"It's you people!"
Before the Prime Minister had even consciously realized what he was doing, he had already leapt up from his chair.
Though some distant corner of his mind still wished to maintain at least a semblance of dignity and composure before these two senior figures from the hidden communities lurking unseen within ordinary British society, his face had gone completely ashen. And he could not stop himself from shouting:
"All of this—you did this! Everything! Oh, this is deeply unfair!
I have spent an entire week—seven full days and sleepless nights—tearing my hair out over this inexplicable incident! Fielding questions from the press, reassuring a panicked public, consulting with experts who had no answers, weathering criticism from all sides!
Why is it—why is it always the case—that whenever you people cause some catastrophic disaster, I am the one left standing before microphones and cameras, endlessly explaining to sceptical journalists and conspiracy theorists that my government has not been secretly testing nuclear weapons beneath the streets of London?
That the Russians have not sent bombers screaming across our airspace and armoured tanks rolling toward Britain across the Channel?!"
The Prime Minister was breathing in great heaving gasps, his chest was rising and falling rapidly, his face had flushed red now rather than pale.
"You—you—" Words failed him for a moment as fury choked off his tirade.
"You ought to stand up publicly and take responsibility for what you've done! Face the consequences! Not leave me to clean up your messes!"
Bryan and Amelia exchanged a glance.
"Do you truly need us to step forward publicly," Bryan said gently, "and explain everything to your people?"
He paused, letting the question hang in the air.
"With the utmost respect—and I confess I have long held serious reservations about the policy upheld by wizards across the entire world for centuries, that of maintaining a total and absolute separation between the wizarding world and the Muggle world—I believe we are nonetheless agreed on one point:
that to suddenly expose the existence of magic to your general populace would cause a considerably greater upheaval and disruption than anything we're currently dealing with."
The Prime Minister's angry words died abruptly in his throat like a candle flame snuffed out. His mouth closed with a click of teeth.
After a long, tense moment of silence during which he visibly wrestled with his emotions, he sagged heavily back into the sofa.
The Deputy Chairman was absolutely right, damn him. The turmoil and chaos of actually watching the European steamroller grind its steel torrent toward the outskirts of London would likely be nothing compared to the sheer mayhem of ordinary people discovering that magic was real.
"Then, Prime Minister—" Amelia glanced briefly at the antique clock standing in the corner of the office, then fixed the Prime Minister with a steady, grave look.
"May I assume that you have now fully accepted the existence of the wizarding world? And that you realize and acknowledge the serious threat posed by Voldemort—the most evil wizard in history—to both our worlds?"
"What exactly has he done?" The Prime Minister said suddenly, lifting his head abruptly and looking at Amelia with intensity.
"You mentioned just now that this dark terrorist called Voldemort has been responsible for a number of serious incidents on British soil over the past decades. What specific incidents?"
"In 1972, the village of Cumbersey in the northeast of Yorkshire was struck by a catastrophic flash flood and mudslide. The entire village was submerged under fifteen feet of water and mud. Over three thousand lives were lost." Bryan began speaking, swirling his glass of mead gently as he gazed into the amber liquid with distant eyes.
He was recalling each event despite the passage of years, listing them like items on a ledger of atrocities.
"In 1973, a local earthquake struck Derbyshire in the Midlands. The village of Plumrill was swallowed into the earth when the ground simply opened beneath it. More than a thousand casualties. The bodies were never recovered."
Bryan paused, allowing each horror to sink in before continuing. "In 1975, the village of Rothwick in Suffolk was lifted into the sky by what meteorologists called a freak cyclone. The entire village, every building, every person, every animal, was torn from the ground and scattered across the countryside. Not a single resident or animal survived."
The Prime Minister's face had gone rigid, frozen in an expression of horror.
"The Lancashire explosion of 1976—officially attributed to a massive gas leak, though no source was ever identified. Two thousand dead, most of them children and elderly. The coastal tsunami off the south coast at Worthing in 1977 that took over five thousand people."
As each incident fell from Bryan's lips one after another, the veins in the Prime Minister's temples rose and began to throb. His face grew darker with every word, flushing from pale to red to purple.
"Enough." The Prime Minister finally spoke, forcing the word out through clenched teeth. "I understand what this Voldemort is. I understand perfectly."
He was breathing hard, his chest was swelling and contracting with each ragged breath. The impulse to hurl his glass of untouched mead against the floor was very nearly overwhelming.
