The Wizarding World Tales - Book 1: The Magitech Revolution - Chapter 3: The Magitech Revolution

Ok, so this is a big one...

If you missed Chapter 1 and 2, here is the link for AO3 (I've beem posting there as well since this week): https://archiveofourown.org/works/79385971

Here is Chapter 3 for the ongoing Book 1 of the Modern Wizarding World Tales saga, which gives the name for the whole saga:

Chapter 3: The Magitech Revolution

October 2009. Nine months after The Reveal.

The alarm at Barclays Bank on Canary Wharf didn't ring. It screamed.

But it wasn't the electronic wail of a standard security system. It was the screeching sound of metal being torn apart by brute force.

Sergeant Jacob "Jake" Kowalski, of the Scotland Yard Flying Squad, slammed the door of his squad car. The rain was pouring down on London, mixing with the neon lights of the skyscrapers and reflecting off the wet asphalt.

"Perimeter is set, Sarge!" a constable yelled over the rain. "They are still inside. Witnesses report weird lights."

"Stay back," Kowalski ordered, checking the heavy Glock 17 on his hip. "These guys just blew a vault door off its hinges. They are heavy hitters."

Suddenly, the bank's main entrance exploded outward. Not with C4, but with a blast of orange heat that vaporized the wet pavement.

Three figures emerged from the smoke. They wore tactical balaclavas and moved like soldiers. In their hands, they held black, stick-like objects.

"Police! Drop your weapons!" Kowalski shouted, aiming his service weapon. "Get on the ground!"

The leader of the trio—a large man in a heavy coat—didn't flinch. He raised the black stick, gripping it like a remote control. His thumb pressed a red button on the handle.

A tiny, synthetic voice screeched from a small speaker embedded in the device.

"CON-FRIN-GO."

The sound was metallic, devoid of emotion.

The squad car behind Kowalski flipped into the air as if hit by a wrecking ball, crashing down in a shower of glass and twisted metal. The officers scrambled for cover.

"Scatter!" the leader yelled to his accomplices.

The two other criminals broke left, disappearing into the crowded streets, while the leader took off running toward the service roads behind the plaza.

"Collins, take the two on the left! I've got the shooter!" Kowalski yelled into his radio, sprinting after the leader. "Suspect is armed with... some kind of sonic weapon!"

The chase led them down a narrow service alley between the glass giants. The suspect, realizing he couldn't outrun the police on the open road, headed for a brick maintenance building—an older structure nestled between the skyscrapers.

He leaped onto a rusted iron fire escape ladder and began to climb, his heavy boots clanging against the metal.

He's trying to get to high ground, Kowalski realized. Isolate me. Take the shot.

Kowalski didn't slow down. He holstered his weapon to climb faster, scrambling up the wet ladder. Rain slicked the iron rungs, but adrenaline kept his grip tight.

Five floors. Ten floors. Fifteen.

The thief vaulted over the parapet onto the rooftop. Kowalski was only seconds behind, pulling himself up onto the gravel-covered roof.

They were fifteen stories up. High enough that the sirens below sounded distant, but not so high that the fall wouldn't be instant death. The wind whipped around them, unimpeded.

"Nowhere left to run," Kowalski panted, drawing his Glock again. "Drop it! Hands on your head!"

The thief turned, backing away toward the edge. Desperation filled his eyes. He raised the black wand. It lacked elegance. It was matte black, with a tactical rubber grip and a small speaker grill near the tip.

The thief’s thumb frantically spun the rotary dial above the handle. Click. Click. The dial landed on a "Skull" symbol.

He aimed the wand at Kowalski and mashed the red button. Kowalski dived into cover at the same time.

The device whirred, struggling to process the command.

"A-VA-DA... KE-DA... AVADA KEDAVRA."

The recorded voice stuttered like a scratched CD. A bolt of green light shot out, but it fizzled and went wide, scorching the concrete one feet to Kowalski's left.

