Hermione had said that some of the ingredients would be obscure, that, in any ordinary situation, the items they were in need of would be near impossible to get their hands, but of course neither Harry nor Ron had really paid much mind to her warning until they saw the actual list of ingredients.
Most of it was easy enough, basic supplies that could be found at just about any apothecary; feathers of a diricawl, dried forsythia petals, the liver of a tawny eagle, the root of an Angel's Trumpet soaked in the brine of the Dead Sea. But then there were a handful of ingredients that weren't so simple.
"Unicorn blood willingly given," Ron read incredulously, "the skull of a girtablilu, the fingerprint of the gods. The hell does that even mean?"
"Unicorn blood actually shouldn't be that big of a problem for us," Hermione soothed, having already gotten over how difficult it would be to procure those final objects. "Hagrid has quite the way with unicorns, I'm sure he'll be willing to give us a hand with that. The latter two are what may give us some issues."
"Well, yeah," Harry agreed cynically. "The skull of gerty-whatever and a god's fingerprints? What's a gerty-thing and how do we get a god's fingerprint?"
"A girtablilu is a sort of man, scorpion hybrid," Hermione explained, "they're ancient creatures, I don't even know if they still exist or where we could find their remains. The fingerprint of the gods is just a fancy way of saying fulgurite, sand that's been crystalized by a lightning strike. Our only problem is the amount and quality of fulgurite that will be needed to perform the ritual will be expensive. Really expensive."
"But you know where to find it, yeah?" Harry asked.
Hermione shook her head. "Not specifically, but I know that if I looked I'll eventually find somewhere that sells it."
"Then don't worry about it. Our main focus right now needs to be figuring out where we can find that girtablilu."
"I did a bit of research on them last night, they supposedly originate from the Mesopotamic region, but," Hermione shrugged, "it doesn't get more specific than that."
"If these creatures really do or did exist, an apothecary in that region might have something," Ron suggested. "And even if they don't, maybe they could point us in the right direction."
Hermione nodded. "I'll look into it a bit more, see if I can't find something a little more specific."
Harry granted Hermione a reassuring smile. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. You said the ritual had to be performed mid-November? That's six months from now."
"In the meantime, I'll get started on getting the rest of these," Ron waved the list of ingredients about, "I should be able to find most of what we need in Diagon Alley. And Harry will…Harry what will you be doing?"
"I've got some research of my own to do," Harry nodded toward the Occlumency texts stacked on the counter. "I've got six months to keep whatever abilities may come under control, then I'll be free of them."
"All right." Hermione nodded decisively. "We've all got our tasks. Let's hop to it."
There was a wizard enclave, a small but prosperous farming community just within the border of England. Within it were only a few hundred wizards, witches, and their families, but with a little help from their magic, they were able to provide farmed goods, meats, dairies, fresh vegetables, to nearly every wizarding establishment and quite a few homes in the United Kingdom.
They were a peaceful people, if not a bit introverted. None of their children attended Hogwarts, choosing to be taught within their small community, and none of them played any part in the war, choosing to remain neutral in regards to that particular conflict. Most of the population of wizarding Britain didn't realize the importance of these people, they kept a portion of the European wizarding world fed and happy and thriving. But then, one evening in the middle of the month of May, only weeks after the defeat of the dark lord Voldemort, they were attacked. They were destroyed.
It started in the dead of the night with a shiver, then a quake, then a fall. Their wards fell with absolutely no warning before or after, the wizards within had no reason to believe they were no longer safe behind the privacy of their wards until the muggles began showing up, curious as to what this strange place was, this community that had most certainly not been there the previous day.
They were only curious at first, if not confused, they didn't wish to do any harm, only to find some answers. But the members of the wizard community were taken off guard and just the slightest bit frightened, they attempted to use their magic to drive the intruders away and for a short period of time, it worked, but then they returned with more. More people and more guns and things turned violent.
