Chapter 3 : No Pureblood is Safe
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20 June 2024
“Please somebody HELP!!” The cries of desperation came from the middle of the Emergency room at St. Mungo’s. “Please! I think he’s dying!”
The people in the room looked around, startled, for the source of the yelling. Sitting on the marble floor and holding a very pale man, with blood all over his body and clothes, was a very young woman with jet black hair and blue eyes. She was also covered in his blood, crying and rocking his body back and forward, making his arms to hang onto his sides.
“HELP!!” she screamed again, with more tears pouring from her eyes.
Two Healers came running with a stretcher floating after them. They didn’t seem surprised by the scene in front of them.
One of the Healers knelt next to the woman and examined the man. “What happened?” the healer asked, while checking the man’s pulse.
“I d-don’t k-know.” The woman sobbed. “He-he just came h-home, coughing a lot and burning up. J-just half an hour l-later he was on the floor vomiting b-b-blood. By the time I apparated here he was already p-p-passed out.” She started crying again, holding to the man for dear life.
“Miss I need you to calm down and let go of him, or else we are not going to be able to treat him.” The Healer said in a soothing voice.
The woman realised she was holding to the man with all her force, and also that the Healers couldn’t get him to the stretcher. She slowly let go of him, still sobbing and got up. The Healers got the man into the stretcher.
“Miss, do you know what his blood type is?” One of the Healers asked.
“His blood type?” she asked outraged. “He is a pureblood!”
“No, his blood type as in ABO?” the Healer asked, not affected by her snobby tone in the least.
“I don’t know!” she gasped as if it was a stupid question. “Why would you ask that?”
The healers started taking the man to a room with a plaque saying “112” with the woman following closely behind. One of the Healers took the man inside while the other one stood outside with the woman.
“He needs blood. He’s losing blood really fast!” the Healer said urgently.
“And what blood do you think you are going to give him? Why don’t you use a blood-replenishing potion?” the woman demanded with no tears in her eyes anymore.
“The blood-replenishing potion isn’t working. We don’t know why. We think that this disease, or whatever it is, is auto-immune to all the potions, spells, and herbs we have tried so far,” the Healer explained. “We are giving him blood from the Muggle blood bank. That’s where we get all the blood we use here at St. Mungo’s.”
“WHAT?” the woman yelled, she was starting to get red with rage. “YOU ARE NOT GIVING HIM DIRTY BLOOD!” The shouting caused her to start coughing.
“Without it he’s going to die of blood loss!” The Healer was starting to get furious with the woman. It was clear that she didn’t understand the gravity of the situation.
She took out her wand and pointed it at the Healer. “If you think of giving that polluted blood to my brother, I’ll kill you!” she hissed, still coughing.
“Are you feeling alright?” The Healer asked, noticing the woman coughing. He stretched his hand to feel the woman’s forehead.
She stepped back a few inches, her eyes widening with shock. “Don’t you dare TOUCH ME!!” she screamed before dropping to her knees and started vomiting blood.
The healer quickly grabbed her left arm, helped her up and took her inside room 112.
Almost all the fifty beds in the room were occupied. Most of the people in the beds where in an induced coma, but that didn’t keep the blood from coming out of their mouths and noses. Tubes were coming from inside of their mouths and noses to drain the blood; to prevent them from choking on it. Medi-witches were running around exhausted, wiping the blood from the patient’s eyes and changing the blood bags. Some of the medi-witches and healers were even starting to cough and become pale.
The Healer made the woman sit down on one of the remaining empty beds, next to the one her brother was on. She looked at her brother and noticed that he had blood being given to him through IV.
She looked at the Healer enraged. “What did I say to you?”She demanded weakly. She raised her wand that was still clutched in her right hand, shaking. “You will take that thing off his arm, or I will kill you!” She coughed out some more blood.
“But he will die, and so will you!” The Healer tried to reason with her.
“I’d rather die, than have a single drop of dirty blood inside of me!” She coughed again. “Do it!”
The Healer looked at her in disbelief. “I can’t!”
She got up, almost tripping. And as fast as she could she ripped the IV from her brother’s arm. The Healer took hold of her arm and struggled with her for the needle. The woman pointed her wand directly to the Healer’s chest. “Crucio!” Nothing happened. “Crucio! CRUCIO!” the woman looked at her wand terrified. “What’s happening to me?”
“That must be one of the effects of this...disease,” the Healer said in shock.
The woman widened her eyes as her horror grew as tears began to form in her eyes. She started to breathe heavily and dropped her wand. It was a second later that her body leaned forward, and she fell forward to her knees vomiting up even more blood.