The thief screamed in panic. He knew he had missed his kill shot. His thumb slipped wildly on the dial until it hit the Shield symbol. He slammed his thumb down on the button and held it there, terrified.

"PRO-TE-GO."

A translucent barrier shimmered into existence just as Kowalski broke from his cover and fired his gun.

Kowalski didn't hesitate. He sprinted across the rooftop, firing his Glock as he ran to suppress the target. The bullets hammered against the magical shield, but it seemed as it absorbed it instead of hitting the target.

Seeing this, Kowalski breaks free from his cover while firing his gun.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The bullets hammered against the magical shield. Instead of ricocheting, the lead dissolved instantly, turning into a harmless spray of sand that dusted Kowalski’s jacket.

But Kowalski didn't stop. He saw the thief cowering behind the blue-light wall, finger glued to the button, unable to switch back to an attack.

Kowalski started to run upon the target, closing the distance through the cloud of bullet-dust. The gun click’s close to the target, no bullets left. With a roar, he launched himself into the air.

He delivered a flying kick, his boot crashing through the magical barrier and connecting squarely with the thief's chest.

The impact was brutal. The thief flew backwards, over the edge of the roof. His arms up to the air, while his right hand loses the grip of the wand. There was a short scream with the fall, then silence.

Kowalski scrambled to the ledge, looking down into the alley fifteen floors below. The body lay on the pavement, unmoving.

"Damn it!" Kowalski punched the concrete wall. "Command, suspect is down. Fatal fall."

He looked around the rooftop. The thief had dropped his weapon, it was hanging at the edge of the roof.

Kowalski picked it up. It felt heavy. Cold. Unlike the wooden wands described on the news since 'The Reveal', this one had a battery compartment. A small ring of runes near the handle was glowing faintly, fading out.

"I got his weapon," Kowalski whispered to himself.

Scotland Yard. One Hour Later.

Captain Miller’s face was almost purple. He slammed his fist onto the desk.

"You threw him off a building, Kowalski! Our only lead!"

"He slipped, Captain! And he was firing at me!" Kowalski argued, standing at attention. "I told you, sir, he had a weapon. High-tech stuff. It... it talked."

Miller rubbed his temples.

"It talked? Did it tell you a bedtime story, Sergeant? We have three dead bodies, a blown-up vault, two missing suspects and the only one who could talk is currently dead!"

Miller pointed a finger at Kowalski's chest.

"You are suspended, Jacob. Pending internal investigation. Hand over your badge and your gun. Now."

Kowalski grit his teeth. He reached for his belt.

"That won't be necessary, Captain Miller."

The voice came from the shadows in the corner of the office. Both policemen turned.

Harry Potter stepped forward. He wore the standard Auror trench coat.

"Who the hell are you?" Miller barked.

"Head Auror Potter. Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Harry said, flashing a holographic badge. "I am invoking Section 9 of the new Cooperation Treaty. Jurisdiction is mine."

Captain Miller swallowed dry. Potter was one of the names evoked by the Prime Minister during the revealing day, when explaining the magical world secrecy and what happened during the last decade. This was well over his pay grade, so he let him go ahead, silent as a tree. Kowalski was quiet as well, not knowing if he would get himself in bigger trouble than a suspension.

Harry walked over to the evidence bag, examining the device through the plastic. He saw the strange mechanical selector and the grill, but the design was alien to him. It felt wrong. Unnatural.

"What is that thing?" Miller asked.

"I don't know," Harry admitted, his voice grave. "It has magical components, but the housing... it looks like muggle tech. It's a hybrid."

He looked up at the Captain.

"I am taking the evidence. And I am commandeering Sergeant Kowalski."

"You can't just take my officer," Miller stammered. "He's just a robbery cop."

"I need someone who saw how this thing operates in the field," Harry said, looking at Kowalski. "And frankly, Captain, he’s the only one in this building who didn't freeze when the green lights started flashing. I need him."

Harry turned to Kowalski. "Grab your coat and go rest, Sergeant. We have an appointment with a specialist tomorrow morning."

