The Soft Option
[Author's note: This takes place at an unspecified date in the future, after Kingsley Shacklebolt has stepped down as Minister of Magic and been replaced by his successor.]
"All right, my Lord," the Head Auror said, his voice dripping with unmistakable sarcasm. "You know this is over, I know this is over. You're never going to conquer Britain, much less the world."
The Dark Lord said nothing, simply staring back coolly. He was chained to a chair in the Wizengamot, two dozen Aurors standing in a semi-circle behind their Head, wands pointed and ready to be used at a moment's notice.
"What is it with you Dark Lords, anyway, and your delusions? Grindelwald, Voldemort, and now you. Thinking you can overthrow the Ministry with a handful of followers."
"I have more than a mere handful," the Dark Lord replied at last, calm and controlled. "I have hundreds, and most of them are still free."
The Head Auror snorted. "Yes, you and your legions. What a pitiful excuse for an insurgency. All of your acolytes who were anything to worry about are all dead or in Azkaban. Everyone who's left barely passed their O.W.L.s, so I don't think we have anything to worry about."
The Dark Lord laughed. "You are gravely mistaken. Unlike my overconfident predecessors, I planned for the possibility of my defeat. I modified all my followers' memories to include a contingency plan for the event of my death or capture."
The Head Auror narrowed his eyes, and his subordinates leaned forward. This was what they wanted, the whole reason they had chosen to leave the Dark Lord's mouth free and risk the casting of a wandless spell. They wanted all the information they could pump out of him.
"Oh, but don't think you can find out the contingencies from those of my followers you've detained. The memory charm is also hexed to evaporate with no trace if any of them were arrested. So sorry for the inconvenience." He smiled grimly.
"I can tell you are," the Head Auror replied, scowling.
"But you won't be kept in suspense for much longer. I have a pretty good mental time-keeper, and if that clock I saw on the way in was accurate, it should go into effect in roughly two minutes."
As one, the Aurors stiffened. Their Head whirled around, and pointed to the most junior among them. "Go tell the Minister! Tell her something's going to happen, we'll tell her more once we know it!"
The Dark Lord laughed as the subordinate nodded and dashed from the interrogation chamber. "The Minister will find out soon enough."
"What do you have planned?" the Head Auror hissed, leaning in close, all levity gone. "Some kind of attack?"
"An attack, yes, but not what you're thinking about. Not a single Unforgivable Curse will be cast, nor anything else you would ever classify as a so-called Dark Art. Nevertheless, in less than a minute, everything you have worked to protect for your entire career will have evaporated like a kappa in a furnace. This will be an attack on the entire Wizarding World."
"WHAT DO YOU HAVE PLANNED?" the Head Auror roared, putting the lie to his earlier lack of concern.
"You have televisions in your office, yes?" the Dark Lord asked.
"What? Yes, of course," the Head Auror replied, baffled. In recent years, wizards had finally mastered that particular Muggle invention, though currently they were limited to black-and-white sets, and only the most up-to-date could handle any kind of broadcast besides old-fashioned, over-the-air analog.
"I recommend you tune to one of the Muggle stations, any of the BBC channels should do. They'll interrupt whatever they're showing for this. You'll find out anything you want to know. Too late, of course."
"What. Do. You. Have. Planned." The Head Auror had gone from spitting rage to tranquil fury.
"Tell me, you've done your research on me, I'm sure. You know that I suffer none of the closed-mindedness of my predecessors. My organization was open to all, regardless of blood status or species. Do you know what my favorite subject at Hogwarts was? Not what I was best at, but the one I enjoyed the most?"
Perplexed again, his interrogator could only stare at him.
"Muggle Studies."
[]
The cameraman checked his watch. It was almost time to start. He'd been hired by some organization—he couldn't even remember their name, but they paid well—to stand here on Charing Cross Road and tape…something. They'd been very vague, but had said to just stand here with his camera and film. They'd said something would happen, and he'd know it when he saw it. They'd also insisted that aside from capturing it on the film in the camera, it should also be transmitted to a recording device in the organization's own headquarters. He had no problem with this, and cheerfully charged them four times the going rate for this service; he'd guessed, apparently correctly, that they had no idea what a reasonable price actually was.
