Harry Potter - Hellion!

 

"What the hell? Tommy! Look!"

As Tommy and his friend, Randy looked with wide eyes, a huge fish came down the fish stairs that allowed trout and salmon migration upriver. It used the water like a water slide, jumping with powerful tail thrust from one level to the next.

"Wow! Let us get out of here! Look at those teeth! I bet it could eat one of us without bothering to chew!"

As the boys moved off to the side, the shark made its way down, spraying water everywhere. At the bottom of the water stairs, it took a mighty jump, arched up and dove in the river, gobbling a dozen ducks in the process, some of which were trying to take flight.

"Eww! What a bloody mess!"

"As you say, Tommy, as you say! I think we need to report this to the game warden. He should be in his cabin watching today’s footy game, with Billy, his son."

They moved quickly up the trail and found the warden and his son, but they were not watching the footy game as the two boys thought. They were listening to the news, which were hot on the events of the day, and what had transpired so far. Speculations about magic, wizards, witches, and what not, abounded, all more ridiculous than the previous one. The scene in front of four Privet Drive was a circus. The sudden appearance of strangely clothed people recorded by police cameras, citizens, and other sources were replayed ad-nauseam. Then there were speculations about a possible link with the shark sighting in the Whey River, along with reports of flying dinosaurs! Interviews with so-called specialists of all grain and trade were diffused on the air, and fortune-tellers were making gold faster than the mines could from their foretelling of imminent doom.

"Hey Billy! I thought you were watching the footy game!" exclaimed Tommy as he and Randy made their way to the kitchen from the back door.

"Nah! That is much more interesting. And I think the game got cancelled for security reasons. There is a... What is it called, Pa?"

"A Royal Decree, son."

"Ya, that, which tells people to stay home. How come you guys are out?"

"We left at dawn to go fishing on the lake, up-dam, but we caught nothing."

"You guys should not have. One term of the thingy is that nobody is supposed to be on or in the water for any reason whatsoever."

"Wow! We did not know!"

"Could not have, dad, the royal paperwork only got signed into law half an hour ago! Can not blame them!"

"True son, true. Boys, call home and tell them you are safe here with us."

"Why is it so important not to go on the water?" Randy asked, all the while knowing the answer as he remembered the fish coming down the fish stairs.

"There is a huge predator in the water, a sort of shark, that eats anything that comes within reach, be it swimming, or walking on the ground near or in the water, or flying overhead."

"Like the fish we saw go down the waterway?" asked Tommy innocently. "It was huge, all teeth, and it must have caught a dozen ducks at the bottom by the amount of blood in the river after it took a flying dive into the lower river stream."

"What?"

"It is as Tommy said, sir!" Randy commented.

"Billy, the phone! Now!"

The warden called the emergency number that kept flashing at the bottom of the TV screen at regular interval. After a few seconds the line cleared and he was connected.

"Priority one call. Game Warden Oxford reporting. Shark sighed traveling downstream from the fish stairs at the Lower Whey Dam. How long ago boys?"

"Five minutes top. We ran up here."

"Five minutes top."

"Okay, Sir. Expect the gates closed in ten minutes. Sorry sir, they have to be closed in a specific order to protect the dam, and I am alone. The water level should begin to drop in five. Okay sir, I will use whatever manpower I have at hand."

After hanging up, the game warden turned to the boys. "Billy, take your friends to the far side of the dam and begin closing the gates with their help. Remember! Start with the one nearest the shore! I will handle the gates on this side. Take CB2, I will take CB1, we must close them in sync to prevent the dam from collapsing! Move!"

As the boys ran out and made their way to the top grillage that prevented people from venturing on the dam, Billy explained.

"See, guys, that dam is old. Most modern dams are gated by electrical controls, but this one is gated by manual controls. Furthermore, the pressure must be build on it progressively, in a symmetrical fashion, otherwise it could well detach from its footing. Dad will close a gate, we will close the same gate at the far end. Thing is, we have ten minutes, and there are five gates on each side of the ice breaker pillar. So, two minutes per gate. Assuming they work without a glitch that is."

"What will that do, Billy?" asked Tommy, panting as he ran after his friend, followed by Randy.

