The Janus Rebellion

They went to a grubby muggle pub on the last day of 1996. Draco sneered at the suggestions of being around muggles so, but Granger—Hermione, he called her to her face—had been annoyingly insistent on meeting in that world. "She won't suspect us to meet in the muggle world," the bushy-haired girl said after several arguments. "Edie always treated the muggle world like something to escape. A prison separating her from the magical world. Given her childhood, I understand why she thinks so. Her mentality ensures we can escape her notice until it's too late for her to stop us."

In the end, Draco decided to accept Granger's reasoning solely because of Potter's old feelings toward the muggle world. Muggles remained a foul menace. But until Gladiolus was removed from the Ministry—and justly executed for her crimes—it did not matter what muggles did or did not do. One day, their numbers would be culled and the survivors forced into servitude as they deserved. They might look human, but they lacked magic. That made them lesser. Unworthy.

He reached the rendezvous location, several blocks down from the Leaky Cauldron. Draco spotted Granger as she approached, dressed in a thick coat that garnered only appreciative or jealous stares. On the other hand, he had received a few quizzical looks. Draco had assumed his garb was perfectly acceptable for the muggle world, though given the warming charms layered into his suit, perhaps he should have thrown on an extra layer to better handle the cold and snow.

"Follow me," said Granger as she gestured down a narrow alley. Small packs loitered at uneven distances as far as Draco could see. "The place I found is this way. Definitely out of the way. And since I've been practicing how to obliviate, we shouldn't be too worried if things go wrong and we need to obliviate someone."

Draco blinked. Granger surprised him sometimes with how ruthless she could be. But then she had learned that particular trait from Potter. He would keep Granger once the old families, primarily those who remained pureblooded, regained their proper position atop magical British society. And once their rule was secured, they would seize control of the muggle world and put an end to that farce called the Statute of Secrecy. His father had told him growing up that had been the Dark Lord's plan. And though the Dark Lord now lay in his grave, Draco Malfoy would not see his family's work these past generations slip away because a spiteful harlot dared rise above her rightful place. Perhaps in another life, Edelweiss Potter might have been a worthy concubine for House Malfoy. Her blood was too polluted to be his wife, yet he could not deny her power or the bloodlines connected to her as the Potter scion.

"Well look at that," he said, playing up a teasing act. "You can learn how to be a proper witch."

Granger glowered at him before stalking down the alley. And though she might be a mudblood, Draco had been trained to be a gentleman. He hurried after her and took her arm once they were side-by-side. Granger glowered again. Still, she said nothing as he guided her past the muggle vagrants and hooligans clogging the alley. Many jeered at them—they were dressed too finely for this place, despite Draco's best efforts to dress "muggle"—but none dared act. In some primitive part of their mind, they knew that to strike against the witch and wizard in their presence would lead to death if they were fortunate and terrible pain if they were not.

They eventually reached the pub. It reminded Draco of the Leaky Cauldron. The flash of comparison in his mind made his jaw clench. Something should be done about the Cauldron. It operated as the bridge between the muggle and magical worlds. No wonder it was a disgusting, wretched place. The poison of the magical soul and the pollution of their culture passed through that dingy hovel.

Draco glanced at Granger, who had already stepped up to the bar and ordered a pair of beers from the barman. Thankfully, she had enough decency and sense to order them poured from the tap instead of ordering bottles or cans. He had heard from the halfbloods and mudbloods he had been forced to deal with in the past two years about such disgraces. Beer, by his reckoning, should never be bottled and certainly not inflicted with the abomination of canning.

They slid into a corner booth away from the muggles. Granger carefully raised wards around them before turning to Draco. "Are you certain we'll have the support we need?"

Draco knew exactly what Granger was worried about. He nodded. "It took some time, but we have enough supporters across the Ministry to ensure the aurors will be too busy suppressing other elements to actively be a threat. It's unpleasant business turning wizards against each other, but it had to be done."