At the same time one of the Healers collapsed on the floor, scattering the blood bags he carried in his arms and started vomiting blood on the white marble floor.
Granger-Weasley Home, London, UK
21 June 2024
After getting married, Ron and Hermione bought a two story house in the outskirts of London. The decoration of the house was very simple, with straight line, in red, white and black. Through the window could be seen a perfectly well-kept garden.
Hermione was taking breakfast and reading the Daily Prophet in the kitchen. Ron walked in followed by Rose. They sat at the kitchen table and joined Hermione for breakfast.
“Where’s Hugo?” Ron asked breaking the silence.
“Skating with his Muggle friends,” Hermione answered robotically without even taking her eyes off the newspaper. “Have you read this?”
“Probably not, I just woke up,” Ron said, stating the obvious, and he took a big bite of a slice toast and directed his attention to the TV that was on mute.
Hermione laid the paper on the table covering Ron’s plate and pointed at one of the articles.
“Hey!” Ron protested, with his mouth full. He looked at where she was pointing and started reading the small article.
Strange Disease Strikes
Before the closing of today’s edition of the Daily Prophet, we got the information of a strange disease that just began causing havoc in the wizarding world.
Some of the symptoms of this disease are high fever, compulsive coughing and vomiting blood. If you or someone you know start showing some of this symptoms, please go directly to St. Mungo’s.
We will be giving more information on this disease in today’s Afternoon Prophet.
“Vomiting blood?” Ron asked a little disgusted.
“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Hermione picked up the paper and proceeded reading it.
Ron nodded and turned his attention to the TV again.
For the following fifteen minutes the only noise breaking the silence was the sound of Hermione changing the pages of the newspaper and Ron laughing at the muted cartoons on TV.
“Have you thought of what you are going to do, now that you’re out of Hogwarts Rose?” Hermione asked, not looking up from the Daily Prophet and changing another page.
Rose, who was immersed in her own thoughts, almost fell out of her chair, startled, when she heard her name. She looked up, a little annoyed. She already knew that when her mother spoke to her, it was the beginning of a battle.
“What?” She asked nonchalantly, looking at her bowl of cereal, no longer hungry.
“Have you thought of what you are going to do now? And don’t talk to me in that tone,” Hermione folded the newspaper and put it down on the table. She looked at her daughter expectantly.
“Yes. I’m going to work as a freelance reporter,” Rose responded emotionlessly.
“And how about a real job?”
“A Freelance Reporter is a real job!” Rose finally looked at her mother.
“A real job, Rose Weasley, is a thing that gives you a future, and that puts food on the table!” Hermione said with all the patience she could muster.
“Haven’t I told you already not to get into my life?” Rose got up; ready to stomp up to her room.
“I am your mother Rose! Your life concerns me!” Hermione snapped and got up too.
Rose stopped halfway up the stairs.
Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself down. “Listen, there’s a job opening at the Daily Prophet,” she grabbed the newspaper and turned the pages quickly to find what she was looking for. When she found it, she showed the page for Rose to read it. “It’s like what you want.”
“No mum. It’s not like what I want. What I want is freedom. Freedom from you, and from this house!”
Hermione looked hurt by her daughter’s choice of words. “The only way for you to be free from...me...is when you start earning your own money. And that only happens if you have a real job!”
Rose bit her tongue to prevent herself from saying things she might regret. She turned around again to go to her room.
“It’s either this, or a job as a janitor at the ministry,” Hermione threw the paper on top of the table. “You will not stay here, doing nothing, and wasting your life.”
Rose faced her mother again. If looks could kill, then her mother would be lying on the ground from the expression that Rose shot in her mother’s direction. She turned around and stormed off up the stairs and into her room.
Her room was big and decorated all in white. Her queen sized canopy bed was against the left wall, and against the right wall was a vanity with a large mirror. Next to the door was a closet also with a big mirror. In the wall opposite the door was a big window, at the right of the windows was a desk with a laptop on top and at the left of the window was a small photographer.
Rose closed and locked the door. She then closed the window’s blinders and turned on a red lamp and started working on the photos she and her cousins took on the train back home.
“I’ll show her...”she muttered to herself. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. “I don’t want to talk!”
“It’s me Rosie,” her dad’s voice came from the other side of the door.
Rose gathered the photos and opened the blinders before going to unlock the door and letting her father in.
Ron sat at the edge of Rose’s bed and gestured to her so sit next to him. Rose sat. “Dad you can’t let her do that!”
Ron looked at her for a minute. “You hurt your mother with what you said, you know?”
Rose looked a little ashamed and looked at her feet.
“I know she can be very bossy at times-”
“All the time!” Rose cut him in.
