Illegal Emigration
Chloe had already seized the Triwizard trophy, but there was a cash prize to be awarded as well. Auguste Ragno, the French First Minister, had promised to award the prize, but to Ginny’s disappointment he hadn’t arrived yet.
The stands around the arena were emptying rapidly, and crowds were surging onto the chessboard. Every school, it seemed, had reason to celebrate, and the crowds of students were gathering, cheering, waving, hugging, singing.
Ginny could see a Yeti clumsily pick up a small boy wearing a Hogwarts robe and put him on his shoulder, where the boy waved his scarf excitedly above his head. But the other chess pieces weren’t so sure about the figures crowding around them. The Manticores were roaring, and she could hear other angry noises from around the board. The protective spells weren’t designed for this, Ginny realised in sudden fear.
Below her, she could see a pair of Hippogriffs lifting their wings threateningly, but this didn’t stop a figure in a Beauxbatons robe from running towards them and flinging arms joyously around the nearest. Ginny shook her head in horror at the sight, but then things changed without warning.
The Hippogriff reared up suddenly, breaking the student’s grip, and Ginny hurried forward in fear. The student – a girl – was on the ground now, and Ginny was sure the Hippogriff would trample her as its front claws came down, but then it was rearing once more, its powerful grey wings flapping, and Ginny could see in horror that the girl was in its claws. The Hippogriff was rising into the air.
“No!” Ginny shouted, bringing up her wand. But what spell would penetrate the protective shield around the Hippogriff without harming the victim further?
The grey Hippogriff was turning towards her, as it fought to gain height. With a jolt she realised she recognised the student. “Concetta!” she shouted in horror.
It seemed Concetta Agri’s luck had finally run out.
The other Hippogriff was screaming now, and rearing, its bronze wings beating the air. It too was flying upwards, heading for the first Hippogriff. Ginny had a brief stupid notion that the bronze Hippogriff might rescue Concetta, but when the unladen creature quickly reached the first it merely attacked the other, trying to wrest the girl from its opponent.
What spell? What spell? In desperation Ginny launched a cushioning spell, in the hope that it would catch the falling girl if she was knocked from the creature’s grip, but instead the spell caused both Hippogriffs to lose their balance, and they were tumbling around each other, fighting for the prize.
There were screams and cries all around Ginny now, and it was impossible to think. She was holding up her Phoenix wand, but all its power couldn’t help Concetta now.
Something else was rising into the sky. Not another Hippogriff, to her relief. No, a squat figure on a broomstick. Ginny’s fear increased. Surely a single blow from a Hippogriff would unseat the flier?
But the flier didn’t hesitate. The broad shoulders meant a man, she realised, perhaps a member of staff of one of the three schools. And an expert flier, who swept across the head of the bronze Hippogriff in an instant, causing it to whip its head around in annoyance, far too late to catch him. Now the rider was spinning into in a brutally fast vertical loop, and heading for the Hippogriff holding Concetta.
“Careful!” Ginny found herself saying, under her breath. “Careful!”
The grey Hippogriff was ready for him, and lunged with his beak, quicker than thought, but even though Ginny flinched – along with the rest of the watching arena – the flier flicked sideways at the last second, and the Hippogriff was spinning vainly as it tried to turn after its attacker.
The bronze Hippogriff, it appeared, had decided that the broomstick was more of a threat than its fellow creature, and wheeled to attack the flier, but despite its speed the latter dodged in a complex curve and headed straight back towards the first animal. She could see Concetta was still moving, to her relief, but then Ginny was afraid that if the girl struggled too hard she would fall to her death.
Can he do it?
Ginny knew now who he was, who he must be. The best Quidditch flier you’ll ever meet, he’d told her.
Sandrin Krum.
It was hard to breathe as she watched him loop endlessly around the two huge creatures. How could he make the Hippogriff let go of Concetta? And if he did, how could he possibly catch her?
