Taure
09-06-2008, 12:40 PM
I decided to just sit down and start writing, and see what I came up with. After almost 1500 words I stopped and looked at what I had done, and it was not good. I decided to abandon it then and there, and put it up here for your general lulz.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you:
ECO-TERRORIST HARRY
“Turn the T.V. on!”
The shout came through the door, and the Prime Minister did so immediately, just in time to see the face of his greatest fear come to life on the screen. A face the entire country had grown to fear over the last year. Dark green eyes, short yet unkempt black hair, angular features and an imposing presence were his trademarks. He had that envious ability to draw every eye to him by the mere strength of his presence, even sitting at a simple desk as he was. It was the face of a terrorist. Harry Potter.
“To the people of the United Kingdom,” began the figure, his eyes intent on the Prime Minister's, as if he could actually see him, “and especially to the democratically elected government of this nation, chosen by the people to represent the people, I come to you now as a grievous wrong has been done.”
If Harry Potter was aware of the irony of a terrorist talking about grievous wrongs, he didn't show it. The Prime Minister grew uneasy; he was almost certain what Potter was about to say. The question was, how had he discovered?”
“Last night, two people, dear to my heart, were illegally abducted by the security forces of this nation. They are being held, against their will. They are probably being interrogated.”
The man's face was strained, as if he actually had enough humanity in him to care for them. The Prime Minister noticed a small crowd of advisers and ministers had gathered around him, all watching the same screen, projected onto the wall of the Prime Minister's office.
“They are innocents in my disagreement with the government. They know nothing of my plans or my organisation. They will be returned to their homes, unharmed, or I promise you now: the gloves come off.”
His voice had deepened with anger as he finished, and the most feared man in Britain stood up, not tall, but imposing nonetheless. It was clear that he had barely been restraining himself, and now his rage was clear to all. He walked towards the camera as he continued to speak, and power was in his voice.
“I will bring destruction to this land such as it has never known. I will lay waste to your towns, your families, your houses, your hospitals, your schools and your hearts. I will lay siege to your very souls: you will be unable to step out of your house without fear, not knowing if you will be next. The plagues of Egypt will pale in comparison. And so I say to you now that historic phrase: let my people go.”
The man seemed to calm down. He turned back to his desk and sat casually on the edge, he anger seemingly gone. He could have been talking about the weather.
“You will follow my demands within 24 hours, or the first plague will be unleashed. I will not tell you what it is – you will find out for yourselves if you are foolish enough to resist.”
Potter nodded at the camera – presumably at the camera man, and the screen went blank for a moment before returning to the BBC news channel, revealing a pair of very shocked news readers. Tony Blair turned the television off.
Silence ruled in the room; none of the others in the room seemed to know what to say. People began to file out of the room, off to their various jobs. Eventually, a single man remained – Smith, from MI5.
“Sir? What are your orders regarding his friends? Shall I release them?”
Tony considered for a moment.
“No,” he said, hesitantly at first, but then again, more firmly: “no. If Potter were capable of coming through on these threats, then he would have used that capability already. The prisoners are too valuable to just set free. And we do not give in to terrorism.”
The man nodded in agreement.
“Then what, sir?” he asked, “we are already on our highest state of alert.”
The Prime Minister sighed.
“Then we do nothing,” he answered. “This is not the first time Harry Potter has made demands from us. We shall merely do what we have always done: be vigilant of all suspicious activities.”
“Very good, sir.”
Smith left.
Tony Blair sat down at his desk. He needed a drink.
* * *
After making the broadcast, Harry and Neville quickly apparated away from the BBC headquarters, where they had used the Muggle equipment – helped along with a bit of magic – to make an ultimatum to the entire nation. They weren't afraid of the Muggle authorities, but they couldn't afford to be drawn into a confrontation with their police forces. If they broke the statute of secrecy, then the aurors would get involved.
So long as the Muggles thought that they were Muggle terrorists, using Muggle means, there wasn't anything the Ministry could do to stop them. It was actually an unforeseen by-product of a law created by Arthur Weasley after the war, to help protect the Muggles from a potentially corrupt Ministry of Magic. If Harry hadn't respected the man so much, he would have found the irony amusing.
They apparated straight into Grimmauld place, still under the Fidelius after all these years. Not that it was any great protection any more – there was a veritable army of people who knew its location. Harry merely didn't know how to remove it without the secret keeper, who had been dead for over 15 years.
