FicWad

(Author’s note, and disclaimer. Chapters will appear as quickly as they spring forth from my rather feverish brain, as such, I can promise no timetable. I know where this tale is going, and where it will end up, the details go on paper as they sort themselves out, I suspect some will sort sooner rather than later.
Already I’ve had three reviews, all kind enough to be encouraging, and thank you. There was a concern voiced in one of those reviews, and I hope this chapter clarifies the seeming inconsistency. It was something that I had sorted out already, I know to my satisfaction, and I hope it will also be to everyone else’s.

As we all know, JK Rowling owns these characters, I am playing in her sandbox, and if you have not read the work of Neil Gaiman, then I highly recommend it. I will be shamelessly borrowing from him as well in later chapters.)




Hermione’s eyes fluttered open, as she attempted to take stock of her surroundings, and situation. Knowing she had just had a shock to her system, but unable to remember exactly what that shock was, she began her mental checklist. No one would ever accuse Hermione Granger of being disorganized.
Harry and Ron okay? They were both looking in her face, with expressions that displayed almost equal parts concern and confusion, but in Harry’s case, a touch of amusement. So no worries, there. Everyone else all right? Looking around her, she saw five teenagers, wands in their hands but down, so she could assume the threat had at least mostly passed. Okay, good. Now, where in the name of Morgana La Fey was she?
Hermione began to look around while Harry and Ron both helped her sit up, watching her closely. Surveying the landscape, Hermione decided she wasn’t in Scotland anymore. The land was reddish and dry, with clumps of grass and brush instead of a carpet of green. Stabbing into the sky were formations of red sandstone, some Hermione’s height, others equal in size to the Ministry building. Okay, that would need further explanation; this went well outside any expectations for any landscape she had ever held. That left the two strangers in white cowboy hats, and muggle business suits standing just outside the circle grinning like they had just been informed they had won a lifetime supply of butterbeer. As recognition began to come to her again, Hermione started feeling lightheaded. Harry held her steady, while Ron asked the question everyone else in the group had.
“Hermione? Who’s Wyatt Earp, and Billy the Kid, and why did you just faint?” The two strangers started chuckling again.
“Ron,” Hermione took a couple deep breaths, and answered, “Wyatt Earp and William Bonney, popularly referred to as ‘Billy the Kid’ are two extremely well known figures from muggle American Frontier history. Marshall Earp was a famous lawman, who was involved in a legendary gunfight in Arizona, and Marshall Bonney was an equally famous outlaw in New Mexico. Why they are here now, looking as though neither has aged much if at all, when Marshall Earp was said to have died shortly after the turn of the century, and Marshall Bonney was supposed to have been gunned down over 100 years ago, escapes me. It also escapes me as to why such a well-known badman is wearing an emblem of law enforcement.” With this, she provided the two strangers with a questioning look that Harry and Ron might have grown accustomed to, but continued to have its’ intended effect on the rest of the known and unknown world. The grins quickly faded from the two mens’ faces, and toes of boots were soon shuffling in the red dust. Bonney spoke for the first time, with a slightly indignant tone.
“Ma’am, Miss Granger, I believe? That part about me being an outlaw, well, that was done by folks that decided I was more trouble than I was worth. It’s true I’ve had to kill some men, but no matter what you might have been told, I never killed unless it was self defense, or in accordance with the law. I was a deputy during the Lincoln County war, and I was set up by the cattle barons down there, because I was taking out all their hired killers. They made me out bad, and the only way to stop the bloodshed on both sides was to take Pat up on his offer to disappear, and join the Marshall Service. ‘Course, Pat set it up so it looked like he took down that horrible outlaw, Billy the Kid. Glory hound, that’s what he was.”
“Was?” Hermione asked.
“Was. He got himself killed in the Grindelwald War, trying to take on a Kraut machine gun nest with a wand and a .44. He got himself a medal, fat lot of good it did him, since he was dead. I miss that son of a bitch.” Bonney’s eyes clouded at the memory, and Earp took over the conversation.
“As I’m sure you’ve surmised Miss Granger, Marshall Bonney and I are both Wizards, as were several of the more… “, Earp seemed to be searching for a word, and Hermione offered one of her own.
“Notorious?”
“I was going to say ‘well known’ figures in our history, thank you though, ma’am. You see, while the Secrecy laws are in effect as much here in the States as elsewhere, we don’t keep ourselves apart from the muggle world. When we were moving west as country, there were too few people of any kind, so us magical folk just blended ourselves right in, and it’s pretty much been that way since. At the time, we put glamours on our wands, so muggles saw them as the same Colt pistols they were carrying, and our, shall we say ‘unique’ talents resulted in most of us finding ourselves in the more colorful careers of the era.”
