The Prime Minister punched his table, the reverberating echo of the thump brought him some joy as his aides reflexively took a step back in unison. For being the most powerful politician in Britain, he felt shockingly powerless.

"So to summarise: the power lines are down, Heathrow Airport cannot allow any airplanes to land for the immediate future, and Scotland has…disappeared?"

Madeleine, the youngest and thus bravest of his milieu stepped forward. "The continent of North America appears to have also disappeared and with it, 1.3 million British citizens who reside there."

"Of course," said the Prime Minister. "How could I forget that?"

"Mr. Prime Minister," said Jeremy, his lead assistant, "the Queen has also sent a message."

The Prime Minister rolled his eyes. "What did that old bat have to say now?"

"Consult the portrait. That's it. Rather cryptic really."

The aides may not have understood, but Boris did just fine. He dismissed his aides and waited for the sounds of their footsteps to disappear. Boris heaved himself up and slowly walked to the side of his office where hung a portrait that none but he could see or interact with. It was the portrait of an elderly Jamaican man, which for the most part, hung innocuously and unobtrusively in the background of this office. But every now and then, it moved and spoke and offered a gateway to speak to the shadow Minister of his Cabinet: the one for the magical populace of Britain.

"You there," said Boris. He shifted from foot to foot as he waited for the portrait to respond. "Can you get the big man to come have a word? The world is on fire and I wondered if he might be able to make some sense of it."

Nothing. Boris exhaled in simultaneous relief and disappointment. Of course, that is when the backup generator went offline and the light in his office went out. Plunged into total darkness, the Prime Minister heaved a deep breath and began to feel his way back to his desk, expecting his protection detail to come to his office momentarily to secure him.

At times like this, he often wondered if it had been worth it to abandon being the leader of the Opposition to step into his sinkhole of madness that is leading his fractured country.

"Hello Boris."

Boris jumped in his seat at the unexpected sound. There had been no noise to indicate anybody entering his office, no movements in the dark, nothing to tip him off. His heart hammered in his chest and he reflexively reached for the panic button under his desk, except it was electronic and would not work in the power outage. He cursed under his breath.

A soft light filled appeared and illuminated his office. Boris blinked in the sudden light and slowly, the middle-aged woman holding a glow stick in her hand came into focus.

"Are you one of those lot?"

The middle-aged woman seemed normal enough, except she was waving around her stick, her wand, with practised ease. For reasons unknown even to himself, Boris curled in a little unto himself protectively.

"My name is Hermione Granger and I am the Acting Minister of Magic," she said.

Now that the light no longer stung his eyes, Boris could make out the woman's features. She was all sharp angles with laugh lines and a wild mane of bushy brown hair. Her expression was deadly serious.

"Where is Kingsley?"

"Dead. As of two days ago," she said.

Boris was taken aback by this revelation. "Why am I only being informed now?"

Hermione walked up to his desk and, without invitation, took a seat in front of him. "Frankly Prime Minister, you simply were not as important or high up enough on the priority list. We did inform the Queen, which, by treaty, was our only obligation. This is merely a courtesy call."

Boris felt his temper rise, but he held his tongue in light of the wand in his new Minister's hands. He had been briefed extensively about the magical world and the things that these people could cook up if bothered. He had no interest in getting into a tussle with their newly appointed leader.

"What is happening to the world? That is what I want to know. Power lines coming down. Communications jammed. For God's sake, Scotland has disappeared! Where is it?" All the frustration, all the questions he had been fielding for the past eight hours, to which he had no response, they all came hurling at the frighteningly calm woman in front of him.

"It is unfortunate, yes," said Hermione. "We are trying our best to resolve this situation, but you need to prepare yourself and your people, Prime Minister. The world they will ultimately wake up to, the ones that remain in any case, will never be the same."

His heart was hammering faster than ever and he could feel the sweat collect on his palms and the nape of his neck. "What on earth are you nattering on about woman?"

"War, sir. The magical people are at war. We have been at war for the past five years. One week ago, the International Confederation of Wizards repealed the International Statute of Secrecy and nearly every magical government the world over has followed suit, to repeal the statute from their local laws."

"What does that mean?" Boris asked, his frustration mounting with each second.

