Dr. Weasley and the United Nations

The Chamber of the General Assembly of the United Nations was enormous. Laid out in a perfect oval, the room could have easily housed a regulation size Quidditch pitch, complete with spectator booths. The ceiling rose over 100 feet, looming above the rows of tables and chairs where sat the 192 ambassadors from around the world. At the far end of the oval's major axis stood a raised platform topped by a rectangular, silver, stone desk with three chairs. Behind the desk, high on the wall, hung the golden seal of the United Nations. To either side of the seal two tall wooden structures towered above the chamber, housing small cubicles for language interpreters, reporters, and cameramen. Each tower was affixed with a large, flat screen, which was displaying topics of discussion, information about who was speaking, as well translations of what the current speaker was saying. Ron and Hermione were both stunned at the elegant architecture as well as the sheer size of the chamber, so much so that they barely took note of its hundreds of occupants. The assembly was in full session.

Fortunately for the two intruders, the ambassadors in the chamber were so engrossed with the topic of discussion that they took no notice of Ron and Hermione either. Everyone in the room had their eyes fixated on the stage at the front of the chamber. Ron and Hermione took advantage of the situation to slip down, unseen, behind the nearest table--the ambassador from Kyrgyzstan.

Hermione listened intently from her hiding spot, peering around the edge of the table. A lone African woman was standing at the black marble podium before the silver desk, speaking English with a deep but crisp accent. Ron stopped.

"She speaks English?" he whispered to Hermione. "But he's from Africa! Why not Swahili, or Arabic?"

Hermione shook her head, disappointed with Ron's lack of historic knowledge. In the later part of the nineteenth century, the major imperial powers of Europe, Britain included, had staged a major "scramble for Africa" in which they divided up the continent into colonies, each country grabbing as many of the helpless kingdoms and republics as they could get their heavily armed hands on. Even after they had achieved independence following World War II, many of the African nations had adopted English or French as an official language, and continued to use it today. Hermione looked up at one of the information screens across the room. The speaker was Judith Mbula Bahemuka of Kenya.

"Just as I thought," Hermione whispered to herself. Kenya was once a British colony.

After briefing Ron on the colonization of Africa, Hermione turned her attention back to Judith Bahemuka. From what Hermione could gather of the African's statements, she seemed to be discussing the recent problems of pirating off the coast of Somalia. Hermione had read about the issue in the International Herald Tribune. Apparently, pirates were becoming a major problem for the U.N., the United States in particular.

"It has become an increasing painful liability," Bahemuka was saying, "for the National Assembly of Kenya, as well as our private sector. Many of these pirates are discreetly employing our ports for their dubious activities, and have also killed numerous Kenyans both in these ports and at sea. While we do not wish to harm or anger our Somali neighbors, Kenya will begin to take forceful action against these criminals. Our country cannot condone theses transgressions much longer. We have far too much to lose. However, I stand before you with hopes that the U.N. may lend some aid to the situation before we commit the Kenyan military. Please, send us a peacekeeping force."

There was a momentary silence in the chamber, and then one of the men behind the desk, another African, stood. Hermione recognized him instantly as Kofi Annan, the U.N. Secretary-General. The man cleared his throat and then began to speak.

"Thank you, Ambassador Bahemuka. But with all do respect, we are doing everything we can in Somalia. We've sent in negotiators, peacekeeping delegations, everything imaginable to try and subdue the criminals. There are countless naval vessels stationed in the Gulf of Aden and the Indian Ocean. Unfortunately, it is impossible to completely eliminate the threat."

"Without force," Bahemuka replied.

Annan eyed her curiously. "Ambassador?"

Judith Bahemuka shook her head. "Every action this body had taken in Somalia has been far too subtle. We posses the technological capabilities, the necessary assets for tracking down and completely eliminating these pirates in action, and yet we continue to rely on diplomatic solutions to an obviously un-diplomatic problem."

"That is the nature of this body," Annan fired back.

"But when the situation required force in the past, we took it," said Bahemuka, her eyes locking with the Secretary-General's. "When Iraq invaded Kuwait in 1990-"

"Um, may we please not discuss that?" came an Arabic accent from about three rows in front of Hermione and Ron's hiding place.

