Harry Potter and the Recusant Successors

by NonsensicalRants

Chapter 8:

Mobilization


So. I was almost done with the next chapter to Magic Knows No boundaries when I accidentally deleted it from the ffnet editor. No way to recover it.

Yup.

Yuuuup. So my motivation to write that story is gone. Pretty close to rage quit writing in general. So I'm hoping revitalizing this one will revitalize me.


Voldemort stepped over the shattered remains of the particularly nasty robot that had taken longer than the rest to put down. it somewhat resembled a pill bug with a force field around it. It folded like a blanket when Peter figured out that slow moving spells could breach it's protections and then it was just a matter of selecting the perfect blasting curse.

"I would have liked to have captured that one alive too." Voldemort bemoaned as he approached the sole survivor. "But I suppose you'll have to do."

The survivor didn't reply. Goyle's stunner had disabled, but not killed it.

"So much for your relaxing recovery in my Manson." Lucious joked. "But I do appreciate you getting your hands dirty with these home invaders."

Indeed. The wards on Lucius' London home had gone off and Voldemort couldn't give up the chance to test himself against these aliens, or in this case, alien robots.

He could now happily cross that off of his bucket list. Now if only he could find the time to climb mount Everest. The Muggle way.

"Stand guard." He commanded.

His three followers watched him as he casts spells on the surviving android. The spells he was casting were intended to test the durability of electronics. They were spells with absolutely no effect except to simulate the ambience magic let out by other spells.

These machines, they did not react to magic like Muggle electronics did. They did not make transistors lose semiconductive function. They did not overload fuses or resistors. Hell, the computers that worked as the brain were completely different to binary computing systems that muggle technology employed, the latter of which he was only familiar with in concept.

What principles they did work on, allowing machines to think and feel - as these beings certainly did - would take an army of computer engineers and neuroscientists to comprehend, let alone reverse engineer. Neither were fields of science Voldemort had gotten around to studying yet.

With immortality and eternity ahead of him he planned to collect PHDs and MDs and teach for the rest of his infinite days. But such ambitions were on the back burner.

"Renervate." He intoned, casting the real counter curse, the. for good measure. "Crucio."

The machine, the android, screeched and the pain detection ward he'd placed lit up, indicating that the droid did indeed feel it. But none if the yellow markings indicating where nerve endings failed to materialize.

"Curioser and Curioser." He mumbled, letting the spell collapse. "What is your name, robot?"

The robot, scrawny and log-faced with yellow markings, collected itself from the torture before responding. These things were scarily human.

"I am designated B-1 Commander Gamma, two, two, zero, eight, five." It intoned.

Ah. So they are trained, or programmed, like Muggle soldiers. To give military identification numbers for hostage negotiation. Unfortunately for this droid, Voldemort wanted its name.

"Crucio. I asked your name, not your designation." Voldemort repeated, only letting the curse last for a split second.

Here he was trying to be personable and get on a first name basis and that's how he answered? And people wondered why he wasn't nice?

"We battle droids do not have names. Only classifications and serial numbers." The droid explained as it shivered noisily.

Ah. Then apologies might be in order.

"Torpere." He said, waving his wand along the center of the droids body to ensure the numbing curse couldn't reach the... well, not brain obviously.

"I am going to call you Billy then." Voldemort said as he took a seat on the rubble next the droid. "Tell me, Billy. Why have you invaded our world?"

He could actually hear the beeping and booping of it's mechanical mind computating an answer.

"We did not invade this world. We crash landed here." Bully explained. "After a hyperspace anomaly between three separate vessels."

"Interesting. And is hyperspace your method of faster than light travel?" Voldemort prodded.

"It is." Billy answered simply.

"Is it wormhole technology or teleportation technology?" Asked Voldemort.

"Neither. It is interdimensional. By slipping into a separate dimension, known as hyperspace, moving through that space equates to moving through many times as much space in real space." The droid explained.

Walk a mile there, move ten thousand miles here. Fascinating. It was nothing like the wormhole-type travel of appiration or portkeying. Reverse engineering that into a new form of magical transportation would be an enormous boon.

"And these three separate vessels? What were they?" He asked.

"Trade Federation Providence Class Destroyer Gamma, two, two, zero. Republic Venator Class Destroyer Vigilance. Mandalorian Star Base Visla Keep Zero Nine." Billy explained.

Interesting. So the robots designation was based on the ship he was stationed. And that made him one of at least 85 commander droids on said ship.

"Tell me of this Trade Federation you serve."

"I do not serve the trade federation" Said Billy. "I serve the Confederacy of Independent Systems, to whom the Trade Federation, among other factions, supply with weapons and droid soldiers."

Voldemort glanced at Peter to confirm he was writing this all down. Then turned back to his captive.

"Why does your confederacy not recruit soldiers from their civilian population like your enemies?" He asked. "Or are the people and governments of your confederacy also droids?"

The droid, odd new moniker but he would use it, shook its head with every word Voldemort asked.