"It means that 'my lot' is no longer hiding. We are coming out into the open and reintegrating ourselves into society at large." Hermione calmly flicked her wand and a teaset appeared.

Boris watched on in horror as the teapot rose ghostly, as if rising through invisible puppet strings, into the air and began to pour steaming tea into two cups. He watched as Hermione gently raised a cup to her lips and took a long satisfying sip. He followed suit and instant calm flooded him.

"So you're going to war against the rest of the world who aren't like you?"

Hermione chuckled. "Not at all, sir. Not at all. You see, electricity prevents us from effectively using our magic. Some power lines were disabled to make way for us. Also, our people need space. Now that we are out in the open, we plan to massively increase our population levels. The magical citizens of Britain have reclaimed Scotland for themselves."

"Oh, you claimed it?" Boris said in voice so calm it shocked even him.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, we did inform the Queen we would be taking it back. Granted, it has been over four hundred years since it has been with the mundane citizens, so I imagine that this might come as a bit of a shock." She smiled beatifically. "Chin up though. I convinced my Parliament to only take Scotland. MACUSA, that's the Magical Congress of the United States of America, they joined forces with my counterparts in Canada and Mexico and claimed all of North America for themselves."

She shook her head in despair. "I tried to convince them otherwise, but they overruled me in committee. In their defence, the threat that North America poses to The Ultimate Pact was so great, an overhaul was inevitable."

Boris felt like he was in a dream, no, a nightmare. He eyed his tea with suspicion, feeling paranoid and yet overwhelming calm.

"Where is my security detail?"

"Unconscious. Not to worry, they will be up and in here within seconds once I am gone," she said.

"Why are you doing this?" Boris pleaded.

All humour vanished from Hermione's face and she looked at Boris resigned. "You don't know us or our magical power, not really, not intimately, so I forgive you for not understanding this. These are discoveries that have only come to light in the past decade after all."

"What?"

"Magic, our power, the force that holds our society together and gives us our identity, we derive it through a genetic predisposition to channel energy from the Earth. Us witches and wizards, we have a gene sequence that allows us to tap into an Earth energy that muggle scientists have yet to discover. We too don't fully understand it, but we know it exists. Our power has been dwindling for a century now and it was growing weaker and weaker with every generation. Fewer and fewer magical children were being born within magical families. Terrible wars have been fought the world-over, with magical citizens blaming each other, the stars, the moons, the arithmetic sequences or planetary alignments, everything really to justify this. But we finally did figure it out."

Hermione leaned back in her chair and observed Boris. "Do you want to know what we learnt, Prime Minister?"

Boris gulped at the mildly manic look in her eyes. "If it gets me to the end of this rambling speech, please, yes."

"The Earth is dying, or rather, being mutated. Poisoned. Without a healthy planet, no healthy magical babies with strong magical powers. Guess who is responsible for poisoning the Earth?" She tilted her head and regarded Boris with no small amount of dislike.

Sweat was now collecting on his forehead. "Climate change is most certainly the need of the hour. We are addressing it. We have drastically reduced our carbon footprint, all countries in the world, all governments, recognise its importance-"

"Too little, too late," said Hermione. "Our war was fought because we wanted to intervene as soon as we discovered what was happening. But a minor, yet strong faction opposed. Strongly opposed. Violently and vehemently opposed. Dealing with the muggles is not our business, they said. We will find a new way, they said."

"I'm guessing this minor voice of reason, lost?" Boris said, deflating.

"You're a smart one, aren't you?" Hermione laughed.

It frightened Boris to think that a woman who was spelling out the destruction of mankind had such a charming laugh. "So what will you do? With the Scots whose land you have appropriated-"

"-repossessed-"

"-and the Americans and Canadians and Mexicans and wherever else that people have disappeared that we have yet to hear about?"

"They are being frozen in time and kept inanimate," she said.

"Frozen, like Walt Disney?" Boris laughed. Even he could feel the hysterical edge to his laughter. He sipped some more tea, he needed to feel calmer.