Annan glared at the Iraqi ambassador. "You do not have the floor, ambassador. Please, restrain yourself from speaking out of turn."

The Iraqi settled glumly back down in his seat.

"Ambassador Bahemuka," said the Ghanaian, returning his attention to the fellow diplomat. "I understand your concerns. Unfortunately the situation is not the same as it was nineteen years ago. No one has invaded your county. No one has projected any sort of hostilities between governments. For the time being, your status in this conflict is the same as any other nations who have lost property in this conflict. Somalia is a very unstable place right now. If we attempt to apply too much pressure, especially physical force, we risk further upsetting their already fragile system. Our diplomatic delegations are working feverishly to find a peaceful solution, and many navies are patrolling that area to protect cargo ships. There is no more we can do at the moment, and I highly recommend you discourage your government from using any sort of violent retaliation. It could only prompt further hostilities. That is all for now. Please, yield the floor."

Bahemuka was completely taken aback by Annan's strong words, but no one disobeyed the Secretary-General.

"Of course," she said, turning her attention back to the crowd of diplomats. "Thank you for your time, ladies and gentlemen."

The Kenyan ambassador stepped down from the podium, her head bowed in shame like a defeated warrior. The television screens on either side of the stage printed the words, "Thank you for you time, ladies and gentlemen" in several dozen languages, then went blank and reappeared with the United Nations flag--a screensaver until the next information was displayed.

Annan's voice boomed over the crowd again. "Thank you, Ambassador Bahemuka. Now, that concludes today's session on international crises. Now, as you all know, today's session has a scheduled WWD seminar, which means no one will be permitted to exit the room until the seminar's conclusion. Anyone need a bathroom break?"

No one moved, as if they were all petrified by what Annan had just spoken. On her part, Hermione was confused. She had done a great deal of reading on the United Nations and it's functions, but she had never heard of anything called a WWD seminar. Annan then turned to a gray-haired man seated to his left. "Mr. Brown, if you will."

Ron and Hermione looked on, completely stunned, as the Deputy Secretary-General stood up beside his superior, extracted what was unmistakably a wand from his jacket pocket and pointed it high over the heads of the ambassadors. Hermione saw many of them cringe in fright, as if they knew what this harmless-looking piece of wood (at least to a Muggle) could do. Suddenly, Hermione heard the loud clicking sounds of dozens of locks snapping shut on the few doors that led out of the chamber. They were trapped. Snapping her head back in horror, she could see the language interpreters filing out of the wooden viewing cubicles and moving to stand by their respective ambassadors. Once the final official had left his cubicle, heavy black doors slammed down over the windows and exit hatches of the two structures, blocking the media reporters and cameramen from view. Finally, an eerie hush fell over the entire hollow as Hermione and Ron recognized the placement of a silencing charm. They were both in shock. The Deputy S-G was a wizard, and he had just turned the Chamber of the General Assembly into a hermetically-sealed vault. This had to be one damn private meeting.

"Everyone," Annan continued. "You are familiar with the policy here. Everything discussed from this point on does not leave the chamber. If any of you speak that which is disclosed...well, you know the consequences."

There were slow, acknowledging nods among the ambassadors, those of non-English speakers coming a little later as their interpreters hastily translated. Ron and Hermione were still trying to make sense out of the situation--the WWD seminar, the Deputy Secretary-General, the unmistakable use of magic in front of 192 Muggles from around the world. Or were they all Muggles? Somehow, Ron wasn't so sure. He thought he spied a bit of dragon blood on the Peruvian ambassador's coattails. It seemed the Ministry of Magic wasn't the only government body keeping secrets.

"Today's session," Annan spoke with a slightly quieter tone, "concerns international immigration of wizards and witches..."

He spoke about several laws and previous discussions on the subject, but Hermione had tuned out after the first phrase. She glanced at Ron.

"Can this really be happening?" she whispered. "I mean the United Nations is talking about wizards and witches! They aren't supposed to know we even exist! No Muggle governments do!"

"Actually," Ron interjected, recalling a late night brandy he had shared with Frank a few months back, "that's not entirely true. The prime minister of Britain knows. He meets with the Minister of Magic on occasion."

Hermione appeared aghast, almost appalled that Ron knew something about the Ministry that she did not. "Tony Blair knows about us? Buy why?"