The two Hippogriffs were about to collide, and it seemed they would smash Sandrin between them, but somehow he slipped through the closing gap, dropping like a stone, and both creatures were turning in anger as they tried to catch him. Their heads met, both squawked with rage, and the bronze Hippogriff bad-temperedly tried to bury its beak in the other. The grey attacked its opponent in turn, and Ginny could see Concetta still struggling as she swung beneath. They were easily a hundred feet in the air now.
OK, she’s still alive. But for how long?
Here came Krum once more. Would he try to rescue Concetta while the two fought?
Instead he headed straight for where the two Hippogriffs were trying to gouge each other with their huge beaks. In an instant, the two Hippogriffs turned on him, and Ginny could see the bronze Hippogriff bring up its claws, trying to grab him, to rend him apart, but once again Sandrin was too quick. He turned, spiralled and twisted and he was flying straight for the grey Hippogriff, which brought up its beak so rapidly that it seemed it must catch Sandrin, but he was zipping around its head. It turned, and in rage brought up its mighty front claws to tear the heart out of its attacker. It missed, but then at the last instant its head twisted and the beak caught him a glancing blow.
Concetta was falling, tumbling. There were screams from many throats, but then somehow Sandrin Krum was there, below her, he was reaching for her, and she was in his arms.
Here came the two Hippogriffs, angry and vengeful, falling out of the sky, their claws ready, but Sandrin was hurriedly spiralling downwards. The two creatures cawed angrily, then their rage turned them on each other once more.
Ginny’s wand was still in her hand, she realised, and she could cast spells now, binding spells to wrap rope around the wings of each Hippogriff, and another cushioning spell for when they crashed onto the chessboard, just where the Triwizard Cup had stood, as a handful of figures below sprinted out of their way.
Here came the broom, landing gently on the grass beside the chessboard. Concetta slithered onto the ground, and then she was helping him climb off too. His cloak was badly torn, blood was pouring from his bare shoulder, and people were crowding round to help, but Concetta was gesturing them to wait, using her wand to staunch the flow of blood. And then her arms were around his neck, to his obvious surprise, but then he was wrapping his good arm around her, and they were kissing.
Well, well, thought Ginny. And she didn’t even have to dye her hair.
Auguste Ragno had arrived at last, and was strutting across the chessboard, talking animatedly with Hector le Blanc beside him, trailed by the same young photographer witch as last time.
As the trio reached the centre, the three champions gathered round them, followed by the three Triwizard judges and the three school heads. Then the members of the three schools were surging across the board in a noisy and good-humoured crowd. The chess pieces had gone now, to Ginny’s relief, and she could relax at last.
Hector le Blanc was busily marshalling the key players, and Ragno was tolerantly allowing himself to be manhandled into position, along with the others, as the camera witch darted back and forth in front of them.
Ginny found herself standing slightly behind Jehanne, who was tearful but not apparently devastated by her loss. She managed to find some words of consolation for the girl, and sincerely congratulated her on her performance throughout the tournament. Jehanne shrugged, good-temperedly.
Professor McGonagall was on her left, and Caroline was in front of her, but Moore-Hexham’s face was dry. Standing behind her like this, Ginny could see a small tattoo on Moore-Hexham’s neck, just below her right ear. She doesn’t seem the tattoo sort, Ginny said to herself. The tattoo was multi-coloured – a rainbow, she realised. Caroline, unlike Jehanne, seemed purely relieved that the challenge was over.
And so am I, thought Ginny. She could feel her muscles slowly relaxing, the tension draining out of her.
The First Minister was speaking, about competition, and victory, and amity, and it was easy to tune him out, mechanically applauding when everyone else did.
The Triwizard Tournament was over, nobody had died, the three schools were at peace with each other. True, she had exams to manage now, but with the Triwizard out of the way that mountain seemed smaller, somehow.
