Chapter five; the vanishment of all saints

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The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. 'Where shall I begin, please your Majesty?' he asked. 'Begin at the beginning,' the King said gravely, 'and go on till you come to the end: then stop.'

-Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

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November 1st

The day of all saints dawned as any other mundane day, the sun rose from the east, enthralling the audience, the cheerful, yet annoying chirps of the blackbirds perched on the very edge of the scarce skeleton of hallowed out trees rang out through the small town, a gentle breeze took pace early in the morning and people went about their day as they always did, mundane, indifferent and shallow.

At eleven, the festival was well into place, manifesting in the many churches of the town, the celebration was going smoothly, respectfully managed, the forgotten recalled and honored, and by any other accounts, typically normal like any other ceremony, as a repetitive cycle that has been going on for years.

At noon, the first emergency call was made by a frightened child to the closest police station; his parents, along with the entirety of twenty people including the priest have simply vanished in thin air. The call was perceived as a prank call until the second one followed soon after from another church with the same claim. This time the call was made by the priest himself.

By two in the afternoon the whole department was in a panic, not only similar calls have been made from all across the country, but the same has been reported from overseas, like an unfurling flower the disaster increased across towns, mostly in small communities and breached out to the bigger crowd. Muggles were running in panic, no-majs were confused, emergency measures were called and the red button was figuratively smashed down by several authorities.

One particular meeting took place in London, the prime minister’s office, the same evening of ‘The day all Saints have vanished’, as head titles seemed to suggest. The man himself had a deep frown etched on his sun burned forehead, his hands were tightly intertwined, and his knuckles clenched in rhythm with his shortened puffs of breath.

Across him sat a pudgy man in dark green robes that any insensitive person might call an ‘overly ridiculous nightgown’.

“I must say I’m confused sir, I don’t see how any of these reports have anything to do with me.” The pompous man exclaimed after quickly skimming over the folders, a few pieces of parchments circulated around the man’s ridiculous hat, as the man waved his ‘wand’.

The furrowed man’s scowl deepened. “You told me that I was under an obligation to inform you of any paranormal activities that might be explained with…Magic.” He bit out the word with difficulty, still finding the notion hard to believe.

The obnoxiously droopy eyed man nodded distractedly. “I understand, but I must say that your call was quite unnecessary, this wasn’t done by magic dear minister.”

“How could it not be magic?! A total of two hundred people have simply vanished from the face of the earth and you’re saying it’s not sorcery?” the minister roared, finally smacking the old cherry wood table with all his might. The minister of magic huffed at the action and the parchments fell onto the ground at once.

“Magic is not boundless and as wild as you’re implying. A roomful of people cannot simply be vanished out of existence with magic while leaving no evidence, no mind the logics, the act itself would be impossible without leaving a trace. Merlin’s beard! Even Dumbledore himself wouldn’t be able to do that if given the order!” Minister Fudge spat out, his face was hot and red with anger, the man was blinking rapidly, as if trying to correct his vision.

The prime minister rubbed at his temples. “Then what is this? Do you know who could’ve caused this? You spoke of this ‘you know who’ person. Could it have been him?” he asked, drawing the name out of distant yet vivid memory.

“Great Circe, no.” the man snorted. “Such claims about You-know-who’s return is all most likely a sham, I assure you, we would’ve known if… surely not…” the man trailed off, jaw hanging half open and his eyes glazed over.

“Minister Fudge.” The prime minister addressed coldly, jolting the pudgy faced man out of his daze. Minister Fudge recollected his wits, and straightened his robes.

“No, it can’t be him.” The man insisted.

“Your political affairs are none of my business minister Fudge, but I’m sure you know the reason why I can’t cross these incidents out as mere accidents.”

“I do understand, I also can’t help but get the constant impression that you’re arrogantly pointing the blame on us. As I told you before, Muggle regulation laws restrict each witch or wizard from committing such a vile act. I advise you to wait and see if a logical explanation pops up, if it didn’t then we shall start investigating the case.”

“You could investigate the case now.” The prime minster growled out.

Minister Fudge fumbled with his robes for a moment before schooling his expression to a cold glare. “Muggle regulation laws forbid the magical community to do so. At least, until it is proven otherwise.” He quoted, proceeding to infuriate the muggle minister even further.

“This couldn’t be normal; it /should/ be related to magic or supernatural activities somehow, I believe that's the most rational explanation.” The man insisted.

