Index

Shannon's Fanfic

Revolution

March 15, 1763

Land’s end. There was water everywhere, as far as the eye could see.

The young man stood on the docks and looked out, beyond the scurry of deckhands and passengers, past the creaking wooden ship swarming with sailors. The sea was vast, a restless and churning grey-green, matching the thick roil of clouds above that likely meant storms. He imagined what it would feel like in the belly of the ship, being tossed around and hearing all that water on the other side of the hull. He had never travelled farther from his home than Hogwarts; now he must cross all that water in a rough scow that didn’t appear seaworthy for crossing to France, much less the expanse of the Atlantic Ocean.

He felt a prod against his arm. “Jovan, it’s time to board.”

Jovan Potter took the leather sack that his brother Janus held out. Their mother had charmed it to supply bread, fresh water and, of all things, oranges. She claimed to have read that the latter would prevent the onset of scurvy during the long trip. Jovan bent to start tugging his trunk to the line of baggage being loaded and found it manageable. He threw a grateful glance at Janus, who nodded, acknowledging the mild Lifting Charm, and stepped behind a stack of crates.

Jovan reached the end of the line and barely heard the pop of his brother’s departure above the din. He didn’t look back again, for anyone he knew or for the home he was about to abandon forever. He tugged at the heavy Muggle greatcoat, trying to settle it more comfortably around his shoulders.

The intricacies of getting himself and his trunk aboard, giving his name to the purser to be marked on the passenger list, finding the narrow bunk that was assigned to him, all managed to occupy his thoughts for a while. He went up with the other passengers when it was time for the ship to leave dock; while there would be no one waving or crying to see him off, he knew that this was one of the few times the passengers would be allowed to roam the decks during the voyage.

After the first several hours at sea, back below in his bunk, he felt relatively well as those around him began to turn pale, sweat, and lose the contents of their stomachs. Apparently he wasn’t susceptible to seasickness anymore than he was to vertigo from flying a broom. He would have welcomed the distraction; now that the rush to prepare and depart was done, his mind was free to relive the last year…

*****

The worst of it all was that he had truly loved Lydia. She was beautiful, serene, and clever in her own quiet way. And she had loved him as well, he was sure of it; otherwise she would never have permitted the liberties they’d taken. He liked to think he would have obeyed her wishes if she had indeed refused him. But they had let the success of their midnight meeting, with the absence of Lydia’s pious old crone of an aunt, intoxicate them into recklessness.

Jovan had felt no qualms about proposing to her when she expressed her fearful suspicion that she was with child. The Potters were an established wizarding family, but they were no pureblood snobs. His own grandmother had been Muggle through and through, but delighted in her magical family. He proposed, Lydia accepted gratefully, and then her relief had turned to horror when he told her what he was and what their child might become.

Hurt by her rejection and panicked over what she might say to her family, he had flung a clumsy Memory Charm at her and blundered away, only looking to put as much distance between them as possible. He said nothing to his family except that he was no longer interested in her, and submerged himself in his work and experiments. It was five months later when his father and oldest brother Jerome had come looking for him in the family workshop.

Without saying anything, Julius Potter held out that day’s copy of the Weekly Prophet to his son. Jovan took it and paled when he saw the headline: Muggles Stumped by ‘Immaculate Conception’. He scanned the report, detailing the mysterious birth by one Lydia Lavinia Ellison of Cheltenham, who appeared to have no memory of becoming pregnant and was unable to name a father for the daughter she had borne. Ministry officials suspected rogue wizardry and were working feverishly to control the rampant rumours of black magic on one side and the upsurge of religious zealotry on the other.

Jovan handed the paper back wordlessly. A daughter. He had a daughter.

Julius gave his son a searching look from under thick black brows. “This was your Lydia, was it not?”

Jovan nodded.

“And you claimed that you stopped courting her some months ago.”

Jovan nodded again.

His silence irritated Jerome, who had never had much patience. “What did you do? Did you force her and then Obliviate her?”

“No!” Jovan snapped back, enraged by the accusation. “When she told me she was with child, I asked her to marry me! She said yes, but when I told her what we are, she spurned me! She started carrying on about God and sin and witchcraft and I had to wipe her memory! She would have told her parents and—”

“Enough, Jovan. I understand.” He stopped as his father stared at him thoughtfully for a minute. “The Ministry is sure to discover your involvement eventually. You can either stay and take the punishment they will hand you for breaking the Code of Secrecy, or you can leave. We can arrange to send you to America, where you will be outside their immediate authority. Once you are gone and the Ministry comes to us, we can offer to adopt the child.” He turned to go, then paused and gave his son one more penetrating look. “And the next time you look for a woman to wife, son, I suggest you find out how she feels about magic before you go too far.”