Chloe was stepping forward, still holding the Triwizard Cup in one arm; Ragno was smiling up at her, shaking her hand, reaching round so Benjamin Sandberg could pass him the purse of reward money. He presented it to her, and she took it, awkwardly. Then he wanted to shake her hand again, at Hector’s prompting, and she had to clasp her prizes in one hand to free the other, and she made a strange bobbing curtsey. Then she was turning to the audience, holding up the cup and purse, and everyone was cheering.
Ragno was shaking the judges by the hand now, then approaching McGonagall, then Sendulla, and then Ginny, and shaking their hands too. Now he was smiling, waving, turning away, leaving.
Is it over?
No, it wasn’t: Hector le Blanc’s photographer was hurrying forward, marshalling the champions, taking more photographs, dragging forward the judges, photographing them with the champions, then on their own. Now Hector himself was talking animatedly to the champions, flirting with each one in turn.
A figure was at her shoulder, and she twitched and turned towards him. But it was only Anthony Goldstein. What was he doing here? There was no sign of Undine. To Ginny’s annoyance he ignored her and stepped almost directly in front of her, so she couldn’t see Hector any more. He’s so weird, she said to herself. What in Merlin’s name does Undine see in him?
To her surprise she saw that Anthony was slowly drawing his wand. She felt a sudden chill. Was he about to attack Hector? Why? She drew her own wand in a hurry and stepped forward.
But she was too late. Now she was next to Anthony, she could see everything. Anthony brought up his wand. Hector le Blanc’s eyes widened, but he froze instead of dodging. Anthony fired off a spell – but not at le Blanc. The spell hit Caroline Moore-Hexham in the back.
It was hard to decide what happened then. Ginny grabbed hold of Anthony’s arm. He didn’t resist, but allowed himself to be disarmed. But in that time Caroline seemed to shrink. Strangely, though, her head stayed in the same position, and it was as if her body was diminishing, so her feet were rising off the grass. Then she fell, hit the ground, tumbled and lay still.
“You’re mad!” yelled Ginny, almost incoherent. She was dragging Anthony backwards, but he seemed strangely obedient. “What’s she ever done to you?”
“She tricked me,” Anthony said, simply. “She’s tricked everybody.”
McGonagall was kneeling beside Caroline now, her hands on the girl’s inert body. But then McGonagall lifted her head and stared straight into Ginny’s eyes, and then around at the rest of them. “I don’t understand,” she said in bemusement.
Instead of comforting Moore-Hexham, she was dragging the girl’s head and shoulders off the ground, and Ginny could see what she meant. The girl was no longer Caroline. This was a smaller girl, and no longer had Moore-Hexham’s aristocratic features. She was prettier now, in fact, a beautiful girl, one whom Ginny recognised.
“That’s Cadence Demoulin,” Ginny could hear herself saying. “Delphine Bonnacord. What… What have you done, Anthony?”
The noise around them was incredible. Benard had her arm now, and was shaking her, and yelling in her ear, but no words were getting through. She shook him off and turned to Anthony.
“What did you do?” she repeated.
Anthony Goldstein was staring at the unconscious Cadence. “I created a better spell,” he said, matter of factly.
“What do you mean?” demanded Ginny. “What spell? Benard, let go!”
“Lots of spells have these stupid time limits,” Anthony said, distantly. “Petrificus Totalis. Polyjuice. Lots of them. But they don’t need to. So I wrote my own spell, see?”
“You mean, like Polyjuice?” asked Ginny, understanding at last.
“Well,” he said. “Personator isn’t a potion, it’s a charm. And you can switch it on or off. No time limit. You don’t need to keep drinking a potion every hour. It‘s not perfect – you don’t age with my spell, and people might spot that. After a while. It was a work in progress. But Cadence liked it.”
“You mean, you knew Caroline was Cadence all the time? Why didn’t you say?”
He turned to her and frowned angrily. “No! Don’t you think I’d have told people if I’d known?”
“But you knew…” Ginny began.
“I knew just now. I saw the tattoo.”
“You mean, Cadence had the same tattoo? Shut up, Benard!”