"Standard Ministry security policy. Upon the election of each new Prime Minister, he is visited by the Minister of Magic and briefed on the existence of the Wizarding World. It makes for better relations between the two worlds, just so they don't go sending in the damn British army every time some idiot sends an oak tree strolling across a major highway. After the initial meeting, though, there's not much contact between the Minister of Magic and the Prime Minister. Only for emergencies."

"So," Hermione said, working it over in her head. "Does that mean the heads of other countries know of our existence as well? Presidents and prime ministers, etc.?"

"Sure," Ron replied, obviously enjoying this one moment when he knew more than his wife. "In fact, President Edwards of the United States meets regularly with the American Minister of Magic. In fact, he even offered him a position in the Cabinet if he ever left the Ministry. Now how about that? Wizards in Muggle governments?"

Hermione could barely believe it. In all her years she had always been impressed at the way magic was able to keep an entire world a secret from another, yet all this time, there had been quite a bit of contact between the two. And now, she was sitting in a room with over 200 "alleged" Muggles who all knew that magic was real. She couldn't even begin to count the number of international leaders who also knew. Like a child discovering that Santa Claus was just a fairy tale, Hermione sank into disbelief and depression upon learning that the world's biggest cover-up was in fact not so clandestine afterall. Ron had meanwhile redirected his attention to the far end of the chamber.

"And now," said Annan. "To deliver us his proposals on this issue, please welcome the ambassador from the United States of America, Mr. Magnus Copperfield."

Ron froze on the spot, barely able to believe his ears. Had he heard correctly? No, he thought, shaking his head. No, no, it just can't be.

But as he looked around and spotted the man now striding toward the podium, he knew it was true. With his gray, receding hair, oversized glasses, and dull composure, Magnus Copperfield had not changed one bit since Ron had stormed out of the former supervisor's office in Chicago four years ago, leaving the business wizard baffled, but more importantly, without a successful female body enhancement potion. Gazing in horror at his one-time boss, the redhead could not imagine what Magnus was doing, standing before the United Nations General Assembly with his sly grin, when he should have been pushing paper in some broken-down office building. Ron knew very well that Donald Trump Cosmetology Enterprises had gone belly-up; how the hell did Magnus Copperfield get out of that?

Hermione, too, appeared surprised, though she lacked the swelling anger that Ron was now feeling for the American wizard/businessman/diplomat.

"I guess we know what M.S.C. stood for now," she noted as Magnus began to speak.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, esteemed representatives from around the world, I come before you today to discuss a problem I believe paramount in the department of international cooperation and control of the magical world."

Control of the magical world? Ron was baffled. What was Magnus talking about? Neither of the two worlds had any control over the other. They were too equal entities, coexisting peacefully with one another through peace and tribulation. Moreover, should either one be trying to control the other, why was Magnus Copperfield, a well-know wizard, speaking in favor of the Muggles?

"I have been discussing this very problem with President Edwards," Magnus went on, "as well as some of my most trusted advisors in Congress. In general, we have all been in agreement to the solution I am about to propose. With the ease that wizards, witches, and other magical folk traverse the globe, it is easy to see why pandemonium breaks out so easily in magically-decrepit countries, causing widespread panic among the Muggle citizens."

"Where are you going with this, Copperfield?" snapped David Cooney of Ireland.

Magnus shot him a heated glare.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," the American spoke with an added edge in his voice. "In order to maintain peace and sanctity throughout the globe, I, on behalf of the entire American government, propose that the international laws regarding wizarding passports be tightened, and that long-term immigration of wizards from one country to another be completely outlawed."

Ron was completely taken aback by the American's words. Moreover, the reaction of the ambassadorial body further struck him aghast. He wasn't quite sure what kind of a response he had expected, but it certainly wasn't this--applause.

