More 'evil doers' are captured.
By Dr T
Harry Potter and the canon associated are owned and operated by She-Who-Must-Be-Named and her paid minions. I, unpaid, rearrange things to suit myself for my own pleasure. Hopefully you got some as well. If not, well, you get what you pay for!
Voldemort laid in agony at his safest refuge in Britain, struggling to pull his splinched foot back to him. This was a feat only a small percentage of magical could perform, and his ability to do so, after fighting a major battle where he had expended more power in less than an hour than most could spend in a week, was a sign that he was indeed the most powerful wizard then (more-or-less) alive.
When Voldemort’s left foot returned, the normal extreme ‘pins and needles’ pain from such a splinching was replaced with such a jolt of agonizing pain that even a being as jaded as Voldemort gave a short scream. It took him several seconds to deal with the pain, and a few seconds more to look past his mangled appendage to realize that it was filled with alien magic. It only took him nearly thirty seconds more to dissipate the dozens of tracking spells.
Voldemort managed to make himself a portkey to yet another bolt hole (this one his hideaway of last resort, in Eastern Europe), just in case his enemies managed to track him before he was ready to leave. They would no doubt be able to throw up anti-apparation wards in a few minutes, but portkey wards took much much longer, since they had to be runes-based. Even he would need several hours work to put such wards in place, and so was sure it couldn’t be done any more quickly. Once the portkey was made, Voldemort steeled himself and started to drag himself towards the stores of potions he had under stasis, so that he could start healing himself and take stock of the situation.
Meanwhile, back at the still-burning Wicker Man, the newly appointed chief druid for Britain was demanding reports.
“The seriously wounded have been transported to the staging area in Armorica,” the witch in charge of the medical teams reported. “The French are whining as usual, but their aurors haven’t made any moves against the base, but they are refusing to allow direct shipments of medical supplies. We continue, however, to manage to go around their blockade. We still have over a hundred people to treat here, but nothing my teams can’t handle. In any case, all the remaining injured are people Riddle brought with him, and all are stunned. After we treat each one, they are being woken up and questioned. We have therefore sent some of the medical teams back to the staging area to help out with our seriously wounded.”
The next wizard spoke up. “All together, Riddle managed to bring in nearly six hundred people. We have cleared a hundred and eight – they were mostly civilians dragged in from Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, plus a few of the Ministry workers who were unwillingly press-ganged. However, most of the Ministry workers we’ve made it through we re-stunned. They probably haven’t done anything bad enough for us to execute them later today, at least nothing we got from them so far. They all will need to be examined in detail, either by us when we have time or by Shacklebolt and his people if you want to release them to the acting Ministry once it’s set up. We have eighteen that we recommend to be reexamined for inclusion with this afternoon’s Justice, and have executed nine Death Eaters. Three of the six captured werewolves might have extenuating circumstances that might keep them from Justice.”
The Druid nodded. “Next?”
“Riddle managed to defeat the traces shortly after he pulled his foot to him. He is somewhere in Cornwall. One of our detector vans was already near Land’s End, and we managed to transport three others to the general area already. We will have two more there as soon as they can be transported without the Mundanes detecting the transfer. If he has gone to ground in Cornwall, we will detect him shortly. All of our vans are equipped with pre-set ward stones, but it will take at least two sets and thirty minutes of work before anti-portkey wards can be set up. We will of course establish anti-apparation wards at the same time the other wards go up.” That way Riddle would be less likely to know he had been found and escape.
The druid nodded, impressed that it would only take half an hour or so. It would take a team of Druids or goblins nearly two hours.
“Furthermore,” the technomage continued, “we have left all our detection devices on full alert for Riddle. If he leaves Cornwall for anyplace else in Britain, Ireland, or Brittany, we’ll have him. In addition, we have a team at the Ministry, recalibrating the gizmos there. While the recorders there are all very outdated, the network itself is fairly powerful. I haven’t gotten a report on a timeline for them to be aligned, but once they are, Riddle should be found within minutes if he’s within the network system or even if he’s up to a hundred miles of the outer boundaries. So, if he does escape Cornwall, he would have to travel some distance to be safe from our detecting him.”
“But if he portkeys further away?”
The technomage shrugged. “Then there is no way to trace him.”
“Let me know when you have him,” the druid commanded. He turned to the final person he needed quick information from.
“Potter and the team he was with have not only left Hogwarts, they should be here in less than four minutes,” she reported.