He checked his watch again. Time to start. He lifted his camera to his shoulder and began filming the area across the street he'd been instructed to cover. It didn't look like anything special to him, just a bookstore and a surveyors' office; the latter had once been a music store, he could still see the faded musical notes logo.
He continued to film. This was easily the most boring thing he'd ever shot, but his customers had been insistent that this was the correct area, and customers got what they wanted.
He wondered what, if anything, was going to happen. Some kind of political demonstration? He prayed it wasn't a terrorist attack and that the group had made him a patsy.
He was vaguely aware of some youngsters nearby, who had started taking video with their cell phones the same time as he had started his camera. Were they being paid by the same group?
About twenty seconds after he started, almost a hundred oddly-dressed people walked in front of the two buildings he was filming, and stood there. They were all wearing variously colored robes (Where had they come from, anyway? It looked like they had come out of a nearby alley, but he had glanced down that alley while setting up his equipment, and it had been empty. He'd heard some popping noises coming from it later, but paid them little attention). He guessed that whatever was going to happen, was going to happen soon. They reached into their robes and pulled out some kind of stick, or wand, and shouted as one.
"FINITE!"
He almost dropped his camera in shock, and the young people around him gasped or even screamed. A new building had suddenly appeared between the bookstore and surveyors' office. A dilapidated old thing, that looked like an old-timey pub, with a sign reading THE LEAKY CAULDRON. He could hear further shouts of surprise and horror echoing from all the bystanders up and down the block. The robed figures then literally disappeared in front of his eyes, with pops of the same kind he had heard earlier.
As he continued to film in a daze, he did overhear one of the kids mutter, "Gotta upload this to the Web right now!"
[]
The Dark Lord laughed. He was alone in his interrogation chamber; the Aurors were undoubtedly busy—no, frantic—in the offices above, as they learned that all over Britain, the enchantments that had stood for countless years to keep the Wizarding World secret from Muggles had been cancelled out. Places hidden from Muggle eyes for generations were now being seen by all…and those Muggles he had hired had made sure the entire world would find out.
In a stroke, he had ushered in a new age.
With no guards, it would be child's play to escape. Secure in their perceived triumph, they hadn't bothered to double-secure his chains.
"Alohomora!" The chains unlocked, and he shrugged them off easily. He rose from the chair. Just a brief walk from here to the stairways, and at the moment security would surely be as non-existent there as everywhere else.
From the stairways to the atrium, and in neither place would he be seen, as he would cast a wandless Disillusionment Charm on himself before he arrived; it wouldn't last long, but it would be long enough.
From the atrium into one of the lifts, which would surely be crowded due to the situation he had created, but he could let himself be pinned against the wall by the unknowing crowd; a few bruises were a small price to pay.
And from the lift up to the main district of Whitehall, which was freedom; he had taken great care to specify that the Ministry of Magic itself would not be revealed today, so his quickly Apparating followers would not be captured by the flood of Ministry employees doubtless bursting into the street to protect their place of employment.
And when he was free, he could reassemble his forces, and begin his campaign again. As the Ministry's authority was revealed to be a sham, many wizards and witches seeking a stronger authority could turn to him; and as Muggles struggled to adjust to this strange new world, he would quickly present himself to them as the benevolent wizard who had their best interests at heart, and had revealed the true nature of reality to them, destroying a centuries-old lie by a Ministry that looked down upon them and deceived them. Dark Lord? Why, that was mere propaganda by the totalitarian Ministry. He was here to bring all the peoples of the world together in equality.
He chuckled to himself as he strode out of the Wizengamot toward the stairwells, casting the Disillusionment Charm on himself.
And who said Muggle Studies was the soft option?