Magnus's statement had the effect on the diplomats of a snow day on a group of primary school students. Many clapped and rose from their seats in response; others whispered happily to their neighbors, as if they'd expected this proposition to be made all along and were thrilled to finally hear it formally announced. Only a handful of the ambassadors seemed to be opposed to the bill, their angry voices carrying over the loud applause. Once the approvers had finally settled down, a single representative whom Hermione recognized as Sir Emyr Jones Parry himself, had stormed across the room and now stood on the precipice directly in from of the podium where Magnus stood.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please!" the British official begged. "I have to question how you could possibly support such a law? This is extremely unjust to the people of the magical world not only as wizards but also as human beings. To make it unable for them to leave their own countries? Cut them off from the rest of the world? That is simply poppycock. It is slavery. In addition, how can you justify making such a binding rule, especially without the consent of the party involved? That, my friends, is not democracy; it is totalitarianism. And to you, Mr. Copperfield," Parry now turned to the man behind him, "I understand why you support this bill. You're just upset over that little incident back in the States a few years ago! What's wrong, couldn't stand a little pressure from an Englishman?"

Magnus looked livid.

"Just as I thought," Parry concluded.

"Enough, Sir Emyr," Magnus snapped. "This is not about personal gain or what may seem "morally correct" to you. This is about maintaining a sense of order throughout the globe by containing the abnormalities of this earth."

"By abnormalities, you mean witches and wizards? You mean people different than others?"

Magnus said nothing.

"Exactly," Parry went on. "And there are others in this body who would agree with me. Am I correct?"

Nearby, Spanish Juan Yáñez-Barnuevo stood and nodded. "Sí. Esto es muy injusto. Yo me opongo."

"Ja," chimed in the Dutch representative. "Ik heb bezwaar."

Slowly, the ambassadors from Nigeria, Australia, South Korea, Chilé, Canada, Swaziland, and Germany stood and joined Parry's ranks in opposition to the bill. Magnus now looked extremely displeased, almost as if he would single-handedly strangle all of them, given proper immunity.

"Well of course they oppose it!" barked Malta's Victor Camilleri. "They're all wizards!"

"What!" Hermione gasped, a bit to loudly. "There are wizards serving in the U.N.?"

"What was that!" cried the Kyrgyz ambassador in Arabic. Wheeling around and spotting Hermione and Ron crouched behind him, his Asian eyes went wide. "Who are you?"

Although Hermione had no idea what the man was saying, it was the simple fact that the ambassador knew she and Ron were there that was a problem.

"Obliviate!" she muttered, pointing her concealed wand at the Kyrgyz. Instantly, the man's eyes glazed over, and Ron took the opportunity to turn the man back around to face forward. Once his head cleared, the emissary continued watching the scene unfolding before him.

"There's going to be a lot of confused old men out there today," Ron whispered to Hermione.

"Actually," another representative was saying. "That's not entirely true Mr. Camilleri."

David J. Cooney of Ireland now rose from his seat and stared hard at the Maltese man. "I support Sir Emyr one hundred percent."

Camilleri scoffed. "Well of course you do. But you've always been a soft-shoed pussycat with these magical freaks."

Cooney's face flooded with rage.

"How dare you!" he bellowed, shaking his fist at Camilleri.

"Dare I?" Camilleri responded, clearly eager to test Cooney's limit. "What are you going to do about it Cooney? Go crying back to your petty little island and tell mommy? You've been sticking up for these voodoo hooligans since Day 1. Quite frankly I'm tired of hearing it. I'm all for locking the weirdos up for good."

"Tú bastardo!" hissed Juan Yáñez-Barnuevo and flung himself at the offending man.

Camilleri and the Spaniard tumbled to the floor, wrestling around like a couple of immature high school students. The rest of the chamber erupted in a torrent of screeching chairs, as dozens of other ambassadors crowded around to get a closer look at the developing quarrel. It didn't matter how old or young, how professional or barbarian, whatever nationality you were, humans were naturally drawn to watching fights.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please!" Kofi Annan pleaded, trying to draw the rambunctious crowd to order. "We must maintain a sense of dignity."

No one listened to the Secretary-General; they were too busy engrossed in the violent wrestling match now taking place between the Spanish and Maltese U.N. representatives. The General Assembly was quickly becoming an UFC arena as the one-time dignified members of the world council now flooded in greater numbers toward the spectacle in the far right corner of the chamber. When the recently-obliviated Kyrgyz envoy leapt from his seat and hurried down the center aisle, Ron took advantage of his absence to move out into the open and get a better look. The crowd of chanting leaders surrounding a vicious battle reminded Ron of an episode during his seventh year at Hogwarts in which his best friend, Harry Potter (before becoming a monk), had engaged in an aggressive wrestling match with the Jedi Knight, Anakin Skywalker. Harry's reward for winning the match had been, oddly enough, Ron's sister Ginny, whom Harry had to unfortunately give up for a life of celibacy in a Catholic monastery. No Ron felt an itching since of déjà vu as he watched Camilleri and Barnuevo locked in an epic duel to the death. He also now understood why the media was kept out of these types of meetings. You certainly didn't get this kind of blood-curdling footage on BBC.

