The Founding of Grey Britain
by Rita Skeeter
It is with great pleasure that I, Rita Skeeter, report to my dear readers that our country has finally been reformed in response to the threat posed by the continental Dark Lord Grindelwald. Yes, that's right- as of the 12th of February 1982, we now are citizens of the new Grey Britain!
The arrangements have arisen as a treaty between Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore and the Dark Lord Voldemort. To the author's personal surprise, the terms of the Treaty have not been secured at all by any Unbreakable Vows: perhaps this is of note for my astute readers! My sources tell me nevertheless that we can expect a sweeping reconfiguration of the whole Ministry, where many elements previously held by Professor Dumbledore and his faction will now be ceded to Lord Voldemort. In return both sides will contribute their armies to the resistance effort, and will also cooperate in their diplomatic efforts abroad.
Is Albus Dumbledore still in control, or is the Dark Lord the one who is truly powerful in our country now? What does this mean for the muggleborns and dirty breeds protected by the Light side? All will be revealed in further reporting as we watch this new tale unravel!
Three Years Later
Tom Riddle- or Lord Voldemort, as he coldly maintained to his followers- wrinkled his nose as blood exploded everywhere in front of him. To his immense disgust, a few drops of Muggle blood had splattered on the side of his left cheek, so he had to stiffly withdraw a handkerchief and swab the dirty substance off.
"-Severus, I would like a new potion made. This one is far too crude and unsystematic, unsurprisingly." he said, quite disappointed that Dumbledore could send such a shambolic excuse for an interrogation potion.
"I agree, my Lord. The Order of the Phoenix's potioneers are too primitive: it seems every shipment of weaponry they provide for us gets progressively worse. I find it hard to believe Dumbledore actually uses something like this... I believe it is most likely the unwanted collateral of trying to find a way to speed up Polyjuice production, judging by the reactions I have tested, my Lord. They ought to know better."
And this was why Voldemort could not deny that Severus was one of his most effective lieutenants. The man was excessively skilled at his crafts- both Potions and the more inventive side of the Dark Arts. If his follower had not asked specifically not to be forced to kill people, Voldemort possibly could have ranked him higher than both Bellatrix and Lucius and even as a commander of the First Army.
There was also the fact that Severus was not truly loyal, of course. Voldemort did not particularly care about that for the moment, as it saved him from having to deal with even more fanatical sycophantism than he already received from his more crazed Death Eaters, but he also knew that Snape was too good of an Occlumens to be trusted fully.
Luckily, Voldemort had never trusted anyone before, so it came completely natural for him to place another subject under his cold scrutiny.
"Will ten days be in order, Severus?"
"-I shall have it to you by the end of this week, my Lord."
"All the better. After that you are permitted to spend next week without reporting here, and focus on whatever you are researching currently. Have your House Elf bring me the results and in a fortnight I shall see you once more."
"Thank you, my Lord." There was a swirl of black robes, and Snape disapparated away without one backwards glance after bowing his head.
The Dark Lord decided that musing a bit more on his intriguing, emotionless soldier would be a worthy expenditure of his time. Losing him would be a certain waste, as Severus Snape would be an indispensable hand with the technological technicalities of growing his dark empire. It was not that he gave out free holidays for nothing: but the man was a restless researcher, so Voldemort often gave him rest days to pursue his information-searching, as the results were often quite productive.
Now it was high time to peruse his old memories once more. He would not make the same mistake of losing Snape's loyalty, even if it was just to show Dumbledore another piece of proof that he was the greater lord. The art of examining a uncorking a memory and entering a pensieve was an art of deceptive precision, but Voldemort executed it with ruthless efficiency and speed.
:"Master... a guest is here.":.
:"Who is it, my sweet?":.
:"...I have not yet seen this wizard before.":.
Tom Riddle, newly crowned Lord Voldemort of the Dark part of Grey Britain, opened up his security mirror with an idle flick of his wrist. A sallow-faced, black-haired man stood outside on the doorstep, still and unmoving as a statue even though far less cold could have made most grown men shiver.
The man, of course, noticed that he was being watched. Voldemort was surprised when he saw the face, which was now inclined at a proper angle to be fully visible.
"Severus Snape?"
If the man was startled, he did not show it. His eyebrow barely twitched as his eye caught onto the discreet surveillance receptacle.
"What brings the young Potions Professor of Hogwarts to these parts of London? Surely you know that Albus Dumbledore has ceded this territory to the Dark Lord Voldemort now?" Voldemort spoke with a characteristically false lilt, while his mind worked to calculate the different possibilities of the situation.
"-Speak not of yourself in third person, Dark Lord." Snape replied curtly.
"Oh? And how did you know that it was me speaking?"
"I am merely not ignorant enough to miss charisma and power when it stares me in the face."
"I see...Very well then. Please, invite yourself in." Voldemort flicked his fingers idly, and the enchantments allowed Severus Snape to enter his temporary premises.
