Wizarding Britain Adrift (Harry Potter ISOT/LotR)

AN: I am posting this story here by request. So I should begin by saying I am never going to interact with the nsfw part of this forum, and please don’t ask me to.

Summary: Wizarding Britain is teleported to a strange land, leaving their whole world behind–including the muggles. Or: An arcane island appears to the west of Middle Earth, changing the course of history.

"And may the feast begin!" Albus Dumbledore finished his speech, and watched fondly as the new Hogwarts student began their first meal at his school. Before he could begin his own meal, an own swooped over to him and droped a letter.

Albus,

There has been an emergency. Come quick!

-Cornelius

Strange, he thought. Normally Minister Fudge is more formal in his letters. He put himself on guard, and turned to his deputy headmistress.

"Minerva, please take care of the rest. I have been urgently summoned."

"The ministry?" she asked.

"Indeed." Albus headed to the nearest fireplace, and used the Floo Network to travel to the ministry. People where traveling from fireplace to fireplace, shouting and running all about. Now, this was more chaotic than it even usually was. He sped up, and within a few minutes of receiving the message, he reached Fudge’s office.

"Oh Dumbledore, Dumbledore, it's a disaster!" Fudge exclaimed.

"My dear Cornelius. What has happened?"

"England-it's gone!" Fudge said, distraught. Dumbledore blinks in surprise, for once his experience failing him.

"Gone? We're standing right on it!"

"No, no, I mean the buildings! It's all been replaced with dirt and mud!"

Albus froze at the implication.

"The city is gone? The muggles have disappeared?"

"Yes, yes, all gone! Even London doesn't exist anymore! Only Diagon Alley, and a few other buildings are left."

“Have you contacted the Ministry of Magical France yet?” He needed to know if his was happening everywhere, or just Britain. If it was just them, they certainly could use the help.

Fudge looked lost.

“Ahem,” the Senior Undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge, spoke up. “The continentals haven’t spoken a word to us.”

“Send someone to portkey over there then.”

“We don’t need any of their help. The Ministry has lasted for hundreds of years, doing what we do best, and never with help from anyone else. We–”

“Now!” Dumbledore cut her off. It was no time for wasting time. Umbridge practically ran out of the room. An Unspeakable entered the room a moment later.

“Minister, Dumbledore,” he began respectfully. “In two hours I used a Time Turner to study the event, and it is critical that I report to you now, according to the prophecy that has come to pass.”

“Go on, go on,” Fudge said nervously.

“Muggle London disappeared before my eyes, with my devices reporting nothing but a simple spike of magic. Europe, too, is gone. There is nothing but ocean south of us. That is all.” The Unspeakable turned around and left Fudge’s office, ignoring his cries to say more. Albus knew better than to ask the Department of Mysteries anything that they didn’t want to answer.

“I must see it for myself,” he told Fudge. “I will be back in a moment.”

Albus marched out of the ministry, through the telephone booth usually used as an entrance for visitors. He gaped, for the first time in years, at the sight before him. In all of London, he could see a scant few buildings, isolated from each other and far enough that they are only in sight because there was nothing blocking them, shining brightly in the face of the setting sun. Fudge's claims that there was only mud weren't quite true, as there were plenty of plant life growing, but most signs of human occupation were gone.

He apparated to one of the buildings left, and walked inside to an empty lobby. Frowning, he flicked his wand, conjuring dozens of birds. They flew up the staircase, spreading out through the building. After a few minutes one returned, and he followed it up.

He followed it to the fifth floor, then cast the human presence revealing spell. There are people on the first door on the right. He walked up to the penthouse and knocked.

“Who’s there?” a shaky voice shouted at him.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore. May I come in?”

“No, you stay right there.” Albus heard footsteps walk up to the door, and an eye peaked out the window. “You’re a wizard!”

“You know?” Albus asked.

“Yes I know, my son went to that school of yours. Did your people cause this?”

“Not mine, though I hope it was wizards so I may reverse it. Could we talk face to face?” The man hesitated for a moment, until a woman (his wife, presumedly) opened the door for him.

“Come in for a cup of tea, won’t you?” She asked. He obliged, and they sat at the couple’s table, where they introduced themselves and Michael and Jessica Shaw. “You’re the headmaster, aren’t you? The one with all those titles?”

“Indeed I am. When I heard of the disappearance of most of London, I came as soon as I could. What can you tell me about what happened here?”

“We don’t know. When we woke up everyone else was gone and we didn’t dare leave.”

“And you’re the only ones in this building,” Albus murmured to himself. That the only muggles left are related to wizards is concerning. If this was an attack, they were closer to Grindelwald’s ideals than Voldemort’s, but more extreme and powerful than both. And wasn’t that a terrifying thought. “Will you be okay staying here for the moment?”

