Disclaimer: So bit of advice if you want to go to Potter World and buy a wand: don't. They're like $3 on eBay. Save yourself a lot of time and a lot of money and just get one online if you really want it. There is literally no reason for you to buy a large piece of plastic for anything over that amount. That's just basic economic science. Which I don't use anywhere in this fic. At any point. Also, don't own it.

You bought a wand at Harry Potter World before finding out this tidbit, didn't you? ~f

(...no)

Catalyst

Luna cheerfully raised her fist to knock on the next door, rapping on the wooden frame twice and ignoring the fire that attempted to engulf her arm. The humans she had been visiting had gotten much more paranoid over the last few weeks, but she knew they were just trying to protect themselves against everything else. It was one of the reasons she was doing this in the first place, in order to make sure they never had to worry about their safety again.

Despite her knocking, nobody came to the door. That was a tad rude. Still, Luna wouldn't let it dissuade her. The Swarm needed humans just as much as they needed her. A silly little ward wouldn't stop her from making sure everyone got what they needed. Luna reached for the door again, grasping the handle. A mass of projectiles rose from the yard, launching themselves towards her back. Luna's tentacles waved, trapping the projectiles in a rough arc. She pushed open the door. A man was standing on the other side, grisled and scarred, missing a leg and with what looked to be an artificial eye, darting madly across his face. The poor man, it was so sad to see how the humans struggled without their benefits.

"Hello, I'm-" Luna barely got the first couple words out before the man's wand was blazing, launching off spells left and right. Luna dodged, sighing. This wasn't the first one she'd encountered that refused to listen. With a practiced mind, she dangled the loose wisps of the hivemind into a single point, and directed it towards his gnarled skull. He stopped struggling for a moment, and Luna sat back in order to let him grow accustomed to his new perspective. They were always so understanding after they finished. Luna contented herself to sit back and watch the...mind...work. That was odd. Why were those wisps straining so much? Before she could inspect them closer, the threads burst apart, leaving the human unconstrained.

"Think I can't handle the Imperius?" he spat out in a furious tone. "Who the hell do you think you're dealing with girl?" His wand swung around, spitting out spells at a furious rate. Luna leaped away.

"Why didn't you listen?" Luna demanded, landing on the grass with her limbs splayed out like an octopus. "Everyone else has listened when I let them hear. Why are you so afraid?"

"Are you daft?" the disfigured man asked. Wait, wasn't he her Defense professor from a couple years? What was his name? Mattie? That didn't sound right, but close enough. It was hard to remember a name while trying to dodge near-constant beams of magic.

"Don't be rude, Mattie," Luna chided him. Mattie just looked at her, head tilted while he continued his arcane barrage, but whether it was due to the extensive scarring or simply the ravages of age, Luna found fairly simple to leap around and under the beams of light. The poor man, he had so much that the zerg could fix for him, and he still didn't listen. Maybe she should try again The spells were becoming easier to dodge, so Luna attempted to gather the wisps again. She had to stand still in the grassy blades for a moment to focus, but that wasn't even a bother. It was almost like he wasn't aiming for her at all. Then her tentacles were flayed by the massive explosion behind her. She fell forward.

"If you think people under mind control listen to you on their own, then calling you daft is like calling a wand wooden. Not rude at all," Mattie said as he advanced towards her, whipping his wand around in a longer and presumably more powerful spell. Luna struggled to lift herself, flesh knitting itself together behind her, not quick enough. Her legs and the stumps of her tentacles pushed desperately against the ground, to no avail. The man's scarred lips let out a snort. "Least that explains all the disappearances. Almost disappointing, girl. I thought you'd put up more of a fight."

Luna's mind raced as she lifted herself off the ground as best she could, scrambling backwards on her stumps. He was going to kill her. What did he mean, mind control? She was going to die. They weren't controlled at all, they just chose to join. This was the end. Just like she did, they listened and joined. Right? Of course. Of course they did. She just didn't have any time to think about that right now. Mattie was waving his wand with a distinct sense of finality.

But then Mattie's face shot up, eyes catching on something above Luna. He lifted his wand, cursing, but he didn't have the time before a humanoid form rammed into him, pushing him away from Luna. Luna used the break to focus her power, lifting herself off the ground while her limbs regenerated. She lifted her head, taking a look at her savior.

A human form was crouched over Mattie, striking at him with the savagery and unrestrained brutality of a wild animal. It only took a few seconds for Mattie to blast it off, but it landed upright behind Luna, revealing a disturbingly familiar face. It was a human, one she had convinced to join just a few hours ago. Her calm face was twisted savagely, at least what little of it Luna had time to see before she leaped past her queen back towards Mattie.