Granger nodded, despite the pensive gleam in her brandy brown eyes. "Do you think we will succeed? That we can successfully remove Edelweiss from power?"

"We have to," Draco said. "If we fail, the best that will happen is we spend the rest of our days in Azkaban, forced to regret we failed to remove Potter from power."

"And what do you think she will do if the worst comes to pass?"

Draco nearly rolled his eyes at Granger's framing. "She will kill us all. She's the new dark lord, whether she calls herself that or not. It's bad enough that she's embraced her 'Witch-Queen' title. It's disgraceful any go along with that wretched, treacherous title."

Granger grimaced and took a long swig of beer.

"Worse," continued Draco, "is the fact she's completely destabilized the order that Fudge maintained following the Dark Lord's downfall. I do not like the man's old policies. But he did manage to hold society together after all the destruction and death during the war."

"And that was all the fault of Voldemort and his Death Eaters," Granger pointed out. "If they had not engaged in violence to solve a problem that does not exist as they believe, then society could have remained stable. There would be more witches and wizards. Several pureblood families would still be around."

Draco masked his frustration, being reminded of the countless families destroyed during the war. That had been his father's sole regret from the conflict. As far as Lucius Malfoy had been concerned, those who were purebloods should have been captured and imprisoned until a time at which they could be reintroduced into society with the proper views. Some may have had to be executed in the end, but they had been infected with the spiritual poison of muggle ideas. Some, only deceived by that poison, could have been permitted to avoid re-education as long as they kept their heads down and faithfully served the Dark Lord.

"So, we're committed," Granger suddenly said. Her eyes looked cold. "On the chosen day…"

"We take the Ministry and remove Darth Gladiolus from her stolen throne," Draco finished. "Almost four hundred have agreed to back our effort, either by clogging up the Ministry's mechanics or by taking up arms against her."

They finished their drinks and left shortly after. By the time the new year rolled around, Draco had returned to the family manor in Wiltshire. He went down to their dungeon level, had his fun with the muggle girls chained and dulled with potions, and then went to train. His duel against Darth Gladiolus would be the duel of his life. He would survive where his father died.

Darth Gladiolus sensed something amiss the moment she entered the Ministry. Many rippled with unease. Ever since the new year, she had noticed more and more returning to a wary state around her. But what she sensed this day was beyond what she was accustomed to. She started for the auror training grounds, knowing their full number should be present for muster. Many had grumbled early on after she implemented the mandatory mustering. Yet those like Auror Proudfoot, aged but capable, appreciated her continued interest in the strength and quality of their corps. She liked Proudfoot in particular, even if she sensed that he doubted her too often for her liking. Even so, he remained loyal to his oaths. Until a time when he defied her, she would keep him.

Eyes followed her to the elevators. Gladiolus reached out with the Force and tracked how many flinched from her broad probe.

Almost half present fear me more than ever before. How fascinating. And given the rumors of my ability in what they call legilimency, I should presume those who avoid recoiled from my power seek to keep secrets from me. She smirked as an elevator door opened before her. I think I will give them a chance to reveal their secrets. I control the aurors, and soon that control shall be absolute.

"Command system Jen'ari," Gladiolus said, pleased that the Head Auror had been easily controlled and thus willing to implement a series of personalized commands for the elevator system. "Level Malachor."

The doors sealed shut almost immediately. A heartbeat passed, and then the elevator began a smooth descent to the secret auror floor. Was it petty that all her personal commands did was improve the quality of the Ministry's elevators? Yes. Was it necessary? Also yes.

She would rely on hit wizards and patrolmen to maintain order within the Ministry. Should something occur while Gladiolus and her aurors were busy with the morning muster, then she would trust in them to hold the line until a proper response could be levied against their foes.