Each of those disasters, recounted by the Deputy Chairman had caused catastrophic suffering on a scale that defied comprehension.
Any single one of them occurring on his watch as Prime Minister would have been enough to destroy him and his government completely. He had never once imagined—it had never even crossed his mind that those terrible tragedies, had not been the random work of a capricious and cruel nature, but rather the deliberate actions of a single person.
"I am begging you." The Prime Minister forced the words out through gritted teeth, his pride was completely abandoned now.
"Please. I don't care what it takes. Make this Voldemort disappear. Remove him from existence by whatever means necessary."
"My dear Prime Minister—" Bryan's tone remained gentle. "For nearly thirty years, the righteous wizards of Britain have been doing precisely that. The sacrifices on the wizarding side have been no fewer than those on yours."
He paused, his violet eyes meeting the Prime Minister's directly. "But I must ask you to understand something crucial: dismantling Voldemort's power, defeating him permanently, is not a simple matter of pointing a wand and saying some magic words. We still need some time—"
"Some time." The Prime Minister's voice was hollow. He looked like a man on the verge of complete collapse, held together only by his stubborn will.
"Very well. Let us all hope that the journalists—and my voters—are feeling exceptionally generous and patient. Because I certainly won't be able to give them answers."
A bitter laugh escaped his lips.
"Since you are now fully informed of the situation, let us come to the actual point of tonight's visit, Prime Minister." Amelia Bones's voice was brisk and businesslike, cutting through the emotional muddle to focus on practical matters.
"We are here today to discuss two specific matters that require your attention and cooperation. The first: the Ministry of Magic intends to place certain personnel in your immediate vicinity. As a courtesy and out of respect for your position, we felt we ought to inform you of this in advance rather than simply doing it."
"Place personnel—" This was the second time this evening the Prime Minister had shot to his feet like a spring-loaded mechanism.
He stared at them with an expression of furious astonishment, all the defeat of a moment ago was replaced by renewed outrage. "Why!?"
"To protect you, naturally." Amelia's expression was utterly solemn, showing no sign of understanding why he might object to this.
"As the Prime Minister of Britain, if you were to fall under the Imperius Curse, indescribable suffering would follow for Muggles everywhere, not just in Britain but globally. The Ministry therefore has both a moral duty and a strategic imperative to ensure your safety from magical threats."
"The Imperius Curse…" The Prime Minister shivered. From the name alone, it did not sound like anything pleasant. It sounded, in fact, absolutely terrifying.
"The curse hijacks a person's will," Bryan explained, his easy, friendly manner having quietly closed up. His expression was grave now, deadly serious.
"If someone cast it upon you and then ordered you to detonate a nuclear weapon in central London, you would do so without the slightest hesitation." He leaned forward slightly, ensuring the Prime Minister understood.
"What makes the Imperius Curse all the more dangerous is that it is not especially difficult to learn or cast. Even a teenage witch or wizard who has practiced the spell only a few times, can cast it conveniently enough to control an ordinary person.
So, you see, it is not only Voldemort and his followers we must guard against—it is also the various antisocial elements, the petty criminals and opportunistic individuals who, in the current breakdown of order within the wizarding world, have grown bolder in their malice and ambitions. Protecting you from magical threats is not merely advisable or courteous. It is absolutely essential for national security."
BANG—
The sound was the Prime Minister's hand slamming down on the arm of the sofa.
'Detonate a nuclear weapon in London without hesitation.'
The words echoed in his skull like a death knell. The Prime Minister's expression turned completely blank—hollow and stricken, utterly vacant, as though he had just heard news of a death in the family.
All the colour drained from his face again, leaving him looking like a wax figure of himself. He crumpled back into the sofa without any conscious decision to sit.
His mind was spinning with horrific scenarios: himself, blank-eyed and smiling, pressing the button that would end millions of lives.
"Since you appear to have no objection to that point, we shall move to the second matter."
Bryan took over the conversation, looking at the Prime Minister with calmness.
"How the conflict between the forces of good in the wizarding world and Voldemort will ultimately unfold, no one can say with certainty. It is entirely possible, for instance, that the dark forces of all Europe and the various Ministries of Magic who oppose them will come to open blows. A multinational magical war."
He paused meaningfully. "And it is possible that such a conflict could be fought out in the very streets of London. This city, as the seat of British magical government and the location of our most important institutions, would be the natural crucial point."
