Chapter Text
"Effective immediately," the Prime Minister's voice thundered from every broadcast, "all magic is hereby illegal…"
The regulars at The Leaky Cauldron were watching the Prime Minister's announcement on an enchanted mirror that streamed the BBC. Hannah Abbott stood trembling behind the bar while polishing a glass.
Tom the barman leaned close, "She can't mean that… can she?"
Then the regulars, men and women Hannah had served butterbeer to for months, reached inside their coats and pulled out their guns.
Hannah froze. "W–What are you doing?" she stammered.
The nearest "customer" lifted a police badge and a handgun.
"Division M. By order of the Prime Minister, you're under arrest for unlawful use of magic."
Tom barely had time to move before the door burst open. Dozens of armed officers in riot gear flooded in, aiming their assault rifles and handguns at the terrified wizards and witches of.
"On the floor! Hands where we can see them! "
Panic spread through the room, and witches screamed as spells clashed with bullets.
Hannah was grabbed from behind and felt her wand taken away from her hands. One police officer pressed her head against the table while another officer handcuffed her. Tom lunged to defend her, but was struck in the stomach by an assault rifle.
Through the windows, Hannah saw the nightmare spread. The door to Diagon Alley was open as hundreds of Muggle officers armed with assault rifles poured through in black armour, shouting orders as terrified witches and wizards fled in every direction.
As Task Force M and the police marched through the alley, the Prime Minister's voice continued to echo from radios mounted on lampposts:
"From this day forward, magic will no longer endanger the innocent. Britain shall be free."
Muggle bystanders watched with horror as Hannah and other handcuffed wizards and witches were dragged toward armoured vehicles.
Instantly, dozens of smartphones were raised. Lenses flashed as people began filming the unfolding atrocity, recording the raw violence of the police.
"Stop filming! Put the phones down!" a riot commander bellowed through a megaphone.
A group of local teenagers stepped forward. "Hey! Leave them alone! What did they even do? You can't just drag an old man like that!"
The response from the police was instantaneous and brutal. A squad of riot officers charged the teenagers and violently tackled a young boy to the asphalt. One officer snatched a girl's phone directly from her hand.
"F*ck off. Get the hell away from her!" One red-haired teenage girl shouted as she tried to step in front of the masked police men.
Hannah watched in horror as one masked police officer charged at the teenage girl, throwing away her phone and zip-tied her behind her back. All the other Muggles' defiance immediately wavered at the sight of the girl being apprehended for her defiance.
The officers hoisted Hannah and Tom entirely off their feet, throwing them into the back of a black van alongside several other terrified, disarmed wizards who had been dragged out of Flourish and Blotts and Quality Quidditch Supplies. The heavy doors slammed shut, plunging the captives into pitch-black isolation.
...
At the clothing boutique, Madam Malkin was violently dragged across her threshold by two Task Force M agents. Her fine silk robes were covered in blood as she shrieked in protest, while the police set her robes on fire.
At the far end of the street, Stefani Ollivander, granddaughter of the famed wandmaker, stood trembling in her doorway.
"Please!" she cried as officers kicked down her door. "These are heirlooms, centuries of craft!"
Her pleas were ignored. Two policemen dragged her outside while others smashed glass cabinets and poured petrol across the wooden floor.
"Don't!" she screamed. "They're alive, every wand has a core!"
The match struck. The flames whooshed upward, devouring the wands of generations in a single inferno. Stefani was forced to her knees and felt gun barrels against her back. She cried, watching her family legacy burn right before her eyes.
...
At Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, George and Angelina could hear the gunfire and shouting coming closer.
"We're not going to let them take us," George hissed. He hurled a fistful of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder and Decoy Detonators through the door, and the street vanished in thick purple fog. Angelina grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the back door. They grabbed two broomsticks from the walls and made themselves ready to escape.
"The cellar passage!" she gasped.
They burst into Knockturn Alley just as the front of their shop was battered open. Muggle officers stumbled into the smoke, coughing and blinded. George glanced back once at the red-and-gold sign of his family's shop, already riddled with bullets.
"Fred," he whispered, "I won't be seeing you yet."
Then he and Angelina mounted their broomsticks and flew into the air.
...
The Goblins of Gringotts had seen enough. From their marble steps, they watched the chaos unfold. They saw fire, smoke, and armed men overrunning the once-secret street.
The Chief Goblin barked in Gobbledegook: "Close the gates! Seal the vaults! We won't be humiliated by humans again"
Massive iron doors slammed shut. Inside, goblins raced down to the lower tunnels, locking themselves away with the gold they had guarded for centuries. As the police approached the marble steps with battering rams and explosives, the ancient, enchanted suits of silver and gold armor lining the columns suddenly came to life and charged down the steps into the gunfire.
...
Inside the grand atrium of the Daily Prophet, Ginny sat frozen in front of her typewriter as the glass windows shattered inward. Black-clad officers poured through the doors, shouting orders. Spells collided with bullets, and desks and parchment exploded in every direction.
"Get down! They're here!" cried Rita Skeeter.