Then again, Gladiolus was worrying over naught. Despite his letters, nothing had come of Cassius and his messages in the Prophet. No major sway in the broader culture against her—

She blinked. And then a vicious smile broke out as she sensed events playing out in the atrium and all across the Ministry. Her burning sulfuric eyes flicked up to the ceiling of her elevator. She may not be capable of peering through metal and layers of stone above, but she sensed what played out. The Force responded to her summons, filling her with power enough to face down the hundreds in rebellion and not worry about her victory.

A rebellion! How amusing! They must believe they can seize control of the Ministry. Perhaps they think with me in an elevator, they can separate me from the aurors and take me prisoner.

Could they suspect where I am going? Or are they so brazen as to think they can merely trap me and be done with it?

Darth Gladiolus cackled as her elevator car neared its destination. She would enjoy suppressing this rebellion. All of magical Britain would come to understand, completely and utterly, precisely who ruled them. She swept from the elevator and headed for the main training hall where her aurors waited, already mustered in full.

Proudfoot stood near the hall's entry, his disgruntlement pronounced upon his face. "We detected spell fire throughout the Ministry, Lord Gladiolus. Something is afoot. What are your orders?"

"I know," Gladiolus replied. "I plan to speak before we head out and put down this pathetic rebellion." She gazed over the gathered aurors. Sixty-three aurors stood at attention along the near part of the training hall. Gladiolus would have preferred for there to be closer to a hundred by now, but the requirements for employment as an auror relied on a Potions NEWT. Thankfully, they no longer had to deal with Severus Snape and his mercurial attitude. Shortly after that Irishman was hired to be the headmaster of Hogwarts, an Australian potions master was tempted to cross half the planet and teach at Hogwarts. And while he produced better students than Snape, it would take years to undo all the damage that man had done.

He should thank Gladiolus that she allowed him to flee to the Caribbean, where Horace Slughorn had allegedly fled. She would have loved to install that man at Hogwarts and ply him with gifts.

And for all of Gladiolus's power, she was not so brazen as to wantonly ignore the current state of international politics and thus take those men back. Not until her power was so great she could act beyond the scope that guided Grindelwald in his near conquest of magical Europe.

"Good men and women of Britain," Gladiolus began, her voice ringing out. "As of now, members of the Ministry, along with society at large, have engaged in rebellion against the rightful course of this nation. They believe me a threat to the 'natural order' of the world, or however they justify their actions. No doubt they hate all I have wrought in pursuit of a better tomorrow." She sneered. "I care not what they dare call whatever fetid past they dare drag us back into. My concern is with the betterment of this nation, and the forging of a future more prosperous than any glorified past. The path to that future cannot be barred. They might try, but their measly strength will give against our certainty in a greater tomorrow.

"And these fools dare to oppose the future. They are slaves to the old visions of dead, deluded men. They would darken the futures of all you love, and would happily cast this nation back into civil war in order to propagate their delusions."

The aurors exchanged dirty looks and distressed mutters. Yet Gladiolus sensed only a few who held genuine uncertainty in their hearts. Most aurors developed the capacity to separate their minds and their feelings, allowing them to act even when potentially compromised or forced to face a friend's death. Even so, they all had to sense the distress of the Ministry's wards. How the mechanisms that ensured all worked properly had been put into a faulty state. As aurors, they were attuned to the Ministry and its mechanisms. Their duty was the defense of the realm and to hunt down her enemies.

Soon, any distinction between Darth Gladiolus and the Ministry would vanish. They would be one and the same. She would thank whoever plotted this rebellion against her. Their choices allowed her to move forward with securing her power long before she would have otherwise attempted.

"If any present will not do their duty and fight the rebellion beyond this hall, let your opinion be known now. I will not lead unwilling soldiers into battle."