"Yes, exactly like that, though Walt Disney was never actually frozen, you know? Anyway, population controls will be imposed on the muggles. There's simply too many of you. No more than two billion at a time. Your population is also going to be randomly sterilised, to help manage your numbers. Once you bring down your population to roughly a billion, which would take a couple of generations, we will unfreeze another billion and continue this process until all five billion frozen muggles from the current times have been able to live their lives fully. Really, it's a fair compromise, considering the alternative was…less pleasant."

Boris took a deep breath. "This is barbaric."

"It is, yes. But necessary," Hermione said, almost apologetic.

"We will fight you," he said.

He knew he would. He would spend the rest of his life fighting her and her crazy people until he exterminated every last one of them. Their locations were hidden from their eyes but not from their satellites. They had more information on these magical people than even they realised. One call, and he would have their enclaves annihilated. He didn't care if he had to level nuclear bombs, he would do whatever was necessary to protect his people.

"Really, Mr. Prime Minister, nuclear warheads? Knowing full well that our centre of government and activity is right here in London just a stone's throw away from Downing Street? You really are spinning out of control."

"How did you know what I was thinking?" Boris asked, his fear expanding hundredfold.

Hermione gently placed her hand on Boris'. "Keep calm, drink your tea, Prime Minister."

Boris did as he was told.

"You may think you want to fight us, but you have already lost. The Statute of Secrecy was repealed a week ago, but we are only acting now. Why do you think that is?"

Boris shook his head, almost as if struck. "I don't know."

"Boris, you know the kind of power we wield. I'm sure you have been briefed," she said.

"I never…never believed it." He was struggling to keep his eyes open. "Mind control, shape shifting, invisibility, all sorts of things. But if you had all of that, why had you not already taken over the world?"

Hermione laughed loudly. "Isn't it obvious? We didn't care to, not until now, not until you muggles forced our hand. My parents are muggles, you know?"

Boris looked at her, not sure what to say.

"I was bullied as a young girl because of that. At the time, when I was growing up, the wizard-born were raised to believe that people like me, witches from ordinary families that spontaneously developed powers, we were stealing away their magic. More for me meant less for them. They hunted people like me, persecuted us. I knew they were wrong, and they were. But they were right about one thing, their decline and the decline of magic is the fault of muggles. I can admit when I am wrong, Mr. Prime Minister." She patted his hand.

"What have you done?" He wheezed. His breath laboured.

"Your Generals are under our control. Your missiles have been disabled. Your fuel sources and nuclear materials replaced with manure. Your secret caches of weapons and secret agents all over have been neutralised. Your communication network has been hijacked and brought down. And lastly, your leaders have been apprehended and brought to heel. Face it, you have already lost."

Boris reached for his teacup and Hermione stopped him.

"I wouldn't drink any more of that. If you stop now, you have a chance of survival and an opportunity to lead what remains of your people in this brave new world. But if you finish that cup, well, you will fall asleep and wake up in a very different world, perhaps hundreds of years from now, maybe never." Hermione warned him.

Boris regarded her carefully. He thought deeply of everything he had learnt in the past half an hour and everything that was to follow. He thought of the difficulties and terrors that awaited him with continued wakefulness.

He drained his cup.

#

Hermione sighed as she saw the fat man with terrible hair doubled over his desk with drool dripping from his mouth. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a communication mirror.

"Harry Potter," she said.

The familiar face and green eyes of her oldest friend emerged.

"How did it go with the Prime Minister?" He asked.

"Exactly as planned. He didn't even need a confundus. Cowards, the lot of them." She said with pursed lips and a shake of her head as she tried to ward off the energy of failure that seemed to cling to her from Boris' slumbering form.

"I'll send a dispatch unit to clear up the mess," he said. "See you at the Ministry. We are planning what the first British wizardring city will look like - so cheerful things for you to think about at least."

Hermione smiled and shrugged. "It will be a welcome change." She looked at Boris sadly. "I'm only sorry it had to come to this."

"They have brought this upon themselves. This is merely damage control, Hermione, don't let it get you down."

Hermione nodded, reminding herself of the key points from the ICW Directive and steeling her resolve.

She put her mirror back in her pocket and slowly rose from the uncomfortable seat in front of the Prime Minister's desk.

"Merlin, forgive me for what I have done." She whispered.

She cleaned her robes and with a last deep breath, she apparated away.