Any recognizable characters, places, or devices are copyright to their respective creators or authors. I'm just playing in their sandbox.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story will for the most part disregard Half Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows. Caution, there may be a little OOC'ness (or maybe a lot, roll with it, okay?) I should also point out, the timeline has been moved ahead 11 years, for several reasons (the largest being, access to current technology).

TITLE: "The Canadian Intervention"


WARNINGS: Scenes of violence, coarse language, SLASH (boy on boy, wand on wand, people!).

PARINGS: Harry Potter/OMC

SUMMARY: After the disastrous events at the Ministry of Magic, Harry re-evaluates his situation, and decides changes are in order, starting with a change of scenery. His destination: Toronto Ontario.

This story was posted nearly four years ago, and although it is one of my more popular stories, there are a few issues with it, namely in the formatting. So it is getting a little bit of attention, and perhaps a few bits and pieces added/removed/or changed where I see fit.



Wednesday, May 14, 2007

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry

It was a typical start to the day at the school, as students ate breakfast in the great hall, preparing for the day's classes. As was typical at that time of the day, a flock of owls flew in through the upper windows, delivering the morning's mail to the students. That included a tawny owl which delivered a copy of the Daily Prophet to Hermione. The trio, consisting of Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley, were in their usual spot at the Gryffindor table. The bushy-haired fifth year paid the owl (three knuts), and began to scan the headlines, as said bird flew back up toward the rafters. She let out an audible gasp, spotting the day's main headline.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" asked Harry.

"V-v… you know who?" asked Ron, between bites of toast.

"No," Hermione answered, laying the paper flat so the three of them could see.

Wizarding world exposed to thousands of Muggles!

Rita Skeeter, reporter

The International Statute of Wizard Secrecy was breached in spectacular fashion Friday, during a Muggle 'rock concert' in Toronto Canada, by two under-age wizards, as was reported in Canada's National Wizard's Standard on Saturday.

Travis Carter, 16, and Troy Bartlett, also 16, apparently engaged in an altercation during the concert, escalating into the use of magic, resulting in 2 deaths, and 10 serious injuries. One of the perpetrators allegedly cast 5 killing curses, the cause of both deaths. The building had emptied by the time Aurors arrived on scene, and the Muggle-worthy excuse committee has been working day and night since the incident Friday, as the Muggle media has also been trying to explain the eye-witness accounts of 'strange bolts of light that kill'. Charges have been laid against Mr. Carter, and charges are pending against Mr. Bartlett.

Seeing this article makes it hard not to reflect on the incident in Little Whinging last August, and we must be thankful that Mr. Potter had the sense not to expose too many Muggles to our world. One, after all, is too many. The question is, would Mr. Potter be as brazen enough to commit such grievous acts as these two have done across the pond? It has been pointed out numerous times, both this year and last... (Continued, page 3)

"Of course she had to get a remark in about me," Harry muttered.

"Blimey, not even Malfoy would be clueless enough to do something like that," Said Ron.

"Something like that happened here, Fudge would just throw them in Azkaban, skip the trial," said Harry, mostly to himself.

He gazed at the large picture that accompanied the article. It had been taken at the back of the stage, looking out at the seats. Various people were combing over the scene; Harry deduced they were Aurors, since this was a Wizarding photograph. A pile of debris lay on the floor near some of the front row seats; Harry was unable to make out what it might have been from.

As he gazed absently at the photo, he got to thinking. He had two dear friends, and a number of good friends at Hogwarts. However, this particular year had been nearly unbearable. Every year at Hogwarts, in fact, he had faced some kind of life-threatening incident. 'Where was that in the course description,' he wondered. Add to that incompetent teachers in the one subject that truly mattered, a potions teacher that hated his guts, and a wizard society that flip-flopped between loving and hating him; a seed of discontent had been planted in the head of the boy-who-lived.

"Sickle for your thoughts, Harry?"

"Just thinking is all."

He glanced up at the head table, where Delores Umbridge sat, watching over the students as they ate, a look of satisfaction clearly plastered across her face.

"At least Bartlett and Carter didn't have to put up with the nonsense we have here."

"But surely... you don't know that, Harry. Their culture is different, for all we know it could be worse."

"No, I doubt that," said Harry, turning back to what was left of his breakfast. He no longer felt hungry, and in fact the article in the paper had lost him his appetite. He stood up.

"I'm off to class. I'll see you in Transfiguration, Hermione. See you in class, Ron."

He left the room, hearing a few students whispering and muttering as he did so. He needed some time to think—although it was likely he wouldn't exactly get that, given how much incense professor Trelawney liked to use in her classroom.