Moxxie's first impulse was to tuck Millie away, move her behind him, but she wasn't the kind of woman that tolerated that sort of thing - if anything, it was always her that was setting Moxxie aside like an unsteady toddler.
Both she and Loona stood with their arms crossed, looking at the men and women that felt an awful lot like intruders.
They knew that they weren't actual intruders and that if there was anyone who was where they didn't belong, it was them. But the situation felt a little too much like an ambush, like finding some strangers making camp in your hotel room.
They all immediately went into a defensive stance, prepared to fight the people inside.
Even rat Blitzo was curling up his little lips and revealing his rotten, needle-like yellow teeth. "Who the hell are you?" Moxxie asked, narrowing his eyes.
He had been fed up with all of wizardkind from the moment that his ass had gotten bruised by landing in the Great Hall, but he had hit his limit the moment that Blitzo had been whooshed into a furry grey rat. Even the rat's tail was curly and pink, a reminder of McGonagall's gift.
Really, what was it with wizards and bodily modifications? Was it like a kink? He was tired of their tricks, tired of magic - he just wanted to go back to good old Hell, where people were mostly just being assholes to your face, not plotting behind your back.
He hated the sensation of hate but not hating, wanting to trust but not being able to - he was sick of all the mind games and the insanity that this whole thing had been from the get-go. "Ah, Mr. Potter," said one of the men, one wearing a ridiculous hat.
Moxxie recognized him as the twitchy man from the night he had arrived, Mr. Barty Crouch. "May I introduce Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic," he said with some seriousness in his tone. Ministry, the Minister, was this guy like the wizarding world equivalent of the Prime Minister?
If so, then he was pretty important. But, of course, Moxxie had known he was some sort of celebrity here and that everything that had happened with You-Know-Who and his parents was at least tabloid-worthy. However, he was still shocked by all that it meant - he hadn't known he merited such a supposedly important man coming to him.
Was the whole thing between him and Voldemort really that important to everyone that this kind of thing should happen? "Mr. Potter," the older man that Mr. Crouch introduced greeted. He wore a perverted-looking bowler hat, his kind, smushed face smiling at Moxxie.
Despite his amiable looks, Moxxie distrusted him more than anyone he had met so far, even Snape, probably.
He looked like the kind of man that likes to surf the deep web for disturbing pornography. So, basically, like any politician. "Minister," Moxxie greeted back curtly, not bothering to stretch out his hand.
He didn't know where this newfound courage and disregard for authority had come from - maybe it was because of Blitzo's absence: someone had to be disrespectful and insane in his stead.
It just didn't feel the same without someone constantly reminding these wizards how shitty they really were despite their facades. "Pleasure to finally meet you," Mr. Fudge said, eyeing Moxxie up and down, scrutinizing him like he was sizing him up, taking in his measurements.
Moxxie didn't reply to that, but Millie did. "What are y'all doing here?" She asked, and it was plain to see that she still carried some leftover anger from the previous sequence with Moody. In fact, it seemed like she was ready to pick a fight with just about anyone. "We are here to talk to Mr. Potter about… the situation at hand.
To all of you, in fact." "Where's Dumbledore?" Moxxie asked, looking around at the anal-clenched faces around him.
He had assumed that Dumbledore would be there among all the other crinkled faces. "Headmaster Dumbledore is not involved in this," Mr. Crouch said, seeming rather irritated. Clearly, Dumbledore wasn't beloved by Ministry. Was he truly beloved by anyone other than gullible minions like Hagrid?
Bless that man's soul, he was getting into Heaven, but Moxxie wasn't about to take his judgment very seriously. "So, what is the situation you want to talk about?" "Do any of you have a charger?" Loona asked, but the people from the Ministry ignored her. She was still dangling Blitzo between her fingers carelessly like she'd already forgotten he was a person.
She gave him a little nudge after he bit her finger, calling for her attention. "Your… origin has been explained to us by Professor Dumbledore, but the existence of Alternate Worlds and the Afterlife is a matter that belongs to the Ministry, and so from now on, it'll be us that you will be involved with," Mr. Fudge informed him. "We don't want to be involved with anyone.
I want to go home as soon as possible - it's all of you that are forcing me to compete in this goddamn tournament. And I'm not saying anything else until I talk to Dumbledore - how am I supposed to know that you aren't just a bunch of goons that broke into our rooms?" Moxxie accused. All the people looked taken aback - they clearly weren't used to being spoken to like that.