Meanwhile, Kofi Annan had swept down from the stage and was running about the circle in a vain attempt to break up the scramble. But the fighting went on uninterrupted for nearly a minute, finally broken up by the arrival of a most unexpected guest.

"Hey, hey, hey!" came an odd, Texan drawl from the left side of the stage, amplified electronically over the chatter and hollering of the ambassadors.

A collective groan emanated across the crowd as over a hundred ambassadors felt the same, instinctive dread claw at their insides.

"Oh for the love of God," Annan muttered, incoherent to anyone other than himself.

Every head in the stadium swiveled slowly toward the source of the voice. Hermione and Ron followed suit, although the latter of the two already had a pretty good idea who was speaking.

Sure enough, a moment later former U.S. President George W. Bush entered stage right, a portable microphone clipped onto his jacket lapel. Bush, as was custom sported his trademark, sideways grin, chimp-like physiognomy, and overwhelming aura of an eminent economic collapse. In the past several months, the Crawford-native had adopted a very active post-presidential public life (following in the footsteps of his predecessor, Jimmy Carter); unfortunately for Dubya and ever person he came in contract with, his attempts at civil activities and social benefits were floundering like Lindsay Lohan's health. Hermione knew he often made petitions to the United Nations, although she could not imagine how Bush could have possibly penetrated this top-secret meeting. Appearing completely oblivious to the odd sight before him, the ex-American leader simply strode up to the nearest ambassador, who happened to be Bahemuka, and clapped her on the shoulder.

"Hey guys, how's it going? Did I miss anything?"

Annan walked over, rolling in eyes and looking extremely annoyed.

"Bush, how did you get in here?" he demanded.

"Hey," Bush chuckled. "I'm the President. I can do anything."

Annan shook his head. "Bush, you know damn well you're not the President anymore. You're term ended in January."

Dubya ignored him. Rather than regard the black man with subordination, he chose to approach the podium as if he'd just been introduced to speak.

"Well I was just in town today as guest host on Regis and Kelly--we had an interview will Reese Witherspoon about her new movie, Legally Blonde 3 and let me tell you, she is fine. Anyway, I was just about to get back in my limo when I noticed an article in World Weekly News that the world's fattest cat was going to be a daddy. And next to that in the Times, it said you guys were meeting today. I guessed my invitation must have been lost in the mail somewhere. Damn postal service. So, I decided I'd just come on down to visit. I here my good buddy Tony is here today. Tony? TONY? Where are you, you old weasel?"

"Mr. Blair could not here, today, Bush," Annan answered tartly. "Something about a prolapsed hemorrhoid. Now I don't know who let you in here, but I'll get straight to the point. GET OUT!"

"Hey, hey, cool it Mike Tyson," said the Texan, plopping down on the stage and producing a guitar from nowhere. "I have some great new ideas to try and ease international tensions, maybe even cause some of those terrists out in Iraq and Afghanistan and Detroit to lighten up a bit. I've heard about this sort of paradise place, called Perfect, where the all the peoples of the world live together in peace and melody-- Americans, blacks, Mexicans, the Jews--all one big happy group. Of course, we don't live anywhere near Perfect, so we have Walgreens. But since there's no drugs allowed in the building, I had another idea to help you guys patch up this little fight you've been having today. See I've been watching some of these self-help instructional videos on altercalculations or whatever they're called. And the best thing you can do when you can't get a long is to have a little happy time."

Camilleri and Barnuevo glanced at one another.

Bush proceeded to explain, strumming a few chords on the guitar. "And nothin' makes a man happier than a full belly and a rousing song. Sorry I don't have any snacks. Dick ate them all on the way over here, though I'm not really sure where he went. But I do have the song! Come on everybody! Ohhh 'Kumbaya, my Lord, Kumbaya! Kumbaya, my Lord, Kumbaya...'"

