Author's Note:

Its like a challenge... 'how long will it take before I feel too guilty that I haven't uploaded for donkey's years that I get my ass of the sofa and do stuff' humm, I think I need to work on the title.

BUT GUYS I've waited so long it's actually nearly Christmas! Which is sort of cool since these next few chapters will be on the same months as they're set in the story! If... IF I upload them on time.

Anyway, HAPPY 5TH OF DECEMBER EVERYONE! 20 DAYS TO GO!

Chapter 24: Façades

The boy had been concealed behind the door when the Minister had entered the room, but now, as he closed it, the boy stepped out; light falling onto his face, picking out his features.

He was about twenty, give or take a few years with dark brown, curly hair and stoney-blue eyes. He reached backward to check if the door was properly secured before opening his mouth to speak.

"What do you think you're doing?" He spoke softly, but with meaning; leaning menacingly against the Minister's desk, his dark cloak drawn around him. The Minister was almost intimidated.

"I beg your pardon!" The Minister coughed, glancing behind the boy in hope that someone had noticed his presence and would come to the rescue. No one had.

"You're in league with Morgana. Why? What has she promised you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Was all the answer the Minister could utter.

"DON'T PLAY ME FOR A FOOL!" The boy roared, slamming his fist into the table.

"Okay! Okay!" The Minister stammered, bringing his hands up in self-defence. When he realised no blow was coming, he lowered them. In that slight second he had panicked – let the façade drop – he could not let that happen again. Placing his palms on his lap, he slowly but surely reached for his wand. "You were in London with the man who spoke to the muggles… weren't you?" He stated, remembering where he had seen the boy before. His interrogator had been standing on the left side of the speaker; like a guard, he recalled.

The boy said nothing, demanding, with his eyes for the minister to answer his question.

"Fine." The Minister sighed, "I have made… an agreement with the woman."

The boy nodded, sifting into a less menacing pose; straighter back, arms at his sides. The minister took that as his cue, swinging his wand out and yelling "AVADA KEDAVRA!" Once he may have thought twice about using such a spell, but not now, not with so much at stake.

To his astonishment, the boy deflected the curse with a mere bat of an eyelid and pushing at the air with only his palms, the minister was lifted high above the ground, his legs kicking as he tried in vain to lower himself. Within the millisecond that the boy had realised what the Minister intended, his whole demeanour had changed – once again back to a savage fury which now bubbled beneath his skin.

"How did you do that?" the Minister squeaked, "You have no wand!"

"I am a sorcerer of the Old Religion! I do not need a wand!" The boy thundered.

Now the minister was scared, very, very scared, he had reached way out of his depth here and though he was still convinced he was doing the right thing; he now realised he was only a pawn in a war that was being played on godly proportions.

The boy dropped him, but straight away he marched so that his feet were at the Minister's toes, pulling the Minister up by the collar and pressing him to the wall. "Whatever she has said, she is lying." He growled.

"How can you know?" the Minister bleated, gulping down some of his fear and replacing it with a small streak of defiance.

"Because I am Mordred" His tormenter hissed "And I have been fouled by her too many times. She has a way of getting into people's heads. Don't let her. She may have once been brave and kind and loyal – I know she was – but do not, for a moment be fooled. That part of her has far from been washed away."

He turned to leave but the Minister stopped him. "She…" He cleared his throat, trying to budge his terrified stammer "she says that-that if you fail there will be great r-riches to be had on a planet far from here, for our people; for the druids. We can start again: a planet for wizards only! You-you think this planet's g-going to die don't you? Well w-why would she lie if it is her own life at stake?"

Mordred paused for a moment, still turned away from the minister; facing the door. The minister could see that his hand had clenched into fists and stiffened.

"Even if she were telling the truth, what gives you the right to kill billions of innocent people?" His voice was low again, but anger broke it in places and his teeth were bared – gritted together – in order to keep the foul stream of words which the Minister could sense on his tongue from tumbling out.