"Lower the river water significantly. The next stream that feeds significant water to the Whey is fourteen miles down. If we are quick enough, we might be able to strand that shark in the river bottom before it reaches enough depth to swim out. It is our only chance. Move!"

"Billy? Gate one closing!"

"Gate ten closing, Dad! Moving to gate nine."

Gradually, each gate closed and locked. Finally, gate six locked close, and Billy and his friends watched the river bed appear as the last drop of water made its way downstream.

"Wow, never thought there were so many holes in there! Look at all those fishes jumping trying to get some place to breath!"

"Yes, it it sad, but I expected a lot more. That shark must have hunted and eaten its fill. Tommy. But it might have been for some good. After all, if it spent time hunting it did not spend it going further downstream. We might catch it that way. Dad, do you think this shark is linked to the so-called magical events that have been monopolizing the news today?"

"I can not say for sure, Billy. But so far, the day has been weird, to say the least. And it is not over. We can keep the gates closed for three hours at the most before the water runs over the top of the dam, For safety, we will open them in two."

"What about the fish stairs, sir?"

"The amount of water going through that is limited, Randy. Once it reaches the riverbed it spreads rather thinly. Just look at the edge and you will see what I mean. Tommy, I will call your mom after I have done my report. Can you stay on the bank and watch the dam, please? If you see fissures, use the CB to notify me immediately. We would have to evacuate people downstream on short notice!"

"Okay sir."

"Come, you two. We got things to do."

After a brisk report, and a call to Tommy’s very worried mother, whom promised to call Randy’s parents to inform them that he was safe, the warden moved back to the dam and began monitoring it with the help of the boys.

---

"Sir, sit!" ordered the detective in charge of the Dursley case.

"These steel chairs are cold!"

"So? If you had worn undergarments, sir, you would not have ended up nude! Now, sit! And do not try to disappear on us if you want the others to stay alive!"

"That is illegal!"

"Why, yes it is, but who gives a damn about people that ignore the law and break into a clearly delimited crime scene as if they were gods? Now, sit, or else!"

"I wonder why you insist on me sitting down so much."

"Do it or that gorilla behind will break your kneecaps. Your pick."

Dumbledore finally took notice of the ‘gorilla’, a huge six feet eleven inches that was all muscles and dim wits, busy slapping a baton forcefully in his left hand. He would not be a match for the half-giant, Rubeus Hagrid, but would certainly make him run for his money. Dumbledore sat, his mood depressed.

"Wonder why they always break before the fun starts..." growled the walking mountain.

"Glassware, Steven, glassware. Stand behind him, and if he hesitates to answer, you know what to do. I want him able to talk coherently between yells, Steven, so aim properly!"

"Do not worry. There are two hundred and six bones to reduce to dust before I need to take out the brain case."

Dumbledore became whiter than his beard. What kind of people was he with?

"You heard the man, so heed my warning. Answer truthfully, and you will walk out of here. Lie and you will not. So. Name?"

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

"See? The truth releases. Profession?"

"Professor."

"You do not tell the truth! Steven, do the honor."

"But I do, I do!"

"Not the whole truth then... so? Or does Steven need to demonstrate his finesse at bone-breaking?"

"Headmaster of a school."

"So, you are a professor and a headmaster of a school. Right?"

"Yes."

"Still hiding something, I can smell it. Steven?"

"I can not tell!"

"It is either you tell or you cry. Your pick."

"But it would violate a Royal Act."

"I do not much care as I am under the same Royals. Talk or else."

"I doubt that this task covers my case."

"The Royal Act that saw to the creation of Scotland Yard states, ‘shall investigate all criminal activity within the homeland’, ‘take all actions deemed necessary to arrest and prosecute criminals’, ‘supersedes all previous jurisdictions’. Does that clarify things for you? That, in clear, means my power overrules any Act voted, signed or otherwise stated by previous Royals."

"If you force me, then I will be forced to declare the treaty broken, which will enact severe penalties."

"I doubt you will get out of here alive if you continue, so... Anyway, you have probably broken that treaty yourself, therefore the onus is on you."

"So be it. I am the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, and the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot."

"Now we are talking. Clarify the titles. ICW? Wizengamot? Mugwump? Warlock? In that order please."