“We have enough food for a few days,” Michael cautiously said.

“That will do for the moment.”

He could admit to himself that he wasn't the most knowledgeable of muggle culture, but he knew that not everyone could survive on their own if this pattern was followed across Britain. Few of them would know how to farm, and those that did would be cut off from their support. Not to mention that most of Wizarding Britain's supply of food and other materials just got cut off. It would be best to bring all the muggles to one place, Statute of Secrecy bedamned. If the ministry argues, he could argue that at least some already knew of it-assuming there are more muggles left.

“I'm afraid I'm going to have to requisition the other rooms in this building temporarily in case this happened eksewhere in England. It would be easiest if everyone is in one place, you understand.”

“Do whatever you need to do,” Jessica said. “We don’t exactly own the building anyway, just our penthouse.”

And the penthouse wouldn’t exactly be a house without the rest of the building, Dumbledore noted.

“Thank you. I must be going now.” He stood up and bade them farewell. He apparated into the ministry entrance. Fudge was standing by the visitor entrance, waiting for him, but he turned to the Hit Wizards in the room first.

"My esteemed gentlemen, I'm going to have to ask for you help and the help of your entire department."

“What do you need?” Even now, after telling them not to, they jump to his command. They shouldn’t, he knew, but in times of crisis it was useful.

"Please send a message to Amelia Bones, to send squads out to all muggle population centers and bring anyone they find back to London. There are empty rooms in the remaining buildings that we can expand. I also want Aurors searching for whoever did this."

"Of course, Dumbledore," one said and apparated away.

Fudge finally noticed his entrance and ran over to him.

“So? Have you figured it out yet?” Fudge asked eagerly.

“No, but I have found a few survivors.” He decided to keep his suspicion that it is only muggles related to wizards and witches that are still here to himself.

“Ah, good. Business as usual, then?” Fudge looked hopeful.

“Fudge, there are a scant few hundred muggles left in all of London.” Albus explained, and Fudge’s face fell.

“We’ll have to do something about that, I suppose. What would you suggest?” He asked, looking totally lost.

“We have all the muggles left in Britain stay around London.”

“But the Statute of Secrecy!”

“We can hardly hide the disappearance of their entire lives from them, and there’s no International Confederation of Wizards anymore.”

“If you’re sure,” Fudge said uncertainly.

“I will make the arrangements immediately.” Dumbledore walked away. There was a lot of work to be done preparing for the muggles’ arrival–and he wanted to finish before daybreak.

 

Dear Mrs. and Mr. Granger,

You are hereby invited to a meeting at 3:00 PM, today, just outside Diagon Alley, at the new auditorium. Explanations will be given on arrival to all muggles, including what will be the new state of affairs going forward.

Thank you for coming,

Cornelius Fudge
Minister of Magic

Pearl finished reading the letter dropped on her breakfast, then looked up at the owl waiting expectantly.

“You want some?”

The owl chirped and pointed her beak at Pearl’s husband’s plate. Pearl stole some bacon from Maxwell’s plate (ignoring his “hey!”) and gave it to her. The owl carefully ate exactly two pieces.

“I think she’s intelligent!” Pearl deduced. Most animals would just take everything given to them, even if they were trained.

“Sapient, or sophont?”

“Sapient, I think. Owls don’t have a language, do they?” Pearl addressed this at the owl. She shook her head.

“I think she understands English,” Maxwell said. The owl nodded.

“She does! Plenty of trained animals do, though. And her skull is shaped like a normal animal. Not enough room for extra brain matter.”

“Ah, but she’s a magic owl,” Maxwell countered. “There might be more room in that head of hers than we know.”

“It’s a shame we can’t test our hypotheses out,” Pearl bemoaned. The owl quickly flew out the window.

“How rude,” Maxwell huffed.

“Jackie will love these owls,” Pearl said.

“Pearl…” Maxwell began. Right, she isn’t here anymore, Pearl thought. Best to move on. Once everything is fixed we can tell her all about it.

“Oh, I should tell you about the letter! We’re supposed to go to some sort of meeting later today. With explanations of all” Pearl waves her hands “this by the Minister.”

“Excuses, more like.” Maxwell grunted.

“You don’t know that! They’re wizards, they could have perfectly logical explanations. They can fix this!”

“True, true. They do have magic. And I’m sure that can do much more than what Hermione showed us. After all, she hadn’t even been to school yet!”

“Of course they would, older wizards learning more being exponentially powerful is expected. I’m sure they have plenty of logical wizards who can follow the process from start to end and solve everything soon enough.”

“Of course,” Maxwell agreed.




Their house was on the edges of London before, and so is too far to walk, but too close to bother for the wizards to make a new house closer to Diagon Alley. So, they drove. It was a bumpy ride, what with there being no roads anymore, but certainly easier than walking over a dozen kilometers.

