical Ministries?"
"Nonexistent," Hermione replied. "They've issued a press release to the Daily Prophet and WWN with the bogus claim that Muggle nerve gas was used as a prelude to an attack on the Ministry. Didn't outright declare that it was an attack by Muggles, but the implication is there, and that's justified their actions."
"Of secreting the Ministry away from both Muggle and magical worlds?" asked the King's Wizard.
Hermione nodded. "They claim that they're only trying to preserve the wizarding world's secrets, by keeping the Muggles from gaining access to the Floo Network, or the surveillance system…even the Department of Mysteries, although they don't say what's inside that's worth protecting."
"What's public reaction been like?" asked the Swedish witch.
"Mixed," Hermione replied. "The Ministry personnel who were tricked into leaving the Ministry and haven't been allowed back have figured out what's going on. The ones we've been in contact with are wearing the snub as a badge of honor. As for the general public…well, they've always been easily influenced."
"Great," Harry replied. "So where do we go from here?"
"Oslo," replied the Japanese wizard. "We've gathered all the information that's needed to make a recommendation to the Supreme Mugwump."
Harry frowned. "And then what?"
Matsuhisa shrugged his shoulders. "That is for the diplomats and leaders to decide." He then turned towards Hermione and asked, "Do you speak on behalf of Her Majesty's Muggle government?"
Hermione grimaced, and turned to Wally. He shrugged.
"Prime Minister himself named you Special Ambassador to the Wizarding World," he replied. "So long as you keep in contact with him and the Queen…"
"As if we don't have enough to worry about with Carlisle tomorrow," Harry stated. He looked over towards a line of small aircraft sitting outside of an airport hanger.
"Think we could charter one of those to fly to Norway, Wally?" he asked.
Wally asked, "How many passengers?"
"Actually, I think you can arrange transport, Major Potter," Thorson interjected.
"How so?"
"Take Matsuhisa-sensei and me to the Shetlands on your motorbike. We'll all use the Norsca Network station there to jump to Oslo, then you can…how do you call it…anchor?"
"Anchor a jump for Hermione?" Harry asked.
Thorson nodded. "Dyrrheim Station is as centrally located a place as any to convene a meeting."
Harry nodded, then turned towards the other Internationals. Anticipating his question, the Swedish witch said, "If it's just the same, I'd like to return to your Summer Institute, both to teach the muggleborns and to help defend them and their families."
Rongo and the Indian wizard expressed similar views, with the Maori wizard particularly interested in doing something to make the Ministry pay for forcing him to leave his All Blacks rugby jersey at Azkaban.
Harry then asked, "So once I ferry you to Shetland Station, I could just shrink my bike and badge-jump back to Balmoral?"
The Japanese wizard snorted, and shook his head. "I did say that it would be left to both diplomats and leaders, did I not? I suspect that Supreme Mugwump will wish to confer with both Ambassador Granger and the Lord High Steward of Britain."
Shaking his head, Harry said, "That's one title that I've yet to have forced upon me."
Matsuhisa smiled, and acknowledged Harry's point. "Forgive me, Lord Gryffindor, but I think there will be no less interest in a meeting with the Lord High Steward-designate."