*****

July 7

The voyage had been a miserable one. Twelve passengers had died of typhus; it would have been more but Jovan had surreptitiously used Cleaning Charms to contain the disease. There had been two minor storms, but thankfully they had not been delayed long enough to require rationing the already meagre food. Jovan had had to be careful using his ever-full food bag, unable to resist offering the occasional morsel to the youngest children on board.

The scene at the docks in New York was the exact same as in Plymouth. Jovan tugged his still-charmed trunk down the gangplank, hearing the shouts, bumps, creaks and clatters of a busy port. Two men at a table were stopping each passenger, taking names. He gave his name as John Patterson, as he and his parents had agreed, and the men jotted it down without question.

He stopped as the dock gave way to the street and paused to set his hat on his unruly dark hair, unsure of where to go next.

A few of his fellow passengers nodded to him as they passed him, then one fellow paused. “D’ye have where to go, Jovan-me-lad?” His thick Irish accent was warm, as were his merry blue eyes. O’Kane, that was his name. Ian O’Kane. His bunk had been on the opposite end of the quarters belowdecks.

“I don’t know that I do, Ian.”

“Follow me, then. Me uncle lives here, trading with the natives. We can put you up for a few days, at least.”

As they made their way down the street, Jovan noticed that his companion was pulling his massive trunk along with ease. He struggled to formulate a question that would be innocent enough to Muggles but clear to a wizard. As he was thinking, Ian spoke.

“Should I be worried that I travelled aboard ship with Jovan Potter, but am now walking with John Patterson?” The twinkle in his eye said that his first reaction was curiosity.

“Only if you are part of a certain young lady’s family,” Jovan replied.

Ian was quick on the uptake. “Ah, a bit of fancy gone wrong, then. And was she magically pretty, this lassie?”

Jovan glanced at Ian in surprise, and the other nodded with a wink. He responded slowly, “Not magical, but lovely just the same. I would have married her, if she’d have me. But once she knew about me, she turned me away.” He tried to force the memories away and changed the subject. “And what brings you to the colonies, Ian?”

“Simple profit, John. Nothing more. I’m the third of a lot of eight, and thought I could do better on me own. Uncle can use the help while I get on me feet, and then who knows? ’Tis a marvellous new world we’re in, and anything can happen!”

*****

Ian’s uncle Connell was a cheerful fellow. He welcomed Jovan to his hearth and home, slapping him on the back as easily as he did Ian, and immediately offered Jovan a job, assisting in the construction of a handsome brick building in the lot next to his current log home. He cautioned that there were mostly Muggles helping him on the project and was pleased when Jovan simply nodded. It was to be expected, as not many wizards were willing to undergo the long sea voyage and trustworthy Portkeys were scarce.

Over a dinner of venison and vegetables, Jovan learned that most of the wizards and witches that had arrived in New York were keeping to themselves, forming a small community a bit to the north of the city proper. Connell was one of the few living in the heart of things and was making an excellent business of dealing with the nearby Lenapes, as the natives named themselves. After many years, the local tribe had come to trust him enough to allow him to meet their magic-users. Their knowledge was focused, concentrating on the land and how to best use it, and they appeared to have wizards who were born Animagi rather than studying to learn the process. Connell promised Jovan introductions as soon as he could arrange them.

The next several weeks flew by as Jovan helped with the O’Kane building and grew familiar with the bustling harbour. He began spending his free days Apparating short distances from the city, carefully mapping the areas he visited in a widening circle. The vague ideas that had developed during his miserable time at sea grew stronger, combining with the experiments he had loved to conduct back in England. Ian sometimes joined him on the expeditions; he had a talent for potion-making and was interested in gathering the unfamiliar plants, insects and beasts that the land offered for his own study.

*****

December 24

Jovan finished the spellwork and stepped away from the table, taking a deep breath. So far everything had gone according to his expectations. He glanced across at Ian, who shrugged.

“This isn’t me area of expertise, John. I’ve never touched a Portkey in me life.”

Jovan shrugged in return. “That’s not your fault as much as it is the Ministry’s. They keep Portkey use so controlled it’s a wonder anyone can visit their granny in York more than a few times in a decade. Not everyone can Apparate.”

Ian raised his eyebrows. “But it’s for our safety. If anyone could make a Portkey, what would stop wizards from other countries from invading us?”

“The same system of alarms and sentries we have now, of course. That’s only an excuse. It makes it easier for the Ministry to control travel and trade if they control the Portkeys.”