“Maybe you should renew your belief in god; you muggles seem oddly fond of him, Magic was not involved.” Fudge sputtered out in his blind rage and denial, wildly gesturing to the scattered newspapers on the minister's desk, his comment was met by a cold glare and the pudgy man flushed.

"And as the prime minister, I would have to insist you send your people for investigation anyway. There's no harm in making sure." The man gritted out, the vein on his neck pulsing from the grated nerves.

Fudge, still flushing from his earlier outburst, nodded half-heartedly. "Yes... We'll see about that."

“Thank you for notifying me, I would be sending a few Aurors to inspect the locations." he stood, and brushed off his robes. "Even you-know-who himself couldn’t escape without leaving a magical trace. Good evening dear Minister.” The man tipped his head with his wand in a flair of anger and frustration and vanished from sight with a pop, leaving the prime minister bewildered in an empty office with two untouched teacups as company.

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10th November

The vanishing kept on plowing through people from all over the world; people of all ages, gender and occupations have just disappeared in board daylight, presumably stolen from their homes, work, and even in their cars in the streets.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal, normally the magical world or the investigating department in the ministry had little to do with muggle affairs, even if the accidents had been classified as ‘paranormal’ and kept on thriving without hesitation, the wizarding community lived their lives in peace.

That was until the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures never showed up at his post the morning of November the tenth, which resulted in a delivery spam in a busy day such as werewolf registration day, the following events almost caused a riot when the Department of International Magical Cooperation reported that all his employees have gone missing all at the same time from different locations all throughout neighborhood countries.

In the middle of this chaos, Fudge’s personal assistant Percy Weatherby had never gotten back from his five minute lunch break (evidently he had never made it to his office in the first place) and the minister was lost in the throes of a dull meeting with Mr.Greengrass regarding the school regulations and Umbridge’s tremendous success in handling Hogwarts for the good portion of the day.

By evening, the minister had received another set of reports claiming that the Parkinson’s had all seemingly /disappeared/ in the middle of a customary tea party with the Malfoys, leaving no signs of magic of any kind in their leave, Lucius Malfoy, while immediately declaring innocence, expressed his concerns by launching a private investigation the same very evening as five head Aurors also never gotten back from their mission.

It was like a plague; by the fifteenth day, no one was to be trusted, witches and wizards thought it to be Lord Voldemort’s reining terror, despite the Daily Prophet’s denial and the continuation of them slandering both Harry Potter, and Albus Dumbledore. The ministry had no explanations to offer and Voldemort had not taken any claims on the supposed ‘attacks’.

Was it a spell? Was it intentional? Was someone behind the job or was it Mother Nature that had turned on them?

By 21st November, instead of getting prepared for the yule and celebrations, terror seized the crowd, some even quit their jobs in hopes to stay a little longer with their family; it was then that the magical world slowly begun its journey to sink their ship in the sea of realization. The moment when they all suddenly conceded; ‘Oh damn, it’s coming for all of us.’

Half of Muggle’s entire population had disappeared, so had a noticeable amount of the wizarding world’s population, December first dawned in a ghostly silence; all governments fumbled and even the dark lord finally stepped in to offer help, much to everyone’s horror and confusion.

Two days later, a group of fine Aurors (on the behalf of the ministry) sought out the offer, without contacting Dumbledore or official Order members of the deed, but thankfully, Mad eye Moody, was the one in lead, leaving no room for arguing or doubt.

They were almost to the meeting point, behind the small flocks of snow covered trees over the hill in Little Hangelton, a group of Aurors (nine with Moody himself) portkeyed to the town and ventured their way to the hill.

“Are we sure about this Alfred? Trusting the Dark Lord of all people seems like madness.” One of the Aurors asked Moody’s right hand man, the biting cold had painted his face an embarrassing shade of red.

The tall blonde man in question turned, facing his colleague with a grim expression on his face. “It’s the end of times Berry, even you know who can see that.”

The other man quivered in fright, sweat rolled on his forehead in perfectly round beads. “He could be the one behind this! This could be a trap…”

Alfred cut him off with a grimace. “Even if it is, this is what we became Aurors for Berry, to save lives. I for one don’t want to lose the love of my life if I could help it. If it’s my own life then so be it.”

“Neither do I want to die if the guy behind this sham is you know who.” Berry muttered under his breath.

Mad eye smacked his staff hard on the ground; the crisp frozen grass was crunched under the weight of his fake leg. “Stop your yapping Stinson; you could’ve been dead if a deatheater had snuck up on you.”