“You mean gunfighters and gamblers?” Hermione asked, the corners of her mouth twitching.
“Just so, ma’am. Now don’t get me wrong, some wizards that were real good at potions opened up drugstores, some healers kept doing that as they moved west, but at the time, with a wide open country, well, some of us found our natural callings. Some folks like Billy here and myself, well, we liked it enough that we’re still doing it.” The grin returned.
At this point, Neville chimed in with a question of his own. “If all this happened over 100 years ago, how is it that you both seem to look as well, as young as you do?”
Earp looked over. “And you are, young man?”
“Neville Longbottom, sir.”
“Well, Mister Longbottom, credit for that goes to Doctor De Leon, and his potion. ‘Doctor DeLeon’s Fountain of Youth. Assured to return the user to the physical condition they desire, with just a few sips, every few years.’ You don’t have that back in England?” He looked curiously at the students, particularly at the slow rage coming over Harry’s face.
“Just a moment,” Harry began. “You mean to tell me that when Hermione, Ron and I were nearly killed chasing Flamel’s stone of immortality for Dumbledore, you lot were drinking from the bloody fountain of youth? Ron, Hermione and I were risking life and limb for a rock, when here, immortality is sold by the bottle? That fucking bastard…”
“Now hold on there, Mister Potter,” Bonney cut in, “This stuff doesn’t make you immortal. It makes you younger each time you drink it, but it also is slightly less effective with each dose, so you do age a few years every time. Doctor De Leon for example, has been taking the potion every twenty years since he developed it a few hundred years ago, and he now figures himself to be about 90 in regular years. We’re all gonna die, this just slows things down a bit. Assuming we don’t do anything stupid, and get ourselves killed, beforehand. I still don’t understand why y’all don’t sell it in England.” At this point Daphne cut in.
“Probably because my Father had successfully lobbied the Wizengamot to bar importation of ‘controlled youth giving substances’, stating that we couldn’t be assured of proper quality procedures in the brewing process in other countries. The fact that our family holds the patent on the best selling youthful glamour potion in Britain had absolutely nothing to do with it, I’m sure.” Daphne shook her head in frustration as she spoke, then looked at the three who had risked said life and limb. “Sorry about that, afraid Daddy is a very good Slytherin.”
“Not your fault, Daphne.” Harry said, as he looked at the two Marshalls. “Okay, so we know who you two are, and judging from Hermione’s reaction,” Harry noticed his friend had relaxed considerably once the gentlemen’s identities had been confirmed, “We may consider ourselves in capable hands. Now the question remains, where, exactly, are we?”
Earp grinned again. Obviously the senior member of their partnership, Bonney was usually content to let the slightly older man do most of the talking, but it did not escape the notice of the assembled youths that while Earp might be talking, Billy’s relaxed posture did not completely hide the fact his eyes were never still. He had not lived this long by being complacent, and the young witches and wizards found this reassuring.
“Folks,” Earp began, “As I said earlier, welcome to Colorado, Red Rocks Park, about 35 miles west of Denver, to be exact. We’re here for a number of reasons, not the least of which is we’re a very short distance from where you’ll be staying over the summer, if you choose.” The selection of words was not lost on Harry. “Red Rocks is one of two particularly powerful places, magically speaking, on the Front Range of the Rockies, This one is tied to Denver, and Garden of the Gods is tied to Colorado Springs, about 60 miles south. We figured when we had you come over, it might do to counter the effects of altitude on you by putting you in a place where the magic can help replenish your strength. That way, you wouldn’t be thinking we were trying to weaken you, although you will feel that loss of endurance when we leave the boundaries. It’s strictly a byproduct of a reduced atmosphere, as we are a mile above sea level here. In a few weeks, you’ll be completely acclimated. Coincidentally, we are also very close to the Magical White House, and Denver is the Magic Capital of the United States. The Department of Magic about 50 years back decided to put its’ seat of power where the power actually lay. The United States west of the Mississippi River is considered to be one of the most powerful repositories of latent magic in the world, and The Powers That Be decided that for that reason, Denver should be the home of Magical America. Well that, and the Secretary of Magic liked the views.” He grinned. “Anything else I can answer for you folks right now?” At the shaking of heads, Earp nodded.