"Cough cough—!" The Prime Minister's chalk-white face suddenly flooded red. He erupted into violent, wracking coughing that shook his entire body.
"I—I'm all right—" He pressed one hand desperately to his chest as if trying to physically hold his heart inside while it tried to hammer its way out.
With his other hand, he drew a handkerchief from his breast pocket with shaking fingers, pressing it firmly to his lips. His face showed pure distress, eyes watering, breath coming in gasps.
"Shall I offer some assistance?" Bryan enquired with what seemed like concern, leaning forward slightly. "There are certain magical means that could ease your distress."
"No—no, that won't be necessary!" The Prime Minister waved them off vigorously with his free hand. "I—I'm fine. Perfectly fine. Please—do continue, Chairman Watson."
"Very well, if you're certain." Bryan settled back, giving the Prime Minister a moment to recover and dab at his watery eyes.
"Should such a situation in fact arise—a decisive magical battle spanning all of Europe, with hundreds or thousands of combatants, fought out across the streets of London with all the destructive power that implies—"
He continued in that same matter-of-fact tone.
"—if we make no preparations in advance, the exposure of the wizarding world to every Muggle on the planet would, given your highly developed technology and global communication networks, become all but inevitable. To prevent that catastrophic revelation from occurring—
The Ministry of Magic intends to begin constructing a large-scale magical barrier around the entirety of greater London immediately."
He paused, watching the Prime Minister's reaction.
"When the wizarding war breaks out, if it comes to London as we fear it might, the barrier will be activated. At that point, London will be sealed off completely from the outside world. All means of communication between the city and the rest of the world will be severed.
This will also facilitate the Ministry's task of clearing and modifying the memories of London's residents after the battle concludes. During the isolation period, those residents trapped inside the barrier may, of course, experience some degree of panic and distress."
'Some degree of panic.'
The Prime Minister's face had gone completely numb.
"That is the situation we face." Amelia rose smoothly to her feet, brushing imaginary dust from her black robes.
"The personnel assigned to protect you will report for duty tomorrow. You needn't trouble yourself with finding posts for them—wizards are quite capable of arranging that sort of thing on their own without any bother to you."
'Arranging their own posts. Without any bother to me. How very thoughtful indeed.'
The Prime Minister sat in a complete stupor, his mind was simply unable to process any more information. He'd hit his capacity for shock an hour ago.
Only when the two unexpected visitors turned to step back into the fireplace preparing to leave via that magical transportation method—did he finally rouse himself from his daze.
"Wait—both of you!" The Prime Minister cried out, his voice was cracking with strain.
Bryan turned back gracefully. He looked at the Prime Minister still slumped beside his sofa with despair across every wrinkle of his haggard face.
"Is there something else, Prime Minister?"
"For the love of God!"
The Prime Minister was gasping now, on the very edge of breaking down.
"Please make that Voldemort disappear—as soon as humanly—or wizardly—possible!"
Bryan and Amelia exchanged a glance. The corners of their mouths twitched just slightly. They gave this most "powerful" man in Britain a small, courteous nod.
"Yes, Prime Minister," they said in unison.
The wizard magic—
The flames in the fireplace roared up suddenly, blazing green and fierce. Bryan and Amelia stepped into the fire as casually as stepping through a doorway, and then they were simply gone.
The Prime Minister's office fell quiet once more.
Only the dying embers in the fireplace spoke now, crackling softly now and then in the heavy stillness like the last words of a conversation fading away.
The Prime Minister stared at the fitful little flame still flickering weakly in the grate, watching the red-gold dance of heat and light. His own expression was shifting constantly, cycling through emotions he could not name and would not have been able to describe if asked.
"Sixty thousand wizards living hidden among the citizens…"
He spoke aloud to the empty room; his voice was hoarse and hollow.
"An evil terrorist who can kill thousands with magic, who has already murdered tens of thousands of my people. A war that might trap London in a bubble and erase everyone's memories. Nuclear weapons I could be forced to launch against my will."
The Prime Minister drew a shuddering breath. "I simply refuse to believe any of this is real. I refuse."
But even as he spoke the words of denial, he knew they were lies.
His breathing grew increasingly ragged, faster and shallower. Panic was setting in properly now, delayed shock was finally hitting.
Then, all at once, he lurched toward his desk. He snatched up the telephone receiver and barked into it with the full authority of his office:
"Bernard—get Humphrey in here. Now."
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