Ian blinked, absorbing the statement, then whistled. “And you think to be out of their control?”

“Why not? You’ve seen what’s been happening here. The Crown is sure to try and offset the cost of fighting the Ottawas, of the war with the French. Taxes are coming, and what I hear among the Muggles is that they’re not willing to pay them. This land is going to break from England before the turn of the century, and when that authority is gone, the authority of the Ministry will be gone as well.” Jovan took his wand and used the butt to gently slide the old horseshoe off the table and into a leather pouch.

“Bold statements, me friend,” Ian replied softly.

“It’s a time for bold thinking. A man could turn this situation to his advantage if he takes some risks. Now,” Jovan lifted the pouch, “I am going to try this. If all goes well, I should be back by tomorrow evening. If I’m not back in six months, you have my instructions that my property is yours as well as my deep gratitude for your friendship.”

The men shook hands, and Ian clapped Jovan on the back. “Good luck, me friend. Bring back a bottle of firewhisky if you have the chance.”

Jovan nodded and pulled on his greatcoat. He donned a stout hat and left his workshop, strolling north along the Broadway until he was out of the city and into the more sparsely populated farmland. He could have Apparated here or even tried the Portkey from his home, but there was freshly fallen snow to tramp through and brisk cold air to breathe (and possible Ministry eyes to avoid). He enjoyed the walk. Soon he found his destination, a thick copse of trees, and worked his way in until he was no longer able to see the road. With a deep breath, he stripped off one of his woollen gloves with his teeth and reached into the pouch for the horseshoe.

Even though he had expected the trip to last longer than any Portkey set to within England, Jovan began to worry as the stomach-wrenching journey through the void of churning colours went on and on. But just as he was about to panic, his feet hit the earth, and he tumbled over, into the branches of the old willow tree on his father’s land.

Right on target. Jovan got up, dropping the horseshoe back in its bag and dusting snow off his clothes. He could see the house from where he was, warmly lit against the darkening evening. Jovan blinked, having left New York in bright noontime sun. He trod through the fallow field and stopped at the door, listening to the cacophony of voices within. He could hear his parents, his brothers, his sister, all talking cheerfully over the din of Juliana’s children and the squall of a baby.

A baby?

Jovan knocked on the door.

Janus opened it, and his mouth dropped open at the sight of his little brother. “Jovan! Mum, Da, look! It’s Jovan!”

He entered and was almost bowled over by his two nieces and his nephew, all less than five years of age. Juliana and her husband Simon had been prolific in their marriage. He gave them each a Lenape-made bracelet of shell beads, then made his way to his parents, who had remained near the fireplace. His mother was taking an infant from Juliana as she pulled her blouse back in place. Jovan looked at it as it cried, red-faced underneath a shock of thick black hair.

Then his father smiled slightly. “Say hello to Jenna.”

*****

August 15, 1774

“But Papa, I don’t want to go to England!”

John watched as his daughter kicked her trunk furiously in one last-ditch protest. He traded glances with Eva, who shrugged. She was Muggle, and this was a wizarding matter. It was the one thing he regretted in their marriage, that she almost never took sides in situations that involved magic.

“Jenna, for the last time, you have to go to school at Hogwarts. There isn’t a school for witches and wizards here yet, and there probably won’t be one established for another twenty years.”

“I can learn from Dyani’s grandfather! He teaches magic to all the Lenapes!”

“He can’t teach you everything you need to know. Neither can I. Therefore you are going to Hogwarts to get an education. We’ll make arrangements for you to come home for the holidays if you don’t want to stay with your grandparents. When school is over, you may return here if you still want to, and you may study with Helaku if you wish.”

Now Eva came forward. “Darling, it really is for the best. You’ll be safe in Scotland. You’ve seen what’s been happening here. Once news spreads of the plans for the congress, Britain will have no choice but to try and put down the rebellion.” She smoothed Jenna’s tangled hair back from her forehead and Jenna didn’t pull away.

John handed her a small leather pouch, pulled closed with a drawstring. “Your Portkey is in there. It will take you next to the willow tree, as always, and will work ten times, bringing you back here to the house on the return. And don’t forget—”

“Never mention having a Portkey to anyone,” Jenna finished his sentence with him, tying the pouch to hang at her waist. “I know, Papa.”

“I know you do, dearest. But if I am going to be able to help in any way against the crown, we’ve got to keep the Portkeys absolutely secret. When the British are gone, the Ministry will be gone as well and I’ll be able to set up my transport business the way I want, without their interference.”