Kowalski looked at his Captain, then at Harry. He smirked.

"You heard the man, Captain. Jurisdiction."

The Next Morning. South London.

Jacob Kowalski was trying to tie his tie while eating toast, a chaotic routine he had perfected over twenty years. He didn’t tell his wife or his son the details that transpired during last evening. However, he was trying to contain how nervous he was.

"Dad! There's a black car outside! Like, a really expensive one!" his ten-year-old son, Sam, yelled from the living room window.

"Probably an Uber lost, Sammy. Don't worry about it," Kowalski mumbled, grabbing his jacket.

"No, Dad... someone is coming to the door. He has a... a coat like the wizards on TV."

Knock. Knock.

"I'll get it!" Sam yelled, sprinting to the door before his mother could stop him.

Ellen, Jacob’s wife, walked out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Sam, wait! We don't know who it is!"

But the boy had already swung the door open.

Standing on the porch was Harry Potter. He looked sharp, rested, and terrifyingly official in his Auror robes, which shifted slightly in the wind despite the calm morning.

Sam froze. His eyes went wide as saucers. He dropped his cereal bowl. Thankfully, it was plastic.

"H-Harry..." the boy stammered, his breath hitching. "Harry... P-Potter?"

Ellen stopped dead in the hallway. Her hand went to her mouth. "Oh my god. Is that...?"

Harry smiled—a genuine, disarming smile that he reserved for kids and terrified civilians.

"Hello," Harry said, leaning down slightly to Sam's eye level. "Is your dad home?"

Sam couldn't speak. He just nodded frantically, pointing a trembling finger back into the hallway where his father was standing. Harry Potter was a name that even the non-magical world got to know. Used by the Ministry of Magic as one of the names to present the magical world as non-hostile to muggles, Potter became one of those “cop celebrities” normally known in reality shows. Although Harry despised it, his contribution worked to minimize damage and prejudice against wizards in the first days.

Kowalski stepped up behind his wife, putting a hand on her waist. He felt the tension in the room—a mix of fear and starstruck wonder.

"Easy, everyone. Don't faint on me," Kowalski grumbled, though he straightened his tie nervously.

He looked at Harry. "You make quite an entrance, Potter. My kid has posters of you on his wall. It's weird."

"It's usually weird for me too," Harry admitted. He nodded politely to Ellen. "Mrs. Kowalski. Sorry for the intrusion so early."

Ellen blinked, then suddenly smoothed her hair, flustered. "No! Not at all! Would you... would you like some tea, Mr. Potter?"

"We have to go, Ellen," Kowalski cut in gently, grabbing his coat. "Official business."

Sam looked up at his father with absolute awe, switching his gaze between the legendary wizard and his dad. "Dad? You work with Harry Potter?"

Kowalski adjusted his collar. For the first time in months, he didn't look like a tired, suspended cop. In his son's eyes, he was an Avenger.

"Yeah, Sammy. I'm consulting." Kowalski winked at the boy, then kissed Ellen on the cheek. "I'll be late. Be good for your mom, okay?"

"Be careful, Jacob," Ellen whispered, squeezing his hand. She looked at Harry with a plea in her eyes. "You bring him back in one piece, alright?"

"I promise," Harry said solemnly.

The Street Outside.

"We're not taking the car?" Kowalski asked, looking at the empty street. "Did you call a cab?"

Harry checked his watch. "Traffic is terrible this time of morning. We'd be stuck for hours. I prefer a more... direct route."

Harry extended his arm. "Take my arm, Sergeant."

Kowalski looked at the arm, then at Harry's face. "Like... hold hands?"

"Just grab my forearm. Tight. And whatever you do, don't let go."

Kowalski hesitated. "This better not be some weird trust exercise, Potter."

Harry grinned. "Take a deep breath."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

Kowalski inhaled. Before he could exhale, the world twisted.

