Disclaimer: There is a complete and utter lack of science below. If you couldn't tell from the magic, aliens, blatant misinterpretation of basic biology, and the psychic ants/spiders. Also, don't own it.
(You know what, screw the horizontal lines. I have a theme and I'm sticking to it. Long live the (Transition)
All hail the silly authorial joke! -feauxen the (less newly appointed, now) beta
Catalyst
"Would you like a cup of tea, Remus?" Dumbledore asked. He was seated across from Remus in his office, after the recently hired teacher had asked for a meeting. Fawkes was resting comfortably on his perch, mostly asleep, but still keeping an eye open.
"Yes please," Remus said, taking the proffered cup. "Thank you, Headmaster."
"Please, call me Albus. You're hardly a student anymore," Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, picking up his own cup. "This is a meeting between friends, Remus, not between the Headmaster and his student. Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"
Remus took a long sip of his tea. "What do you know about Thenabar Jaren?"
Dumbledore took a sip of his own cup before responding. "Enough to know that he very much prefers to be called Abathur. I'm quite surprised he hasn't impressed that on you already."
Remus pressed on. "Well yes, but is there anything else? Does he have some sort of odd magical ability or heritage? Does he have a... condition like mine?"
Dumbledore furrowed his brow. "No, not that I'm aware of. Why do you ask?"
Remus swallowed, not sure how to put it. "He... ate a boggart. He turned it into a worm-like thing and then ate it."
Dumbledore had moved to take a sip of his tea, but stopped as soon as he heard Remus's first few words. His arm slowly lowered the cup back onto the saucer. "Remus, I'd like you to tell me exactly what happened."
So Remus recalled the class session for the headmaster, discussing the events leading up to the eventual consumption of the Boggart. He described the Boggart as it appeared to Abathur, a large slug-like creature. He described how Abathur had ranted to the creature, about perfection, and goals. And he finished by telling Dumbledore about the maliciously victorious grin on Jaren's face as he picked up the Boggart and ate it. When he finished, Dumbledore looked pale and shaken.
After a few long seconds, Dumbledore spoke up. "How did the other students react?"
"About as well as could be expected, given the circumstances. None of them panicked, at least. I dismissed the class as soon as I could," Remus replied. "Do you have any idea why Jaren would do this? How he could do this?"
"Unfortunately, I know very little of Mr. Jaren. He was raised in a Muggle orphanage, far from the Wizarding worlds sphere of influence. I have no idea of his heritage, or any exposure to... other factors," Dumbledore said. "Right now, you likely have a greater idea of what inspired this than I do."
"So, what do we do from here?" Remus asked. "We can't just let a potential threat walk around the castle unchecked."
"That is exactly what's going to happen." Dumbledore said. "Mr. Jaren has given no indication of harming the students, quite the opposite even and I'd like to keep it that way. No need to antagonize a complete unknown."
"But-" Remus started to object.
"No, Remus," Dumbledore interrupted. "We need to keep the risks as few as possible. You will continue to monitor him, while I investigate elsewhere. Do you understand?"
Remus looked as if he wished to press the point, but eventually relented. He stood up and walked out of the room, leaving Dumbledore to his own devices. Only then did he release a sigh. Did Hogwarts truly need another danger?
(Transition)
On further reflection, Abathur supposed that deciding to consume a magical creature in the midst of dozens of terran witnesses wasn't the absolute best idea. He probably could have snuck in later, he could have subtly infected it, he could have done literally anything else. Yet he had chosen what was quite possibly the stupidest move Abathur had ever made, an impulsive and Primal action. And it absolutely disgusted him to be similar to the Primal Zerg. Fortunately, no one in the class had seen the true purpose behind his consumption of the boggart.