"What are you doing? Move! Move, or the wizard will be the least of your worries!" Thenabar's voice rang out in her head. Urgency was forced into her mind, and before she realized it, her regrown legs were moving, forcing her away from the convert. She ran through the residential neighborhood, dashing past the manicured lawns hopefully too fast for any of the muggles to see her.

"What about..." Luna struggled to recall the name. "The person fighting the wizard?"

"That thing? It'll be fine, you just need to get away," Thenabar responded dismissively. "Heads up, Nydus."

"A Nydus? Here? I thought we were trying to stay hidden," Luna asked as she ran.

"Did you not see-of course you didn't. Sometime, we need to finish that metamorphosis you so rudely interrupted. Let's just say it's a bit too late to worry about subtlety."

As if on cue, Luna heard a loud crack. A small object flew past her cheek.

"Overseer saw that come from the west. Should be able to get some zerglings there. Move a couple meters to the left."

Luna leaped away just in time to avoid the debris scattered from the mouth of the worm emerging from the center of the street. She looked at the open mouth and hesitated, looking back towards where she had ran from. The worm waited, gaping.

"Get in Luna, you have to go," Thenabar demanded, his thought punctuated by more small objects ricocheting off the worm's carapace, drawing blood.

"What about our kin?"

"Forget about it. Let the thing do its job so you can get out before you're shot to death!" Another impact came, mere inches from Luna's face. With a last forlorn glance, she leaped head first into the worm, letting it's muscles pull her deep into the ground. "Thank you. Seriously, you cut that close. I think the muggles might have been bringing in artillery."

(Transition)

Dumbledore was almost certainly going to lose this battle. The zerg surging out of the deep recesses of the Forbidden Forest were replacing every creature that fell. It was a simple fact that dozens of wizards, even backed up by the flaming wraiths of Adeviar's Fiendfyre, weren't going to stop thousands of rampaging predators who cared as much for their own life as their enemies did.

The wizards stood in the opening of a raised funnel of earth, grouping the zerg together into an easily curseable cluster. Despite that, the loathsome creatures were scrambling over themselves, forming a continuous wave of claws and fangs, erupting with screeches and blood. Another spurt of the Fiendfyre rushed into the wall, sending the scent of burning flesh billowing through the houses and streets of the once peaceful town. Long since evacuated by its residents thankfully, but Dumbledore didn't dare suggest letting them have it. Every lost patch of ground was another the zerg could use to breed. Thenabar's vision and Adeviar's increasingly frequent insights confirmed that. Dumbledore would make them pay for every last inch of ground they took. At least, that's what he was thinking before the zerg's rampage towards Hogsmeade came to a sudden halt.

The low rumbling sound of burning missile fuel rang through the air as a series of silver jets flew through the blue sky. Explosions burst out across the zerg frontline, scattering blood and chitin across the ground. Hydralisks reared up on their tail, spikes glistening from their crest, but the terran fighters didn't stick around, flying off in a cloud of vapor.

The Swarm reacted immediately, spreading its mass across the uneven terrain like liquid across paper, limiting the costs of another attack. The hydras were ready this time, and unleashed their spines in the same moment the planes released their missiles. More explosions spread fire over the battlefield, this time both in the air and the ground. Two planes fell from the formation, crashing into the grass, where the pilots' remains were immediately torn apart by zerglings. The swarming predators made a tempting target, immediately taken advantage of by the tanks, rolling in with smoking barrels. The roaches immediately made their way to the front, only to have to stop, bracing themselves against the hail of bullets striking their armor, before a second tank blast forced them to scatter just in time for another bombing run, carving scores in their rank.

Dumbledore could hardly believe his eyes. Muggle machines were fighting the zerg head on, and more than that, they were keeping up with them, tearing great chunks through the massed alien creatures. Even without magic, the muggles were tearing through the Swarm like a scythe across wheat.

The Swarm moved in chaotic swirls, apparently trying to reorient themselves. Adeviar didn't give them that chance, using the muggles temporary reprieve to focus entirely on the Fiendfyre, letting it flash into a clawed pillar of fire, burning rapidly through the massed zerg. The moment the flame gained purchase on their insectoid forms, they went up like a bonfire.

Before Dumbledore could process everything, the zerg were no more. He stood in front of a field of scorched earth, filled with scattered craters and metal debris. Across it, Dumbledore saw a man walking across in formal muggle military wear, escorted by several others in significantly less ornate clothes. Dumbledore, still pumped high with adrenaline, watched their approach warily. If the muggles were actually sending one to meet with them, then this probably wouldn't be a one time thing. They would want to talk, to discuss. And if they had taken notice...despite the heat of the still present Fiendfyre, his blood chilled. This war was about to escalate. By his side, Adeviar growled. The rest glanced at each other warily, not sure what to do. Dumbledore wasn't sure either. This was entirely unprecedented.