“Aren’t they supposed be our allies now sir?” Berry snapped back, clutching his wand a bit higher grudgingly.

Moody actually turned and glowered at the quivering man. “Would you say the same thing, if I was the one hexing you from behind? /constant vigilance! / You’re an Auror for Merlin’s…” mid-sentence the man was no more than thin air, the Aurors all yelped, gaping at Moody’s fallen staff. There was no sound, no indication or evidence that pointed at the man’s sudden vanishing, nothing.

The Aurors frantically formed a protective circle around mad eye’s staff; their wands brandished in the air and loosely pointed to each other as their eyes darted around the clearing.

“Where did he go?” someone asked, their voice filled with fright, and their hand trembling.

“It doesn’t matter Jensen, be alert.” Alfred snapped, the Aurors complied, Alfred was Moody’s second in command, and obeying his orders would be like obeying the grumpy paranoid man himself.

“Someone’s there!” a voice cried out and all wands were immediately pointed at the robed figure, approaching from the edge of the woods, a silver mask etched upon his face.

They instantly went on the defensive mode, a protective shield was drawn around them in case they were being ambushed and each Auror was on alert, though on Fred’s silent command, they didn’t hex the death eater.

“Where’s Auror Moody?” the death eater asked as soon as he was in hearing range. The group tensed and looked at their leader for orders. Alfred narrowed his hazel eyes, and lowered his wand.

“He vanished in thin air a few moments ago.” He said honestly. Seeing no point in lying anyways, as the death eater had not drawn his wand on them. Cries of protest were stifled among his troop.

The death eater tensed, his robes shuffling as he did a double back.

“We have a problem here.” The death eater said slowly, his voice strained behind the mask.

“What?” Jensen snapped at the man, his wand tightly clenched in hand.

The death eater shook his head, not in reluctance but in astonishment. “The dark lord is also gone.”

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That evening, Snape and I actually went to the porch and sat by the ajar front door, we had spent the day mostly in compatible silence; each of us deep in thought as the earth completed another round and the sun was about to set. I gazed at the dimmed flickering horizon of the trees, wishing that I was there, not lonely or by myself exactly… but away from Snape’s overwhelming presence.

“Is it too late to go back and get my stuff?” I asked. My fingers traced the concrete next to my knees. The weather wasn’t agreeable the more it got closer to sunset; a definite chill had settled over the air, the waft of the night sky filled my nostrils as insects started crying for attention. Staying in here was terribly different than the ones I spent in the woods and I was feeling something akin to homesickness.

It seemed, even in silence, the town of Joy couldn’t stop screeching in my head.

“Where is your… den located?” Snape asked from somewhere behind me, only half of his body was out of the door, hence the ajar door, now adorned with a single hole that I had shot through two days ago.

I shrugged. “I don’t know the directions exactly; it’s far into the woods, a two hour walk from here.” My only signs were the few article of clothing I had sacrificed in order to find my way in, mostly my own hand me downs rags that were graciously given to me by my aunt.

“Do you know how to find your way in the dark?” I turned to face the man’s passive and thoughtful expression, surprised at the lack of anger or sarcasm in his tone, my fingers involuntarily scraped on the hard cement. Snape raised an eyebrow and leaned back, wand in his left hand, and crossed over his left side of body. I scowled.

“I can find my way through the woods just fine.” I snapped at the man. “I meant the wild animals that would be roaming the forest, there should be quite a few of them around, and I don’t want to be around them in this dark.” This man obviously hadn’t encountered a bear’s close up face only fourteen inches apart from his; if he had he wouldn’t have made that weary expression that seemed to question my lucidity and common sense.

“I’m a wizard Potter;” he stated the obvious with the same weary face “your biggest concern shouldn’t be a few rogue dogs running around.” Dark sarcasm dripped from his voice like poison and the tension in my shoulders lightened; I knew this Snape, this bastard was the same potion master terrorizing students and deducing points because ‘ you were breathing too loud.’ Or ‘Blinked too hard.’ Or didn’t ‘shut your idiotic face.’ In his presence.

I glared hatefully at his red flannel shirt (he was looming over me, and I couldn’t crane my neck and gaze in his eyes for too long.)

“A wand wouldn’t help you in the forest, that’s not a warning, it’s a fact. Not in the dark anyways.” I growled out as I gritted my teeth. A rifle and pent up magic saved me from a bear attack, I doubted Snape would be as quick.