"ICW stands for International Conference of Wizards; its foundation dates back to 1066... BC. Its role is similar to the United Nations. The Wizengamot is the magical parliament of Great Britain. A Mugwump is a magical representative at the ICW. I preside said body, much like the General Secretary of the UN. And Warlock means I preside the courts, composed of warlocks, a sort of Chief Justice."

"When was that Wizengamot founded?"

"Oh, its foundation is inscribed in a secret, magically bound part, of the Magna Carta, so... 1215 AD. The Wizengamot’s range expanded as the throne of England’s influence reached out, and shrank with it, leaving behind off-shots that now cover all the colonies."

"Funny, I have learned more in five minutes than talking to my brother. Let us get back to the real issue, if you do not mind."

Dumbledore tried to figure out the cryptic comment but could not, so he focussed on his interrogator, trying to read the ice block. It is as if the guy was a first class occlumens. But muggles were not supposed to be able to occlude.

"What were you doing at the crime scene? Destroying evidence?"

"No! No! I went there when alarms rang telling me something was wrong."

"With a division?"

"A division? I do not understand. I do not see the relevance of a mathematical operation in this context."

These guys were really clueless! Not only did they wear clothes more fit for the middle ages, but they had no idea of military talk or capabilities. That might be useful. "A division, sir, is a military unit. I was exaggerating when I said you brought a division. A division is eleven thousand men. Ten thousand enlisted, one thousand officers and support. What you had was more a small regiment, one hundred men, and a top heavy fifty officers. We get by with ten officers for one hundred men."

"Oh, I see... I hope."

"Back to the question at hand. You said alarm. What kind of alarm?"

In for the knut, in the galleon, thought Dumbledore. "A ward. It was supposed to gradually charge from the magic of the protected person, but it failed doing so. As it collapsed, sensors detected the failure and alerted us. We came to the site only to find it empty... and were in the process of trying to find a magical signature justifying the failure when you intervened."

"Did you find anything?"

"No. it is as if the protections never even began charging. You said it was a crime scene. That means you too investigated. May I ask what you found?"

"Lots of blood. The carpet and the back wall were soaked, and the crime scenes specialists are in the process of reconstructing the events."

No need to tell him about the Dursleys. Who knows what these crackpots might do, thought Dumbledore

"No bodies?"

"Nope."

"Usually, death-eaters leave the bodies behind, as gruesome reminders of their purported power. So that is even more worrisome. They must have been captured for torture!"

"There was no sign of fighting in the house, so I doubt that. Nothing out of the ordinary occurred outside, apart from a random car waking everyone on the street by turning on its rim and burning rubber." Some misleading is in order, thought the detective. "Death-eaters? That sound like a terrorist organization."

"They are magical terrorists, intent on overthrowing the magical government."

"The throne?"

"They do not consider the muggle government worthy of their attention. For them, your government is a non-entity."

"They might change their view if we act. We are rather well-versed in the art of war, sir, and I doubt a few stick-in-the-mud terrorists would hold sway on us once we decide to clean the pigsty."

"Pigsty?"

"That is how we call where terrorists congregate. Notice we captured you without even a single casualty, and these were only police forces. Military forces far outstrip police forces in power."

"Police? What is police?"

"Aurors, Dumbledore. You should at least learn the terminology of mundane, if you plan to survive."

"And who are you?"

"Frank Dawlish, not at your service. I saw my brother in the tank. I am not going to help the bastard that ridiculed me for being a squib and made my life hell until dad found it in his heart to abandon me on a street corner at six years old in january, with only my pajamas on! I am sure they wanted me dead, but they did not count on the generosity of muggles that night, who not only sheltered me but adopted me in their family! I remember how he degraded me while I was young, telling me about his status as auror in the magical world. His superiority complex is so vast I would not be surprised if he wore the dark mark!"

"Is that the dark-headed guy you kept eyeing, Frank?"

"Yes."

"He does have a skull with a snake sticking out of the jaws tattooed on his left forearm."

"Then he is a death-eater, a member of that terrorist organization."

"Too bad for him. You know the rules: no parole, and if he is found guilty of crimes, there is a good chance he will be put to death. I would not be surprised if the Queen declared a state of war with the magical world if it is proven that the vast majority has forsworn itself and betrayed the crown."