Kofi Annan yanked the instrument from Bush's hands.

"Enough!" he shouted at the one-time Commander-in-Chief. "I want you out of here, Bush. Can't you see we're in the middle of something serious?"

Dubya looked angry.

"Now wait just a damn minute. All I do is come down here to help you guys out with this little spat you're having, and you don't even give me a chance to sing my song. What did I do that was so bad?"

"Got elected," replied Annan tartly.

"Fine," continued Bush angrily, jumping to his feet like some obnoxious little kid whose mother had just turned off the television. "If you don't want my help, then maybe I'll just report this to CNN. I'm sure they'd like to know Calemari and Yoko Bono here are having it out."

As the ex-president turned to leave, Annan feared for a moment he might have to use force to subdue the intruder. However, he was spared such action when an incredible bang, accompanied by a cloud of greenish smoke, materialized in the in the middle of the stage. A man was emerging from the haze now. Although the men and women nearby, blinded by the smoke, could not immediately see him, Ron and Hermione could spot him easily from their position. They were barely able to believe their eyes, but could not deny what they were seeing.

Ted Turner had just Apparated into the chamber.

With several ambassadors still coughing on dust and magical smoke, Turner descended the stage rapidly and strode out toward the center aisle in a completely bizarre outfit. Wearing tight-fitting rubber pants and top (which did not complement his figure) with a red, flowing cape cascading down his back and billowing in non-existent wind, he resembled a cheap Superman imitator. The letters CNN were splashed across his chest like some sort of heroic symbol.

"Did someone say CNN?" he shouted heroically, scanning the room with his eyes. Having recovered from excessive smoke inhalation, several of the ambassadors, along with Kofi Annan and Mark Brown, were now gaping at the American billionaire. Magnus Copperfield, who had remained behind the podium both to gain a better vantage point of the Camilleri/ Barnuevo brawl and to insure his own safety from the fiasco, now leapt down from the stage to confront Turner.

"Ted," he whispered frustratingly. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Reporting for duty, of course," Turner replied, saluting Magnus and motioning to the CNN emblem on his flabby chest. "Did someone not call for my aid?"

"TED!" cried Bush like silly teenage girl who had just spotted one of her girlfriends and needed to share some ever-so tantalizing gossip. The ex-president ran over to his billionaire buddy and slapped him on the back. "So good to see you! Where are Jim and Donny?"

Bush had apparently said the magic words, because at that moment, another greenish puff of smoke, similar to the one from which Ted Turner had just appeared but much larger and more powerful, filled the air beside them, enveloping Bush, Turner, Magnus, Annan, and many of the nearby ambassadors in it's cloud.

"What in God's name!" cried Annan in rage, although his voice was barely audible over the cry of his fellow diplomats and the sting of the green mist.

Ron and Hermione could see two more figures emerging now. One was an African-American vested in a bright blue, flashy disco suit complete with a high pointed collar reaching right up to his near-shoulder-length black hair, and the other was a white businessman in a more ordinary suit and tie. Ron recognized the two Americans immediately.

"WHOOOAAA, I feel good!" cried singer James Brown, grinning from ear to ear and sliding around the floor like a slightly inebriated stage performer. "What's happenin' everybody?"

"Jimmy, my man!" Bush babbled, running up and giving the King of Soul a high five. "How's it hanging?"
"Just swell, George, just swell," Brown replied. "But how many times have I told you not to call me Jimmy?"

"Hey Ted!" Donald Trump spoke, addressing the superhero-clad owner of CNN. "What they heck are you doing here? You left right in the middle of our poker match. What's a matter? You tired of folding?"

"Can it, Trumpster," Turner fired back. "I was called out to business. Besides," he pulled a handful of playing cards from his pocket. "Straight, in diamonds."

"Damn!"

"So," Bush interjected. "You wouldn't believe what's been going down here today. First these guys didn't even invite me to the meeting. Well we see about that. I'm not inviting any of you guys to my next summit! Then, I come down here and they're all arguing and beating each other up like a bunch of bulls at a rodeo. I tried to help them but noooo. They have to do everthing the diplomatic way. Bunch of looneys if I ever saw some."