He really understood why Blitzo took such pleasure in rattling these people up - they seemed so used to uptight, passive-aggressive formality that anything other than that shocked them into stupefaction.
These were the officials leading a bunch of dangerous wizards? He wasn't impressed, and though he didn't actually believe that they weren't who they said they were, he didn't like them one bit.
He might not have trusted Dumbledore fully, and he had the weird feeling of liking and simultaneously not liking him, but he certainly preferred him to these jerkfaces. "You'd want Dumbledore present?" Fudge asked, incredulous, looking at the hostile faces of the Imps. "Are you aware of the displacement between your time and ours, Mr. Potter?" "I know that I'm older than I should be, but-" "Do your companions know what year it is?" Fudge asked, clearly eager to get to something, his composure not lacking but still seeming heated. His small, beady eyes flickered over to Millie and Loona, and their demeanor changed from confrontative to dazzled and confused.
In just a second, they looked as if they had been stunned or suddenly made stupid. "I think it's… 19… 1994?" Millie said questioningly, looking like a kid who had studied hard for an exam but blanked in front of the teacher. Fudge looked satisfied with himself, looking around at all the other old farts with a knowing expression, all of the others sharing the same look. "1994?!"
Moxxie asked incredulously, taken aback. "I-I don't know Moxx, I…" Millie started, looking around like she was displaced. "It's called a confundus charm," Fudge said promptly. "I've no doubt Dumbledore has placed one on you to subdue your companions'… reactions." Millie shook her head as if she was trying to ward off a tick that was feeding off of her skull. "Wait, you mean to say we were drugged?" Fudge hesitated. "Something of the sort," he admitted a bit grudgingly. "What in the actual FUCK?!" Loona bellowed. "If I'm gonna get drugged, it better be with my consent." Millie was already rolling up her sleeves, prepared to fight physically.
Moxxie thought he actually saw smoke billowing out of her ears, her usually yellow eyes adopting a reddish tint. "I'll show that goblin-looking, ass-licking, roofying old shithead to drug me," Millie said through gritted teeth, already speeding towards the door. Moxxie was about to follow unquestioningly - so what if Dumbledore was an ancient being with the power they couldn't comprehend?
They at least owed it to themselves to try and beat his ass, and that was a point in which Moxxie would agree to impulsiveness.
He was struck, confused at the revelation of the year, and fuddled up by his immense hatred of Dumbledore, and he felt like someone had tried to scramble his brains, but he'd be damned if he hesitated on beating up a man who had drugged his wife.
Fudge stood anxiously just as they reached the door. "Please, I have a proposition for you. I don't believe anything would come of trying to fight Dumbledore yourselves. He is a wizard of immense power. So instead, come together with us." "Full offense meant, I already got drugged but one old man, I ain't trying to make it two," Millie snarled, her hand on the handle. "Millie's right. We can't trust any of you.
Just look at what you people already did to my boss," Moxxie said, pointing at the squirming little rat in Loona's hands. The wizards looked at them with blank expressions, confused. Moxxie rolled his eyes. Blitzo squeaked. "They turned him into a fucking rat!" He screamed at them. "Good heavens," Fudge muttered, taking out his wand and giving it a swirl in Blitzo's direction.
Loona dropped him just as he took his regular shape, and he fell on his face, onto the floor, completely naked. "You absolute fuckers," he grumbled, picking himself off the floor. "Lucifer, cover yourself up, Blitzo," Millie huffed, looking away. "No!" Blitzo slurred, standing up in all his naked glory.
"I'm going to make one of these fuckers suck. My. Dick," he pronounced very pointedly. Everyone was looking away at that point, Loona had her paws over her eyes, but she inched towards one of the couches and removed a blanket draped over the back.
"Don't give that to me, Loony! Let's see how these assholes like it when I wave my wand in their faces." Loona made a noise like she was about to bard and tossed the blanket at Blitzo.
"You're being gross," she reproaches, and Blitzo hesitantly took the blanket and wrapped himself in it. "Let's go kill Dumbledore," Loona said once Blitzo was decent, removing her paws from her eyes and revealing her homicidal expression, and the whole room turned into a screaming match.
Everyone was talking over one another. Wizards who hadn't raised their voices until now were suddenly blubbering unintelligibly, crossing over to the door and barring the way.
Blitzo was walking over to different wizards and demanding that they bend over and spit in his hand. Millie was about to punch a woman in purple robes right in the face (the woman was no match, and though she clutched her wand tight in her hand, she still looked petrified) when thunder seemed to strike in the center of the room.