“Have three Hidden and two technomage combat teams ready to accompany Potter,” he ordered. “Ask the Raven Commander to send at least five of the intact teams he has to Gringotts. They and the goblins are to take over Diagon Alley until Shacklebolt can arrange policing. Split the remainder of the Ravens, other than one team, between here and Hogsmeade. Send that last team and a technomage team to Hogwarts, along with a medical team and three of the Hidden teams -- make sure Team Tolosa is one of them – their team leader is in overall command. I gave permission to the technomages to bring in as many Collective members as they felt they needed today. Ask if at least one Collective member can each go to Gringotts, Hogsmeade, and Hogwarts. Since they are here, we may as well take advantage of their abilities. Ask Potter’s friends if they are still willing to go with those teams – they know most of the people there, and could be useful.”
At that point one of the Ravens rushed up. “The technomages have Riddle’s location, and are already starting the process of setting up the wards. However, he is in a very old tin mine – probably medieval. We have the main location, but it might take time to scout other possible exits. The good news is that there are no Mundanes anywhere within several miles. Potter and the combat teams will be portkeyed to just outside the warded area right after all the wards go up and Riddle is verified as still being there.”
The Druid looked indecisive for a moment – it was tempting to send a few teams into the area early, just in case Voldemort was able to attack the technomages in the vans. “The vans – do they still have at least one of us along for protection?” He could not remember if the guards had been withdrawn for the fight at Justice.
“Actually, no,” the Raven admitted. “Each van has just three people – a driver used to driving on the left and two others, all either technomages or Collective members.”
After a second’s hesitation, the Druid said, “Don’t send them in early, but make certain the vans have someone in constant contact. The teams have to be ready to portkey away on a moment’s notice if they are attacked. Send in at least six of the teams still in reserve to scout possible exits. If possible, we need to end this today.”
The technomage advisor who was standing behind the Druid said softly, “We have three special nine-person combat teams we managed to free up for this week only. We should send them in to help at this point.”
The Druid merely nodded, and the Raven nodded and ran off to implement his instructions. The Druid turned to the technomage. “Why were they withheld from the battle?”
“They are all members of the Mundane military reserves. The weapons they will be bringing would have caused a great deal collateral damage among our own forces if they had fought here.”
That made the Druid wince, but he accepted what had to be done.
While this was happening, there were cheers in three of the common rooms at Hogwarts, which quickly turned into something of a ‘witch hunt’ against known or suspected collaborators. However, there was civil war in Slytherin common room. Over that academic year, life had changed the least for the Slytherins inside their common room, but it had become more tense. Similarly, outside the common area they had suffered the least from the new regime of Headmaster Snape. Draco Malfoy’s disappearance one weekend, however, had set up a power vacuum amongst the students, which for the most part Theo Nott and Pansy Parkinson had filled, much to the anger and jealousy of others.
In addition, while no Slytherin had openly objected to the changes of the past year, it was clear that about a quarter of the House were not overly enthusiastic about them. Hogwarts’ students had basically divided into four camps that year. One consisted of those who enthusiastically supported the ‘New Order’ of things, led by about a third of Slytherin, a fifth of Ravenclaw, and a few odd members of Gryffindor. Opposed was ‘the Resistance’ – about a third of Gryffindor, a quarter of Hufflepuff, and even a few Ravenclaws. The remaining students were split between those who were willing to take some of the favors offered to them by the New Order but were unwilling to actively support it (these were mostly students were from families who had long held power, and saw it being usurped by Voldemort’s supporters, and included students from all four Houses) and the true neutrals, who tried to stay above it all (also with some support within all four Houses).
In Ravenclaw, the Resistance members quickly isolated the New Order supporters, eased in part as the two harshest enforcers had been sent by Snape into battle. Flitwick insured that the more vitriolic informers were merely restrained, although he did not stop the taunting and promises of legal retribution which was going on. In Hufflepuff, Professor Sprout had quickly organized the students, with most of the older students, no matter what their previous attitudes, swearing to guard the younger ones. She and the members of the Resistance from the Sixth and Seventh years then exited their common area to search the castle. In Gryffindor, McGonagall had to use force to prevent the New Order students from being lynched on the spot.
Down in Slytherin, Nott had led six other students into the battle, leaving Pansy Parkinson in charge. When Harry made his announcement, Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis decided this was their chance to get in on the ground floor of whatever would replace Voldemort. Whatever the Dark Lord’s status, it was fairly certain that the government of Britain would at least be going back to the way things operated the year before. In short order, they had started a takeover of Slytherin, aided by most of the younger students, nearly all of whom had endured years of taunting by the Malfoy/Parkinson clique and months of being pushed around or aside by the New Order members in the upper years.