“No!” said Andrew crossly. “It’s my own little tell.”
“Tell what?” Ginny asked blankly.
“So I’d know who was using Personator! It’s in the spell – my rainbow, where they can’t see it very easily – but I’d know. It’s meant to be a secret,” he added resentfully. “Don’t tell anybody.”
“Headmistress!” Benard shouted in her ear.
“Benard, I know that…!”
“There’s somebody…. There’s lots of people… at the gate!” Benard managed to pant.
“Can’t you deal with them?” she demanded. “I’m busy right now…”
He shook his head, his face a picture of anguish.
“Are they foreign, or something?” she inquired crossly.
To her surprise he nodded. “English,” he panted. “Most of them…”
“I’m not the only person who speaks English here!” she pointed out.
“They want Magon,” he said.
Ginny stabbed a finger at McGonagall. “Just there!” she said in annoyance. “Tall, thin, grey hair, equally easy to hiss off!”
“They want to arrest her!”
“Then let them… What?”
“English Aurors!” he said. “And Umbry!”
“Umbry?”
“English… Minister!”
“English…. Wait… Dolores Umbridge? Here?” He nodded, his eyes wide. “And she wants to arrest McGonagall? She’s bang out of order!” She was speaking English now, she realised.
McGonagall heard this, and rose hurriedly. She looked furious. “I won’t be giving them the pleasure of my company,” she snapped as soon as Ginny had explained. “Don’t let them in, Ginny! You must seal the site! Immediately!”
Ginny sprinted along the stand and then down the steps until she could reach the dark alleyway that took her to the entrance of the Room. Only then could she Spin to the front gate.
There had to be fifty people crowded around the main entrance. Benard must have closed and chained shut the silver gates before he came to fetch her, to her relief, but she could see half a dozen well-built figures in British black Auror robes clustered around the gates, about to heave them off their hinges.
In her haste she couldn’t remember the shield curse, so instead she Stunned every Auror who had his hands on the gates – they fell away, like dominoes – and then Bat Bogeyed the line of people standing behind them.
There was a roar of anger from the crowd, and a mass unsheathing of wands, but before they could strike she was shouting the protection spells. “Protego totalum,” she yelled. “Salvio hexia… Cave inimicum…” What am I using that one for? She asked herself, angrily. I already know the effing enemy are here…
Those enemies were a boiling mass on the other side of the gate. Some were recoiling in case she threw more spells at them; a handful were fruitlessly aiming spells at her through the now-impermeable gate. Some were bending to help their Stunned comrades, others using their wands on themselves and each other to clear away the bat bogeys.
Two figures stepped forward, and to her disappointment they were unStunned and unBat-Bogeyed: Dolores Umbridge and Elgin Yaxley. They looked furious.
“Wow,” called Ginny. “Your looks haven’t improved.” That was partly their current anger, but time and events hadn’t dealt kindly with either of them: Umbridge’s previously plump face had fallen away, leaving her haggard and embittered, and Yaxley’s features had coarsened further, making him look even more of a thug.
And here was Dawlish, angrier than either of them, busily swiping at his own face to rid himself of bat bogeys. In Ginny’s view, bat bogeys improved his appearance.
“You!’ shouted Umbridge. “You’re under arrest!”
“Really?” Ginny called back. She was as angry as the others, but she felt satisfaction at her first strikes all the same. “What’s it for this time? Don’t forget to get the laws passed first before you try and arrest me.”
Yaxley shoved Umbridge aside, to her annoyed amazement, and stepped forward threateningly. “You’re not why we’re here, girly! But we’ll lock you up too if you get in our way!”
“So what are you here for?” shot back Ginny. “For your health?”
“McGonagall!” he shouted.
“Really?” Ginny asked, sweetly. “What’s she done? Dropped litter?”
Yaxley didn’t really have a sense of humour. His face twisted unpleasantly. “Kidnapping. Mass kidnapping. Illegal emigration. Flouting a dozen Educational Decrees. Enough to keep her in Azkaban for the rest of her life!”