"Battle?" asked a young auror who was among the five new trainees. Gladiolus did not recognize his face, though Edelweiss Potter might have known his name. Several aurors were merely faces to Gladiolus despite their past with Edelweiss Potter. Unknown to them, they were naught but pawns in her eyes, meant to be wielded however she saw fit. "What are you talking about? It's only some disgruntled—"

Everyone in the hall stiffened. Even Darth Gladiolus. She had not expected the rebels to seize and disable the Floo network. With the specialized wards around the whole of the Ministry to prevent entry via portkey and apparition, the Floo had been the primary means of access for almost all of Britain.

And it was no longer available to anyone on the outside.

"Fools," Gladiolus whispered, awestruck by the idiocy at hand. "Those fools!"

"What are you—?"

Gladiolus raised a slightly pinched hand. The trainee auror choked on his meaningless question. His eyes bulged until she released her Force choke. Her hand clenched as it returned to her side.

"Never interrupt me," Gladiolus whispered. She scanned her aurors once more. None were more than a hint perturbed by her action. "As I said: any who do not wish to fight may remain behind. But do know that if you remain, the way into the higher ranks of the Auror Corps shall be forever closed to you. Madam Bones and Scrimgeour have granted me the power to make that final determination. I will accept any willing to fight for this nation into the Corps. But those unwilling to do their duty in all scenarios will never have my faith and trust."

Andy who had held onto doubts or uncertainties about following her against the rebels dropped them. Only the trainee who questioned her entertained doubts—doubts strong enough to prevent her charisma from swaying him.

Darth Gladiolus blocked out the world except for the potentially mutinous auror. She held his gaze. With the Force, she prevented him from turning away. After several long seconds, she poured her power into his mind and shaped it through two simple words:

OBEY ME.

The trainee stiffened, then grimaced before turning away with flushed cheeks. Even so, the power of the dark side was already twisting his mind to be utterly faithful to her. It would take time before the full extent of her power would sink in. And that fact would further her goals, for it would prevent the rest of the auror corps from ever realizing one of their own had been openly subverted by the one entrusted to lead them.

Gladiolus no longer feared that any auror might break from her will. No longer would they be able to question her commands. Doubt, mercy, and judgment would only exist as far as she permitted.

She was their god now. Her word was their law.

And not a single one knew it yet.

"Those who have made their choice to follow me can head for the elevators. I will leave the organization of your groups to the senior aurors.

"But know this," continued Gladiolus before any auror could move. They had all shifted to head for the elevators. "I will take the first group with me to sweep the atrium. Any who resist our mission to secure the atrium will be put down."

These traitors have already trapped themselves. From this moment on, their lives persist solely through my "grace" and "mercy".

Melvin Berkeley watched as the hit wizard who had been manning the security desk was finally stunned. He sighed, relieved the dreadful task of securing the atrium was over. With the grates sealed and the Ministry cut off from the rest of the Floo Network, there would be no means for the Auror Corps to reinforce whatever meager force they had at the Ministry. The problem was that nobody knew where they were. All of their plans had expected fierce resistance the moment the first spell was cast.

Instead, they had overwhelmed the patrolmen guarding the atrium before being forced into messy duels with the few hit wizards overseeing the long arrival chamber. Even after the disastrous Battle of the Department of Mysteries almost two years ago, little had been done to properly secure the Ministry. Where before Melvin might have bemoaned the failures of the Ministry, he was now grateful for their oversights.

Though if he thought about it, they had relied on one woman's oversight. They all knew the girl who had once been Edelweiss Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived, pulled the strings of the Minister and his department heads. Even Madam Bones, well known and well regarded for her fairness and just beliefs, was reduced to a puppet by the wannabe dark "lord" controlling the Ministry. That she had come to power after slaughtering her predecessor, You-Know-Who, and the greatest threat to her rule, Dumbledore, was not coincidental to Melvin. Once he opened his eyes to the truth, thanks to wacky Xenophilius Lovegood and his Quibbler, Melvin quickly came to terms with the truth: a dark lord ruled Britain. Unless the common people rose up, there would be no hope of deposing her from power. Even the muggle crown had been brought under her control!