It felt like being hooked behind the navel by a giant fishhook and yanked backward at the speed of light. The street, his house, and the morning sun vanished. Kowalski felt his body being compressed, crushed from every direction as if he were being forced through a garden hose. He couldn't breathe. His eyeballs felt like they were being pushed into his skull.

CRACK.

The pressure released instantly.

Kowalski stumbled forward, his knees hitting cobblestones. The air was different here - smelling of sulfur, old parchment, and brewing herbs.

"Breathe through your nose," Harry's voice came from above.

Kowalski didn't answer. He was too busy retching. He grabbed a nearby lamppost to stay upright, his stomach doing somersaults.

"Oh god..." Kowalski gagged, waving a hand. "I think... I think I left my kidneys in London."

"You are in London," Harry said, patting him on the back. "Just a different part of it. Welcome to Diagon Alley."

Kowalski wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, finally looking up. His pale face went slack with shock.

They weren't in South London anymore. They were standing in a narrow, winding street packed with people in robes. Cauldrons were stacked outside shops. Owls hooted from cages. A broomstick zoomed overhead.

"Holy mother of..." Kowalski whispered. "My kid wasn't lying."

Harry started walking toward a dusty shop with peeling gold letters: Ollivanders.

"Come on, Sergeant. Try not to look too much like a tourist. It attracts pickpockets. And in this place, they don't just take your wallet."

Inside Ollivanders.

Garrick Ollivander held the object with the tips of his fingers, his pale eyes wide with revulsion.

"It is an abomination, Mr. Potter," the old wandmaker rasped.

Harry leaned against the counter, while Sergeant Kowalski looked around the dusty shop, skeptical and still slightly green in the face.

"Tell us what it is, Mr. Ollivander," Harry pressed. "I've never felt a magical signature like this."

"It is... a machine," Ollivander spat. "Walnut housing. But the core... it is a compressed magical charge. And this..."

Ollivander pointed a long, bony finger to the small grill near the tip.

"A vocal synthesizer. It mimics the resonance of the human voice."

Ollivander turned the device over, examining the dial.

"It casts the spell for the user. No intention required. No study. Just selection." He looked up, fear in his eyes. "This wand has no loyalty, Mr. Potter. Anyone can use it. Even a Muggle. Until the charge runs out."

Harry exchanged a dark look with Kowalski.

"Disposable magic," Kowalski muttered. "Like a burner phone."

"Exactly," Harry said, the realization hitting him. "That explains why the thief didn't Apparate. He wasn't a wizard. He was just a thug with a loaded gun."

"Where do you think it came from?" Kowalski asked as they left the shop.

Harry looked at the sleek, black design.

"I know someone who is pioneering the fusion of magic and technology. But I doubt you’re going to like where we have to go find him."

ExCeL London Convention Centre. "Future Tech Expo 2010".

The auditorium was packed. The air buzzed with a mix of static electricity and residual magic. Flashbulbs popped incessantly.

Harry and Kowalski flashed their badges to bypass the long security line, entering the VIP section of Auditorium B.

"Look, there he is!" a spectator shouted, pointing at the stage.

"No way..." Kowalski squinted. "Your contact is Arthur Weasley? The 'Magician Inventor'?"

"You know him?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you kidding?" Kowalski whispered. "He was on the cover of Time magazine last week. Even Forbes is calling him the 'Wizard of the New Economy'."

"Right," Harry sighed. "Well, he is family."

"Get out of here." Kowalski’s jaw dropped.

"Long story. He is my father-in-law."

On stage, the lights dimmed. A spotlight hit the center, and Arthur Weasley walked out.

He wasn't wearing his old, patchy robes anymore. He wore a sharp, midnight-blue Muggle suit, tailored to perfection, but with a wizard's flair—his tie seemed to change color slightly depending on the light.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome!" Arthur’s voice boomed naturally, amplified by a Sonorus charm rather than a microphone. "Nine months ago, the curtain fell. Wizards and Magic were revealed to the world."

The crowd cheered wildly.

"But since then," Arthur paced the stage, his energy infectious, "I have asked myself a question. We have magic. You have technology. Why must we live in separate worlds?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an iPhone 3GS.