When the curses stopped flying, Daphne looked down on the heavily-bleeding well-hexed Pansy. “Why?” the self-proclaimed queen bee of Slytherin demanded.
“Why what?” Tracey asked, coming up as well. “Why not let you drag us down with you? Why not risk being tarred with the taint of being on the losing side? The heads of our families were neutralized by the Dark Lord and his stooges, just like we were neutralized by you, Nott, and Malfoy these past few years, just like we were forced to keep our heads down around Snape and the Carrows. Your deaths mean our families can rise again.”
Pansy managed to look around, but couldn’t see her wand anywhere within reach.
“On the other hand,” Daphne said, raising her wand, “if you meant why we hadn’t killed you yet, it’s because I at least needed to get enough strength back to do this properly. Reducto.”
“How will we get in?” Hermione asked as the large group approached the closed great main doors of Hogwarts.
“I suppose you think you know the history of Hogwarts,” one of the Hidden asked her.
“Well, I’ve read Hogwarts: A History and other accounts,” Hermione said, modestly smug.
Luna merely rolled her eyes at that.
“And did any of these accounts say why Hogwarts was built here?” the Hidden wizard asked.
“The Forbidden Forest was already here. . . .”
The Hidden shook his head. “My dear, forests covered most of this island a thousand years ago, and most forests and wild places had magical beings and plants. The Founders came to our ancestors and requested this land. This whole valley had been obscured from most mages for thousands of years, and was still under our protection. There was an ancient stone circle here since before the use of metal for weapons, albeit a small one. Most of us had left these shores some eight hundred years before that time, but even today we have managed to keep all the greatest unbroken stone circles well hidden. Still, we had sympathy for those magic users left behind. The ones now known as Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were such. Ravenclaw and Slytherin represented what to our ancestors were foreign magics, but we understood that their people would also need to be hidden from the Mundane invaders who became the English and lowland Scots, and from those other foreign threats which were strong and those which were already beginning to threaten from Normandy. Still, the underlying magic of this place is ours.” The man nodded, and seven of his fellows placed their hands on the outer walls of Hogwarts.
In seconds, the great doors glowed.
The Hidden chanted a few verses in their most ancient language, and the doors swung open.
“We have reclaimed what was ours,” the Hidden declared. “We shall judge if it should be returned or not.”
“The teams have reported that they have both the anti-apparation and the anti-portkey wards in place, and that Voldemort is still in place,” a technomage reported.
“Go,” the Hidden ordered. With that, Harry and thirty-nine others were transported away.
In less than half an hour, the remaining faculty and students were assembled in the great hall, where, to say the least, there was a great deal of murmurings, especially at the appearance of numerous trussed up students.
“I demand to know who you people are and why those students have been tied up!” McGonagall demanded.
“And who are you to demand anything?” the leader of the Hidden asked mildly.
“I am the Deputy Headmistress!”
“Deputy Headmistress of what?” the man asked. “At this moment, there is no Hogwarts School, there are just the numerous abused children and the adults supervising that abuse.” Seeing McGonagall was about to respond, he roared, “Silence! The children claim that those tied up or injured or recently killed. . . .” Many people outside of Slytherin looked shocked at that. “. . . were collaborators. We shall see. Starting with the so-called senior staff, you shall all be questioned under veracity spells, and we shall decide from that if you should be freed, turned over to the British Ministry for judgment later, or executed this afternoon.”
That brought total silence.
“Take the so-called Heads first,” the Hidden ordered. The shocked faculty simply did as they were told.
As those groups left the great hall, Ginny turned towards Hermione (who was still several yards away and well under the protective view of the Ravens) and hissed, “Granger! Where are my Harry and my brother?”
The use of her last name and the venom in Ginny’s voice startled Hermione. “I have no idea where Ronald went after he deserted us last autumn, Weasley,” she snapped back. “As for Harry, he, Luna, and I are discussing if he’s Luna’s, or Luna’s and mine. He sure as hell isn’t yours.”
Luna had been missing, along with a pair of Ravens and a Hidden. She had come back into the great hall during this exchange and walked over towards Hermione. She glanced at Ginny and said, “Actually, I belong to Harry. Hermione and Harry are deciding if they want joint custody.” In truth, Hermione and Luna were exaggerating. The trio had been sleeping together for some weeks, but it was (mostly) platonic, allowing Luna to emotionally recover from the abuse she had received at hands of the Malfoys and allowing all three to heal from the various degrees of loneliness of their childhoods.
