Every 20th century English wizard (sans Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore) was crammed into the Hogwarts Great Hall, forming a dramatic circle around the two greatest wizards ever to live- Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort, A.K.A. Tom Riddle. They were revolving in a slow circle, each face drawn into a scowl of indignation.
"I know things you don't know, Tom Riddle," Harry mocked. "I know lots of important things that you don't. Want to hear some, before you make another big mistake?"
"Is it love again?!" Voldemort spat, his oily voice dripping with resentment. "Dumbledore's favorite solution, love, which he claimed conquered death, though love did not stop him from falling from the tower and breaking like an old waxwork? Love, which did not prevent me stamping-"
He was cut short as a symbolic bald eagle swooped inexplicably through the Great Hall, the sun exploding over the horizon and filling the debris-ridden fortress with a fiery red glow. The eagle cawed, a silhouette against the vibrant red sky.
"What the-" Voldemort mumbled, his groove thrown off. Suddenly, the wall behind him was blown to smithereens. For a second, everyone's sight was clogged by a massive cloud of smoke, and then a single American flag protruded from the nebula and a tank emerged, crushing rubble beneath it as it advanced upon Voldemort.
The Dark Lord's snake eyes had gone so wide that they almost looked like regular eyes, and he was visibly trembling. Suddenly, the hatch of the tank was thrown open to reveal a buff man with a buzz cut and layers of camouflage. His gnarled jaw pulled back into a scowl, and he cradled a bazooka to his chest.
"AVADA- #$%IN'-KEDAVRA, #$%ER!" the man howled, and a blast of green light erupted from the end of the bazooka in his arms, sending Voldemort's lifeless carcass reeling across the destroyed Great Hall. The onlookers gaped in silent terror.
"WHAT IS GOING ON?!" a frantic Kingsley Shacklebolt finally cried, and the world was encapsulated by a violent humming noise, an unforeseen swarm of helicopters hovering overhead. Suddenly, hundreds of wizards dressed in camouflage parachuted down from the helicopters and the tank started blasting magical spells out of its cannon.
The parachuters all started shouting variations of "WE'RE THE #$%IN' WIZARD MARINES!" and fired spells out of AK-47s. They proceeded to annihilate all of the Death Eaters until the only remaining wizards and witches were standing still, jaws unhinged in utter shock. The massacre of liberty ended, and a single marine set foot in the silent hall.
Raising his magical walkie-talkie to his face, he said, "Mr. President? The area's secure."
There was a static-y reply from the other end, and then the smoke cleared to reveal a solitary figure. Sharply dressed in a black suit and surrounded by a dozen M.B.I. (Magical Bureau of Investigation) agents, the man took a few slow steps forward. He removed the aviators from his face in one swift movement and placed them in his front pocket. As he did so, the bald eagle swooped down and landed on his forearm. The man smirked haughtily.
"Where can I find a Mr. Harry Potter?" he asked, and Harry emerged apprehensively from the crowd.
"I-I'm Harry Potter, sir," Harry stuttered, and the man approached him, his hand collapsing heavily on Harry's shoulder. Harry nearly buckled under the weight of it.
"Good work, kid," he said. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm the Magic President of the United States of A-Magical-Merica."
"Um-" said Harry.
"Say, kid, you're one of a kind- I want you on my elite team of wizard cops. No one like 'em. What do you say?"
"But what about Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked.
"Who?" the president chortled, donning his aviators and crossing his arms arrogantly.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I have to decline-"
The president cut Harry off with a wave of the hand. Turning to one of the marines, he said, "Let's ship out."
"ALL RIGHT, CLEAN IT UP, BOYS!" the man in the tank grunted. Within seconds, rope ladders descended from all of the helicopters and the marines grabbed hold of them, withdrawing into the sky. The marine in the tank threw the hatch down and backed out of the castle. A limousine rolled up, an agent swinging the door open so that the president could climb inside. He slammed the door shut, only to roll the window down seconds later and rest his arm on the edge.
Peering up over the top of his sunglasses, the president addressed Harry. "You're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime, kid," he mused. Before Harry had time to reply, the president turned to one of his bodyguards, who was addressing him privately.
"Mr. Magic President, sir, Clinton's on the phone and-"
"Tell him I don't have time for his muggle politics," the president scoffed as he rolled up the window and the limousine glided away.
The sun rose steadily over Hogwarts, and the Great Hall blazed with life and light. Suddenly, one awestruck voice rang out above the rest. It belonged to Percy Weasley.
"Wizard God bless America," he said, and the crowd murmured in agreement as the silhouette of the eagle faded into the distance.