“Okay, look, I know there’s going to be a lot to get used to, and a lot of questions later. Marshall Bonney and I have been assigned to your protection detail for the time all of you are here in the United States, and while there will be others responsible for your safety and instruction, Billy and I are the two in charge. Any time any of you have questions or problems, feel free to talk to anyone on the detail. If you’re not happy with the answers you get, you talk to Billy or me, because we may not be able to give you the whole answer, but we can and will give you the answer why, if we can’t. Meantime, the Secretary of Magic has asked us to invite you to meet him at Mount Falcon, and if you are all willing and ready?” The dark haired Marshall looked at the group, noticing that seven of them looked to Harry.
“Natural born leader, and he doesn’t see it himself, just like they said. Going to have to work on that.” Earp finished his thought, then looked at Harry who, after silently questioning the other students, nodded.
“Marshall, I suppose there’s no time like the present. We are at your disposal.”
“Excellent, Mister Potter. Would you and your friends care to follow me?” Earp led the group towards a path laid out by old pine logs along its’ borders, and winding upward. The group of students trailed along behind, Neville mentally cataloguing flora he had never seen before, while Luna observed to herself and anyone listening that this might be exceptional Wasp-eared Foofrah habitat. Everyone else in the party put one foot in front of the other, tried to breathe, and wondered how much worse off they would be outside the park, as Billy followed behind everyone, whistling tunelessly. Ron and Harry decided after the first quarter mile that hexing the smirk off Billy’s face might be worth whatever punishment came with attacking a U.S. Magic Marshall, but all thoughts of malice came to a crashing halt when Earp paused, looked around, and said “Ah, here we are.”
“Here” was at the top of a large ampitheater cut into the side of the ridge, and the group looked down the rows upon rows of seats towards the stage far below, and to the sprawling city on the plains behind it. Susan whispered in awe “This must be amazing for the MidSummer Festival. The muggles would be so jealous, if they knew about this.” To which Billy snickered. “What’s so funny?” Susan asked.
The muggles are the ones who put the seating in, and built the stage.” Billy replied. “You’re right, MidSummer Festival is amazing here, but U2 was incredible, too.”
“Ummm, who, too?” Asked Hannah, to which Harry was ready, this time.
“Hannah, U2 is a muggle rock band from Ireland, and they recorded a live album here, that is considered a classic of the genre. Apparently Marshall Bonney was one of the fortunate audience members. When Marshall Earp said that magical and muggle society was integrated here, I suspect this place is part of what he meant.”
“Good call, Mister Potter, that’s exactly what I meant. We might not be using magic in front of those who don’t understand it, but even non magical folks realize this place is something special, and want to be a part of it. Why should we deprive them?” At this, Earp grinned, and waved an arm towards the door of what looked for all the world like a shuttered snack bar. “Folks, would you care to enter the shuttle, please?”

The ride was much shorter than any of the group expected, with Earp reopening the door just seconds after shutting it. The dark haired Marshall had a smile turning up his mustache, as he stepped outside, and announced; “Mister Potter, Miss Granger, Mister Weasely, other honored guests, welcome to Mount Falcon, home of the Magical White House, residence of the United States Secretary of Magic. Would you follow me inside, please?” Earp paused for a moment before starting towards the door, knowing that a Georgian mansion in the middle of the mountains, with pine trees surrounding it was not something any of the students had ever seen, and it was a view that should be appreciated. After hearing some gasps of surprise, Earp strode purposefully to the entrance, and held open the door for the Secretary’s guests. As the students crossed into the entry hall, they found themselves facing a woman who appeared to be in her mid 20’s with dark auburn hair swept back into a bun, and wearing a conservative grey skirt and jacket, with a white blouse, and black pumps. The star on her blouse was only given away when she turned to be sure everyone was inside, and the light glanced off it. Once everyone had gathered, she gave a small smile, and spoke.
“Good morning, everyone. My name is Marshall Ann Oakely, and like Marshalls Earp and Bonney, I have been assigned to your security detail for the duration of your stay here in America.” She paused briefly, while Hermione shook her head and muttered “Her, too?”, before continuing. "As might be supposed, the majority of my time will be spent in the presence of you ladies, although I am responsible for the security of all of you. My gender, however, does allow me to blend a little better with the fairer sex among you, and will afford me the opportunity to better protect you.” At this point, the small professional smile broke into a slightly buck tooth grin.