The Hidden shook his head at that exchange, but merely addressed those remaining. “We have arranged for a meal. I suggest you enjoy it.” He did not mention that a team was also interviewing the house elves, led by Dobby. As the Hogwarts elves now regarded the Hidden as their masters, they were happy to tell everything they had witnessed. Another team was interviewing portraits.
The staff and students at Hogwarts would learn that ‘normal’ would be very different in their futures.
Voldemort eyed the timer as he finished putting together gold and other supplies. He knew that time would be running out soon and he would have to portkey away from this hideout. He was, in fact, slightly surprised that he had not yet been traced, although he suspected that he had been and that his enemies were merely waiting for reinforcements before risking a confrontation by raising anti-apparation wards. Still, if he could delay just another twelve minutes, he could take the final potions which would completely restore this body to the best shape it could be under the circumstances. He would then leave.
Leave? Actually, it was a retreat at best. That thought made him wince – how did his enemies manage to acquire such numbers? Had the whole magical world actually managed to bury their rivalries and animosity enough to band against him, or were the Druids and their ilk really so numerous? In either case, he knew there was no way he could ever put together the sheer numbers he would need for a direct battle against those who had fought him that day. He had to admit, reluctantly, that there was nothing for him to do but to retire to his last bastion and spend what time this body had left in creating something more stable, and only then start planning a comeback. If there was a wide-spread alliance against him it would certainly break down within a few years to a few decades as he stayed out of sight. If the Druids were acting by themselves, it might take even less time for the peoples of magical Europe to rebel against their over-lordship.
‘Well,’ he said to himself, ‘I am immortal. The one thing I have is time.”
A few minutes later, Voldemort felt the most powerful anti-apparation wards he had ever felt go up, and less than ten seconds later, his own ward stones cracked from the magical attack his wards were under.
“Time to go,” he muttered, and he triggered his portkey.
The students remaining in the great hall quickly noticed that none of the students being taken for questioning were returning. Hermione and Luna correctly interpreted the growing murmuring, and went over to the Hidden left in charge.
He nodded and stood at the front of the platform the staff tables were set upon. “You have obviously noticed that those taken for questioning are not returning. When our teams finish with each person, those who have been exonerated are being taken back to their common rooms, or, if they need any medical assistance for what they have suffered these past months, they are first taken to the infirmary. Our allies have provided four teams of specialists to supervise the common rooms, as well as a full medical team.” It had been decided that the fact that all five teams had mental health professionals on them to help with the stress levels many of the students must be feeling did not need to be mentioned.
“Those who need to be questioned further, either as witnesses or as potential minor offenders, are being sent to the library, where one of our teams will continue debriefing them. Those that will likely face criminal charges are being guarded more strictly. So far, we have not found anyone who is likely to face execution later this afternoon.” The Hidden then turned to Hermione and Luna. “We are about to open the Headmaster’s Office to question Dumbledore’s and Snape’s portraits, if you would care to join us.”
Hermione and Luna thanked him, and made their way out of the great hall.
Voldemort blinked as he realized his portkey had failed and he was sitting on his backside, his head ringing from the attempt. “Inconceivable,” he muttered, but he knew he had to accept this seeming impossibility. He managed to stand up and grab his supplies. If there actually were anti-portkey wards up, it would almost certainly mean the main forces opposing him were coming through the most obvious entrance, and that the area would also be under the wards. He would have to fight his way past his own traps to engage the enemy and fight his way through them. While certain he could do so, there was always the chance this body would be destroyed, and he could not count on a follower coming for him any time soon to help him make a new one. He had to escape in order to create a body in which he could wait out his enemies.
Voldemort moved towards one of the other three exits, the one he hoped was the least likely to have been detected.
“Are all these paintings really asleep?” 1011 asked.
“Probably not,” Hermione answered. “Harry always said they like to pretend to be asleep, so they can eavesdrop more easily.”
“So, they do so to give the illusion of privacy,” the Druid who was with the group mused.
“Or actual privacy, if the headmaster commands it,” Dumbledore’s portrait answered, as he stopped pretending. “Where is Headmaster Snape?”
“I . . . I seem to be to your left.”
“Severus?” Dumbledore glared at the group. “What have you fools done! His freedom of action was vital to the defeat of Voldemort!”