In any case, it would be counterproductive to regurgitate the boggart at this point. And he doubted he would come to fully regret this incident, even with the sloppy execution, so there was no point. Especially since the Boggart essence was little less than a work of art. Normally, Abathur would balk at calling any randomly formed essence "art," but there was no other adequate word to describe what the Boggart was. It possessed a ridiculously flexible code, comparable to the Changeling, but more stable, more regular. The catalysts alone would keep Abathur busy for years, they were absurdly efficient for a product of natural selection. Was this what happened to species regularly exposed to powerful psionics? Perhaps this meritted experimentation, exploration of different scenarios. Something for another day.
Equally interesting were the manner and subject of the boggart's perception. Small, compact, but absurdly powerful structures in the boggart allowed it to sense raw thought, emotion. Little, indefinite, chemically inspired patterns, but so, so clear when viewed with through a boggart's...eyes? Throughout all of Abathur's existence, he had encountered no term or analogue that could describe them.
Humans had been nearly a total mystery to Abathur, but now, he could feel them, he could know them. Their wants, their fears, their knowledge, their universal, desperate desire to fit in, to procreate. Even their memories were laid bare to him, when he delved deeply enough. It was almost pathetically inane, the way terrans seemed to be a mask of inscrutability, with unknowable motivations and rules, only to be controlled by their basest desires. No wonder they were all so obsessed with arbitrary rules.
Speaking of terrans, his camouflage appeared to be approaching him. Convenient timing, as he needed them now more than ever. They provided more cover from discovery, another layer of protection. Assuming he could convince them that he was rational and unremarkable, and not anything but.
"Abathur! What happened? We've been trying to find you all day, and there are rumors about you eating a Boggart!" Ron was the first to speak, and the first human that Abathur could understand. Abathur, using the sensory organs he'd appropriated from the boggart essence, could truly feel the meaning behind terran expressions now. To his disappointment, there was little to discover. Concern and confusion, both boring and pointless, evident even in the tone. And yet, so important, so prevalent within his own thoughts. Only terrans could make greater insight more confusing, those biologically pathetic beings that fought on even ground with the Swarm.
It was a long few seconds before Abathur realized he had yet to answer her question. There had been dozens of witnesses, nothing would be gained by denying it. Better to bite the hydralisk spine. "Rumors, largely accurate. Boggart consumed, dissolved."
That created a spike of emotions. Confusion and suspicion became much more prevalent among all of them, rising to the forefront, as well as a spike of... was that fear?
Yes, yes it was. How inconvenient. Fear was the next to last thing he wanted right now. But this was where the Boggart essence shined, manipulation of the human psyche. The problem also provided the solution.
"Did not desire further exposure. Did not desire for others to have further exposure. Ended possibility." Hopefully that would work. Humans gave a great deal of importance to the welfare of others in their species, for some reason. Earlier, he would have said he was hungry, but not now. Now, he knew exactly what buttons to push.
Indeed, the fear appeared to have subsided, but suspicion remained, mostly from Hermione. Abathur hadn't thought she was cunning enough for that.
"Why did you eat it then? Why couldn't you have just banished it, locked it up? Why did you decide to eat it?" Hermione demanded.
The terrans were really testing his new capabilities. Abathur reached through Hermione's mind, looking through her memories and emotions for something that would convince her. After a further second of thought, he extended tendrils of information to both Ron and Harry. His swarm essence improved mind easily handled the extra strain that would so confuse a base Boggart. To his surprise, he also felt the presence of a mind from behind the wall to his left. Exactly how far could Abathur reach?
Even as Abathur experimented, his lips and tongue formed the words that would abate the suspicions, pulling from each of the trio's experience and knowledge. "Boggart, inspires base emotions. Fear, hate, similar. Was before dinner. Hunger, fear, overwhelmed logic. Know results."