"And what about giving them a chance at rehabilitation?" exclaimed Dumbledore, as he shivered at the idea of another war exploding right in the butt of the previous one, with muggles that clearly had a better understanding of its intricacies than even Voldemort.

"We tried that, and found most terrorists, if not all, considered this a sign of weakness, and came back with more devious plans to terrorize people. The rule now is to kill the cancer, not feed it." Molly Weasley had the gist of the issue right, he thought.

"Do you mind if I go cook my brother? It might tenderize him for interrogation later."

"Go ahead, Frank. And use all your training in cooking to roast his nuts... slowly."

All the officers behind Dumbledore had problems holding their laughter, and some even failed miserably, making the Supreme Mugwump even more fearful for his future health.

Two officers accompanied Dawlish out of the interrogation room.

"I thought he was going to make in his non-existent pants!" said one officer. "Especially when the others behind him began laughing like loons."

"That was a masterful act of psychological intoxication, Dawlish. He must see us as the sum of all evils by now. Cook your brother... roast his nuts, slowly... the guy must be thinking about his jewels constantly by now."

"Yes, and I am sure the Sergeant-Detective will put that situation to good use. Now, let us continue and visit my older brother. I have a few barbs to pull out."

---

"Your Majesty, the Prime Minister is here."

"Let her in."

"Your Majesty."

"Sit down everyone. We are in a sticky situation as you all know. The magical world is now public knowledge and there is nothing we can to to put the genie back in the bottle. We can only try to reduce the impacts."

"What is the impact of the Wizardry Secrecy Act? From what I have heard, they are considerable."

"They would be if the outing of the magical world was our doing. As it is their own arrogance and refusal to keep up with the times that has brought them to attention, they are now at fault. I am quite sure the Minister for Magic will disagree, but I do not give a shit. As of now, they fall under direct Crown control, as per article twenty-two of the Wizardry Secrecy Act, and under the umbrella of the Magna Carta, in effect losing self-governance. I have given orders to General McNally. They, as you, have regrouped their mages in divisions. Their orders are simple: Take control. The Wizengamot is no more. Scotland Yard is to take over policing their enclaves; MI5 is to flush out terrorist activities, and MI6 is to make sure there are no spies of theirs in Our government. If you find any, prosecute them for high treason."

"Your Majesty. Channel five!"

"What now? Luckily this throne has a pee pot under or I would have done in my robes."

"Wysiwyg reporting for Channel five. The shark has been spotted, stranded in a shallow pool of water. The Coast Guards, assisted by the Royal Marines, are trying to net it, so far without success. It keeps escaping the nets and jumping from pool to pool. No one dares come close to these jaws. The Marines are busy setting up a firewall between free water and the pools the shark can access. Wait! What is happening? The shark is changing shape! It is growing legs! No, the ventral fins have migrated down and reshaped into very nasty looking paws! The gills have disappeared! And its scales have grown bigger! The dorsal fin has split into a number of rather impressive spines, and the tail fins into rather sharp-looking blades of bones covered with thick scales. The teeth have reduced in numbers but increased to humongous size! And the snout is changing, revealing nostrils that... smoke! What the hell is that thing? Its color is turning from gray to black... And wow! That man barely escaped being roasted by diving in the pool of water in front of him! One guy got hit by a swipe of that tail and landed at the top of a tree. A group of military is trying to reach him. Now its growing... wings?? Yes, it seems like wings! They are expanding at an enormous rate! The neck is also lengthening, now representing half the body length from tail end to front shoulders. Muscles grow out and the skin stretches as scales crack and seem to reshape under our very eyes! It is taking off! It is taking off! And a tugboat caught in the mud got roasted in passing! Oh, my god! It is attacking the RAF jets! One, two, three down!"

"A Dragon!" muttered one of her Majesty’s servants.

"What did you say, Donald?"

"It is a dragon, your Majesty, a Hungarian Horntail! I was fascinated by my sister’s book of Magical Creatures and I spent hours looking at still and animated pictures of the dragons. These are the worst."

"Oh, God! What next? No, I do not want to know! I want to be able to sleep tonight!" the Queen said.