The first thing Voldemort had noticed at the time- which was even more abundantly clear to him now that he was watching the memory from a more disconnected viewpoint, was how unfocused Severus Snape's gaze had been. The calculating glint and intelligence were still present in the background, but his eyes were abnormally devoid of movement as they stared in front of him as if drawn to a single, but distant and hazy light source.
It was rather like a prisoner, condemned to death, walking their final steps up to get their soul sucked out by a faceless Dementor. Or even, beheaded, as was the repulsive idea of a practical joke from the Muggles Grindelwald had come up with to humiliate his own prisoners.
The walk down the hallway was silent and almost insensate. Severus Snape's eyes stared out in front of him without recognising. Only did he finally move when he saw the seat he had been allocated.
"As I say, what brings you here to this part of London, Professor Snape?" At this point, Voldemort of the present observed, Snape's eyes steeled dramatically. The inferius-level gaze intensity had disappeared altogether.
"I am here to offer my allegiance to Dark Britain and yourself, Lord Voldemort."
(Ah, good old Severus- always had been ever so blunt.)
The Voldemort of the past's blue eyes opened ever so slightly, but it was a gesture which actually belied much surprise when on the face of a near-psychopath. "You are to suddenly betray your Lord Dumbledore and pledge your allegiance to me?"
"Yes."
"...And what is the cause of your shift of loyalties?"
"The details are sentimental and unimportant. You may Legilimens me, should you desire: but you will find mostly childhood memories which you may or may not feel are a waste of your time."
And so Lord Voldemort wasted no time in effortlessly entering Severus Snape's mind, where the Occlumency shields had been lowered to direct him towards specific memories. He had not missed how developed those protections were, nonetheless. It was another very strange aspect to this man who had just come to his mercy.
When he pulled out, he was intrigued once more.
"It was Lily Evans, then."
Severus Snape only looked pained for a momentary second, but his voice came out steady.
"I have not come here to discuss the past, My Lord."
Voldemort shook his head disdainfully. The things people did for love: it had always astounded him how stupid they were. He had considered cursing Snape for having the audacity to speak to him so demandingly, but had decided it would ruin the delicate and fickle mood.
"Was Dumbledore responsible for their deaths?"
Snape's silence was answer enough.
And Lord Voldemort did not care. He understood the vague gist of things well enough. Severus Snape was a lovesick fool who had lost to the arrogant man-child James Potter in his romantic pursuit of Lily Potter: who Voldemort had to begrudgingly admit was an impressive woman regardless of her leanings and family. Now that they- and specifically, Lily Potter- were dead, Snape had become disillusioned with Dumbledore's methods, and sought a position away from the old man at the side of many of his school friends like Lucius, who incidentally formed Voldemort's power base.
Albus Dumbledore had always been too arrogant to project a truthful image of himself, after all. It was no surprise that there would be followers who became disillusioned; the only prerequisite was a healthy dose of self-serving intelligence- which Voldemort had to admit Snape seemed to have more than enough of.
"Very well then. What are your talents? Why should I accept you?"
Snape's face remained impassive; the current Voldemort knew very well, as he examined the memory, how good the Potions Master was at doing that. "I am skilled in Potions and the Dark Arts." answered the man glibly.
"Really, the Dark Arts?"
"Yes, Lord Voldemort."
"Interesting…" The Voldemort of the memory suddenly smirked. "Would you care to... demonstrate? I have a few prisoners right now."
"I would prefer… not to, my Lord."
"...Oh?"
-On the contrary, I would like to request that I am never ordered to kill or torture innocent people."
Past Voldemort paused on the interruption, and then started letting out a chilling, mirthless laugh.
The Voldemort of the present watching the memory observed how Snape flinched slightly.
"What use would I have for a Death Eater who does not kill? Does Dumbledore indulge this farcical moral folly?"
"Y-you have many uses for men who do not kill, not least because you are a civilised Lord who will need efficient followers running parts of your Empire for you, but also because you have no shortage of bloodthirsty lieutenants anyway. I believe I would be superior as a technical expert to any of your current personnel right now."
Voldemort had laughed again. Severus was one of the few sharp enough to (only occasionally) verbally contradict him without being Crucioed on the spot for stupidity.
"True… true… Lucius is more political and Bellatrix is a sufficient killing machine. The closest person I have to a technical expert would be Narcissa."
"-Narcissa may well prefer to be sidelined, especially with the recent birth of the Malfoy heir."
Past Voldemort nodded in a sign of false indulgence. "That much is true. I hear you are actually the boy's godfather?"
"I was named Draco's godfather by Lucius, yes."
Voldemort simply just nodded again.
"Would you say, young Severus, that you are a supporter of my ideals?"
"No more than a leader like yourself would say that your ideals are more important than the efficacy and security of your rule."