The suspicion and fear went away, replaced with acknowledgement. His camouflage moved to continue further conversation, and Abathur responded almost automatically, falling into step with them. But his more full focus was on his new senses, exploring the limits. Passing through the castle was trivial, sensing minds, if not being able to go any deeper than that. The forest was full enough of beings that Abathur could feel them, if only as a vague fog from which individuals were difficult to distinguish. It became increasingly vague from there, going from a thick fog to thin wisps of thought. Only in high concentrations was there any appreciable presence, such as the cluster of minds Abathur assumed was the village near the school.
Abathur stretched out his mind far and wide, stretching across the island, even if there was nothing but the brightest concentrations visible to him. Yet something called him to spread out even more, something almost familiar, but not quite. Abathur pulled his focus this way and that across the globe, but nothing showed itself to him, nothing significant. At last, he turned his focus outwards, and only then did he realize what he witnessed.
The many minds under one. The endless hunger, the constant flux, the single purpose split into many. It was too far, and he was too weak for anything beyond this cursory glance. But he could feel it. He could reach it. He could reunite with it, given time. He merely needed a more focused means of communication, a way to sense and respond to the distant call of his purpose, his kin.
The call of the Swarm.
(Transition)
Surprisingly, it was the super-colony that made the first big push after the stalemate. A massive wave of ants gathered at the southern end of the Hive's territory, representing the super-colony's most organized push to date. It left the Hive scrambling to pull their more dispersed forces together to counter the inevitable push. The Hive had an advantage there, the spider webs allowing them to rapidly re-deploy their forces.
The super-colony force was the same as it always was; a mass of practically identical ants in immense numbers; a horde covering the forest floor. In a straight, fair battle, the Hive would have little hope of survival. Fortunately, fairness wasn't a concept that either force sought to embrace. The Hive force stood on acres of strands of web, preventing the super-colony from moving too far forward without heavy losses. Unfortunately, that wouldn't be enough this time, not with the mass of carapaces moving forward. The ultimate victor was anyone's guess.
The super-colony continued forward, while the Hive lay in wait, preparing for the optimal moment to strike. They didn't have long to wait. When the super-colony laid its first step on the web, the Hive struck. Spitters spread their acid far and wide across the front lines, killing or crippling most of the ants struck by the liquid. With the super-colony bottlenecked at the edge of the webs, it was devastating. Dozens of lines of ants became puddles before the colony pushed past the border. Their fellows climbed over the bodies and continued the charge, only to be caught in the extensive strands, shaped carefully by the spiders to trap any non-Hive being foolish enough to step on it.
Little by little, the Hive's defenses wore down on the colony attackers. The bodies piled up more and more, marred by acid puddles. The seemingly endless horde thinned, cut down by the endless rain of spitter volleys and warrior fangs. Little did the Hive know that their victory here was pointless.
It was a single vibration. A chance disturbance of a thread in a greater tapestry that tipped the Hive off. The colony had been far more clever than anticipated. Spiders that were sent to investigate the disturbance found a massive force from the super-colony, several times greater than the army the Hive was already in battle with. A decoy army was what they were fighting, a front to the true force attacking from the west.
The Hive had little time to act. They had already moved their forces to fight off the decoy, and they didn't have the time or resources to grow more forces. The colony forces would push in far, regardless of the Hive's actions. So all they could do was retreat.
The Hive pulled all the resources and beings it could out of the colonies in the advancing force's path, leaving behind only small seeds of a few ants and spiders, along with a single Queen, hidden away. They stayed at the former colonies, even after the super-colony raided them, and buried any survivors beneath a mountain of ants.
These pockets had but one mission: to ensure that the super-colony force never got the opportunity to enjoy their victory. The super-colony never stayed long. When they had finished ravaging a colony, they would move on immediately. It was then that the pockets moved into action. The Hive had long since mapped the species useful for assimilation, after the Mind had introduced them to the concept. However, with the war against the super-colony, there had never been the opportunity to free up enough spare focus to actually integrate them. That was not an issue here.