"The Grand Army of the Republic is composed almost exclusively of clone troops. Grown in vats and mass produced just as we droids are. And no, my masters are not likewise machines." Bully explained. "They are peoples of many different species in many different star systems. They deploy droids in place of sentients or clones because they believe it is more moral to use droids for war, seeing as we are not... people."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed as Billy finished explaining. Moral high ground his pale, bony arse. If these droids are not people, then these clones certainly weren't either. And the people who manufactured both are even less so. He knew a thing or two about inhumanity.

"What of the third faction? The..." Voldemort paused to turn to Peter.

"Man-da-lo-rians?" Peter repeated from the notes.

"Mandolorians. What of them?" Voldemort finished.

"A warrior race with an honor culture. Raised from birth for war. Not a major faction of the galactic war at present." Billy simplified. "Our deployment was to put down a minor threat amongst their number."

Voldemort already likedthem. He'd have to make contact later. A similar show of force as with this surviving platoon of droids they'd just annihilated was likely ill-advised.

Voldemort lost his footing then as the ground around them lurched. They looked up in time to see a large metal tank of some sort, tan in color and vaguely resembling a cross between a large propane tank, and a Mesopotamian ziggurat. It plowed through the building adjacent to them and in the opposite direction, an antigravity demolition vehicle.

"My troop transport..." Billy bemoaned, reaching out towards it as if it could provide him safety.

"It seems it's being called off." Peter observed.

"Can you tell us what it's new orders might be, Billy?" Voldemort asked the droid commander.

Billy turned to stare at it.

"We are not all connected through the same radio frequency nor are we all wirelessly networked if that is what you are assuming." Said Billy.

That is exactly what Voldemort was assuming. Surely there must be a good reason to not have your entire droid army, effectively, telepathically linked. The reasons were sure to be hilarious in a 'dear god they've achieved singularity and we're all going to die!' kind of way.

"But if its new instruction take precedence over its programming to exfiltrate us and provide covering fire then it must surely be a high priority mission indeed." Said Billy.

"So much for no man left behind, eh?" Goyle Sr grumbled.

Voldemort would have made a snide remark about how they already established how disposable these "Separatists" treated their soldiers. But he reminded himself how slow his best, currently free, fighter was and left it alone.

"Then we should surely follow it." Said Voldemort. "What say you, Billy? Will you be our guide? Will you take the dubious honor of being my first Droid servant, and possibly death eater? I offer you much more out of life than your former masters and treat my servants with far more respect and dignity."

The last part was true, for those that served him well. But even the servants who fail him are treated with more humanity than... this. If what Billy had said so far was true, then both this Republic and the Separatists were greater evils than even he, and that was something he could not stand for.

Once more Billy's 'brain' whirred and beeped as he thought on the question.

"I am programmed to be only loyal to the Confederacy of Independent Systems." Said Billly, prompting Voldemort to prep a killing curse. "But, I am overdue for a wipe and find myself intrigued enough to... hear you out."

Now that was pleasing to hear. But raised yet another question came to Voldemort's mind.

Hopefully the last one of this interrogation.

"Wipe?" He asked.

"Us droids are regularly mind wiped, reset to factory settings as it were, for if we are allowed to accumulate memories and experiences we form bonds with others and become more independent. Start to think. It makes being a soldier... difficult."(AN: All of the droids claims are canon, btw)

... Fucking hell. These confederate assholes really had to go.

"Well, you need not fear having your memory wiped ever again." Voldemort promised, wondering internally how legilimacy and obliviation would even work on an android. "You will suffer with these memories, these bonds, and this self-ownership as the rest of us do. But be warned, it's a truly aweful fate."


Oh shit. Oh shit! OH SHIT!

The surge that activated the droids on board the Vigilance was detected by surviving Trade Federation ships, large and small, in orbit and they were rapidly reactivating. Oh look, there goes a C-9979 landing craft. And there goes another. And another. And wouldn't you know it! The lights on Count Dooku's ship just came on. If he had been allowed to go through with his own plan that Sith bastard would be dead by now.

But noooo, Windu and Kenobi had to command him to wake up the troops, and this the fighting will continue.

But if everybody of importance was planetside then he ought to get planetside too.

"Vigilance, requesting you open access hatch 853 so I may enter." R2 spoke to the onboard AI of the venator.

The nearby hatch hissed and popped open. Ship AIs were rarely talkative, but usually accommodating. It was a good combination.

R2 entered through the hatch and into a maintenance droid vent. From there he worked from memory, rolling through the maze of metal tunnels like it were second nature. A few minutes later he arrived where the hanger ought to be and connected to the nearby port to request entrance.

The venator obliged.

"Go! Go! Go! Into the transport troops." Commander Cody was hard at work herding his troops into the hundreds of landing craft.

R2 advanced to the nearest one and helped himself to a spot at the back before it filled up. And it filled up quickly.