What a wicked heart! Melvin thought, recalling the proclamations related to the Crown. His muggle half-siblings, whom he only spoke with infrequently, had informed him of a strange woman in black coming and going from Buckingham and Windsor. He held out no hope for the Queen and less for her living heirs.

Melvin believed if the Queen had truly met with this 'Darth Gladiolus' once, then the kingdom was doomed if they failed this day. All of Britain would become the Dark Lady's domain.

A sound echoed from the far end of the atrium. Its source was too distant for him to recognize. Those nearest the elevator bank reacted. Melvin hoped the source was one of the other cabals reporting success in person. They were not meant to come into contact with the rest. But if the Ministry was already locked down, then did it truly matter?

Three elevators opened. Red-robed aurors emerged, dressed in battle armor. Wands were drawn but not yet raised, they moved almost uniformly. Their gazes scanned the whole atrium.

Melvin scurried to a narrow alcove perfect for both cover and hiding. He watched the elevators as aurors started their approach to the Statute of Magical Brethren. Members of his cabal hid behind the statue's base, preparing to ambush the aurors. More than they expected had emerged from the elevators, but then they had not planned for a fair fight with the aurors. The ringleaders of the rebellion, Cassius and the recently revealed Marcellus, had dictated plans to each cabal leader. And each of them was responsible for securing a floor of the Ministry. Odds were some came directly from the ranks of those pureblooded families who supported You-Know-Who. He knew his cabal leader had believed in Dumbledore, but feared joining the Order of the Phoenix until it was too late.

A dark form moved among the aurors. Melvin blinked. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to make sense of the face hidden by a hood's shadow. A few precious seconds of denial passed before he swallowed thickly. That terrible face with black markings and those burning eyes lurked amongst the aurors.

"No," whispered Melvin. "How could she…"

Everyone—especially Cassius and Marcellus—had assumed Gladiolus would pursue 'cutting off the head' and thus would not be caught fighting the various cabals. The ringleaders had even alleged personal, bitter histories with the tyrant they sought to depose. Melvin cared little for their justification. He only wanted his chance to help remove the monster that murdered Dumbledore from power before she could continue casting her dark shadow across Britain.

Darth Gladiolus glided forward like a dementor. Melvin spotted those behind the statue freeze at the sight of her.

"You all know who I am," she said, her voice soft and breathy. He could have mistaken her for an innocent girl had he not known her truth. "I will give you this offer once: surrender and live. Fight and die. You all have five heartbeats."

Melvin blinked. Heartbeats? Why would she say that?

Thump.

Aurors separated into small teams as they shifted into positions around the statue's large base, allowing them to flank the cabal members lying in wait. None raised their wands. Not yet. Melvin knew the moment wands rose, a fierce battle for the atrium—and thus the Ministry—would break out. Either they managed to gain an advantage over the aurors, or their rebellion would be for naught.

Thump.

If they lost the atrium, the rest of the Ministry would fall back into Gladiolus's possession.

Thump.

Darth Gladiolus approached the statue as a hand slipped into her robe. The other rose, fingers splayed like a porous cup. Her terrible glowing eyes sought her enemy, ready to counter and destroy all opposed to her.

Thump.

Melvin's hand clenched tightly, pressing the carving on his wand's hilt into the soft flesh of his palm and fingers.

Thump.

"So be it," Gladiolus pronounced. "My offer is rescinded. Aurors, eliminate them."

And with a motion swifter than any bird of prey, she withdrew the hand that had been beneath her cloak. It held a thick rod of grey and black, twisting in on itself like vines. Her thumb shifted a hair and a blazing crimson blade burst to life with a snap-hiss. The blade thrummed with waiting violence. Melvin could tell even from the distance that if the blade ever got close to him, it would mark his end.

The aurors, as one, raised their wands. But none fired. Their discipline required visible foes, and they did not lack in discipline.