The muggle had reached him, and raised up a hand in salute. His escorts followed suit, before they all lowered their hands. The decorated man opened his mouth "Chief Warlock? My name is Major Whitehall of the British Army. I've been sent to assist and coordinate-"

"You shouldn't be interfering," Adeviar cut him off. "You shouldn't be here, not now."

"Well I'm afraid that decision is well above my paygrade," Major Whitehall responded, looking remarkably nonplussed despite standing in front of titanic flaming monstrosities. Adeviar must have been quite stressed, the poor man. The constructs barely looked like real creatures at this point.

"My apologies Major, but I was unaware that the muggle government had decided to lend their aid at this point, or that our Minister had requested it at all."

"He hasn't. My superiors are of the opinion that dealing with sudden global alien threats superseded any past treaties. They also wished me to advise you that other countries will likely decide to get involved as well."

Dumbledore could only stand there, gobsmacked. He couldn't even begin to imagine the ramifications this would cause, both political and military. He also couldn't imagine that he would have time to figure them out. However much he might be reluctant to throw outside centuries of careful separation, muggle aid might just be what they needed to avoid that harrowing vision pulled from Thenabar's alien mind.

"Well, regardless of the circumstances, I suppose I must offer my gratitude to you and your government Major Whitehall, both for the help now and for what may be soon to come. Please, I'm sure we have much to discuss. Let's go see if Rosmerta has any stock left. Adeviar, if you would?"

With a glowing yellow glare both incredulous and furious, Adeviar snuffed out the Fiendfyre before turning to walk with the odd group. Dumbledore wasn't sure what his issue was, but he only hoped he could deal with it on his own. Merlin knew that Dumbledore wouldn't have time for such personal matters in the near future.

(Transition)

No, no, no, no, no! The non-psionics were separate from the psionics, they ignored each other, every single one of the psionics minds had confirmed it. It was ingrained so deeply, so fundamentally into every aspect of their psyche. What had changed? Why were the non-psionics interfering now? What could possibly...? Oh. Right.

Abathur was being an idiot. With a forceful rush of hormones, he calmed himself. There were times to allow for anger, but not when he was the highest authority on the planet. He couldn't afford excess emotion. He stiffly retracted his limbs. The cocoons damaged by his tantrum repaired themselves as he gathered his thoughts. It was obvious why they were interfering.

It was his own fault.

Abathur had barely focused on stealth, assuming the association with Voldemort and his established threat would shield them from greater scrutiny, and then he'd sent his brood all over the continent to gather essence and ingredients. He hadn't committed to stealth, and hadn't committed to a full assault. Of course the terrans had taken notice, and now he had to rapidly adapt to a completely different style of war. If he wasn't consumed by suppressed incandescent rage, he would be extraordinarily pleased.

If stealth was no longer an option, then he was free to attack as he pleased. No more restraint.

Abathur slithered out of his chamber, making his way directly towards Voldemort, location gleaned from the eyes of his thralls. He released his tight hold over the creep, letting it spread over and consume the pristine decorations. It wouldn't take long to consume the whole structure. A few humans observed his advance. Abathur seized control of his scattered thralls, forcing them to apparate to the observers, puppeteering their limbs, slashing precisely at the base of the spine. The humans fell without a word into the rampaging creep, which swelled over them to form cocoons. The flood of creep forced the doors into Voldemort's meeting room wide open, leaving the path clear for Abathur to slide through them.

"What are you doing outside of your chambers, demon?" Voldemort demanded coolly.

"Conflict escalated. Use of Voldemort organism ended. Distraction removal, more valuable," Abathur calmly explained, giving the psionics time to finish their metamorphosis. And to see how the rather odd biology of the semi-terran reacted. He had to so little opportunity to experiment on new subjects these days. He was loathe to pass up any opportunity.

Voldemort didn't move, apparently content to stay in a suboptimal position in face of a threat. Abathur imagined it was a form of dominance, but he didn't really care enough to call Thenabar over to confirm it. The experiment was busy enough as it was. Instead, he gestured towards several other wizards, who immediately raised their wands towards Abathur. He supposed that was intended to be a threat. How, he had no idea. When the zerg didn't depart their chambers, the wizards began swirling their wands, reciting the various pneumonic devices that so crippled them. Abathur considered letting them finish, before dismissing the idea. His forces moved.