“The best part for me though, is after looking at your files, I realized I was assigned to young women who have already demonstrated the type of intelligence and strength that I can respect. I hope we will be able to become more than professional acquaintances, but friends. And yes, Miss Granger, ‘me too’. Apparently, the ability to shoot extremely accurately is appreciated in the Marshall’s service, no matter the gender.” Oakely glared at Bonney as he chuckled. “Marshall, what’s so funny, besides the results of our match set on the range Thursday?” The blonde man quit laughing, and wagged a finger at the woman.
“Next week, rematch. I’ll beat you this time.”
“That’s what you’ve said the last one thousand, six hundred weeks, Billy. I’m ready to buy dinner this time, just to get you to quit humiliating yourself. Ladies, gentlemen, would you follow me, please. While I’m enjoying rubbing the Marshall’s poor marksmanship in his face, the Secretary is waiting.” With the small professional smile placed back on her face, Oakely began to stride down the hall, shell shocked teenagers, muttering blonde cowboy, and chuckling mustachioed Marshall in tow.
Oakely stopped at a set of double doors with a wizard in dress Military robes standing at attention on each side. Harry noticed that while the robes were ceremonial, the wands appeared to be well used, so he doubted the presence of these men was strictly for pomp. His suspicion was confirmed when each wizard stepped in front of the doors without a word, and pointed their wands at Oakely.
“Please inform the Secretary that his guests are here, and waiting.” The Marshall said casually. The Wizard on the left opened the door and stepped inside, while the one on the right remained immobile, wand at the ready. He only stepped aside when the door reopened to the first Wizard saying “The Secretary will see you now.”
Harry entered first, with Hermione at his right shoulder, Ron at his left. Neville entered next, with Luna and Hannah on each side, while Susan and Daphne followed closely behind. The eight students formed up in a semicircle around the desk in the elegantly understated office, with the three Marshalls behind them. The man with the pompadour behind the desk sat facing them with a twinkle in his eye, as Hermione put her face in her hands, shook her head back and forth, while saying to no one in particular; “This is just too surreal.” After a few seconds, he apparently took pity on the smartest and most muggle literate witch of her age, and softly said “Surreal or not, Miss Granger, it really does make sense if you think about it. After all, I was popularly elected, wasn’t I? That is one of the hallmarks of our political system, that those who represent us be chosen by us. I’m simply the most recent Wizard to be elected, and when a Wizard’s term ends, traditionally, we step into this position, as our patriotic duty. We then serve until the end of the next Wizard’s term, whenever that is. As an added benefit, the muggles who are elected know that they have added experience on their cabinet, and we serve as advisors for our successors. As the saying goes, a win-win.” With that, the Wizard behind the desk rose and extended a hand to Harry.
“Mr. Potter, is a real pleasure to meet you at last, Minerva has been speaking highly of you for such a long time. My name is Ronald Reagan, I am Secretary of Magic for the United States.”
At the self-introduction, Hermione couldn’t help but add “Also President of the United States from 1980 to 1988. Given credit for a renaissance in American self-esteem, huge steps forward in military technology, and ending the Cold War in a victory for America and Western Europe. President Reagan is currently supposed to be in hospice care in California right now, suffering the last stages of Alzheimer’s disease, and is expected to pass away very soon. Obviously, that information is incorrect.”
At the brief synopsis of his presidential career and after, the Secretary chuckled. “Miss Granger is quite correct, except for the hospice in California part. Gollums are especially effective when one wishes to appear lost to the world. As I said earlier, Wizards are from time to time elected president, and we see it as our duty to succeed the previous Secretary of Magic at the end of our terms. As such, our terms as Secretary are somewhat open ended, but we are certain that the majority of all Americans elected us to serve, so serve we do. As a result of our uncertain tenure length, every preceding Secretary has been more than willing to step down from the post, particularly since they can expect to be retained in service in other positions. My Undersecretary of State Mr. Ford, and Secretary of Magical Defense Mr. Roosevelt can attest to that. Now, with the civics lesson out of the way, let’s attend to the business at hand. Harry my lad, how was my dear friend Minerva, when you saw her last?”
Harry had to stop and think for a moment, and his jaw dropped slightly when he realized that the Secretary was referring to the Hogwarts headmistress. “Umm, Professor McGonagall was fine when we left, but expected to be dismissed as headmistress at any moment, sir. May I ask how you know each other?”
“Certainly, young man. Minerva and I worked closely together when I was stationed in England during the Grindelwald War. We became close friends then, and maintained that friendship over the years. Her counsel was invaluable when Mikhail and I were negotiating an end to our impasse, I and the world owe her a great debt many times over. Your professor is a very impressive witch.” At these words, the Secretary turned towards Hermione.