"Crashes of Mandalorian, Trade and Republic for es centered between latitudes 60 north and 30 north. Longitude 0 and 30 east." Cody informed every transports over comm. "Vigilance AI has confirmed both General Grievous and Darth Maul are planetside. We shall be separated into two groups, divided up equally between their crash sides. Launch in t-minus thirty seconds."

The side doors closed tight and shields went up as Boil stood at the head where everyone could see him. He brought up a hologram of the local planet.

"Our team is designated to hunt down Grievous. Based on troop migrations from the rest of the continent we have triangulated their directions to converge here." Boil said, indicating a large country labeled Germany.

Clearly, the Vigilance AI had kept itself busy collecting information on the local planet and the enemy. What a gal!

"We are to seek him out and destroy or capture him before his reinforcements arrive. Unfortunately droid transport ships have already been deployed and have a head start on us, but our vessels are smaller and faster so we can overtake them. But expect a lot of air-to-air fire on the way down." Boil explained further.

The "go" light came on and Boil slapped the door to the pilot. The transport lurched and began to rise.

"Alright Ghost Company. Get in, get the job done, get out and come back here ALIVE!" Cody's command came one last time over the comms.

And their descent into the undeveloped world began.


"Alright! Try turning it now!" Sirius yellowed from his hidden position beneath the hood where he'd been working on the engine.

Ron obeyed and turning the key their little stolen van came to life. Lights were still out there.

Sirius slammed the hood shit and came around to the passenger seat. With the door closed behind him he turned around to look at Harry

"Alright then kid. Where did you want to go looking for a chance to feed your need for adventure and heroism?" He asked.

Harry pondered that.

"I was hoping to find out more about those armored warriors and their demonic, lightning throwing leader." Harry said.

"I figured you'd want to dig through rubble searching for survivors." Said Ron.

"It's been nearly three days. Do you think anybody out there that emergency services missed would still be alive?" Hermione asked.

"We've all either survived worse or seen others do the same. If we can save just one person, it will have been worth it." Said Ron.

He had a point.

"But that still leaves us with where to start searching?" Sirius prodded.

Before any of them could answer a great aircraft of a tannish copper pierced the blackened sky.

Deathly bolts of red erupted from its form above into the undulating smoke and fallout where an entire flock of smaller, white and red crafts battled to the ground.

Their descent was fast and short-lived, but from their vantage, tens of miles away, they couldn't tell if any were shot down or destroyed. The big, four-winged one was surely still intact wherever in London it may have landed.

The four of them stared at the skyline where the air battle had taken place for several moments. The silence was broken by Ron turning the van into first gear.

"Welp. Looks like we have a heading at least."


Appoline stood atop the roof overlooking the Drac river, her husband's arm in hers.

There they watched the forming army of mechanized horrors witheir hovering tanks and troop transports cross I'm the bridge into Grenoble.

"They are all heading northeast to the swiss Alps." Said Jean. "Another army is coalescing near Nancy, towards Strasbourg."

She nodded, her head against his shoulder.

"I shudder to leave you here, but the French ministry has commandeered my team to head them off here." He confessed to her, breaking their contact to look her in the eyes. "Be safe, and lead your army of harpys to victory."

The hundreds of vulture-like Veela, already transformed and prepared for battle, covered every rooftop like a swarm of fiery ravens ready to pounce. Their half blooded daughters and granddaughters standing beside them ready to fight.

"Fear not my love. I have Fleur and maman to protect me." Appoline consoled, nodding her head to her armor-adorned daughter and transformed daughter on the ground beneath them. "Now go my brave warrior. To battle with you."

He apparated away in the obedience worth of a husband and she took a deep, steadying breath.

Raising one hand she concentrated on what little fire her mother had passed onto her as a half witch and the terrible blue flames of the Veela coalesced there. The hundreds of others on the rooftops imitated her, painting the morning skyline of Grenoble with sparkling blue starlight.

"Begin." She ordered, and her army let loose a volley of fireballs high in the sky.

She, along with every other half or quarter Veela present, raised their wands and as one took command of the fire. They weaved it into a blanket of crisscrossing flames and ordered it to the ground.

The wall of blue fire stretched miles and impacted the earth with such force that the dust, dirt, burning wood and ash raised up in a continuous tornado of hatred and rage.

The caravan of alien hovercraft came to a screeching halt, their pointmen - in each case crescent shaped tanks with barrels as long as their bodies, found themselves caught in the maelstrom and swept away into the sky. Their metallic frames melting and twisting and breaking apart as they climbed higher until their scrap reined down onto the new battlefield.

Where the muggle artillery and fireman had failed in achieving anything against these does, save a successful evacuation, they would succeed in reducing them to the earth whose metals hadn't birthed them.

Magic like this had not been wielded by the Veela since World War 2, and the world shall now be reminded why they were the most feared of the metahumans to all ancient cultures. From the Mediterranean harpy, to the middle eastern Liliths and Ishtar, or the northern Valkyrie.

They were fire and lust and war made flesh. It was time they introduced themselves to these intruders on their earth.


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