"You are too arrogant, my dear friend. You do not follow my ways, nor do you follow my methods."
"-And you are efficient, Lord Voldemort. You do not let such trivial matters get in the way of your true quest for power, and I can be a useful asset in helping you achieve that power."
"You will be impeded by your closeness to Dumbledore. You will be unable to practise the Dark Arts and he will know that you are a follower of mine. I fail to see how you can be useful."
"-Then all it is necessary to do is to give me a task to complete. I am sure you have many."
The Voldemort of the present watched carefully. At the time he had the large majority of his thoughts had been dominated by considerations on whether or not to give Severus Snape a chance to be added to his forces, and after that, what impossible challenge to give him.
But now, and indeed for the last few times he had revisited the scene, he could not miss again what he had been detracted from before, which was now in hindsight conclusively and unquestionably obvious to him. For Severus Snape, in the moments where he was being so ruthlessly catechised on his devotion, and where it seemed most likely that he might be rejected from Voldemort's forces, had an unearthly cold fire in his eyes: and although he may have reacted strongly to the mentions of Dumbledore and the witch Lily Potter, his desire to join the Death Eaters was moderated and calculative, not all-consuming and furious and unbridled.
It was not vengeance alone which made him leave Dumbledore, and it never had been. Voldemort was sure of that now.
Severus Snape was looking for something else.
/
Severus Snape set the potion down on the table.
"Do you know… if the boy is still alive?"
"He is."
"How can you be certain?"
"I cannot discern what the boy looks like, nor where he is or whom he is with, for the Fates have concealed that from me. But I know without a shadow of doubt that Lily and James Potter's child is still alive, yes."
"And I assume it is still your belief that I should not seek him out."
"You would never be able to find him, no matter how hard you try- at least at this moment in time; you will know when the time is right to seek pendulum of Destiny has reached its maximum upswing; do not try to pull it up further against gravity. Let it swing back down with all its force and vengeance: it is the natural way."
"Then thank you, Lady Lovegood."
"And do you have the potion I requested?"
"I do… my Lady… but are you sure it is the only option?"
The woman examined the flask, and saw the Erumpent Potion was a perfect colour. She looked back up.
"What, Severus, is the final play of Fate, but to determine our own ends?"
/
A shrill siren was shrieking viciously, and it was not a welcome sign at all- whether it was a perhaps unsurprising one or not.
"ATTACK! ATTACK! GRINDELWALD HAS ATTACKED THE SKYE FORTRESS!"
"-Stop panicking, you fool! Has Dumbledore moved to counter the forces?"
"Oh sorry, Milord… And yes, I believe Dumbledore is in the process of apparating some of his troops to defend against the threat, but expects more of ours since it is our territory."
"Good. Tell Rabastan to bring ALL the Death Eaters to the apparition point, and I want to hear a report of numbers and position imminently!"
"YES MY LORD!"
"And Macnair: close the Floo networks, and set up the trapped ones!"
"Already done, My Lord!"
A piece of parchment landed on his desk; Voldemort snatched it up quickly after running some hasty diagnostic charms.
Grindelwald has brought with him about 300 soldiers, and among them 13 of the Acolytes.
Voldemort cursed heavily under his breath. The Acolytes were the most elite of Grindelwald's soldiers, and could match his inner core members without difficulty. The fact that Grindelwald had brought more than 10 of them meant he was meaning to launch a serious incursion rather than just a cat-and-mouse game as he tended to enjoy doing most days.
If lost, Skye would also be very hard to win back. It was an Isle, and, subsequently, surrounded by water, which was always a more capricious and altogether tougher medium to travel through for an invading force. Voldemort would know, as he himself had trapped the waters with unspeakable horrors and enchantations, which were much easier obscured due to the shifting nature of the tides of the waters. It was, suffice to say, not a good idea to try and activate any spells whilst at the sea around Skye unless you had been otherwise admitted by Voldemort's own forces.
It was also very small and relatively muggle-sparse. That meant that it had been a significantly simpler task to set up comprehensive anti-apparition wards- the type that kept out weaker wizards, of course, as any stronger than that would take far too long and too much energy to erect. Voldemort returned to look at the document, the author of which he had already guessed to a quite strong degree of certainty.
They arrived near the Northernmost point on the island, and it is unclear how they knew that Glenhinnisdal was one of the more accessible points to apparate onto.
Strange, indeed. While a moderately large selection of people were entrusted with the maintenance of the anti-apparition system, they were still never low-ranked Death Eaters, and would be those who would have more to lose in selling them to Grindelwald. Never had there been such a large leak that three hundred soldiers could enter at once.
Voldemort was beginning to realise, to his fury, that this was more than a simple case of treachery. He would certainly have to deal with it after the battle had finished.
Luckily, it appears that they did not fully trust whatever source of information they had, so another 100 men first attempted to cross the waters. You will be pleased to hear that the defences there are robust.