There were less than one hundred muggles in comparison to the two hundred wizards, but the muggles were armed with weapons that could fire and kill five wizards in the time it took to cast one spell. They didn't fight for long only because they didn't survive for long. When the Aurors finally arrived only three wizards, all gravely injured, and twelve muggles remained.
The acting Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, oversaw the interment of the dozen muggles into the Ministry's temporary holding cells with a disbelieving horror.
"This is the second incident this week." His tone belied his overwhelming concern. "What is the cause of this?"
A navy adorned Unspeakable immediately stepped forward to answer the Minister. "Since the breach in the Leaky Cauldron, we've been tracking the strength of wards across the region, from what we've seen so far, their strength have dramatically decreased. The larger the area cloaked in wards, the more dramatic the decrease. Establishments such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, St. Mungo's, Diagon Alley are seeing the worst of it."
"But why?" Kingsley pressed. "What is causing the wards to fail? And why are the wards around some falling altogether while the wards around Hogwarts and the like remain?"
"We believe it's due to the strength of the wards. The protections surrounding the enclave were weak and hadn't been renewed in years, whereas those around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade are restored every month. As for why this is happening," the Unspeakable shook her head, "we've yet to pinpoint the source."
"All right," Kingsley sighed, "well keep working on that. Meanwhile, I've got to deal with this mess."
"Reporters from the Prophet were already on the scene when we left," Gawain Robards, the new head auror stepped in, "a few followed us and the muggles here so we can expect the mob to be on our doorstep no later than this evening. They'll want blood."
"More than enough has been spilled already. I've already arranged a meeting with the muggle prime minister, I'll be heading that way once the muggles are settled in. I'm hoping we can at least begin sorting this out before the news is released to the masses."
"Go on then," Robards urged. "I'll keep an eye on them, they're no longer much of a danger to us."
Kingsley sighed again, not at all looking forward to the coming meeting, he was eager to just get it out of the way already. "I'll leave them under your capable supervision then." He clasped Robards on the shoulder then turned to leave.
When he stepped through the floo, the prime minister was already waiting for him, seated comfortably behind his desk with an expression of deep weariness that matched Kingsley's own exactly.
"What a mess this is, isn't?" the man lamented, startling a rueful laugh from Kingsley.
"That it is," he agreed as he settled in the seat across from him. "One that I wish to sort out as quickly and quietly as possible."
"Quickly I can do," the prime minister nodded, "however, I'm not sure about quietly. I don't know how I can cover this one up, eighty-nine of my men were killed."
"Two hundred and thirty seven of mine were, children included. And all because your men were a little spooked."
"And don't you think they had a right to be? After all those unexplained killings."
"Unexplained killings that have ended and been ended for nearly a month now," Kingsley interjected testily. "And whether they had a reason to be spooked or not, that does not justify their attack on my people."
"What would you have me do? They can't be punished, not without revealing your existence to them and others."
"I don't know," Kingsley growled in frustration. "But I can't just let them walk, not unless I wish to have a riot on my hands."
"Surely if you explain it was only an accident, one performed out of fear and a belief that they were defending themselves," the prime minister implored.
Kingsley shook his head. "It won't be had. Those who were killed were important, they provided a large portion of our food, this will have a far reaching impact on our world, one that cannot be so easily forgiven."
"Then perhaps a trade? We, the muggle world, will provide your people meats, dairy, crops and whatever else was lost in the attack for as long as is needed, but only if our men are returned whole and healthy."
Kingsley took a long moment to consider the proposal, it would not completely quell the outrage that would spark when the wizarding world was informed of the massacre, but it would do well to dampen it if only slightly. "Their memories would have to be altered," he countered. "Looters killed your men, a posse of young gang members strung out on drugs went from farm to farm and killed those people."
"That's a lot of damage done by one group of kids," the prime minister pointed out.
"Change it around as much as you like, just make it work." Kingsley rose to his feet. "I'll return in a few hours with a proper agreement worked out."
With that, he stepped into the fire and disappeared once again.