“She also tells me, Miss Granger, that you will one day be her superior in every way. You are already the smartest witch of your age, and she is certain that if you continue to apply yourself, you will not only be writing the textbooks of future generations, but be mentioned in more than passing reference in those same textbooks.”
“And as for you, Mr. Weasely,” the Secretary continued with that familiar twinkle, “Known as a brilliant tactician, incredibly brave, excellent leadership potential, and a temper to match your hair. Your friendship to young Harry here is unquestioned, your self-discipline however, has left doubts.” Ron's beaming at the beginning of the Secretary's description was nowhere near the shamed glowering on his face at the conclusion of it.
At this, Harry interjected. “Sir? How is it you know so much about the three of us? Is this Professor McGonagall’s doing?”
“Partially, Harry, and please, call me Ron. The reality is, we’ve been monitoring the situation in England for some time, and in our efforts to be as fully prepared for the unfortunate eventualities we expect, we’ve been compiling as much data as possible. We actually have files on each of you.” At this the Secretary looked at Neville.
“Mr. Longbottom, in addition to your loyalty and friendship, Harry asked you to join him because your skills in herbology are currently on a level with several university professors we know of. This knowledge could be invaluable.”
“Miss Lovegood, Harry asked you to join him because of your friendship, true, but also because you combine the talents of a true seer, coupled with an affinity for other creatures magical and non that is rarely seen. Again, a potentially invaluable asset.”
“Miss Bones,” The Secretary continued, “Besides your extensive knowledge of the inner workings of government and political processes both underhanded and above board, thanks to the lessons in realpolitik provided by your aunt, Harry recognized a deep and abiding sense of justice in you, coupled with a willingness to do whatever is required to see that justice done. This strength is rare, and valued.”
“Miss Greengrass. Your family epitomizes all that is cancerous within your current Wizarding nation, yet Harry wanted you to join his group, why? I suspect that it has to do with your knowledge of the current class system in England, along with your family’s well known reputation for achieving objectives without regard for something as archaic as morals. Should a person with these abilities have a strong enough moral compass to wish to align herself with the light, a wise leader would be a fool to not embrace her into his inner circle. Harry appears to have done so with his invitation, and his faith was apparently not misplaced, if your presence here is any indication.”
“Miss Abbot,” The Secretary continued, “That brings us to you, with your loyalty, inner strength, intelligence, and instinctive grasp of the big picture, when others are trapped in minutiae. Your abilities will also be invaluable to your group, as this situation progresses.”
“Sir- I’m sorry, Ron?” interjected Harry. “Do you have a file this complete on every student at Hogwarts? “
The Secretary chuckled. “No, Harry, just the ones we felt would most likely be in your inner circle. You made our intelligence people look especially astute, by the way. You chose everyone we hoped you would. Which brings us to you, Harry James Potter.”
“Known throughout Wizarding England, and much of Europe as ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived’, an unwilling celebrity, and even more unwilling focal point of the continuing battle with one Tom Riddle, Jr., aka ‘Lord Voldemort’, who happens to be another in a long list of self-styled racial purists, determined to conquer Wizarding England, and eventually, the world in its’ entirety, enslave all muggles and those he perceives as less than pure, all for the betterment of Wizarding kind. You are, through no choice of your own, locked in a protracted mortal struggle with a megalomaniacal asshole, if you'll forgive the term, and over the last six years, you have found yourself endangered, verbally, emotionally, and sometimes physically abused, left in the dark on information that could be crucial to your eventual victory, and in general treated like a mushroom, Harry. You’ve been kept in the dark, and had loads of bullshit deposited on you, yet somehow, you have managed to persevere, even after being told that your odds of long term survival were on the poor side of slim and none.”
The Secretary looked at Harry now not with a twinkle, but a flash of steel in his eyes.
“Harry Potter, despite every obstacle thrown in your path, you have demonstrated resourcefulness, leadership, loyalty, and an unwavering orientation towards doing what is good and right, despite the personal cost. You invited the best talents you could think of to join you, true, but you also managed to draw those talents from each of the four houses in your school, a brilliant act of unification and leadership. No Slytherin will be able to one day claim their house membership forced their loyalties, as Miss Greengrass’ actions will prove the lie to their statements. Because we know these things about you and your friends, we are comfortable with the offers we are making, and feel more secure about our future. People like you, Harry, make that optimism easy.”
