• Published 19th Apr 2019
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The Gate - computerneek



After a portal is opened between worlds, a series of letter-bearing owls passes through it. What could possibly go wrong?

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Chapter 64

“Can someone get these people a newspaper?”

Agent Coal Sun very nearly blinks at not just the suddenness of the request, but in the expectation evident in the tone that it would be satisfied. Even though the girl isn’t one of the prominent people he picked out earlier. Perhaps he hadn’t picked up on something- or perhaps there’s a reason she’s wearing two microphones.

And perhaps there’s something in the newspaper that’s important to the situation at hand.

“Newspaper?” the Minister for Magic’s aide- at least, that’s what he assumes the woman is- asks confusedly.

The one boy left sitting next to the journalist- Harry Potter- smiles, rising to jog towards him, newspaper in hand. He offers it to him, before returning to his place on the couch.

Agent Coal Sun accepts the paper, unrolling it to skim the front page.

He hasn’t got it unfurled fully yet when a sudden motion occurs in the corner of his eye- and he gets a sudden feeling of danger. He reflexively draws back, dumping the paper on the floor and going for his gun, locking eyes on the source. Again, he doesn’t have time to fully respond, before the threat is handled.

It’s that man on the bed. He seemed to have gotten the courage to snatch the stick off his bedside table and try something with it. Exactly what he tried was pretty evident- a bolt of light blasted out of it, straight towards him. At the same time, a sudden sheen of blueish light had blasted out from Harry’s fingertips, forming a barrier that the red bolt of light had bounced off of. Also at the same time, Lyra’s stick pointed straight at the man- and a second bolt of red light blasted from it. She hit him dead on and, while his bolt- upon contact with the sheets- had started a fire, hers didn’t. Instead, his stick went flying, and he was knocked rather painfully into his nightstand.

Just a second or two after the sudden magical display, Princess Celestia’s anger practically oozes across the room, straight at the man.

The Minister for Magic actually facepalms. “That does it,” he declares. “He’s an idiot.”

Professor Dumbledore almost casually raises his stick… and extinguishes the burning bed with it.

Agent Coal Sun watches the attacking man warily for a couple seconds before reholstering his weapon and crouching to pick the newspaper back up again.

… That photo on the front page. Four students… three holding brooms.

So, they do ride on broomsticks and wave magic wands around. Nice to know.

He raises his eyebrow at the headline. A celebrity nearly killed a foreign envoy? Rather serious.

As he skims down the article, gleaning all the important details from it (including that the strange field the most recent explosion happened in is apparently used for a sport called ‘Quidditch’), he keeps his attention on the conversation going on in front of him.

Lyra looks confusedly at Harry. “Uh, Harry? How’d you do that?”

Harry seems confused as well. “Uh, do what?”

“That shield.”

He looks back at the space his barrier had been. “I just threw up a shield.”

Lyra raises an eyebrow. “Not what I mean.”

He tilts his head at her. “What do you mean?”

“That was a hardened air barrier, Harry. Real effective against things like punches, but magic goes through it like nobody’s business. Yet you blocked magic with it. How?”

He looks back at the space again, then shrugs at her and resumes his course back to the journalist. “I don’t know.”

Agent Coal Sun looks up from the paper, passing it to one of the Agents behind him to ‘read’ and photograph. So Lyra is a foreign envoy, at twelve-ish, and Ginny is a liason, at eleven-ish? He’s pretty sure his age estimations are accurate; it must be a nation with few or no child labor laws. Or, since Lyra and the Equestrians- he wonders, mildly, if all the funny-haired kids are Equestrians- came from another world, perhaps it’s a differing lifespan, growth pattern… or maybe, their portal does something funny to their physical ages. He could certainly see a youthful local being enlisted for some important role, like a liason, by a group of hundred-year-olds that happen to look just as youthful as the local. Perception can do quite a bit to that end, no doubt.

“Alright,” he begins, idly noting the burns evident on the attempted assailant’s clothing. Perhaps this is Lockhart- he does look like the sort that could win a smile award- and magic was sufficient to heal his burns quickly, but not mend his clothes?

On the other hand, he now knows what caused the explosion yesterday. A botched magic spell, that people like the Minister for Magic are probably here to deal with.

Oh, and that Princess Celestia is no doubt here to avenge, to a degree- for nearly killing her envoy.

He elects not to get in the way of the magical political battle no doubt happening in front of him, and bows gently, stepping backwards slightly. “We can wait until you are ready for us,” he indicates.


Rita can hardly believe her luck. Princess Celestia, Minister for Magic Fudge, and a bunch of unidentified muggles, all meeting Professor Dumbledore in the Hogwarts infirmary at once. Well… technically. Unlike the Minister for Magic, the muggles seem content to watch and wait for their turn.