“All Death Eaters have been executed,” Druid in command answered. “Snape was a Death Eater, and he ran this school much as your lover Grindelwald allowed Nurmengard to be run rather than as a mere prison, never mind a school. He also either gave the addresses of the First generation magic users to Voldemort , or allowed the Carrows or some other Death Eater access to that list causing many deaths and much suffering. You, Dumbledore, advised the staff to accept Snape rather than closing up the school and then using it as a bastion against the Darkness, implicating them all in the abuse, kidnappings, and murders that Snape here either allowed or, in at least the case of two of the kidnappings, ordered. If you can feel the magic which regulates you, you will discover that Hogwarts is under the control of the Old Believers and the Hidden. We will decide later if we will allow the school to continue, or if we will keep it as our European headquarters.”
“We told you that you were risking Hogwarts with your plans,” one of the headmistress portraits hissed at Dumbledore. “If Snape there was the worst headmaster in our history, you will still be the one infamous for what this school became.”
“Never mind that,” Hermione said. “We will be destroying what’s left of Dumbledore’s and Snape’s reputations later. We have questions.”
The Druid nodded, and added, “And as we are in control, you have no choice but to answer us.”
“None of that is important, where is Harry? It is even more important that he confront Voldemort only after. . . .” The portrait went quiet, hesitant to reveal vital information.
“After what?” Hermione snapped. “After the other Horcruxes were taken care of, so that Voldemort can kill the one contained in Harry’s scar, hopefully not killing Harry at the same time?”
“Oh . . . you figured that out? Ah, well, just so long as Harry is willing. . . .”
“Willing to sacrifice himself?” Luna demanded. “You are, or rather were, a very evil man.”
“We and our allies destroyed the Horcrux in Potter’s scar months ago,” the Druid commented. “We had all the others but one destroyed before this morning. The last one was destroyed soon after the battle in Hogsmeade started. Riddle is being tracked down by our combat teams, and Potter is with them, on the off-chance he really is needed.”
Dumbledore protested, “But the prophecy. . . .”
“Prophecies are rarely if ever fulfilled in every detail,” the Druid pointed out.
“In any event, Harry will win by evoking a power neither you nor the other Dark Lord knew,” Luna said smugly.
“I? A Dark Lord?” Dumbledore asked in shock. He couldn’t see Snape and most of the other portraits rolling their eyes at that. “What I did. . . .”
“WAS FOR THE GREATER GOOD!” nearly every portrait exclaimed in sarcastic unison.
“Every ideologically-driven Dark Lord has thought the same thing,” Hermione said in disgust.
“And, to answer your unasked question,” Luna continued, “Harry’s ‘power’ has likely been the ability to share information and ask for help, instead of forcing assistance, like Voldemort, or tricking and manipulating people into giving it, like you.”
“And that makes you the worst kind of dark lord, one that passed for Light,” Hermione stated. “I have little doubt that in the future, history – at least when properly taught as opposed to what has passed for history at Hogwarts for generations – history will regard you as the co-creator of the horrors of Grindelwald, even if you then backed off and finally ended his attempts to rule, and the cause of Voldemort’s rise towards power, both times. I also have no doubt that this version of you will always think yourself wronged, and that only you have the right to determine what that nebulous ‘greater good of yours’ might be.”
“So, you will go down in history as the first, and hopefully only, Dark Lord to manage to become headmaster of Hogwarts,” Luna stated.
Less than fifteen seconds after Voldemort had left the chamber, the air exploded in flames. A few seconds later, two armed technomages entered, along with two other technomages waving gizmos to check the air quality. All four had bubblehead charms on.
“Clear!” one technomage yelled.
“Clear!” a Raven who came in directly behind them agreed.
Another technomage entered, with a totally different gizmo. “He went that way!” he called, thinking, ‘I always wanted to say that.’ “That should be the exit that ends at the deepest shaft exit that we found.”
“Let’s hope there aren’t any side exits we missed,” the lead technomage commented. With that, he aimed his magically enhanced flame thrower down the corridor and took the lead.
As the tunnel was a very rough one, Voldemort had not been able to flee too far down it. The flames that entered the tunnel did not reach him, but they certainly encouraged him to hurry.
“Ah,” Flitwick said as the dungeon door opened to reveal Pomona Sprout, “we wondered if you or Slug would be next to join us.” McGonagall merely scowled.
“I am not here to join you two,” Sprout answered. Three of what McGonagall could only consider ‘the invaders’ came in behind her. “I am here to help them question you. Horace has suffered a mild heart attack, and will be questioned when he recovers. While I have helped convince them that neither of you should be executed today, there are still many questions the two of you need to answer about why you not only ignored serious problems this last year, but for a number of years. It also turns out that despite claiming you were filing complaints and objections of Snape’s behavior since he arrived, there are none on file other than my multiple ones every year, and isolated ones from a few of the myriad defense teachers and Burbage.”