He chuckled, but the laugh was forces, it had no emotion, "When I think of a world forged on death, I think only of one filled with suffering, hatred and greed. Trust me I was born to one, it is not a prosperous place to live."

"They did the same to us!"

"SO YOU PLAN TO MAKE US NO BETTER THAT THEM? They've moved on since the dark ages, they've grown to cherish and love those who aren't like them, those who don't agree with their terms; their beliefs. We can't blame the entire world for a minority's way of thinking! You are no better than the ones who lit those fires to burn our people! If you go through with this it is their blood on your hands and it is so thick Minister that it will not be long before you drown!"

With that he stormed toward the door.

CRASH!

Mordred was almost out of the room before a huge noise followed by various loud thumps like falling rock rung strong in their ears.

Almost instantaneously, the screams followed, reverberating through the air - helpless and afraid.

The Minister shook himself to his senses "What are you doing?" He yelled over the racket.

Mordred turned, panic and confusion clear on his face "This isn't me!" he shouted, the crashes and thumps still loud in the back ground, then he was gone, pushing the door open and racing outside, not with fury this time but with a sort-of panicked curiosity.

The Minister followed; his shaking fingers fumbling with the door handle.

Outside, the site of a complete catastrophe met his eyes. Not a hundred meters away, a large crack had opened in the ministry's floor; already, it had cut the whole of the extensive hall in front of him in half and was getting ever the more long and wide as the seconds tumbled past.

The crack was dark, too dark; too deep. Bits of debris and dust were falling and falling and falling until they hit the bottom – if it had one – the minister doubted he would ever know it was so deep.

People on the Minister's side of the chasm were running in his direction, making for an exit, any exit, trying to distance themselves from the ever growing crack in the floor. A few were trying to stay calm – walking fast, arms tense at their sides, fists clenched. The minister joined them. He couldn't be seen to lose it now, not when his people would be looking to him for guidance.

He seized Mordred's arm – a grip of steel – and forced him to walk by his side. He needed to gain control of the situation.

"What is going on?" He demanded, glancing behind him; the crack was closing in, there was now about a 60 meter gap between them and it. The Minister skipped a little, quickening his pace.

"Well I wonder how you're going to explain this." was all Mordred said – chuckling slightly.

The Minister didn't answer, he couldn't; it was like his throat had seized up, so even if he knew what to say, the words would not come. The same thought kept running through his head, over and over: what have I done? He thought. What have I done?

All he could do was keep walking, keep walking until the falling land seemed to stop what felt like hours later.

"I am here to apologise. It seems I have made some bad decisions which have resulted; it seems, in extensive damage to Ministry property and the deaths of a few of our most loyal followers, whom will be sawly missed be all and I express my deepest regret at their passing. "I have lied to you. I told you that Harry Potter and his friends were not to be trusted, when in fact it was me who is guilty of that crime. "When London went dark and the fires rose on the muggle parliament last month, the words said by whom I know now as the King of legends: Arthur Pendragon, were true. There is a force at work here that even we truly cannot understand and it is this force that is causing hell on earth. "I am afraid I have failed you. In fact I have failed everyone on this doomed planet. I thought I could bargain with this force, this 'old religion'… Maybe I was right, but I no longer care and you shouldn't either. Now I see: as a wise man told me not a day ago, that a world forged on death will only bring suffering, hatred and greed."

The minister paused; clenching his hands nervously into fists, as he stood in the stunned, apprehensive silence that had fallen over the place in which he was speaking.

"I" He croaked, "will use my last power as Minister of Magic to banish all accusations against Harry Potter and his friends and ask that from now on you take heed in what they say and follow their instructions. I would and may still have brought this world to wreck and ruin by not doing so. "And thus, due to my regret for actions not well thought through, I hereby resign as minister of Magic."

With that, he stepped down from his pedestal and walked away; disappearing from sight just before the crowd came to from their daze and angered shouts choked their silent breaths of before.