Oh, yeah. She glances back at the third notepad; she’s already onto her fourth. Lockhart tried to burn the newspaper out of the muggle’s hands, no doubt trying to conceal what he’d done from them. He’d been foiled by Lyra, the foreign envoy; Celestia seems content to let the revelation of her royal status wait for a later time. From a journalism standpoint, she’s glad for that- she’s already got so much going on today that it'll be hard to cram it all into one article!

She makes sure to keep tabs on everything going on. Princess Celestia, Dumbledore, and Fudge have gotten into a rather extensive discussion of legal whatsits; Celestia has even mentioned interest in a medical exchange program- the very one Bonbon had suggested earlier, before Fudge arrived, she thinks.

The girls seem to be rather bored of the ongoing conversation. Lyra has gotten herself a very large foam wedge to lean against from somewhere, and all the other girls have lost interest… save only Sunset Shimmer, attentively following the discussion with a look of passive interest on her face.

Hermione and Draco got back shortly after Harry returned to his seat; Hermione holding a book. They’d asked Harry what happened, and he explained lightly. Hermione had then walked forward to chat with Lyra for a minute; it sounded to her like operational plans- lots of code words- so, while she did write it down, she won’t be allowed to include it in her article. Not that any of the codes would make sense to anyone if she did put it in her article; they might as well have been speaking ancient Egyptian. No, no, there has to be someone out there that would have understood that.

Now, Draco has walked around the discussing politicians to speak quietly with the muggles, holding the book Hermione gave him. She can’t quite catch the words, but the muggles seem intrigued.


“Hey, um, do you have a minute, while they chat?” Silver gestures lightly towards the various magical leaders having their discussion, stepping carefully closer to the lead muggle. She’d been told about the weapons they’d so nearly used on Lockhart, and isn’t too keen on finding out how fast she can select and deploy a suitable shield spell without any kind of combat experience. Unlike Harry, who told her about his shield blocking stuff it shouldn’t have, she’ll have to make sure she picks the appropriate type of shield for the weapon being used against her- or use a generic shield, but she can’t be sure those will be tough enough for the task.

The one in the lead raises an eyebrow at her. It’s not the kind of eyebrow she’s used to having raised at her from adults, though- it seems to her to be a respectfully curious eyebrow. “What is it?” he asks.

“This,” she informs him, tapping the Whiskey Tango book Hermione had given her. “According to Lyra, you’re ‘muggles’- what wizardkind calls non-magical folk?”

She’d been afraid that he’d be offended, but he isn’t. Instead, he nods calmly. “That would seem to be accurate,” he states. “Do I take it you have something to offset that?”

She nods. “Uh, yeah. The research Lyra has pioneered has included this.” She taps the book again, glancing down at it. “It’s… She’s got a lot of spells on this book, that- if activated by a witch or wizard- can turn a muggle into a witch or wizard.”

He raises his eyebrow even higher. “How so?”

“Ahh… by expanding capability. It’s not like the Papa Tango, so there wouldn’t really be any noticeable difference… except that you’d be able to use a wand, and wouldn’t need that… uh, whatever it’s called, to see through the perception filters around Hogwarts and other magical locations.”

His attention has definitely been drawn now. “Would it allow people to fly in?”

She blinks, and nods. “Uh… Yeah, if those spells have been stopping you. I mean, Ch-er, Skyhawk has been flying her helicopter in and out as she pleases, really- and she’s an Equestrian… which are, believe it or not, more magical than witches and wizards.”

“How long does it take?”

“Ah, it’s instant. I can trigger it now, if you’d like.”

He seems to consider for a couple seconds. “Does it hurt?”

She shrugs. “I’m told it tickles a bit, but that’s it.” She smiles. “It’s so far seen use on ‘squibs’, non-magicals born to magical families.”

He nods. “Does it have a name?”

“Ahh…” She’d hoped he’d ask that, but her prepared answer wouldn’t fit the conversation. “It’s called the ‘Whiskey Tango’... at least partly because it’s actually still secret from the wizarding world at large.”

Both his eyebrows fly upwards. At least one of his companions leans forward attentively. “Really?”

She nods. “Yeah. A lot of wizards still think we’re superior to muggles… Doesn’t exactly help that we are, objectively, in terms of individual capability. They tell me that revealing an easy way to close that gap right now could easily result in massacres on a scale we’ve never seen before.” She shudders. “Even worse than the Wizarding War that ended around eleven years ago.”

He grins slightly. “Then sure, give it a shot. We won’t tell.”

“Alright.” She places one hand on the cover, feeds it her power, and activates it. It’s exactly as easy as she’d expected; she effortlessly works her way through the complicated matrices to direct it to each and every one of the muggles… and, as she finally deactivates the Whiskey Tango, can sense that they’re all wizards now. “There, it’s done.”

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