The houses they passed by were by no means normal. They were colorful, and each unique, but each of them looking as if they should be falling over.

When they arrived, Pearl parked the car right outside the auditorium that wasn’t there yesterday, and they walked inside.

“It’s amazing how they managed to put this up in a day,” she remarked. It rose high into the sky, with seating enough for tea of thousands, and many seating sections floating in the sky with nothing holding them up. They arrived an hour early, but there were still hundreds of people already here–filling up a very small amount of how many could.

“When you have magic I imagine it would be quite easy. They can create matter out of nothing, you know.” Maxwell walked with her to near one of the floating stands. A spiral staircase lead up to it, and the couple happily climbed to experience the more magical point of view. They happily chatted to each other, wondering over the magic on display, until their voices became silent. She tried to speak again, but no sound came out of her mouth. She turned to try to see what could be the cause.

A portly little man stood on a floating platform in the center, wearing a lime green bowler hat and a pinstriped suit. He held a wand in his hand, and flicked it once before speaking, his voice bellowing out to all the stands. Only half filled, Pearl notes, and wasn’t that curious. They were expecting more people to come, she concludes, or simply made extra chairs just in case.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our muggle friends of Britain. This has been a tumultuous few days. I am Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, the head of the governing body for wizards and witches. With the absence of the muggle ministries, we are your de facto government–but not permanently. I am assured by the Department of Mysteries, those wizards and witches who study strange events such as this, that we will be able to fix this crisis within a month. Then everything will be able to go back to normal.”

The minister went on like this for quite a while, saying reassurances and platitudes to the audience. Pearl made sure not to drone out, so she caught the next important part of the speech.

“In the meantime, we are having all muggles move to London, to protect you against the dangers of the wild and to ensure we all have supplies that we need. We have set up everlasting fountains of water and other drinks in London; however, you will still need to buy food and other supply with either pounds or galleons. Gringotts Wizarding Bank handles the exchange rate.

“Anyone in need of a job, or whose job requires supplies they do not have access to, should contact the new Department of Muggles for coordination in the next few days.” Minister Fudge explained exactly the procedures for that, and Maxwell wrote them down. As likely the only dentists, they’d have all the clients–but many would be looking to the wizards instead. They had some tools at home too, but not any of the more expensive ones such as x-rays.

“And finally, thank you all for coming. I know this has been a very hard time for all of us, but with all of your support, we will get through this.” The Minister bows to the audience, and his platform floats to the ground. Pearl heard murmurs from the crowd. The voice canceling spell must have been turned off.

They exited the stands, and went to their car, when they were interrupted by a tall, thin wizard with red hair.

“Are you the muggles who own this car?” He excitedly asked them.

“Yes, but who are you?” Pearl asked.

“We’re Maxwell and Pearl Granger,” her husband added.

“Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. It is a delight to meet you.” He shook their hands. “Would you happen to have a gas canister?”

“I believe so,” Maxwell replied. He was ever so trusting in authority, Pearl knew. She would have asked what he needed with it first. It would only be logical, after all. That was a rather abrupt and random question.

“Ah, excellent. I’ve been looking for someone with one. Would you mind if I duplicated it? I’ll give you several extras, of course.”

“What does duplicating do to it?” Pearl asked.

“It duplicates it, of course.” Arthur looked mildly confused at the question.

“No other side effects?” She pressed.

“Of course not.”

“And he would know, based on his department,” Maxwell said.

“Okay,” Pearl agreed. Of course they would want to make full use of their resources.

“Great!” Arthur got in the backseat of their car as they drove home. He spent the whole trip quizzing them on technology, from light bulbs to computers. When they got home, Pearl was extremely relieved. They got the fuel canister from the garage, and watched Weasley work.

“Gemino,” he said, and waved his wand. It doubled, then doubled again, until there were over a hundred sitting in their lawn. Then he put them one by one in his bag, which couldn’t possibly fit that much in it.

“Magic truly is wonderful,” Pearl mused. If only the rest of them could do that. Her daughter will, she reminded herself.

“Muggle inventions are, too,” Weasley gaily said. He looked over at the forest in the distance. “I don’t suppose it might be dangerous living here all by yourselves?”

“It’s not that far from London,” Pearl argued.

“There’s no need for us to live in those cramped houses built in a minute,” Maxwell agreed.

“Just the same, I think I’ll put a few charms up to protect your house. The same ones on my own, except the muggle repelling charm of course.”

“That would be wonderful! Thank you, Arthur,” Maxwell replies before Pearl could. Some safety would be nice, she mused. Wards from wizards are always powerful in books after all. It will be a nice home security system once this is all over, too.

“It really is no problem,” Arthur said modestly before he pointed his wand at the lawn and started muttering spells.