Voldemort was unsurprised that his own protections had held up so well, being much more concerned that Grindelwald had seemed to choose that day as they one he would finally try to set a foot firmly in Britain.
The commanders, according to my sources, are as follows:
Grindelwald
Abernathy
Lord Dieter Fuchs, House Fuchs of Germany
Lord Herbert Durchdenwald, House Durchdenwald of Germany
Lady Achara Rattanokosin, House Rattanokosin of Thailand
Lord Haymish Nelson, House Nelson of USA
Lord Hashimoto Uragami, House Uragami of Japan
Lord Constantin Lestrange, House Lestrange of France
The Acolytes present are (other than Grindelwald):
Abernathy
Krall
Kengo
Vahara
Oxorin
Janucek
Celos
Mingtai
Malaera
Phylaxis
Sesserrion
Bourdknight
Gylis
I have moved my troops to slow them down at the North Gate of the Fortress, but naturally you will need to ensure all the floo networks are diligently closed and that you can come to bolster our numbers as you see fit.
- Albus Dumbledore.
Voldemort swore heavily, damning Dumbledore and his far superior intelligence networks under his breath.
"RODOLPHUS, WHERE IS YOUR REPORT?"
Said Lestrange, Lord of the British Branch of the Lestrange family, shuffled in hastily and handed in a crumpled sheet of paper. Voldemort glanced at it and sneered.
"You have not even got your own French counterpart, Constantin Lestrange, who is once again fighting for Grindelwald. What kind of intelligence system is this?"
"S-Sorry, my Lord."
"Go and join the rest of the forces now. We're leaving. I will have a good proper chat with you about this afterwards.
Rodolphus knew when to stop stuttering before he got Crucio'ed, and nodded hastily, before donning his mask and apparating out.
Again and again and again. Every month or so for the last half-year Grindelwald had been landing in some part of Grey Britain to try and gain a step for a large-scale invasion. Even if he was happy to recklessly throw his bloated forces to their deaths without end, Voldemort (and Dumbledore) did not have such numbers and he was running out of liberties to lose soldiers at the alarming rate they were dropping.
Grindelwald was able to attack far too easily, and in far too many different areas. It was high time to push him back and start a counteroffensive.
- After they survived another attack: which they would.
/
Pandora Lovegood watched with a smile on her face. It was, after all, one of the final times and moments she would ever be able to watch her daughter again. Luna was playing with the new radish earrings she had given her: they were actually supposed to be Dirigible Plums, but both the mother and the five-year old daughter agreed that genus was not appropriate.
What is the final play of Fate, but to determine our own ends?
Her husband Xeno, lovely, caring, loyal Xeno, would be arriving home from his editing shack soon. She had already told him about her plans, and endured through his tears for her and her rapidly dwindling lifeline. He had the books. He had all the seven books.
(Ut Mortem Vinceret. To conquer death.)
There were Three Lords now on the Continent. (And all Three wished to conquer Death.)
-The Lovegood's had been the safeguarders of Fate for centuries. Not every Lovegood knew this explicitly, but even those who were born without the abilities of Fate into their hands always were born with a strong detachment from the follies and fallacies of attempted organised society. For a similar reason they were also one of the most inbred families in Britain- Xeno was Pandora's own cousin, for example; it was not really Lovegood blood which refused to mix with the rest of the world; rather, it was their souls which refused to be bound by the chains of human aspiration.
"Luna, who do you serve?"
"I serve Fate, mama."
Pandora Lovegood smiled.
"Good. Never forget that, Luna."
"M'Kay, mama."
"Keep at the bottom of the house until I come back, okay?"
"Mmhm!"
And so Pandora Lovegood ascended up the spiral staircase towards the top room of the Lovegood House. Before entering, she cast her Thestral patronus into existence and relayed the orders for it to run downstairs and keep Luna warm until the end. Upon entering, she locked the doors and shut the blinds. There was nothing in the room, apart from a clock on the wall and a Matryoshka Doll standing in the centre of the room, which she pointed her wand at.
As the first layer of the Matryoshka was vanished an amorphous black mass leapt out immediately. Pandora Lovegood calmly drew a magical golden ring around the black mass, chanting Runic incantations to stop it from being able to escape by itself.
"Hello, Phobos. How are you feeling today?" She watched as the Boggart who she had given the nickname shifted in front of her uneasily.
"Are you ready to die?"
The Boggart began whirling around more erratically, twisting, twisting, twisting in an attempt to find her fear. But it was powerless against the woman, who held no Fear because she only knew Fate.
It finally settled on a first image. It was a visage of the Dark Lord Grindelwald parading through the streets with King's Cross Station visible in the background, cheered by men in Muggle suits and rags, and women in Wizarding robes and gowns. The scene was rowdy yet peaceful, as the sunlight shined golden behind the jubilant masses and seemed almost to suggest an epoch of global unity and cooperation.