Jenna hugged him, cutting him off before he could warm to this often-visited topic, then hugged Eva as well. She stepped back to her trunk, draped the cloak lying across it over her shoulders, and knelt down to grasp the handle firmly. She shoved her other hand into the pouch and grabbed the palm-sized carved stone.

John and Eva watched her wink out of existence, and he blinked back tears. His daughter was off to Hogwarts.

*****

 August 28, 1776

Between the clouds that obscured much of the night sky and his own Disillusionment Charm, John moved easily across the remains of the battlefield. With a heat-sensing spell, he searched the corpses for any survivors.

The British had almost complete control of Long Island. The British general Howe had brought a force of near fifteen thousand, outnumbering Washington’s army almost two to one. Even now the remnants of the rebel troops were slipping across the East River in small boats, escaping to New York to regroup on the north end of Manhattan Island.

John heard a groan and moved swiftly toward it, even as his wand jerked in the same direction. A rebel soldier, without the bright red coat and uniform of the British. A young man, practically a boy, with blood matting his hair to his face and a stab wound in his gut. John took the soldier in his arms to Apparate him to the safe point.

When he reappeared with a loud crack, noisy with the effort of bringing the soldier with him, Connell O’Kane rushed forward. He levitated the wounded man to a nearby cot, alongside a dozen others. The rebel Healers would do their best to repair the damage, then Ian’s group would cast Memory Charms and Apparate the men to a second safe spot within the army’s camps to reinsert them. They had saved over fifty men this night, preserving them to continue the fight. The dozen British soldiers they’d found had been taken to a second camp, to be turned over as prisoners of war once they’d been healed.

John took one moment to drink water from the barrel the Healers had magicked to stay clean and cold, checked the map posted on the wall for a location that had not yet been searched, and promptly returned to the battlefield. As he verified that the Disillusionment Charm still held, he noticed two men not far to the east. Instead of red coats and white trousers, they wore robes.

Jovan frowned and ducked behind an overturned wagon for extra cover. As the men grew closer, he could hear their voices carry on the wind.

“A bad business, Crouch. A very bad business. All the reliable Diviners foretell Britain losing this land within ten years.”

“It’s Muggle business. All we can do is take steps to warn our people to return home and stay well out of it. That is policy as Minister Lufkin has dictated.”

“Fah, so like a woman to refuse to consider the larger picture! What of the ones who decide not to return? There’s a faction of wizards in the city, and others in Boston, Charleston, Philadelphia, all supporting the Muggle rebels. What happens to them when this land is no longer under Crown authority?”

“There’s nothing we can do, Rookwood. We can only hope that when all this is over, cooler heads will prevail when they set up their own government. Transportation between the continents is still too unreliable to maintain any kind of control.”

“I’ve heard rumours of reliable Portkeys being made by someone here.”

“Yes, and that someone is also rumoured to be an adviser to their General Washington, a Metamorphmagus, and a master Legilimens using his abilities to thwart the British forces.” (John suppressed a wistful chuckle.) The one called Crouch waved an arm over the destruction. “I think we can safely rule out the last, as that person would surely have prevented this if he could. No, my friend, we follow Madam Minister’s instructions: we encourage all our kind to return home and hope the few left will make little impact.”

Two sharp pops told John that the men had Disapparated, and he stood up to find the battlefield deserted. He resumed his search, pondering what he had heard and formulating ways to combat the Ministry’s planned propaganda attack. If his magical brethren wanted to return to England as hostilities escalated, he would not stand in their way, but he would do all he could to make that choice an informed one. Freedom for all, magical and Muggle, was at stake.

*****

June 7, 1778

John watched as the room slowly filled with people. He was under Nicholas Madison’s Invisibility Cloak, wedged in between two sets of bookshelves where he wouldn’t be stumbled upon accidentally. It appeared that most of the current Congress would be attending today’s meeting.

He paid closer attention as the delegation from Britain filed in. He didn’t recognize any of them, and none of them had anything out of place to their clothing or belongings that suggested magic. With that worry decided, he settled to listen to the negotiations.

It was what he had expected, thanks to the information sent by their spy in Parliament. The British delegation was willing to offer every single concession the Americans wanted except for one: independence. They were willing to revoke taxes, lift embargoes, and reduce the armed forces. But they would not budge on relinquishing ownership of the colonies.

And as John had expected, the Continental Congress rejected the commission’s proposal out of hand, unanimously. As he watched the tempers rise and the rhetoric heat up, he knew he was seeing the birth of the real fighting for America. From here on out, there would be no quarter given: the rebels would fight until they were free and the British would fight until they had crushed the colonies under their heel. Between the stalemate in this room and the recent recognition of American independence by France (with rumours of other countries following), the stakes had become too high.