“Illegal emigration? Is that a thing, now? Wait! Isn’t that just what you’ve all done?”
Umbridge stepped forward. She wasn’t laughing either. “She has imprisoned hundreds of children! A crime against youth! Their parents are terrified!”
“Their parents?” cried an angry voice behind Ginny. Ginny looked over her shoulder. McGonagall was striding towards them, looking furious. “Their parents were determined that you should not get hold of them, and put them on the Hogwarts Express personally, to come here! I’ll show you the release forms!”
“It’s illegal!” Yaxley shouted back. “We’re here to free these children, and take them home!”
“Their home is here, now,” said McGonagall. There was a steely intensity to her words. “Where they can be free to learn, free to grow, in a free environment. We know what freedom means, Mr Yaxley, and we mean to keep ours!”
“You won’t have yourfreedom much longer!” snapped Yaxley.
“And how is that going to happen?” shot back McGonagall. “This is French territory, under the protection of the French Ministry of Magic!”
“The Wizengamot will not let foreigners dictate to us!” snarled Umbridge. “We have right on our side. Not to say might!”
“Oh?” sneered McGonagall. “What are you proposing here? Even if you get through this gate, and I am confident that Headmistress Weasley will prevent that, if you look over my shoulder you will see that our children are completely protected!”
Ginny turned to look. There was now a pearl-grey canopy growing above New Hogwarts, and as she watched the canopy reached the ground, forming a solid dome, through which the castle was only dimly visible.
“Hostages!” yelled Umbridge. “They’re all hostages! We know how to deal with that!” She turned away angrily, followed by Yaxley and Dawlish. Most of the Aurors went with them, leaving a line of a dozen remaining Aurors, glaring at them through the gate.
“What are they going to do?” Ginny asked McGonagall, fearfully.
“I don’t know,” admitted McGonagall. “But I suspect we’ll soon find out. You must contact the French Ministry. What protection did you place upon the gate?” Ginny told her. “Hmm. I suspect that may not be enough. I recommend you consult your staff. They will know how best to protect this school. I will stay here, in case.”
“But…” began Ginny, unhappily.
McGonagall’s brows met angrily. “Headmistress Weasley, if you are suggesting that I am your inferior on the battlefield…”
“No! No, really not! I’m going! I’m gone!” Ginny twisted to the bridge in front of New Hogwarts. She could see dim figures through the protective shield. One small figure was easy to recognise. “Professor Flitwick!” she called. “Professor Flitwick!”
He trotted forward briskly. “Keep back! Keep away from the shield!”
She nodded rapidly. “I need Professor Lesassier! Is he still in the Room of Requirement?”
“No, he has returned to Beauxbatons, to get ready,” called Flitwick.
“What about our pupils?”
“They are still here. For now. And the Durmstrang pupils. It will be better if they are in their own school – we only have limited food here – but you need to set up your own protections first!”
Ginny gulped at that. Beauxbatons used a luxurious amount of space, compared with the compactness of Hogwarts – new or old – or even the new Durmstrang.
“Can you extend your spell to cover the entire valley?” she asked, hopefully.
She couldn’t read Flitwick’s expression through the shield, but she could see him shake his head, curtly. “No,” he said. “My shield won’t even extend to cover New Durmstrang, without weakening it. You will need to organise your own protection.”
“OK,” she said, helplessly, and Twisted back to the Beauxbatons staffroom. She found Professor Lesassier there, amidst the bustle of staff.
“Yes, of course,” he said. “I will strengthen the gate. We have some excellent spells for that.”
“Can you shield the rest of the site?” she asked, hopefully.
He looked dubious. “That would be impossible, I think. We have always relied on Vertiginis and the mountains around us as our best protection. No, if we protect the gate, that should keep our enemies away.”
Ginny was less sure about that. She had a sudden realisation. “Where’s the First Minister?” she demanded in dismay. “Is he OK?”