Pandora Lovegood only smiled.
"Phobos, you know as well as I that this is not how Fate will play out. You can do better than that."
The Boggart twisted even harder as it tried to make a new visage. It settled on the second a minute later, showing an Albus Dumbledore with completely white hair, trailing his fingers along a bone-white wand impassively as a black diamond stone rattled next to his ear and a cloak trailed off his shoulders, shimmering the air from nothingness to everything. A hooded figure with a scythe followed him as he walked from the Forbidden Forest towards the West Wing of Hogwarts, which was half-ruined but clearly rebuilding; a symbol like a triangle with a single eye shined crimson in the sky above.
Pandora Lovegood continued to smile.
"That's more like it. This was the path which actually ended many possibilities until we wrote the books of Ut Mortem Vinceret. Keep trying, Phobos."
So the Boggart tried to form a new, more frightening visage, twisting yet more and yet more frantically. It settled on the third, and this time showed the Dark Lord Voldemort on a throne in an empty room but for one young adolescent boy with black hair and Avada Kedavra green eyes, who was perched on his lap as they smiled happily at each other.
Pandora Lovegood grinned.
"That will definitely never happen, Phobos. You should have known better."
The Boggart was desperate now, and flickered between images so quickly that one might have thought it was trying to find the fears of a hundred people rather than one.
The Auror Mad Eye-Moody with his skin bubbling as he turned to a thin young man with brown hair.
Severus Snape murdering Dumbledore, dispelling his body off a Tower balcony in a jet of green light.
Grindelwald in Nurmengard with his hair unkempt and eyes wild as Dementors swarmed around him.
Petter Pettigrew throwing a foetus in a cauldron.
A black dog slipping out the bars of Azkaban.
A ferocious duel at the Ministry.
Luna drowning in a pool of her own blood.
-Pandora Lovegood reached her hand out suddenly in a lightning quick motion, grabbing right into the swirling mass and holding it in place.
"You underestimate me. Do you think I am a blind Seer, who cannot tell false futures from truly possible ones? And Phobos, Fate is never false: all things are validated by Fate and if Fate has decreed they will happen then they are unequivocally right and correct. You will try to frighten me with images of Death and Suffering, but you will always lose, Phobos. Because to know Fate in its fullest and most righteous is to have no Fear. The perverse peaces which you try to show me I fear not because they will not be. The heinous horror about to be unleashed on this world which you try to show me I fear not, because they will always be."
The Boggart thrashed and tumbled around her delicate grip, but so long as it remained in the Lovegoodian ritual circle invented by F. Lovegood at the birth of the true Lovegood family centuries ago, it would both be mortal and corporeal without any method to escape.
F. Lovegood was never known by name: rather, the Lovegoods had chosen to forget the name of their ancestor. But in the ancient tomes which detailed his research on how to kill Boggarts and Dementors, he was given the honorary name from which he drew his first initial.
Feareater Lovegood was the one who had set the Lovegood family on their path away from Fear and Dread (and therefore from society), after all.
So Pandora Lovegood waved her wand, lighting a brilliant ray of gold and conjuring the spell which had been handed to her through a colonnade of successful generations.
"Carmen Millium Cacchinorum!"
The Song of a Thousand Laughs rang around the room, making the dark mass which was called Phobos dart around desperately, smashing into the barrier from one side, darting to the next when it was repelled, and trying the same process but failing to escape each time. Their laughs continued and saturated the air as the shadow began to burn around the edges, doomed to die a silent death.
"Goodbye, my lovely Phobos. Remember- if there is an afterlife for Boggarts- that Fate always beats Fear."
The shadow writhed one last time as the light consumed it entirely. Pandora Lovegood waved goodbye and knelt down to collect the black puddle left over into a Potions vial. Having completed her task, she subsequently proceeded to vanish the second layer of the Matryoshka too.
The Dementor she called Memoria flew out this time, turning the windows ice cold.
But Fate always conquers the Past, just as it always conquers Fear. Because Fate dictates, doesn't it?
Pandora Lovegood smiled at Memoria for a few ticks of the clock, for she had no regrets in the path Fate had taken in her previous memories. The Dementor tried to kiss her, but this time she was standing outside the circle and so it could never reach.
"Carmen Millium Cacchinorum."
When her job was done, she opened the windows again, conjuring a flock of white doves, as they always flew in the shadow of victory and in the wake of destruction. On her right shoulder trailed a Dementor's Cloak, and in her left hand was clasped a vial of Boggart's Blood.
She waited for now, waiting for the Storm.
/
Ut Mortem Vinceret
[V] Chapter One- Ut Mortem Fugeret (To Flee Death)
[G] Chapter Two- Ut Mortem Inveniret (To Find Death)
[V] Chapter Three- Ut Mortem Recingeret (To Unleash Death)
[G] Chapter Four- Ut Mortem Caperet (To Capture Death)
[D] Chapter Five- Ut Mortem Obliviscatur (To Death)
[L] Chapter Six- (?)
