Let's get this out of the way first: this isn't the world you know. Your world hums with electricity and rattles with sound, squared off by concrete and glass.
Your world is crushed with people, shoulder to shoulder and chest to chest. Just 40 percent of those people are under 18; the world is getting older, day by day, and that's the same as my world, with one large statistical anomaly. Your world has a median age of 34.6.
Mine, it's roughly 15.
Ten years ago, when I was sixteen, my father served an absolute raving lunatic. He was hell-bent on dominating the world. They released a virus 'round the world over holidays; exposed muggles in each of seventeen countries, seven airports, five continents, one bad design.
It was supposed to kill all the muggles. Something in their blood was different, or wrong, or extra. It should have identified them all, and with the small, pitiful exception of the squibs they would have died. Instead, if you were over eighteen or twenty or twenty-two, some strange mystical age line we haven't bothered to sort, it made you miserable and then put you out of your misery.
It had it's intended effect in the end; the muggle world shut down. No one to drive the cars, no one to run the power plants, no one to fly the jets, all those bits and pieces you used to run around and fret about, gone.
But that freakish madman, that lunatic, he couldn't die unless one boy killed him. Some idiot with a scar on his forehead and a bit of a history. They had some epic clash, blah blah blah, one for the history books except for the brilliant bit where they both went down in flames, dead as rest of them, and now I get to forget them both.
Maths to clarify: 6.4 billion people in the world 60% die from a virus 2.6 billion left 60% or so can't hack it -- too young, too sick or too stupid. 1 billion left after a year. .1% of all people in the world were wizards 1,020,000 wizards left in the world Ten percent speak English 102,000 who will understand me 11% finished enough school to be worthwhile
11,341 people to round up.
I've been to America, to Canada, and all through Europe -- at least, my people have. We've been to India and South Africa. Brazil and parts of Russia.
Roughly 6,500 people now live around me. We torched the corpses, we looted the stores, and now we've a place to stay and a society that works.
We don't need electricity or telephones or mindless, bleeping entertainment, but we've got them thanks to a genius or two. A network that sets us apart from the rest of the world, run on wind and sun.
We've got cars if we want them, weapons and a wall around the city. We've got hundreds of wizards and thousands of muggles. A few younger children, here and there, mostly living in what used to be one of the better public schools.
And me? I live in Buckingham.
Welcome to New London. My name is Draco Malfoy, and I'm the Prime Minister.