The years after the war had been kind to Harry Potter.. Without the weight of Voldemort's horcrux within him, Harry had felt like a new person, fresh and full of energy. He hadn't even known that he had felt so heavy before his freedom. He threw himself with boundless enthusiasm into everything he did, whether it was catching the Death Eaters, becoming the best Auror the Ministry had seen in over a century, or his relationship with his (now ex) wife, Ginny Weasley. She had got the children, of course. He had kept the house and the money. Harry still thought that Ginny got the better deal.
By the time Harry was twenty-seven Harry was the Head of the Auror office. He was a powerful wizard, he was famous, he was healthy, he was loved, he had a family of his own, he was rich, and he had a circle of close and loyal friends.
And then it had all come crashing down.
The year had been 2010 when he had got the first report. That was years ago now – three years after he had been promoted. Due to his position, and his popularity with the Wizengamot, a lot of paperwork found its way to Harry's desk. Then one day he got a report from a tiny sub-department of the Ministry that he had never even heard of before: the Department of Muggle Investigations. It documented a phenomenon that the Muggles called “climate change” which the Muggles themselves were both causing and trying to stop, with limited success. As Harry had read on, he had been hit with dawning dread. The report proceeded to detail a series of possible events that could only be described as apocalyptic.
Harry had taken the report to the Wizengamot, but they were very clear. It was Arthur Weasley's law that prevented them from action: the Ministry was forbidden from interfering in the Muggle world in any way, other than to protect the Statute of Secrecy. The law had been ratified internationally. There was no way it would be reversed.
And so Harry had taken matters into his own hands. The same law that had prevented the Wizengamot from acting protected Harry from prosecution for his actions. He had been fired, of course, and Ginny had left him, calling him a monster, but Harry knew that he was doing the right thing. Only Neville understood.
And so Harry had begun a wave of mild terrorism – if any terrorism could be called that - against the United Kingdom, mostly targeting power stations and oil refineries. After each attack, which went off without a hitch every time (magic was a bit of an unfair advantage), Harry would issue a demand to the government, pleading with them to commit to a decisive and urgent course of action to save the planet.
It had been going so well. But then, somehow, the Muggles had kidnapped Ron and Hermione.
Harry had been furious. He hadn't even been in contact with them since
...........................................
And there it ends, just after I had finished coming up with all the back history. Neville and Harry were then going to have a chat at Grimmauld, get a message from one of their agents reporting what the Prime Minister had said in the first scene, and go blow up the constituencies of all of the MPs in the cabinet, using magical bombs.
After that I didn't know what I was going to do.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you:
ECO-TERRORIST HARRY
“Turn the T.V. on!”
The shout came through the door, and the Prime Minister did so immediately, just in time to see the face of his greatest fear come to life on the screen. A face the entire country had grown to fear over the last year. Dark green eyes, short yet unkempt black hair, angular features and an imposing presence were his trademarks. He had that envious ability to draw every eye to him by the mere strength of his presence, even sitting at a simple desk as he was. It was the face of a terrorist. Harry Potter.
“To the people of the United Kingdom,” began the figure, his eyes intent on the Prime Minister's, as if he could actually see him, “and especially to the democratically elected government of this nation, chosen by the people to represent the people, I come to you now as a grievous wrong has been done.”
If Harry Potter was aware of the irony of a terrorist talking about grievous wrongs, he didn't show it. The Prime Minister grew uneasy; he was almost certain what Potter was about to say. The question was, how had he discovered?”
“Last night, two people, dear to my heart, were illegally abducted by the security forces of this nation. They are being held, against their will. They are probably being interrogated.”
The man's face was strained, as if he actually had enough humanity in him to care for them. The Prime Minister noticed a small crowd of advisers and ministers had gathered around him, all watching the same screen, projected onto the wall of the Prime Minister's office.
“They are innocents in my disagreement with the government. They know nothing of my plans or my organisation. They will be returned to their homes, unharmed, or I promise you now: the gloves come off.”
His voice had deepened with anger as he finished, and the most feared man in Britain stood up, not tall, but imposing nonetheless. It was clear that he had barely been restraining himself, and now his rage was clear to all. He walked towards the camera as he continued to speak, and power was in his voice.
“I will bring destruction to this land such as it has never known. I will lay waste to your towns, your families, your houses, your hospitals, your schools and your hearts. I will lay siege to your very souls: you will be unable to step out of your house without fear, not knowing if you will be next. The plagues of Egypt will pale in comparison. And so I say to you now that historic phrase: let my people go.”
The man seemed to calm down. He turned back to his desk and sat casually on the edge, he anger seemingly gone. He could have been talking about the weather.
“You will follow my demands within 24 hours, or the first plague will be unleashed. I will not tell you what it is – you will find out for yourselves if you are foolish enough to resist.”