[L] Chapter Seven- (?)
/
The battle was raging when Voldemort arrived with his Death Eaters. He ruthlessly sidestepped a stray curse and sent three severing charms at the necks of the nearest followers of Grindelwald he could see. Dumbledore apparated next to him.
"Good of you to join us, Tom."
Voldemort sneered as he deflected a Bone Breaking charm. "What is the status on the situation?"
Dumbledore's eyes were cold like steel. "This appears to be a rather more serious invasion than I thought Gellert would pull at this stage. We've taken down Lord Nelson and Lord Fuchs, as well as three Acolytes: Krall, Phylaxis and Mingtai, but those were all the lowest ranked ones and the central ten still remain. My forces cannot keep them at bay for much longer without losing precious numbers."
"-AVADA KEDAVRA!" A jet of green fizzled from Voldemort's wand to kill the soldier who had been aiming behind Dumbledore's back. The latter nodded.
"Thank you, Tom."
At that point a lower-ranked Death Eater ran up, breathing heavily.
"-My Lord, the Acolytes have split up into four divisions! Oxorin, Abernathy and Sesserion are leading the way on the left flank, while Kengo, Celos and Janucek lead the right flank. Grindelwald and Gylis are leading the main army, and Vahara and Bourdknight have not been accounted for!"
Voldemort stared at Dumbledore, and they reached a silent agreement. It told a lot of their diligence that they did not even have to question their knowledge on each other's soldiers and their capabilities.
"Psimikan, Bones, Nott, Shacklebolt defend the left flank."
"-Malfoy, Diggory, Bole, Kama defend the right flank."
"Bellatrix goes freely and waits for Vahara."
"-And Moody waits for Bourdknight."
"Keep a compact horseshoe formation."
"And focus on stalling, while…"
They both drew their wands at the same time.
"This time we'll attack the central force ourselves after we've rallied our troops."
The two leaders begrudgingly nodded at each other as Dumbledore disapparated to his own soldiers. Voldemort pressed his wand against the mark on his forearm.
"Bellatrix!"
The crazed witch appeared, bowing her head quickly as if there were no blood stains splattering her robes and ruining any chance of courteous behaviour.
"Vahara is unaccounted for in the intelligence reports. Roam and kill as many of the front line enemy soldiers as possible, but your job is to hunt her. Do not let her feast on our lower forces freely."
Bellatrix gave a bloodcurdling scream and dropped to the floor.
"THANK YOU! Milord!"
Vahara had been the assassin who had killed Bellatrix's original betrothed Corvus V a few years prior. While Bellatrix did not mourn her fiancé, the Black family never forgave the destruction of their marriage alliance with the French Lestrange branch.
"Psimikan! Nott! Defend the left wing and keep it close to the right wing. Do not overextend the forces!"
The Greek noble nodded as he disapparated alongside the elder Nott.
"Bole! Malfoy! Right wing!"
Lucian Bole and Abraxas Malfoy disapparated too as the rest of his followers consolidated their position. They looked at him for advice.
"Save our own and work with Dumbledore's men! Our goal is to outlast their forces, not to defeat every soldier! Stay compact on top of these higher grounds!"
"Milord, where-"
"I will be going with Dumbledore to fight the main force and see how long it takes to draw Grindelwald out."
Shock met his statement, as the two Lords had never fought together before. But Voldemort did not wait for them to comprehend, and lashed out his wand, casting a flaming basilisk to send towards the approaching enemies.
"FIENDFYRE!"
The Dark Lord twisted into a spiralling cloud as dark as a heart of ink, bringing strife to his enemies and felling them like scythe cuts through a row of cornstalks.
/
Lady Lovegood watched atop a rock across a lake from the raging battlefields. The water had frozen over from the effects of the Dementor's Cloak, which she herself did not feel as she had been the one to collect it. Three boulders stood like sentinels of Fate there, dispersed across in a triangle.
A scene cracked through her vision. Blood dripped down the highlands, and there were Three Lords fighting in a magically enclosed ring atop the frozen lake which currently was empty, as the followers of one of them desperately tried to rip the circle open so they could stop the obvious one-on-two advantage.
"Ventus Tria!"
"Fulmencio!"
"Aguamenti Maxima!"
Suddenly three spells collided, a triple cyclone smashing into a gargantuan orb of water as a crackling serpent of lightning entered the fray. The forces combined into a great spinning sphere, like the eye of a Storm, before suddenly releasing outwards unexpectedly and throwing the Wizards back each into the nearest rock to them.
As soon as they entered the lake. That would be her moment. She would draw the Lovegoodian circle and just had to wait until they were thrown back onto the rocks by the spells, and trust that her vision had shown her the precise sequence of the duel.