“Yes, but she’s only doing it for your own good.” Ron felt awkward for saying that.
Rose let a sigh escape from her lips.
Ron took a piece of paper from the back pocket of his trousers and unfolded it. It was the article about the job opening at the Daily Prophet. “Better this than the alternative. And you might like it.”
Rose looked at him sarcastically.
Ron chuckled. “Give it a try okay? For me?”
“Okay dad,” Rose sighed.
Ron gave her the piece of paper and left the room. Rose looked at the piece of paper. “I have nothing to lose.”
The Cave, Unknown Location, UK
21 June 2024
Inside of the dark and gloomy cave, the cloaked and masked group was forming a circle like the last time. The blood that Goyle had vomited on the floor, in the middle of the circle, had already been cleaned. The group was talking all at the same time.
“Silence!” the voice of the leader echoed, and everyone shut up.
“What happened to Goyle?” One of the men, at the left of the leader, asked.
“He’s at St Mungo’s-“
“Ah, finally went to the crazy ward?” Pansy asked mockingly, interrupting the leader.
“The coughing and vomiting blood...he had the symptoms the Daily Prophet described...” another man in the circle said anxiously. “Do you think...do you think that is the virus-“
“The virus!” Pansy said incredulously. “It was created to attack mudbloods! I’m sure it’s not it!”
“But Goyle broke the flask,” the man continued. “He started showing symptoms right away...”
The leader coughed and everyone turned their attention to him. “Solovyov wouldn’t get it wrong.”
“He said that it wasn’t ready, it hadn’t been tested!” another man said, with panic beginning to show in his voice. “Wasn’t the purpose of the virus to take away all the magic inside them?”
“Yes...” the leader thought for a minute about all the man had said. “Goyle wasn’t able to cast a stunning spell or to apparate...” He coughed again, but this time it took him a couple of minutes to recover.
“But that’s because he is a thick headed-“
“Shut the bloody HELL UP Pansy!” one of the man, in front of the leader, bellowed.
“Sorry, Draco...” Pansy said faking innocence.
Draco just ignored her. “My wife said that all patients that check into St. Mungo’s are either Purebloods or Half-Bloods. But the Half-bloods aren’t nearly as affected by the disease as the Purebloods.”
Pansy huffed in disgust at the mention of Draco’s wife, and crossed her arms.
“But the common symptom among them is the inability to perform any kind of magic.” Draco continued, still ignoring Pansy.
The cave went silent, except for the noise of drops of water falling and the faint sound of the fire dancing in the torches.
“What have we done…?” One of the men at the right of the leader said, starting to panic.
The Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, UK
21 June 2024
A cloaked man apparated into a personal library. Around, against the walls were bookcases filled with books in different languages, about different things, and from different authors. The books seemed to be organized in alphabetical order, by author name. This was not an ordinary personal library, it had so many books that it had to be two floors high. A beautiful neo-gothic stairway was connecting the two floors, with an emerald green velvet carpet covering the steps.
The entrance double-door was made of walnut wood, with an “M” beautifully carved in each door. In the wall opposite to the door, was a fireplace which mantel was carved like the Parthenon, in the middle of the mantle just above the fireplace was another “M”.
In front of the fireplace were two emerald green armchairs and in between was a walnut wood coffee table.
In the middle of the room was a walnut wood desk with some parchments, envelopes, a bottle of ink and a quill.
Lighting the room was a big crystal chandelier.
The hooded man took off the cloak and the black mask, revealing a pale man with a pointed face and fine bones; and with pale, white hair and grey eyes.
The man threw the cloak and the mask into one of the armchairs and sat at the desk, coughing. He opened one of the envelopes that said to Mr. Draco Malfoy and read the letter.
I’m sending this letter to thank you yet again for another generous donation for our Pediatric ward here at St. Mungo’s.
That money comes in time of great need, as you might have read in the Daily Prophet.
Now, with the money we were saving for the pediatric ward, we can find a cure for this malady.
Hope to find you and your family well.
St. Mungo’s director,
Draco opened one the top drawers of the desk and took out a little rectangular notepad. The notepad was printed on. Draco grabbed the quill, wet the tip on the ink and started writing. The coughing was getting uncontrollable and Draco had to wait a minute for it to stop.
“St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies…one hundred thousand galleons…Draco Malfoy”
Draco took the first page of the notepad, put it inside an envelope, but before he could write anything on the envelope he started coughing again.
This time blood was splattered into the envelope. Draco looked wide-eyed to the blood and started panicking. The coughing was making the breathing process really hard now.
Draco got up and started walking as fast as he could to the door. He opened the door, with his hand shaking.