"Happens to the best of us," replied Trump.

"Well," James Brown said sly. "Not to me!"

"Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is it Lou Dobbs? No! It's CNN man! Duh duh duh duh!" Turner shrieked and began running wildly about the stage, flapping his arms widly in a very uneffective attempt to fly. The only person this delusional super hero enthusiast could possibly hope to help was one with a psychotic death wish.

The man from Azerbaijan, being an ambassador of an obscure, difficult-to-spell, country in Asia, was not familiar with members of the American elite. Consequently, his confusion overcame him and forced him to blurt out something that had been bothering him since Bush's arrival.

"Who are you guys?" he demanded in rough English.

Bush glanced back over his shoulder at the Arabic man, a strange glint in his eye. "We're the A-Team."

Theme music resounded throughout the chamber, emanating from some mysterious, unseen source, but strangely fitting with Bush's statement. The dulcet filled every corner of the enormous room, turning dozens of ambassadorial heads as the esteemed diplomats perused the walls for some sort of explanation for the melody.

"ENOUGH!" bellowed Andrey Denisov, the Russian representative. "TURN OFF THAT DAMNED MUSIC!"

The song ceased instantly.

"That's it!" the Eurasian man continued to shout, steaming with rage. "Enough's enough! Every time you turn up here, Bush, you start raising Cain throughout this entire cursed assembly. Every vord you utter is sheer bullshit! And this time you bring along Larry, Curly, and Mo to give us all even bigger headaches! You are hereby banished from all U.N. proceedings."

The words struck the ex-president like a wrenching blow to the chest, and suddenly his eyes filled with tears. He resembled a child whose candy had just been taken away. Even his usual "all-powerful American president" retort failed him as he started to walk away with this shoulders slumped.

"Now wait just one moment!" chirped Swiss Peter Maurer. "We haven't voted on that! What makes you think you can just ban Bush on your own? I mean, sure he's annoying. And inarticulate. And stupid, But the point is, he's a world-renowned leader for God's sake!"

"We have Security Council privileges," Denisov responded. "We can do whatever we want."

Now Maurer was starting to look rather angry.

"That's not fair!" he grumbled. "I'm tired of all you big countries ganging up on all us little ones. Why is that you get to decide everything?"

Denisov snapped, "Three words, Switzerland! World War Two!"

Had Maurer even attempted to make some sort of retaliatory remark, it would not have been heard. Within seconds, the General Assembly had once again broken into an uproar, and as the donnybrook erupted in the far corner of the massive room, Bush, Turner, Trump, and Brown were eager to join in the struggle. Kofi Annan looked on with a mix of petulance and hopeless failure, ashamed that he had allowed the WWD to spiral out-of-control and knowing that he would never be able to get the delegation of diplomats under control again. Denisov's tactless comment had been a bombshell, enraging not only the Swiss ambassador, but also those of all the other countries whose participation in the Second World War had been somewhat less than significant. Copperfield still stood erect behind the podium, gazing out across the quibbling sea of suited men and women with an almost admiring smile. An accomplished glint shone out from behind his thick glasses, as though this squabble had been exactly what he was hoping for.

"We should probably leave, Ron," Hermione whispered pleadingly. "This could get even more vicious and I don't want to get caught in the middle of it. Haven't you ever seen that show 'When Animals Attack'?"

"What about Copperfield?" Ron demanded, looking angry again. "We can't let him do this!"

Now Hermione's temper was flaring a bit.

"And what would you propose we do, Ronald? Do you think they're going to listen to two British wizards who snuck in, uninvited and illegally, to a top secret meeting of the U.N.?"

His eyes fixated on the aging wizard/diplomat standing smugly atop the superb stage, Ron was forced to see her point despite his own personal grievances concerning the situation.

"You're right, Hermione. Let's get out of here."

"Allow me," said a gruff voice.

Both of the Weasleys whipped around in terror to see a ludicrously tall, burly security guard towering over them, sporting numerous restraining weapons and a bright silver badge reading Chief of Security. His eyes were like hot lasers piercing the intruders' consciences and his nostrils flared in such a way to make Professor McGonagall appear downright gentle.

"Captain Jasper Dupree," the man said, speaking like a dragon whose sacred castle had been breached. "I think you two had better come with me."