Then her Portkey spell would activate and, with it, Death would finally grasp its hand on each of the Three Lords irrevocably.
/
"IT'S DUMBLEDORE! AND VOLDEMORT!"
Only some of the wizards in front of them dared to raise their wands. A cascade of sickly hexes flew towards them, thick as a curtain.
"Fawkes!"
Dumbledore's Phoenix appeared, batting its wings as it shared its magic with its owner, and instantly repelling all the attacks like a strong gale of wind from a cyclone. Voldemort sneered.
"Fiendfyre Serpentis!"
The men of the front line scattered or perished at the feet of the flames. Dumbledore sent a powerful Earthquake spell which heaved the Earth ahead of them, throwing some of the escaping soldiers into the reinforcements which were quickly arriving.
:"Nagini! Find Gylis!":.
He cast a powerful disillusion and notice-me-not on his own familiar, not wanting the wizened Acolyte to get in the way of their slaughter, and she set off along the sides, just in time for another barrage of wizards and witches to pour onto the battlefield.
"Laal Gulab Ka Visphot!" An elephantine red rose blew out his wand, courtesy of his Indian travels, and left a devastating explosion where it landed. He continued to repeatedly cast the spell at the enemies, as it easily culled large groups of them at a time.
"Sárhullám!" Dumbledore also cast a spell at his sides, causing a deluge of mud to envelop any close troops. It kept rolling, and seemed to drown its victims alive.
"Press forward!"
"So be it, Tom."
"FIENDFYRE!"
"PLUVIA SAXUM!"
The combined forces of another flaming basilisk and a shower of boulders from the sky easily ripped through any remaining enemies, and there were now reinforcements apparating out as soon as they saw the scene of annihilation.
When all seemed like never-ending killing, a hush fell over the battleground.
"-He's here."
Grindelwald strode out, grinning at Dumbledore and ignoring Voldemort.
"Now, would you two like to please stop killing my men?"
/
Lady Lovegood prepared the bomb.
The "blood" of a Boggart, which could only be handled by its killer, was unique in its properties just as Boggarts themselves were unique. They possessed multiple powers humans could never achieve; the first was to effortlessly flit through the mental shields of even the strongest Occlumens, for Fear trespassed any barriers, which was also why the singular abilities of the Lovegood family to avoid it differentiated them from all other humans. Moreover, Boggarts were amortal, and so the concept of killing one was an antinomy to its amortality and therefore a contradiction to the very concepts of life and death itself. Contact with the Blood of a Boggart, which resulted from killing the amortal being, would make any mortal lose their mind, just like contact with the Veil in the Ministry Department of Mysteries made the body of a mortal object lose their body, or the Kiss of a Dementor made their soul cease to exist. It was a far quicker death than any magic wizarding kind could ever cast, for example.
How fitting that Fate would take inspiration from Muggles to mark these Three Lords with Death.
The Erumpent Potion Severus had provided her with she had garnished with the juices of a Bursting Mushroom so that its eruption would have a far greater radius of reach. To finish it off, she had placed the Boggart Blood right at the core of the bomb so that it would be spewed out after the initial blast of the bomb set off.
She brought out a picture of her family when they were done, and thanked Fate, as she knew they would be able to carry out their jobs in the end too.
/
The duel raged and destroyed everything in its path. The old man Gylis absentmindedly twisted the head of the stray snake he had found trying to bite him while invisible- no doubt Lord Voldemort's familiar- while he watched at the sides a good distance away. It had been so long since he had found such entertainment, and he knew he would not expire despite nearly two centuries since his birth, until his role in this war ended.
He also knew that his own Lord Grindelwald could not win. It would be unacceptable for the state of the world and its citizens, and while Gylis' did not know for sure, he thought that therefore he should not kill the snake in his hands despite the fact it was just simply a snake, as it might provoke Voldemort to do irrational things rather than wait for Grindelwald's arrogance to catch up to him as he should be doing.
He stroked the serpent's head with more attention this time, looking into its beady eyes and sensing an unknown emotion. He could not speak Parseltongue, but had learnt a modified form of Legilimency over his many years of experience which allowed him to plant ideas into the heads of animals and effectively Imperius them.
Find Bellatrix Lestrange, and give her this note.
He tucked a piece of parchment into the snake's jaw, which informed the witch that Vahara was there. He knew Lestrange would come for Vahara straight away, and distract her for long enough to avoid her interfering with the duel and perhaps tipping the scale in Grindelwald's favour.
The snake slithered off on its journey, and the old man Gylis shot a discrete Avada Kedavra at the follower he had seen mutilating a dead corpse of an Order of the Phoenix soldier, thereby barring them from an honorable death. Shock rippled through the ranks when the body fell, but when they turned to see the old man Gylis, they said nothing, because they could not, and turned to watch the dramatic duel once more.