“He left,” said Lesassier.
Which was probably a good thing, she realised. Ragno wouldn’t be best pleased to be trapped here, just because Ginny had allowed Hogwarts to set up shop here. She sighed, summoned her rhinos, and sent a brief message to the First Minister; This was one situation where a pair of rhinos didn’t feel excessive.
She took Lesassier by the arm and Twisted back to the gate.
Then she realised with a guilty start that she hadn’t spoken to Sendulla yet. There was no shield above New Durmstrang. She hurried back there and as she passed through the gate into into the school she had to flog her brains to remember where the staffroom lay. The site seemed deserted, so there was no-one to ask.
An archway took her into a tunnel, where a set of stone-flagged steps led up the hillside, and she ran up them. Her legs and lungs were soon complaining, but here at last was the dining hall, and from here she merely had to turn left, through another tunnel – without steps, thankfully - and she was in the Durmstrang staff quarters. Here she met a hurrying Miss Silberg, who slowed and stopped to talk to her. Ginny asked for Sendulla.
“He’s at the House of Assembly!” said the deputy head. “Did you need to speak to him?”
“Er…. We… Professor McGonagall thinks you should put a shield around New Durmstrang…”
Silberg nodded rapidly. “Yes, of course. The headmaster has left me in charge of that. As soon as the pupils return from New Hogwarts we will do so. Have you any news on when that will happen?”
Ginny could only shake her head. “As soon as we can,” she said. “But I think we need to see what the British Aurors are going to do first. Do you know how to…?”
Miss Silberg glared at her. “Are you asking, Do I know how to produce a defensive shield?”
“Well…” said Ginny, her face hot, “It’s just that only Professor Flitwick…”
“Well, Scutumancers are rare, it is true, but I am one.” The words were polite enough, but there was glacial annoyance in her voice. “Do not worry about us, Headmistress Weasley. We will be ready when they arrive,” she promised. “Is there any help we can give you?”
“Not unless you have a shield to cover the entire valley,” Ginny answered, glumly. She was growing increasingly concerned. The way that Umbridge and Yaxley had hurried away from the gate made her sure that it wasn’t going to matter how good Lesassier’s protections were.
Miss Silberg’s eyes widened. “The whole valley? Not possible, I’m afraid. I think you will have to move the pupils into a smaller area to protect them… Perhaps you needed to build a New Beauxbatons too. I must go, I am sorry…”
Ginny spun back to the gate, too nervous now to walk the distance. Was Sendulla really leaving the protection of all the pupils to someone as young as Miss Silberg? Then she realised that Silberg was probably ten years older than herself, although somehow that didn’t reassure her.
Beyond the gates appeared to be a thick fog – the mountains, trees and even sky were entirely invisible now. Lesassier was standing next to Professor McGonagall, looking out. He seemed cheerful.
“Professor Lesassier,” she started, uncertainly. “Is there really no spell to protect the entire valley?” She explained how Umbridge and Yaxley had hurried away from the gate.
He frowned. “Why are they…? They are wrong, I think. There is no other way to reach Beauxbatons, except this gate.”
“Couldn’t they climb down the valley sides?” McGonagall asked.
“Well, of course, they could climb up to the Great Plain,” said Lesassier, impatiently. “And then scale down the Great Cliff. With their eyes closed, to ward off Vertiginis. But they would be very visible, and easily prevented. As I remember you have proved,” he said to Ginny. There was no discernible expression on Lesassier’s face, but she had heard he hadn’t appreciated her wrecking the Great Cliff – and sizeable amounts of the school – the previous year.
“But what about the other way?” Ginny asked. “Down the Barbegazi slopes?”
He pouted and shook his head. “The hex works on that side too. And it was tried in the Second Goblin War. A tiny force can hold back any army at the Col de la Valloup.” He gestured to the mountains above New Durmstrang. “Mr Cotte is already there, I understand. They will not come that way.”