With a series of wet crunches, his infested psionics warped behind the wizards, surgically removing the spinal connections once more. The creep swept over the paralyzed terrans, encapsulating them. In a synchronized forces, the infested turned to face Voldemort, tentacles flailing along their body. The creep moved over the floor, racing under chairs and towards the Dark Lord's feet. Voldemort let out a wave of heat from his wand, but the creep ignored it, continuing its march unabated. He tried again, with what looked to be acid this time, but was met with the same indifference. Voldemort took a step back.

"Do you really think you can defeat me, beast?" he said in a calm tone. Abathur noted his eyes rapidly darting across the cocoons.

"Unnecessary. Assimilation, preferred outcome," Abathur explained. Voldemort responded with a large violet blast, launching the entirety of the room's contents at Abathur. The Evolution Master's thralls raised shields in unison, creating a massive wall in front of Abathur. The furniture shattered against the psionic barrier, but Voldemort was already moving. A trio of green lights slashed through the air while Voldemort's wand danced, raising stone walls around his zerg opponent, preventing escape. Abathur warped in one of his soldiers in front of each beam, watching dispassionately as they began to topple forward, lifeless. With a rush of energy, Abathur raised each of the dead, transforming their topples into lunges.

Voldemort grew three more spiked pillars, impaling the charging zerg and stopping them in their tracks. With a few swishes of his bone white wand, he pulled more spikes out of the walls. The points raced towards Abathur's creations. Abathur ordered them to blast the spikes apart, filling the room with dust.

It was every bit the fight Abathur had expected. Voldemort was more than a viable option for the amalgam, he was an excellent one. Abathur burst out of the ground and released a simple pheromone. With the air whipping around as it was, it didn't take long for it to make its way to Voldemort. Abathur's thralls cleared the air.

Voldemort lay on the ground, thrashing as the bloodborne pathogen Abathur had infected him with ravaged his body.

Abathur used the infested to throw the dark lord's body in the cocoon with the other two. That project could gestate on its own for a while. He had information to gather. He had relied on secondhand reports for the non-psionics for too long. Umbridge's memories had implied that they had little more than simple firearms in terms of weaponry, and the terrans on the battlefield clearly displayed far more technological advancement than that. He needed a more reliable source.

Once his thralls had cleared the debris out of the room, Abathur settled down and shifted his focus to his southern infiltrators. A couple of them were walking around non-psionic residences, going through the motions necessary to keep their cover. He briefly considered whether it was worth maintaining, but no. The psionics and non-psionics were both aware of him now, and retaining a few minor sources of information wasn't worth the time it would take to be subtle. Abathur's infiltrators cast off their humanoid shells and extending sharp tendrils into the minds of the nearby non-psionics, ignoring the eruption of screams.

It took but a moment to sort through their minds, gleaning info that caused him to recoil in shock. Umbridge had been grossly mistaken. These terrans were advanced, capable. They might not be able to traverse the void, but they could watch him from above, they could fly across the globe with impunity, they had enough nuclear weapons to render every zerg on this planet into a radioactive ash stain ten times over.

Why in the Overmind's name was Abathur still alive?

The morphalisks veins pulsed as Abathur intensified his search, tearing through the terrans' minds, desperate for an answer. He would probably have to find it quick, before their minds shut down entirely from the shock. They really were so fragile.

Oh. Of course they were. Terrans were so fragile that even the aftermath of a nuclear blast could kill them, and unlike the ones he was used to fighting, these little irritants had nowhere else to flee too. They wouldn't use nuclear tools unless they had no other choice, would they? How convenient. He could just rampage over the planet, and by the time they overcame their fear it would be too late.

The morphalisks retracted their tendrils and fled. Abathur scattered his attention across the globe, seeing through the eyes of his overseers. The next step should be quite simple, but it would be far easier in the right location. Now, where did the terrans decide to put their highest density habitats?

It really was so liberating to not have to hold back.

Stressors: The Swarm seeks to evolve. This is a fact, a fundamental truth, such an integral part of the zerg's nature that to strip it away would leave them with next to nothing. Every second the zerg live, they evolve. To this end, the zerg put themselves in the absolute harshest environment at all opportunities. They don't settle peaceful garden worlds filled with lush plants and scenario. The zerg inhabit the extremes, from worlds covered in toxic clouds and flowing lava, to worlds so far removed from starlight that the entire planet is coated in a thick sheet of ice. All of these extremes drive evolution and force the zerg to adapt. These stressors reveal flaws inherent in the zerg, and where there are flaws, there is potential for growth. Every challenge just makes the Swarm that much more monstrous.

Basically, they're crazy masochists that think that pain and adversity make them stronger. Except, because they're supposed to be cool enough that player want to be them, they're not played off as crazy, and they're actually kind of right, instead of certifiable.

~f