The sound reverberated through the floor and bounded up the walls, shaking everyone.
They all paused, looking around to see whether the room was still intact, silenced. Fudge was standing with his arm raised, wand close to the ceiling. "I will have order!" He exclaimed in an authoritative voice. It trembled like that of an old man's, but it also carried some weight to it.
Even Moxxie had to admit it was pretty good. "We are not animals," he said, lowering his wand. "Speak for your own damn self," retorted Blitzo. "You have been wronged, kept from crucial information as have we. We will not do the same as Dumbledore. We have different priorities and morals at the Ministry," Fudge proclaimed. "Oh yeah, like what?" Millie asked, her arms crossed.
The purple-robed woman was eyeing her apprehensively, and when she noticed, Millie hissed at her. The woman stepped back and stumbled. "We do not intend to keep the reality of Hell a secret from the wizarding community.
Dumbledore has managed to keep it hushed as of now, but it is only a matter of time before it explodes. After that, we plan to make peace with Hell, help people assimilate its reality as best as possible. And that begins with you, Mr. Potter." "Peace and Hell in the same sentence? You must be out of your goddamned mind," Moxxie replied. "Regardless, it is a reality and one that we cannot keep secret.
Let me ask you this, Mr. Potter - do you truly believe that Dumbledore will help you get back to your home?" He asked a tad sardonically. Moxxie hesitated, and all the Imps seemed on edge by that comment. Satisfied, Fudge proceeded. "I believe he means to keep you here.
If you work together with the Ministry, I assure you we will have our people working day and night to find a way back for you." "And what exactly are your conditions?" Moxxie asked bitterly. "We only ask for a certain level of civility, to help acclimate everyone to the new reality, and that once you are finished with this tournament, that you return to Hell. For good. It is one thing to accept the reality of Hell, and quite another to live with its spawns right beside you."
The Imps fell silent, considering. What Fudge was saying made some sense, at least to them: they didn't have a hard time believing that upper world authorities would want them out of their hair as soon as they possibly could. And what other choice did they have, anyway?
Dumbledore was a creep that wasn't above drugging them, and Fudge gave them a bad feeling, but maybe at least one of them might deliver on their word. Moxxie was now certain he wanted to play both sides, but he wondered what the rest of them thought.
Regardless, he was the one that was being addressed, and it seemed like it was him that they all expected an answer from.
It struck him that there had been very few situations in his life when he had been the one everybody turned to. And that wasn't counting all the times people stared at him fucking up.
He reckoned that all they could do was to try and play the cards that they had as best they could by cheating, also, because these assholes seemed to do the same. Moxxie sighed.
He decided then that if he wanted to beat them at their own game, he had to use every weapon in his arsenal, including Millie, Blitzo, and Loona. It was time to start trusting them more than he had been. "What do you mean 'acclimate' people?" Fudge smiled slightly, looking slightly relieved but also a bit treacherous.
Moxxie didn't like it one bit. "Tomorrow morning, a woman called Rita Skeeter will come to do a profile on the three champions.
We only ask that you give responses that are good-hearted, non-vulgar. Nothing specific. Another woman, Carla Tretcher, will come to do a more thorough interview on the specifics of Hell.
She is with the Ministry," Fudge concluded, as if to say 'to her you can tell the truth - we have the power to filter it, anyway.' He took up his hat, and his army of idiots rose together with him like Fudge was the mother robot, and they were all his slaves. "I expect you to keep the details of this conversation a secret from Dumbledore.
No doubt he will want to know what we have arranged - I will send people on occasion to check-in and update you on the process of getting you home.
Now, if you will excuse us," Fudge nodded at them, and they all filed out the door like the good little ducklings following mama duck. "Wait!" Moxxie called after them, and Fudge turned around from the other side of the door, eyeing him warily.
He had the distinct feeling that he was simply a means to an end, a pawn to use for a greater game, possibly one with Dumbledore. "So everyone will… know?" Fudge adjusted his hat, looking very much like a fool. "By tomorrow evening, there will be no need to hide you away.
You will be broadcasted for the whole wizarding world to see. Good evening," and his dark cloak swished behind him.
The sound of the footsteps he and his goons made was carried away by the echoes of the hallway.
The Imps just stood there, gaping at the door, trying to digest everything that had just happened, everything that they had just learned.
Moxxie rubbed a hand over his face and shut the door, looking at some perplexed, alarmed, and, surprisingly, vulnerable people. Then, it was time to make a game-plan.