“Harry, war is coming. Not the war between you and Riddle that you expect, with a few deaths, which while horrible, would be easily explained away, and more easily forgotten. No, this war is going to spread to muggle Britain, and from there, Europe, then possibly the world. Riddle thinks he’s different, but in reality he is no different from Grindelwald, Wilhelm, Napoleon, and all the other Wizards who were certain they had not only the ability to rule a world, but the wisdom. That such arrogance would preclude the needed wisdom obviously eludes them.”
“Harry, you are here because you have made choices, often difficult ones. I wish I could tell you the time for choices has passed, but I can’t. All I can do is assure you that if it is at all possible, you will no longer be forced to make decisions without knowing the situation and consequences. You might have noticed Harry, that you and your friends were not relieved of your wands when you came in this office. I assure you, that is not normal procedure here. We decided, however, to leave you with those wands, because we have faith in you Harry, and faith in the choices you make. You may not make popular choices, or easy ones, but your past eloquently states that many more times than not, you make the correct choice. As such, I am offering more choices to you and your friends, now.”
“As I said before Harry, a war is coming. There’s no prophecy involved with that statement, just the knowledge of what people like Riddle are, and what they will do. There’s a prophecy that says you are the one to destroy him, there’s no prophecy that says we can’t stop him as a nation, which we will do, through our will, if nothing else. We can do this without your help if you choose, and we will not attach any blame whatsoever. You have already fought valiantly and well, no one here will think you have not done your part, if you decide you have had enough. You are free to choose the path you take, Harry, but before you do, there are some things I have to tell you.” The Secretary looked at Harry closely, then continued.
“If you decide you’ve had enough, then you and all your friends here will enter a protection program, and we will do all we can to make you disappear, and live out your lives in quiet peace. We will make sure all of you have the chance to continue your educations, and lead the lives you want. There are drawbacks, however. You will separate, and never be allowed contact with the others in this group again. You will assume new identities, and lives, and everything you were before will be denied. Additionally, you will have to sleep with the reality that innocent Wizards, Witches and muggles are dying, and you might have done something to keep that from happening. That is your first choice.”
“The second choice involves great personal risk. We will still give you the opportunity to continue your educations, and hopefully help you prepare for future battles. After that education and training is complete, we will help place you in a position to best defeat and destroy Riddle. For the most part, you will all be able to remain together through this education, with the exception of specialized training for some of you. Steps to ensure your safety will remain in place, of course, but you will not have be secretive about who you are, unless you want to be. While all this is happening, you will have to be patient as innocent Witches, Wizards and muggles perish, but you will know that you are working towards making that needless suffering as brief as possible. Some or all of you will likely die in stopping Riddle, but you will almost certainly stop him, and save countless lives.”
“Your third and final choice means all of you getting up, thanking me for my time and counsel, then asking for a portkey to Britain, where you will run off half cocked, in an attempt to not let one innocent die. If you choose to do this, I can assure you that most of you will not survive through the summer, and you will be no more trouble to Riddle than a slightly bothersome fly. I fervently hope you do not make this decision.”
“Ron,”, Harry began, “Thank you. This is quite likely the first time anyone has ever laid out the consequences so plainly for me, and I appreciate it.” He sighed deeply, then went on.
“You know perfectly well, I have to take your second choice, but I won't make that decision for everyone here. We all have to decide for ourselves what we'll do. I just know I can’t kill my friends through stupidity, and I have to save as many as I can. But I have to know, before we get started; do you think any of us will really survive this war?”
The United States Secretary of magic Smiled, a warm, reassuring smile that many had claimed was the product of acting lessons and ideology over real emotion. Harry would never be one of those people to make that claim, however.
“Harry, I can’t make any promises about who will live, and who will not. What I can tell you is that according to what we have been able to discover, you are one of the two most powerful magical people on the planet, and that will help you considerably.”
Harry shook his head. “Tom Riddle of course, being the other, more powerful one.” At this, the Secretary started laughing.
“Actually Harry, Tom Riddle is a distant third, which is part of why we are so confident about the outcome of your decision. After all, the second most powerful magical person is right here in this room. You think of her as a friend, but many people, not knowing how strong this person is, underestimates them tremendously. She is, after all, much more than just the smartest witch of her age.”
With those words, Harry joined the rest of his group in spinning to face a Hermione who looked as if she had just been hit with a brick. This shock to her system however, wasn’t quite as bad as the earlier one in the day.
This time, Earp had the chair ready so when Hermione began to collapse, she landed softly.