The old man Gylis finally closed his eyes, and wondered, despite the fact he did not know a true Seer was waiting on the other side of the lake, what the true path of Fate would be.
/
Lady Lovegood regarded calmly her reflection in the clear ice. Her left eye and jaw were both totally gone, replaced by a swirling dark void. They said that the Dementor cloak came first before the Dementors, and that humans would slowly turn to a Dementor if they touched a cloak for any extended period of time. Nevertheless, she knew that when the bomb exploded the Boggart blood would kill her too before she fully turned, so she didn't fear an amortal termination like becoming a Dementor.
This was the moment she had been waiting for, and dreaming snatches of even longer. She had received the glorious gift of foresight from a young age, and though writing a letter to Dumbledore at age seven telling him to remove Secrets of the Darkest Arts from the Hogwarts library- to prevent a sixteen-year old Tom Riddle from getting a hand on any information of Horcruxes- had been a very significant move, it had not been her last preparation. It was time to embrace the Storm, even if she (and perhaps Luna and Xeno) was the only one who would ever be able to accept it properly.
/
"REDUCTO!"
Grindelwald was sent tumbling back. Vahara had joined the fight at his side, to Voldemort's fury, and that had made it a far more balanced engagement than it should have been. But Vahara, for all her skills in killing, was still by far the weakest sorcerer there, and so Dumbledore and Voldemort were pushing them back gradually but surely.
Grindelwald sent a Golem to attack Dumbledore, who responded in turn with a Curse of a Thousand Spears. Voldemort sneered as he brushed Vahara away once again, and threw another Reducto at Grindelwald. He was being pushed back towards a frozen lake behind them, unable to deal with both Lords at once.
"CRUCIO!"
-Finally, it appeared Bellatrix had entered the fray. Her spell hit Vahara square in the back, making the witch fall in obvious pain.
It was at that moment that Grindelwald apparated backwards once again, sensing a two-on-one situation. The Dark Lord landed on top of the frozen lake, and almost seemed to beckon the two wizards towards him.
"Pursue Gellert. He's out of tricks."
Voldemort decided for once to follow Dumbledore's directions, and they too landed on the lake.
(Finally.)
/
It was time. Lady Lovegood chanted the Lovegoodian circle chant, and a drawn circle concealed around the lake suddenly came alive with golden lines, stopping the Three Lords from exiting without pausing their duel to break the wards. The rocks (the portkeys) stood like sentinels waiting for their job to arise. It would not be long.
/
Voldemort could not fathom how Dumbledore could draw such a powerful ritual circle he had never heard of, and it appeared neither could Grindelwald. The old man's face stayed impassive, but with not a second to waste the Light Lord raised his wand at his old lover. Grindelwald was trapped in an insurmountable situation, and they all were completely aware of it.
/
The Dementor's Cloak would make her impervious to spells when it was time for her to enter the eye of the Storm. She waited for the three spells to be cast.
/
"-Ventus Tria!"
"-Fulmencio!"
"-Aguamenti Maxima!"
/
The half-Dementor Lovegood swooped into the eye of the storm, which crackled with purple lightning and twisted as it was turned by the three cyclones. The cloak was indeed impervious to all the spells. And the Three Lords had no chance to react as the orb suddenly exploded by her wand, and they were propelled backwards onto the three rocks standing as sentinels of Fate.
The three portkeys.
A light flashed, and the half-Dementor Lovegood released the Bomb, which detonated instantly, the blast of which took the better of the engaged duellers and knocked them unconscious just on the brink of being taken away.
The Boggart blood ran down the hills, and many either lost their mind instantly after being sprayed, or died when their feet contacted it unknowingly.
Lady Lovegood had finally finished her duty.
Fate took Dementor Lovegood too, just before she was confined to a life of falsely embodying that which she had never Feared, as a woman who knew Fate.
What, after all, is the last play of Fate, but to determine our own ends?
/
The Three Lords woke up far from each other, scattered across the world by Lady Lovegood's own final play. They could find their way back to their dominions easily, but the battle was now over and the Storm had fully passed onto a new era of Destiny.
Tom Riddle's fingers gripped white as he grasped two books, one of which purported to give him the answers about Horcruxes he had been seeking for fifteen years. Gellert Grindelwald grinned as he saw a map of the Deathly Hallows he had been seeking for so long, alongside a text on the construction of a prison capable of capturing Death. Albus Dumbledore wondered with narrowed eyes why he had been left with a script written by an F. Lovegood he had never even heard of.
And tears ran down Luna's face as she commiserated silently with her father, for they both knew what had finally happened to Pandora.
But she clutched the two unnamed and unopened books her mother had told her to safeguard until she felt the time was right, and knew that she would too serve Fate.
When the time was right.
A/N: It's been a long long time... this story hit a brick wall for me but only recently have I found the inspiration to restart it. I hope you enjoy the update nevertheless