Snape rolled his eyes. “Words of wisdom coming from the jungle brat, maybe I should start taking notes.”

My nails agonizingly dragged on the cement porch as I stood. “Maybe you should.” Then, I sighed irritatingly.

“I didn’t bring this up to start an argument Snape. I wanted to ask a question, I was going to ask if you could apparate us there, without ever being in the den before. I’m not that eager to die, or to get torn apart by those ‘hungry rogue dogs’ by wandering in those woods for hours.”

Snape’s sneer was finally shadowed by the lack of sun’s presence, the insects started chirping louder, and I found myself drowning the urge to shoot the man again. God, the bliss would have been amicably welcome.

“No Potter, one can’t apparate to an unknown location in the woods, nor can one side-long apparate with a magically instable brat like you. We’ll go there by foot, tomorrow morning.”

I dusted my /borrowed/ pants, and grimaced as I saw the dried mud caking my new trainers, dammit, I cursed, I only had those since yesterday. Snape’s arm steadied me as I stumbled momentarily. “You could’ve just said that without the venom.” I yanked my arm away, and shouldered past him, back to the warmth and comfort of the house. The door was slammed behind me as Snape strode past and disappeared in the kitchen.

“I’ll be out of here tomorrow at five, if you bothered to join me, I wouldn’t have to hike alone.” I said loudly enough for the man to hear, and crossed the hallway, immediately settling on my couch.

From my earlier investigations, the house, Snape and I were crashing in, belonged to a nice average Muggle family. One that I never got to experience by myself, but had known existed; a tight knit family with two average children, who were smiling brightly to the camera with missing teeth, and their kind looking mom to the dad who was obviously the one taking the picture.

I didn’t know why Snape had left the pictures untouched; they had been grating on my conscious since I found them that morning, after my conversation with the potion master. To me the man didn’t seem like a morally entitled guy, so maybe he was too lazy to bother, or simply didn’t care as much as I did, but seeing those pictures hanging on the walls, the traces that this family had left all around the house… it made me nauseous.

I drew my knees to my chest; feeling oddly frightened compared to the night before, aside from the fact that I was drugged, last night was exhausting enough that I didn’t think twice about dozing off on the couch. Staying the night with /Snape/ in a /ghost town/ seemed easy then, now it felt as if their phantoms were hunting us.

I missed my sleeping bag, even though it smelled, or my stolen clothes or the feel of the night’s gentle breeze caressing my face as I gazed up to find Sirius, somewhere lost in the sky, just like me. I didn’t belong in someone else’s home.

The hairs on my body bolted upright, and I was taken aback by the sudden chill settling over me, there was no way that I was getting out of this house, until it was sunrise, the idea of staying over in here for the second night in a row, in a town that was once filled with people, including the muggle family on the walls shook me. It rattled my inwards, exceedingly close to bringing me to the verge of tears again.

“Are you taking the couch again?” Snape asked me once he reentered the room, two steaming mugs in his hands.

Similar mugs that were only different in color, it was the children’s mugs. I realized in horror.

“I’m not sleeping in the children’s room.” My voice sounded strained to my own ears, Snape’s hand accompanied the mug he was handing to me, as if he knew I would drop it otherwise.

The man clicked his tongue. “Stop thinking about it Potter. Trust me, you’re not being productive or even remotely right about this.”

I gaped at him. “There were two. They barely looked ten, and I’m wearing the /boy’s/ pants.”

It seemed just as the sun dawned, so did my courage. It didn’t surprise me; nights were probably the only time I gave myself the right to freak about the events that I had no time to rethink during the day. This morning, wearing the boy’s pants merely saved me from the embarrassment of being naked in front of my teacher, now it stuck and itched on my skin like it knew it didn’t belong to me.

I was wearing a dead boy’s clothes.

“It’s /altered/ Potter.” Snape supplied unhelpfully. “As you said, the kid was barley ten.”

Unlocking my arms, I let go of my knees and stared at the man in astonishment. “So you’re not bothered by this at all? That the people in this house are all unfairly dead, that you’re using their things to scrape by in this miserable world, and wearing their clothes so you wouldn’t regress to being a fucking caveman… How could you not be bothered by that?!” somewhere in the middle of my speech, anger seeped into my voice, rising as every word spilled out in quivers.

“I was bothered by that Potter, I’m not a monster, but I also know that in order to survive, sometimes we need to take extreme measures. This isn’t even /close/ to the extreme Potter, transfiguration, conjuring and other spells only work so much. The less you ponder on these the better for your health.” The man answered smoothly, I fell back on the couch with a sigh, my face closed off any expression.