At the other side of the door was a big living room, with high ceilings, it had another fireplace similar to the one in the library. It also had a big velvet emerald green couch and armchairs, and a black grand piano. Hanging on the walls were paintings of other Malfoy family members, the majority of them were already dead.
A boy in his late teens was playing Für Elise on the grand piano, absorbed in the notes.
“Scorpius,” Draco coughed out weakly.
The boy turned around startled and the music ceased. He looked just like Draco, but 30 years younger. He looked at the state his father was in and sat on the piano bench; shocked.
Draco was pale white, and had blood pouring from his mouth and was shaking terribly.
“Where is your mother?” Draco asked, looking around.
It took half a second for Scorpius to process the question his father had asked him.
“I…I think she’s in the garden,” Scorpius got up and ran to one of the glass doors that led to the gardens. He ran into the garden and returned a few moments after with a woman right after him.
The woman looked younger than Draco. She had light brown hair and blue eyes, and a pale round face and pointy nose. She looked at Draco and her eyes went wide.
“Draco…” she ran to help Draco sit on the couch.
“Astoria,” Draco said before starting to cough out some more blood.
“It can’t be …” Astoria breathed out, horrified. A tear began pouring down her cheek. “I’m taking you to St. Mungo’s!”
She took Draco’s hand and intertwined her fingers with his, and apparated with a loud POP! Leaving Scorpius alone, staring at the place where his parents last stood, with pure horror and shock on his face.
Leaky Cauldron, London, UK
22 June 2024
Rose got out of the green flames and into the crowded pub.
Since Hannah Abbott had bought it, the place had lost his dark, shabby and grubby look. It now looked much cleaner, warmer, cozier, and welcoming. The windows had been cleaned, and now the darkness had been replaced by natural light that came from outside.
Rose said hello to Hannah and Neville, whom helped his wife during the summer holidays, and went out into little courtyard at the back of the pub. She looked at the brick wall in front of her.
“Three up...two across...” Rose mumbled to herself, before tapping the correct brick with her wand.
Instantly the brick wall opened to reveal an archway that led into Diagon Alley. The long cobbled street was fuming with excitement. Wizards and witches where walking around, getting out and in the little shops. Rose ignored the fantastic shops and restaurants, and walked through the street until she found what she was looking for.
The building was not as big as Gringotts but it was bigger than the other shops. The outside walls were painted in pearl white, the windows in both sides of the beautifully carved mahogany front door were three stories tall with no interruption. Just above the door was a huge plaque saying The Daily Prophet in black news lettering.
Rose walked through the open door and into a lobby. The marble floor reminded her of both Gringotts and St. Mungo’s. She mused with the thought of every big building in the wizarding part of London having marble floors. In the middle of the entrance was a table with a jar with a huge bucket of white Lilies. At both sides of the entrance were big archways that led to waiting rooms. At the secretarial desk with a young witch behind it, organizing papers and sending little paper airplanes in different directions. Rose recognized those little airplanes, they were memos. The same thing was used at the ministry.
Rose went to the secretary and cleared her throat to get her attention.
“Just a minute please,” the blonde haired witch said without even looking up.
A minute later the witch stopped doing what she was doing and looked up at Rose. She had blue eyes and used glasses; and her robes where the same shade of blue as her eyes; and she was sporting a little label on her robes displaying “Sarah Dove.”
Rose took out a little piece of paper from her front pocket and showed it to the witch.
“I’m here for a job interview,” Rose said.
Sarah looked at the paper with the information about the job opening.
“Just wait in one of the waiting rooms for a few minutes and I’ll call you right back, okay?” Sarah said in a kind voice as she smiled.
Rose nodded and went to one of the waiting rooms. The room had a radio playing one of the songs from the group The Weird Sisters, purple couches, and a little stand with recent Daily Prophets, Afternoon Prophets, and Evening Prophets.
Rose grabbed one of the Afternoon Prophets from the day before and sat in one of the cushions reading it.
In the Daily Prophet, we gave you the information about a strange disease that has just began causing havoc in the wizarding England.
St. Mungo’s director stated, “We don’t know how this disease is transmitted. We only know that it is fast and highly contagious.” Also that, “We recommend everyone to not come to St. Mungo’s unless it is an emergency.”
According to the Healers at St. Mungo’s, the symptoms are: high fever, cough, coughing and vomiting blood, total loss of magical ability, blood coming from the nose and crying blood, and passing out.
If you or someone you know starts showing these symptoms, we recommend you to go to St. Mungo’s at once.
There were already more than fifty people admitted to St. Mungo’s with these symptoms.
We urge you to not panic. As you’re reading this, the Healers at St. Mungo’s are doing their best to treat this virus.
