The Clan

I have written this volume as, not so much a tribute, for that she does need from me, but because the last in her series "The Deathly Hallows," left me wanting more. Asked more questions and then did not answer any of them for me. I decided to write this book for me, and I must say I had a great deal of fun writing it, and then reading it. But the book is not a copy of or indeed a parody of any of JK's writings for I have far too much respect for her as an author to do something so crass. I have taken the most obvious question of what happened in the 19 years after the fall of the Dark Lord and them all standing on platform 9 3/4, nearly two decades later. This story is set in the World created and continues the story of some of the characters created by J.K Rowling but it is a new story with many new characters and brings resolution to what happened to those characters that featured so prominently in her writing's.

About the Author :
I was born the youngest son of a poor black British Soldier stationed in the occupied territories of Germany 16 years after the end of WWII, and a young German girl the daughter of a committed National Socialist and an ardent admirer of Adolf Hitler and a card carrying member of the NSDAP. My mother her daughter had a sense of humour and that is where I think I get mine from, she married not only a British Soldier a member of the Victorious Army now occupying her country, but she married a black one (an Untermensch) not quite human in the Nasi social classification system at that. My mother in one foul swoop managed to do to my grandmother what the war crimes trials failed to do. Bring her worst nightmares home to roost and punish her to the core. I was comprehensively de-educated on the streets of various military facilities and so as not to get to grips with the whole education thing I was moved every two years or so to another facility just to confuse the issue. And so I received whatever education was destined for the offspring of the minions that formed the lower ranks of the British Army in whatever war zone the Army thought the lower ranks would best be given an opportunity to die for queen and country, and if anyone was to die it was better that it was the lower ranks and the less white ones at that and so my father suited their purposes very well. So these then were the ghettos of my youth the various married quarters those thought barely suitable for the other ranks and perhaps only just up from the tented hovels of the 17th century but definitely good enough for the other ranks. My father was conscripted into the British Army dragging his heals screaming and shouting, after having been lifted off the warm streets of Kingston, Jamaica on the banana boat "The Jamaica Producer" and enlisted without so much as a by-your-leave, into the Colour Service of Her Majesty the Queen. It is strange that they called it a colour service for as my father a man of colour noted, "it was a very white institution that considered racism as the modus operandi rather than something that was considered taboo." Then...well the rest is the subjects of various books all told with a liberal sprinkling of the truth where a lie was not possible, and a fact when no other obvious nonsense sprung to mind. God bless and much Love. Jonny Bustamante-Clarke