Free James Potter And The Morrigan Web by George Norman Lippert Page A

opened again to the public. And worst of all, he could not tell the truth. The press sensed this, and put it into their headlines:
    DRUMMOND DENIES DENYING, CONFIRMS CONFIRMING— New York Times
    PRESIDENT PRESENTS PAINFULLY PURPOSELESS PRESSER— Cleveland Plain Dealer
    WHITE HOUSE MAINTAINS AWKWARD SILENCE ABOUT EVENT— Washington Post
    PREZ MEETS WITH ALIENS, SIGNS DEAL TO STAR IN NEXT BROADCAST— Inside View
    As if to add insult to injury, political pundits had begun to loudly lament the loss of Senator Charles Filmore, whose death was one of the few concrete realities of the Event. His funeral had become a national affair, broadcast on all the major networks. The New York Post ran a eulogy of the Senator with the title “The Best President We Never Had”. Bumper stickers appeared across the country bearing the slogan: Don’t Blame Me, I Would’ve Voted For Filmore.
    Political opportunists took up the mantra, using it to portray Drummond as equivocating, weak-willed, and incapable of handling the unique challenges of the time. It seemed that the next year’s election was lost even before it was begun. One politician in particular arose to the head of the fray, a woman senator named Carla Murphy, from Ohio. An attractive woman in her sixties with a long Washington pedigree, her ideas had become increasingly popular. Her presentation was firmly accomplished, her background seemingly unassailable, and her career path set. She wanted Drummond’s job, and it looked like she had a very good chance of winning it.
    Drummond sat in the White House dining room on a Sunday morning three months after the Event, watching the morning talk programs with a dour frown on his face and a cup of coffee growing cold in his hand.
    “Make no mistake,” Carla Murphy said on the television, looking pert and knowledgeable. “The President knows exactly what happened in New York City on the night of the Event. He is silent not because the American people, and the world in general, cannot handle the truth, but because there are forces at work that make it unwise to let the truth be fully known.”
    “Do you know what those forces are, Senator Murphy?” the television host asked, raising one eyebrow.
    “Of course I don’t, Charlie,” she answered. “And even if I did, I might not tell either. The fact is, there may be very good reasons for keeping these things a secret. But I will promise you this. Even in secrecy there is a right way and a wrong way to respond to the public. It’s one thing to have a national emergency and not be able to discuss it with the American people for reasons of security. It’s another thing to simply pretend that there is no such national emergency. We’re all smarter than that, no matter what the President thinks.”
    “I do so hate that woman,” Drummond muttered to himself, clacking his coffee cup onto the table.
    “I share your passion,” the man next to him agreed smoothly.
    Drummond jumped, knocking his coffee cup to the tile floor, where it shattered. He boggled at what had been an empty chair mere seconds before. A figure sat there now, wearing a long burgundy robe with a heavy hood. Drummond could see nothing of the man’s face except for his sharp chin and a small smile. Drummond glanced quickly from the figure to the door of the dining room.
    “Your men are perfectly all right, Mr. President,” the robed figure said. “They still stand outside that very door, although they have no idea that I am here. There is no reason to alert them. I mean you no harm. I am, in fact, here to help you.”
    “H-how did you get in?” Drummond demanded, staring wide eyed at the strange figure.
    “For people such as myself, it is surprisingly easy,” the robed man said with a sigh. “You really should be more aware of just how vulnerable you are in this New World, Mr. President. The law of secrecy between the magical and Muggle worlds has been breached. Why, I might have been anyone at all. I might