“We are sending blood samples to all the research institutes around the world, to help us know more about this disease” one of the Healers said.
As for the question about the replenishing potion and other potions effect on infected patients, the Healers refused to give any statement.
In other news, Dr. Grigory Solovyov’s murderer has not been caught yet… read more about this news on page 7.
“Miss! Miss!” Rose was so absorbed in her reading that she almost didn’t hear Sarah, the secretary, call her.
She looked up at Sarah to find that she was standing right in front of her, smiling.
“You can follow me please,” Sarah said, going toward one of the corridors behind her secretary.
Rose followed her into the corridor, and then up three flights of stairs until they reached a door displaying a label saying “Editor in Chief.”
Sarah knocked on the door, and a second later a voice from behind the door told them to enter. Sarah opened the door and gestured for Rose to enter, too.
“Sit down,” the Editor In Chief said, pointing at one of the black chairs in front of her desk.
The Editor In Chief was a middle aged witch with light brown hair, green eyes, and was short and a little on the chubby side. She was wearing purple robes and half-moon spectacles.
Rose did as the woman said and sat.
“I’m Olivia Stone, the Editor In Chief of the Daily Prophet,” Olivia stretched her hand out for Rose to shake.
Rose took her hand and shook it.
“I’m…Rose Weasley,” Rose said nervously.
“A Weasley,” Olivia said in amazement.
Rose nodded nervously and for the next few seconds nobody said a word.
“I understand you’re here for the job opening,” Olivia started breaking the silence and taking Rose out of her trance.
“Yes,” Rose squeaked.
Olivia laughed at Rose’s nervousness.
“Don’t be nervous, darling,” Olivia said softly. “Now tell me, Rose, why do you want to be a reporter for the Daily Prophet?” Olivia leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms and looked at Rose expectantly.
“I wanted to be a freelance reporter, but my mum made me apply for this job opening,” Rose looked around She had never been so nervous in all of her life. The word nervous didn’t apply to her, not even when doing her OWL’S or NEWT’s was she nervous.
Olivia noticed the portfolio Rose had under her right arm.
“Let me see that,” she pointed at the portfolio.
Rose looked at her right arm confused as she only just realized that she had completely forgotten that she had brought her portfolio with her. She passed the portfolio to Olivia.
“These pictures are good,” Olivia said, flipping through the pages of the portfolio. “I miss Hogwarts,” she said in a nostalgic tone.
When Olivia finished looking at the photos she gave the portfolio back to Rose.
“How old are you, Rose?”
“What else did you do at Hogwarts?”´
Rose gulped, still nervous.
“I did the report for the Quidditch games during my last four years there, well except for the ones when Gryffindor played; I was the seeker. I also did all the announcements displayed at all the common rooms,” Rose said as fast as she could.
Olivia laughed amused. She raised her wand and without even saying a word a tiny purple paper plane squeezed out of the tip of her wand and flew across the room and through the crack under the door. Olivia then opened a drawer in the right side of her desk and took out a folder, and gave it to Rose.
Rose stared at the folder, confused.
“You’re hired,” Olivia smiled. “Your first job is to go to Russia and follow the Aurors’ investigations about Dr. Grigory Solovyov’s murder.”
Rose looked at Olivia, still confused.
“Sarah will explain everything to you,” Olivia stretched her right hand again.
Rose mimicked Olivia’s actions and shook her hand.
“Send a kiss to your Aunt Ginny for me,” Olivia said before Rose could close the office’s door.
Rose went to the lobby, still dumbstruck by her new job. Sarah was already waiting for her. She gestured for Rose to follow her.
They passed through another door behind the secretary, and this time they went down a flight of stairs, and into a big basement that was full of cases of cardboard boxes. At the left of the door was a cabinet. Sarah opened the cabinet and looked through the various different objects, each labeled with a different city name. She took out a mobile phone with a label saying London, and a blue lighter saying Moscow. Sarah gave the objects to the still confused Rose.
“These are portkeys for you to travel between Russia and London,” Sarah started to explain. “Olivia gave you this job because no one else wants it. She always gives jobs that no one else wants to the rookies.”
The two went up the stairs and into the lobby again.
“Why does no one else want this job?” Rose asked.
“They don’t want to leave the comfort of their desks here at the Daily Prophet,” Sarah said through a laugh.
Sarah opened one of the drawers in her secretarial desk and took out an envelope and gave it to Rose.
“Inside that envelope is Russian money and wizarding money,” Sarah said, sitting on her chair behind the secretarial desk. “And inside that folder is everything that you need to know.”
Rose nodded in shock. She was going to Russia.
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