A Queen, freed from the need to manage a colony, took charge of each small group. All had a specific target,which they moved to attack immediately after the super-colony had left. The species fell in countless amounts. A wasp's nest fell to the ground, severed from its branch. A scorpion bearing her young was surrounded and rushed. Infiltrators rushed into beehives, seeking out the queen. Massive, armored beetles felt a single bite at their neck before multitudes of minds invaded its own. Butterflies were shot down with focused jets of acid, burning holes into their delicate wings. Mosquito larvae were plucked from the water, given a single shot of a virus each. Praying mantises had their legs pulled out from under them, collapsing them. Countless species were pulled into the Hive's collective thoughts, their essence collected.
The Queen of each operation manipulated the essence of their new wards, shaping their strands into weapons of war, filling them with all the malice and imagination they could muster. The Hive pulled back its forces from the decimated decoy army, concentrating them at the end of the super-colonies march of death.
Eventually, the Hive's main army faced the super-colony's. The Hive had determined that this was the last point at which they could stop the march for good. The two sides faced each other, one a wild menagerie of spiders, spitters, soldiers, and workers, the other side a mass of identical warriors. There was no more room for subtlety, for planning and deliberation. On some unheard signal, the super-colony forces charged forward, intent on breaking the Hive. They didn't hesitate, moving straight into a massive web.
The Hive would make them regret that.
From their rear came an army of horrors, twisted creations, designed to kill. With no break in pace, they laid into the super-colony forces without a shred of mercy. Worms, muscular things with mouths filled with rings of teeth, burst from the ground to chew through a target, submerging before any other ant could strike at it. Scorpions, mantises, and beetles led the front lines, impaling ants upon their claws, horns and stingers, deflecting any counter attack with thick layers of armor. Mosquitoes landed upon the super colony, impaling ants with their new, tapering, needle-like legs and mouth before flying off. Their prey collapsed as small larva, already ready to kill, burst out of the holes left behind and began attacking. Bees filled the air, launching wave after wave of envenomed needles into the bodies of the opposing ants, while toxic pollen fell down with every flap of the butterflies flying high above. The aerial barrage burned through every target it touched. Incredibly small ticks scuttered between the ants legs, before climbing up and biting into their head, the neurotoxins they contained causing the affected ant to go berserk, attacking and mauling its comrades, as well as anything else nearby.
The Hive's main force took the distraction of the super-colony as an opportunity to attack. The barrage of needles and parasites was joined by acid, venom, and mandibles, cutting through the horde at a rapid pace. The super-colony army was being attacked from all sides, from the air, even from within their own ranks. Bit by bit, their ranks thinned, pressured from all directions. They had no means of shooting down the aerial attackers. They had no armor to protect themselves from the powerful scything attacks of the Hive's new additions. They had no speed to strike back at the parasites and ticks tearing them apart from within. They had no way to burrow to follow the rapid strikes of the worms. They had no way to adapt, to change themselves to be able to survive this onslaught.
The Hive tore every last ant apart. With a sizable portion of the super-colony forces eliminated, the Queens pushed back, reclaiming the colonies that had been wiped out in the armies march. The tide of battle had turned in the Hive's favor, and they intended on fully taking advantage.
Viper: The Viper is one of the more recent and more powerful additions to the Swarm, a refinement of the now obsolete Defiler. It possesses a wide variety of abilities for shaping and manipulating the battlefield, rearranging events to the Swarms design. One of the most distinctive manner in which it does this is by abducting key targets, extending its entire digestive system out of its body to hook and pull a target towards it. This is used to pull vulnerable, long-range targets, such as siege tanks or colossi to death at the hands, claws, acid, spines, living exploding projectiles, ink sacs, etc. of the main zerg force. Accompanying this ability is the blinding cloud, a large fog of microbial soup, preventing ranged foes from firing. The viper can also launch a parasite to aerial targets, damaging it and anything nearby. All these abilities, combined with its ability to draw energy from structures, makes the viper a powerful caster, manipulative, refined, and capable of great feats in the right hands.