I knew that I wouldn’t sleep tonight, the couch would barely make a difference with my guilty conscious and sense of worth, and I wasn’t really accustomed to sleeping in here.

Snape looked me dead in the eye, calmly sipping his tea. “The tea helps.” I looked down at the grim color of the liquid, and the sluggish swirls of white steam wafted a strange scent into my nose.

“What did you put in it?” it wasn’t a question as much as it was a statement, this was what he had fed me last night too, and I slept like a baby all night; my stress levels were high enough now to accept this drug induced tea just so I can get a shut eye.

“Something that helps; it’s a combination of calming draught and a secret ingredient. Don’t worry Potter, it’s safe, it’s the same mix I gave you last night.”

“This is so fucked up.” I muttered. I was willingly about to drug myself, in someone else’s presence. Snape could kill in my sleep, like he could have last night. The self-betrayal was equally as satisfying as much as it stung.

Snape didn’t look up from the spot he was staring at. “I agree.” He said.

He didn’t urge me to drink the tea, and only finished his own in silence, as his mug was bottomed up and the content all drunken, the man set the blue mug on the small coffee table next to him and stood, accio’ing his journal, he then settled by my feet. Just like last night.

I decided that if I wanted to attack Snape or at least drag some information out of him, I might as well drink the damn thing to preserve some of my energy, and get some sleep for the second night in row.

It tasted like any other tea with a hint of an herb I couldn’t identify, I quickly drained the whole mug and set it next to the disturbing family picture set on the coffee table, and my eyes momentarily caught the young boy’s. So radiant and happy and innocent, I thought sluggishly, yet he died and I’m living.

Despite Snape’s obvious efforts, I still had the same nightmare I had been having for months.

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"I'm tired of this! I'm out!" My voice rattled the very core of the room. Even with blazing fire in the hearth, my voice made every blood run cold. And I was aware of it.

"Don't you dare step out of the tower Harry Potter. We're supposed to stay together, it helps!"

"Help how?! They're gone! Everybody's gone! No one is going to care if another one disappears. We're all going to die anyways." I could tell that I was in the throes of a mental breakdown; I numbly detected the signs as the surreal scene took place before me.

There are many things that would reveal a person’s true character; being in near death situation was one of those, and although I had been put in that position many times, my true colors showed when there seemed to be no way of survival. I can safely say that I was only second to Lavender Brown when it came to hysteria.

As expected Ron was the first to flip out. "You of all people don’t get to say that. I lost everyone! My parents, my brothers, Ginny's gone, and you only pity your own sorry ass? You bastard!"

For once, no one called Ron on his language. Hermione didn't jump in to scold, she agreed, she has lost people too. People that I never dreamt of having in my life. An orphan had nothing to lose in a situation like this.

"You think I don't mourn them as you do?!" I tried to be sympathetic, because I truly was. I missed Ginny too, I missed the Weasleys too.

"No you have no idea how it feels like. You have no one!" Ron punched a wall. The wall nearest to him, several people jumped, Hermione hurried off to get McGonagall... Ron punched the wall again.

I was stunned, I had no one.

The world was crumbling down, and I was sorry for my own ass. I was a horrible person. They already lost too much... I was nothing. What was a best friend in comparison to the person's family? Everything. Ron and Hermione were everything to me. But I wasn't theirs. It just made sense.

As of in a trance, I turned, ignored every voice calling me to come back, and brushed off the hands, even the bloodied knuckles that halfheartedly tugged at my sleeve. I tore myself away. But then something happened. Something that hadn’t happened in the memory.

My way was blocked.

"Stay Potter.” Snape’s voice commanded me out of nowhere. “Stay and they don't have to go too. You don't have to be alone. It would be your fault. Their deaths would be on you... Don't leave. This isn’t a punishment." Tears rimmed in my eyes, I knew in an instant that this was the point in which I had to either turn back to Snape’s stoic face and apologize or stomp my way out in an angry march.

I knew this was a dream, I knew whether I turned or not, they would disappear anyways, but the blurred voices behind my back were too tempting for me to ignore, the voices calling my name, telling me to turn. Clear and loud, but blurred nonetheless.

Notwithstanding the urge to at least try to get them back, I paused, I couldn't resist anymore; I turned to face my friends in a flash.

Gone. The room was empty.