Chapter Text
The veil shimmered and faded before their sight. Harry and the others were no longer there.
“Now what?”
George’s words shocked everyone from their stupor. Mycroft’s back straightened, Bill’s grip on his wand tightened, and Charlie crossed his arms.
Shacklebolt took a step towards the door.
“There was nothing we could do. Surely you can’t punish the Wizarding World for this,” Shacklebolt tried backpedaling quickly.
“I’m certain we can. You see, you had no rights to throw Harry Potter in prison, let alone into the Veil for a certain death. And that is exactly what you did. In doing so, you violated the right she had for a trial – a violations the Ministry ought to have learned from when they unjustly imprisoned one Sirius Black for thirteen years. In doing so, the Queen is within her rights to abolish Wizarding England,” Mycroft said, his voice like diamonds – smooth, pointed and hard. There was no room left in his words for Shacklebolt to protest.
“But what will we do? Where will we go? Wizarding Britain is the center point for all wizarding activity,” Shacklebolt reasoned.
“You should have thought of that before you broke the treaty made between the Ministry of Magic and the Queen – at that point King – of England in 1407,” Mycroft stated. He gestured for the others to start walking.
“Come along. We want to be outside of this building before we strike the Ministry down. Otherwise things could get messy,” Mycroft observed.
“You can’t do this! This affects all of us! How will it affect your family?” Shacklebolt tried appealing to the Weasleys.
“This is all that’s left of our family. Except perhaps our father. We will collect him on our way out,” Charlie stated.
“Is Dad in today?” Bill asked.
“He’s in most days. I don’t believe he gets along with Mom anymore,” George murmured back.
“Can’t say I blame him,” Bill responded.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do this,” Shacklebolt said from behind them, his voice steadier. They turned to see him with his wand on them, five Unspeakables behind him with their wands raised as well.
“You don’t want to do that,” Mycroft informed him.
“I will not have the Ministry of Magic fall while I’m the Minister,” Shacklebolt told him.
“Then you had bettered resign. We are under the protection of Her Majesty the Queen,” Mycroft said.
“I don’t see a queen here now. And she’s a muggle. She can’t do much to protect you,” Shacklebolt sneered at them.
“She can do more than you think,” Mycroft said, turning once more to leave.
Shacklebolt and the Unspeakables shot off a few spells at them. Bill, Charlie and George watched as the spells fizzed out before reaching Mycroft.
“Protection from the Queen means quite a bit,” Mycroft said lightly as they headed for the lift, Charlie and Bill still glancing behind them every now and then, wands ready.
George kept his eyes ahead.
“I should have gone with them,” George said as they made it to the floor their father was on.
“With Harry?” Charlie asked. George nodded.
“It’s not like I have anything here, keeping me from leaving.” The bitterness oozed from George’s words.
“Of course you do. You have the prank shop. That’s important to you,” Bill pointed out.
“Is it? Fred was the one who loved pranks. I loved whatever Fred loved.”
His words seemed to throw both Bill and Charlie. Neither knew how to respond, so they just exchanged worried looks.
“Plus, if the Wizarding World is being destroyed in Britain, what will I do?” George asked miserably.
“Move to America. They could use a Wizarding Prank shop,” Mycroft suggested from in front of them, not even bothering to turn around as he spoke. George lifted his head to stare at the man who didn’t turn.
“I don’t know,” George finally said as they approached their father’s office.
As soon as Arthur Weasley saw three of his children he was on his feet.
“What happened? What’s wrong?” Arthur asked, glancing from one son to the next, then to the third. And then he glanced at Mycroft.
“We need to leave, Dad. Trust me,” Bill told his father.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“It has to do with Harry,” Charlie murmured, his voice low.
“Is she okay?” Arthur asked worriedly.
“Now she is. But she’s no longer in our world,” Bill said delicately.
And Arthur blanched.
“Let me grab my things,” he said as he quickly began shoving papers and such into a bag. In no time, he had shrunk the bag and placed it in his pocket.
The now five of them headed for the exit, passing by and ignoring all the curious stares they were receiving.
Mycroft waited until they were outside of the Ministry of Magic before giving the Weasleys a grin. He pulled a paper from his pocket and handed it to Bill.
“I need you to read that document with your hand placed on the side of the building,” Mycroft explained.
“Anything else? That’s it?” Bill asked, surprised.
“It’ll take quite a bit of magic to do so, but I don’t foresee that being a problem,” Mycroft waved it off.
Ignoring Arthur’s inquisitive glance, Bill began to read.
“As a spokesperson for Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II of England, I hereby declare the England Ministry of Magic to be disbanded under violation of Section 4, Subsection 27 of the England Peace Treaty of 1407 between English Wizards and the Kings and Queens of England.”
As soon as the words left Bill’s mouth, the building began to rumble. Bricks fell out of place and, while it did not entirely collapse, it left the building in a much more dilapidated state than it would have ever reached on its own. The words Bill had read etched themselves onto the one remaining wall of the building in gold, explaining exactly what had happened.
“What happens now?” Arthur asked quietly, staring at the words with wide eyes.
“The Queen will issue an ordinance to be delivered to every wizard in the UK, announcing that they have to register their identities. Classes will be set up in the next month for Wizards who know nothing about the Muggle world and they will be mandatory to allow for better integration,” Mycroft explained.
“Wow,” Charlie murmured.
“No one’s going to be very happy,” Bill stated.
“No. I daresay they won’t be. But that’s what happens when a government becomes this corrupt. It gets dismantled,” Mycroft said, a cold glint in his eyes. He walked off, Charlie, Bill and Arthur alongside him.
George trailed behind.
Everything that was left of what he knew was being destroyed.
And the others didn’t seem to care.
He trailed behind them for a few blocks before he noted a woman watching them. She was wearing a hood and pressed against the alley wall. With a glance at the others, much farther ahead of him by this point, George moved closer.
“Hello. Are you okay?” George asked her politely. The woman’s eyes flew to his, startled at his approach.
Her eyes had only been on the rest of the group.
“I am. Yes,” she said with a nod.
“You don’t seem that okay,” George observed.
“I am. What’s going on?” she asked, nodding towards the others.
“Politics,” George said, repeating a word Mycroft had told him earlier.
The woman snorted at him.
“I figured as much. But it involves the Wizarding World, doesn’t it?” she asked.
George hadn’t even guessed she would be a witch.
“I…yeah. It does. Are you a witch?” he asked her.
“No. But I live in Knockturn Alley,” she said.
So she was some sort of creature inheritance. That sort could only find homes in Knockturn Alley.
“Yeah. The Queen of England – who knew there was a queen? – just decided to abolish the Wizarding Government. It’ll now be absorbed into the British government, and those who resist, I think, will be banished,” George explained what he had gathered from Mycroft to the best of his ability.
The woman’s eyes flashed with fear before going blank. She nodded.
“I see,” she mused.
“Listen, are you okay? Because…you don’t look okay. I know it’s got to be rough, having creature inheritances and hearing all this. But everything’ll be fine,” George tried reassuring her. She gave him an unreadable look before offering him a small smile.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“George Weasley.”
“Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes?” she asked. George nodded.
“And your name?”
Here she hesitated before giving him a second, albeit tentative smile.
“Irene. My name’s Irene.”