Before anyone could stop her, Rita transformed into a tiny golden beetle that zipped between the boots of the Task Force. One officer tried to swat her, missing by inches as she vanished through a crack in the wall.
Nearby, Rolf Scamander clutched his enchanted suitcase. "You won't cage me," he muttered.
He threw the lid open. From within, a silver-green Occamy burst forth, growing in size as it shot upward and shattered the glass roof. The officers stumbled back in shock as Rolf climbed onto the creature's back.
"Luna, I'm coming!" he shouted, then the Occamy twisted through the air, vanishing into the clouds.
Ginny drew her wand and aimed it at one confused Task Force M officer.
"STUPEFY!"
The brilliant scarlet jet of light struck the lead officer squarely in the chest, but instead of throwing him backward, the magic merely bounced off his tactical vest. To Ginny’s horror, the police were protected by Division M's newly developed anti-magic armor.
Ginny tried to run, but two Task Force officers tackled her to the ground. Her wand rolled across the floor.
"NO!" she cried, struggling as cold steel pressed against her wrists.
"You're under arrest for possession and use of illegal magic," one officer barked.
"Let go of me, you fascist thugs!" Ginny screamed. "When Harry finds out what you’ve done, he’ll kill you!"
"We've got a priority target," the commander called into his radio headset. "This is Potter's wife. Take her to Whitehall as bait."
Two officers dragged Ginny through burning corridors onto the high, open-air roof of the publishing house, where an idling Metropolitan Police helicopter was waiting. The guards shoved her roughly into the back seat of the transport. As the helicopter lifted off, Ginny was forced to look down through the reinforced glass window.
Tears of rage and helplessness welled in her eyes as she watched the horrific view below. Diagon Alley, the vibrant, magical sanctuary of her childhood, had been completely transformed into a war zone. Plumes of thick, black smoke from Ollivanders rose into the sky, and neon-pink clouds from her brother's shop blanketed the streets. The magical world was being erased, and she could only hope that Harry and Ron would find out the truth and save her.
...
A massive breach team of the Metropolitan Police, backed by Task Force M tactical units, swarmed into the reception area of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries
The absolute terror was instantaneous. Healers in their traditional lime-green robes dropped their clipboards in shock, while patients, many frail and transformed by bizarre hexes, cried out in panic as armed Muggle officers marched onto the wards.
"We're healers! You can't—" Miriam Strout cried, before being thrown to the ground by two masked officers.
Patients screamed as beds were overturned. Healers tried to defend themselves, only to be struck by electric shock batons.
Three officers burst into the room of Frank and Alice Longbottom. The legendary Aurors, whose minds had been shattered decades ago by the Cruciatus Curse, understood absolutely nothing of the nightmare unfolding around them. One healer tried to defend Frank and Alice before being struck down by an officer with an electric shock baton. The Longbottoms had no time to react before being dragged from their beds.
In the upper ward, Gilderoy Lockhart watched the raid unfold through the barred window. The old obliviousness in his eyes was long gone, and he understood all too well what was happening. For over twenty years, the wizarding world had believed the former author to be a harmless, memory-wiped buffoon. No one, not even the Healers, knew the truth: Lockhart had secretly regained his memories years ago, choosing to play the part of the oblivious patient to avoid the shame of his past life and live out his days in comfortable luxury.
"You fools," he murmured bitterly. "You'll destroy yourselves before you ever destroy magic."
The door burst open, and two soldiers entered.
"Down on your knees, freak!"
"No," Lockhart replied, trying to sound confident despite the danger. "You're about to make history, though not the kind you'll enjoy. Obl..."
A spell half-formed on his lips, but before he could finish, a dart struck his neck. The world went dark as St. Mungo's, the heart of wizarding medicine, was overrun.
...
The Department for Wizard-Muggle Relations, situated in a white-stone building directly above the Ministry of Magic at Whitehall, had been Arthur Weasley’s crowning achievement. It was a public office where ordinary Muggles could visit, learn, and bridge the gap between the two societies since the Great Revelation.
Arthur was drinking tea, studying a broken smartphone with gentle fascination, when the door to his office exploded inward. A four-man breach team of Metropolitan Police officers, flanked by Division M tactical agents, swarmed into the room.
"Hands up! Step away from the desk!"
Arthur rose slowly, confused by this sudden intrusion.
"M-my goodness!" Arthur stammered. "Hold on a moment, fellas! There’s no need for firearms here. This is a diplomatic office. I am Arthur Weasley, the Director of—"
"We don't care who you are," a Division M agent barked. "Under the authority of the Prime Minister and the State of Emergency, this facility is seized. Hands behind your back."
The police officers forced Arthur to the floor and wrenched his hands from behind. A framed photograph of the Weasley family fell to the floor and cracked.
"I don't understand…" Arthur exclaimed in sorrow as they cuffed him. "We worked together once. We believed in this alliance."
The officers said nothing as they forced him down the corridor. Through the window, Arthur caught sight of the entrances of the Ministry of Magic being surrounded by police vans. The world he had devoted his life to, the fragile peace between Muggles and wizards, was crumbling before his eyes