As a particularly loud representative from North Carolina began shouting down one of the British delegates, he seized his chance and Apparated out of the building and back to the pub on Market Street. The Broken Broom was run by Nick Madison and served as a meeting place for the Philadelphia  wizards and witches who worked in support of independence.

John appeared in the small room behind the liquor stores and removed the Invisibility Cloak. He returned it to its hiding place and went into the main room, where a group was sitting around a table. Nick went to the bar and brought him back a butterbeer.

John accepted it gratefully and took a few long swigs before sitting down. When he did, a number of the people around the table leaned forward. He shook his head. “As we had been informed, the British tried to negotiate terms to end the war, but without granting independence. The Congress stood fast and refused, no matter how many other offers were made.”

“Any sign of wizards among their peace commission?” Adela Faust’s voice dripped sarcasm.

“Not that I could tell. There wasn’t a single hint if they were there. No spells cast, no attempts to nudge the debate in any way by magic. Dyer depended solely on his tongue, not his wand.” Eliphalet Dyer was the lone wizard in the current Continental Congress, serving in secret in an effort to subtly aid magical folk and to study how a new wizarding government might be formed.

John looked over at one person, Takoda of the Lenape. He was dressed in leather trousers with a beaded fringe down the seams, a cotton shirt, and a wide, beaded strap of leather across his shoulder, holding a bag at his hip. While his clothes were unusual, what stood out was his hair, shaved into one long scalplock and greased to stand upright. “They offered support to drive all natives further west, into French territory.”

Takoda shrugged. “Helaku will not be surprised. And it changes nothing. Our village will continue to appear neutral and aid your efforts, as you have dealt most fairly with us since friend Connell arrived so long ago.”

He drained his glass and stood. “You should come to the village soon, John. Dyani has solved your problem with the limiting of travel-objects to certain people. You and Eva will have to breed more children than Julian for it to be useful, however.”

“I was afraid of that. Well, it may not help us win this war, but it will be useful down the road.”

Takoda disappeared silently, to envious looks from several of the group who could not Apparate quietly, and talk turned back to plans for opening communications with the wizards who might be travelling with the coming French forces.

*****

June 9, 1781

John was working at his desk, studying his maps and marking points for another round of Portkeys when Ian O’Kane popped into view in the centre of the room. John leapt to his feet as Ian went to the nearest chair and collapsed into it.

“Well? What happened?”

Ian held up a hand. “A moment and, if you’ve got it to hand, a wee drink.”

John summoned a bottle of firewhisky off a shelf across the room and nearly threw it at his friend. Ian chuckled as he worked out the cork and took a long drink. “Temper, temper, John.”

“Tell me what happened. Please.”

Ian stuck the cork back in and grinned. “We got the governor out safe. Whisked him right out from under Tarleton’s nose. I found young Jack Jouett and let him know they were after Jefferson and every member of the legislature they could find. He Apparated to just beyond Monticello and borrowed a horse to go the rest of the way, Rode on the Charlottesville after that to spread the word. They got Boone, but he was the only one they captured.”

John sank into his own chair. “That’s excellent news, Ian. But damn me, it was close! The British have too much control in the south as it is.”

“Maybe not, John, maybe not. General Greene is having quite a bit of success leading Cornwallis’ troops on a merry chase. The rumours say morale on the British side is the lowest it’s ever been. And Washington and the French are holding their pressure here. I believe we’re at the beginning of the end.”

*****

April 26, 1783

The harbour had not changed much in the twenty years since a youth named Jovan Potter had landed. Now the man John Patterson stood there, his eldest daughter on one side and his dearest friend on the other, as the Loyalists streamed onto ships. Officials claimed that as many as seven thousand people would depart today, heading for Canada rather than stay in the country where they had lost. At this point the exodus totalled over a hundred thousand in less than a year and a half. The wizarding population among the former colonists had dropped by about one-third.

Jenna could not stop smiling. Since leaving Hogwarts as one of the top students in her year, she had worked tirelessly among her father’s circle by keeping relations cordial between the nearest Lenape settlements and the Americans, furthering her own magical education at the same time. She had also taken up with a young French fellow in their ranks, one Louis Deveraux. John was resigned to it after learning that Jenna had already talked the young man into helping spread the fledgling Patterson Transport & Courier into France. And Eva was at home with Julian, Evangeline, and another on the way, so it would be quite some time before John would lack for children to raise.

As they watched, the flow of humanity continued under the bright spring sun and church bells began to toll the noon hour, ringing out the old and ringing in the new.