"I love this little brick!" Arthur beamed. "But holding it while recording video? How... primitive."

He tossed the phone into the air. It hovered. Then, he snapped his fingers.

Two small, golden spheres with fluttering silver wings zoomed out from backstage. They weren't just Golden Snitches; they had tiny lenses embedded in their metal shells.

"Introducing the Snitch-Cam!" Arthur announced. "Connected via 'Blue-tooth' to your device. Autonomous flight. Facial tracking. It captures your life from every angle, hands-free!"

The Snitch-Cams zipped around Arthur, and the giant screen behind him instantly displayed high-definition live footage of the crowd, panning and zooming smoothly.

"But we didn't stop there," Arthur continued, walking towards a mock-up of a modern kitchen set up on stage. "Weasley Industries wants to revolutionize your home."

He pointed a remote at a messy kitchen counter.

"Why waste life scrubbing plates? We present the Auto-Scour Dishwasher Integration."

With a soft hum, the plates on the counter levitated, dipped themselves into the sink, scrubbed themselves with a floating sponge, and flew neatly into the cupboard.

"And for the floors?" Arthur tapped his foot. A sleek, modern broomstick—looking more like a Dyson than a Firebolt—hopped out of the closet and began sweeping dust on its own. "The Clean-Sweep S-10. It detects dust before you do."

The audience gasped. This wasn't just magic; it was the ultimate convenience.

"But..." Arthur paused, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I know what you are really waiting for."

The lights turned deep blue. A low rumble shook the stage.

"The dream of the 20th century... realized in the 21st."

The roof of the stage opened. Three cars descended slowly, hovering silently on blue magical thrusters. They were beautiful—retro aesthetics mixed with futuristic curves.

"Weasley Industries is proud to present the Anglia Mark II!"

As the cars landed gently, Arthur patted the hood of the lead vehicle.

"The first flying car for commercial usage. Zero emissions. Vertical take-off." He pointed to the dashboard. "Fully integrated with GPS. You don't drive. You don't fly. You simply tell the map where you want to go, and the Anglia takes you there. Safely. Magically."

Pandemonium. The crowd roared. It was the kind of applause usually reserved for rock stars. Arthur Weasley stood there, beaming, soaking it in—a man who loved plugs and batteries, finally bridging the gap between his two loves.

Harry and Kowalski pushed through the security staff near the stage stairs.

"Mr. Weasley! Sir!" Harry shouted over the noise.

Arthur spotted him. His face lit up with genuine, fatherly joy.

"Oooooh, Harry! Harry!" Arthur waved frantically to security. "Let him pass! He's family! And brings a friend!"

Harry and Kowalski climbed onto the side of the stage. Arthur met them, shaking Kowalski’s hand with vigorous enthusiasm.

"Impressive speech, right?" Arthur shouted over the applause. "Did you see the Snitch-Cams? The Bluetooth pairing was a nightmare to code, but Hermione helped with the arithmancy!"

"It's incredible, sir," Harry said, though his face remained serious.

"How is Ginny? Are you coming to dinner this Friday? Molly is testing a self-stirring cauldron for the Christmas line."

"We will be there, Arthur. But look," Harry lowered his voice, stepping closer to create a bubble of privacy amidst the chaos. "I'm not here for the expo. We have a situation."

Arthur’s smile faded slightly as he noticed the grim expression on the Sergeant's face.

"Oh dear," Arthur sighed, glancing back at his shiny flying cars. "Police matters?"

Harry pulled the artificial black wand from his pocket. The speaker grill caught the stage lights, looking menacingly out of place.

"We found this at a crime scene, Arthur. A Muggle used it to rob a bank. It speaks the spells."

Arthur stared at the device. The joy drained from his face, replaced by a look of deep, knowing concern.

"The Voice-Caster..." Arthur whispered, recognizing the tech. He looked around nervously. "Oh boy. Keep that hidden, Harry. Come with me to the dressing room. Now."