There was no obvious response either could make to that, since once they had seen their initial efforts largely ignored, they had merely made token verbal complaints afterwards. Each knew they were going to look bad; they merely hoped that they would not be facing serious charges.
With flames licking at his heels, Voldemort had no choice but to scale the rickety-looking rungs of the magically-enhanced ladder. If he had stayed at the bottom of the pit to fight it out, he would have been roasted, as he had found that his shields and freeze-flame spells did little against of combination of Muggle chemicals and magical flame – the shields and spells could stop one or the other, but not both at the same time.
As he emerged into the partially-hidden entrance to the mine, he felt three impacts on his upper-torso. Looking down, he saw, but did not understand the meaning of, three large tranquilizer darts well-embedded in his flesh. In part, that was because the combination of Muggle tranquilizers and the Draught of the Living Death were already playing havoc with his awareness. Six more darts, all just tranquilizers, slammed into him in less than three seconds, and the Dark Lord slumped over, barely suspended on the ladder.
That night, several groups picked their way through the incredibly disorganized Ministry building, making their way into the Department of Mysteries. The groups organized themselves around the Veil, and then Harry’s invisibility cloak was taken off of Voldemort.
Kingsley Shacklebolt wrinkled his nose in disgust at the figure. “I of course believe this is really him,” Shacklebolt said, “but how sure are you that his spirit is still inside this construct, and that tossing him through the Veil will guarantee he can’t come back?”
“We are all certain what remains of his soul is contained in that,” the Chief of the Hidden in Britain stated. The representatives of the technomages and Vodun groups all nodded their agreements. All three groups had performed their own very different tests. “As for his returning yet again, all his soul anchors have been sent on ahead of him. Even if an eighth piece of his soul is still in existence, it would be incapable of being resurrected on its own – only the diary had that capability. On top of that, no one sent through a Veil has. . . .”
“A Veil?” Kingsley demanded. “There’s more than one?” He had only known of this one.
“There are four still in existence,” a different Hidden said. “There is this one; one in lower Egypt; one near the headwaters of the Ganges; and one near the Yellow River in China. There were three others, all now non-functioning. One is near the ruins of Uruk in Mesopotamia, one in southern Africa, and the remains of the final one is in Transylvania. The culture or cultures which created them disappeared over seven thousand years ago, but they have been well-studied since then. No known magic can bring back one who has crossed over by this method.”
“Many have tried, and all have failed,” the Vodun priestess agreed. She added, “In addition, when we finish cursing this construct, it will not be in good shape should some future method of bringing it back be created.”
“This really is safer this way than simply killing the construct,” the Chief Hidden pointed out.
Shacklebolt looked at the representatives of the various National Ministries, sent by the International to ‘consult’. They all either nodded their agreement or shrugged. He sighed and said, “Start cursing.”
Nearly two hours later, when the groups were finished cursing the soul of Tom Riddle, Harry fulfilled his destiny and pushed the body through the Veil.
At that point, one of the Vodun, a Voodoo Queen, stalked over to the British Ministry members present. “We could see the looks on your face,” she nearly spat. “You consider us Dark, our magic Dark and primitive.” She looked at them in disgust. “Magicals such as us and those Druids are not the ones who nurtured the two worst Dark Lords in millennia; that was you Europeans. And of all the Europeans, it is you British, you who think yourselves the center of the magical world just because Merlin happened to spend most of his life here, who are the worst. You have been the most arrogant and condescending, you who nurtured Grindelwald, you who spawned and nurtured Riddle, you who bleated and agreed with Dumbledore to do nothing useful. It was you who rolled over and forced magic herself to create that abused young man over there.” Harry flushed at that. “It was you who allowed him to be abused in ways we would only treat our worst enemy, and it was you who abandoned your responsibilities, forcing him to flee across the ocean for succor. If you do not lose some of your arrogance, within three generations, you will spawn an even more terrible Dark Lord, and this time there will be no Chosen One to stop him.” She sneered better than Snape ever had. “We have Foreseen this. It is up to you to choose your future.”
She glanced at the British Ministry officials, and then, hips swaying, she approached Percy Weasley, who paled in terror. “You are pale; you are weak. Still, your blood is strong despite yourself. Come along, Wan One. We will open your mind to possibilities.” With a confused Percy in tow, she and the other Vodun left the Death Chamber.