Potter nodded at the camera – presumably at the camera man, and the screen went blank for a moment before returning to the BBC news channel, revealing a pair of very shocked news readers. Tony Blair turned the television off.
Silence ruled in the room; none of the others in the room seemed to know what to say. People began to file out of the room, off to their various jobs. Eventually, a single man remained – Smith, from MI5.
“Sir? What are your orders regarding his friends? Shall I release them?”
Tony considered for a moment.
“No,” he said, hesitantly at first, but then again, more firmly: “no. If Potter were capable of coming through on these threats, then he would have used that capability already. The prisoners are too valuable to just set free. And we do not give in to terrorism.”
The man nodded in agreement.
“Then what, sir?” he asked, “we are already on our highest state of alert.”
The Prime Minister sighed.
“Then we do nothing,” he answered. “This is not the first time Harry Potter has made demands from us. We shall merely do what we have always done: be vigilant of all suspicious activities.”
“Very good, sir.”
Smith left.
Tony Blair sat down at his desk. He needed a drink.
* * *
After making the broadcast, Harry and Neville quickly apparated away from the BBC headquarters, where they had used the Muggle equipment – helped along with a bit of magic – to make an ultimatum to the entire nation. They weren't afraid of the Muggle authorities, but they couldn't afford to be drawn into a confrontation with their police forces. If they broke the statute of secrecy, then the aurors would get involved.
So long as the Muggles thought that they were Muggle terrorists, using Muggle means, there wasn't anything the Ministry could do to stop them. It was actually an unforeseen by-product of a law created by Arthur Weasley after the war, to help protect the Muggles from a potentially corrupt Ministry of Magic. If Harry hadn't respected the man so much, he would have found the irony amusing.
They apparated straight into Grimmauld place, still under the Fidelius after all these years. Not that it was any great protection any more – there was a veritable army of people who knew its location. Harry merely didn't know how to remove it without the secret keeper, who had been dead for over 15 years.
The years after the war had been kind to Harry Potter.. Without the weight of Voldemort's horcrux within him, Harry had felt like a new person, fresh and full of energy. He hadn't even known that he had felt so heavy before his freedom. He threw himself with boundless enthusiasm into everything he did, whether it was catching the Death Eaters, becoming the best Auror the Ministry had seen in over a century, or his relationship with his (now ex) wife, Ginny Weasley. She had got the children, of course. He had kept the house and the money. Harry still thought that Ginny got the better deal.
By the time Harry was twenty-seven Harry was the Head of the Auror office. He was a powerful wizard, he was famous, he was healthy, he was loved, he had a family of his own, he was rich, and he had a circle of close and loyal friends.
And then it had all come crashing down.
The year had been 2010 when he had got the first report. That was years ago now – three years after he had been promoted. Due to his position, and his popularity with the Wizengamot, a lot of paperwork found its way to Harry's desk. Then one day he got a report from a tiny sub-department of the Ministry that he had never even heard of before: the Department of Muggle Investigations. It documented a phenomenon that the Muggles called “climate change” which the Muggles themselves were both causing and trying to stop, with limited success. As Harry had read on, he had been hit with dawning dread. The report proceeded to detail a series of possible events that could only be described as apocalyptic.
Harry had taken the report to the Wizengamot, but they were very clear. It was Arthur Weasley's law that prevented them from action: the Ministry was forbidden from interfering in the Muggle world in any way, other than to protect the Statute of Secrecy. The law had been ratified internationally. There was no way it would be reversed.
And so Harry had taken matters into his own hands. The same law that had prevented the Wizengamot from acting protected Harry from prosecution for his actions. He had been fired, of course, and Ginny had left him, calling him a monster, but Harry knew that he was doing the right thing. Only Neville understood.
And so Harry had begun a wave of mild terrorism – if any terrorism could be called that - against the United Kingdom, mostly targeting power stations and oil refineries. After each attack, which went off without a hitch every time (magic was a bit of an unfair advantage), Harry would issue a demand to the government, pleading with them to commit to a decisive and urgent course of action to save the planet.
It had been going so well. But then, somehow, the Muggles had kidnapped Ron and Hermione.
Harry had been furious. He hadn't even been in contact with them since
...........................................
And there it ends, just after I had finished coming up with all the back history. Neville and Harry were then going to have a chat at Grimmauld, get a message from one of their agents reporting what the Prime Minister had said in the first scene, and go blow up the constituencies of all of the MPs in the cabinet, using magical bombs.
After that I didn't know what I was going to do.