Melvin's fellow rebels—especially those hiding behind the statue's base—proved to be the ones lacking. They witnessed wands rise and chose that as their cue to cast curses and hexes. They emerged from cover and fired. Most launched familiar red stunners. But a few tossed spells of questionable legality.

Flashing white cutters flew across the distance as shimmering shields negated the wave of stunners. Melvin choked on a gasp as one cutter nailed a fellow cabal member in the face. Blood bloomed from where his nose had been. The flesh had been pulverized. Chunks of both cheeks and an eye flew aside, fluids streaming behind them. The man screamed and dropped his wand, both hands rising to cover the terrible, fatal gash.

Another cutter struck the man. It proved merciful, removing the bleeding head. Melvin closed his eyes and muttered a soft thanks the aurors were capable of exercising mercy in their butchery. Still, he heard the sound of the decapitated head hitting the floor and felt bile rise into the back of his mouth.

He withdrew and swallowed, grimacing as his throat burned.

Spellfire ended in gasps and choked bursts. Melvin was first confused—and then he spotted the specter sweeping through his comrades.

With her blazing blade in one hand and crackling lighting in the other, Gladiolus slaughtered any cabal member who dared directly oppose her. Melvin could only gape as he watched her fiery sword carve through flesh, cauterizing wounds. Lightning burst from her fingertips, indigo and crackling. Bolts struck three fighters, illuminating their skeletal structures as they were electrocuted until dead. Corpses collapsed to the polished Ministry floor, smoking like steamed ham left too long in the oven.

"For Britain!" someone shouted from the far end of the atrium the atrium. Melvin turned and blanched. A dozen members of the cabal raced forward, wands raised. They haphazardly fired spells at Gladiolus.

But their effort was for naught. She spun her blade about in a flashy pattern. Every spell that hit her blade shattered into colorful light. Gladiolus appeared utterly unfazed by the assault. She appeared bored in the face of the cabal's magical might. She stepped forward and maintained her defensive position, even as the gap between her and her attackers shrunk.

"Fall back, dammit!" Melvin hissed, knowing his voice would not carry to his fellows. "Fall back!"

His begging words for them to retreat fell on unhearing ears. Gladiolus reached the nearest cabal member and lunged forward. She tried to curse the dark lord. She failed. Gladiolus sliced off half of her attack's forearm, hand and wand still connected. The severed limb flew away, propelled by the strength that previously wielded it. Melvin despaired, for it was clear to him now that none of them could hope of besting the strange sword Gladiolus wielded.

Melvin tried to wrap his head around her weapon. It reminded him almost of a fire whip, only more useful and dangerous.

She continued onward, unrelenting as she switched from defense to offense. Gladiolus cut down two more before one of the remaining cabal members stepped into guard. He managed to curse her at point blank with a victorious roar.

The spell glanced off something. That was Melvin's first thought. Her blade had remained busy slicing through her previous victim. He rejected the obvious conclusion, for it meant any last hope of defeating Gladiolus was impossible. What he thought he saw was the curse deflect off her skin or something so near to the skin there was no difference between skin and the possible shield around her.

"What the… hell?" the cabal member muttered, retreating from Gladiolus. His wand remained raised, though he did not curse her again. "How…"

Gladiolus smiled, wide and vicious. "I have long possessed powers unknown to those like you, fool. Why should you be so surprised that I possess more?"

"You're… You're a monst—"

Her blade flashed white with crimson. The man swayed slightly before collapsing. The head fell and rolled away, cleanly severed without a hint of blood. Gladiolus watched impassively as aurors finally swept past her to subjugate the standing cabal members.

Melvin remained in his alcove as hope fled. The Floo was inaccessible to them. One could not use a portkey or apparition to come or go from the Ministry. Those wards were locked and sealed away from their access.

His wand slipped from his fingers and clattered to the tile floor. Melvin did not look up as aurors approached them, their wands raised. They stopped before him. After a few seconds passed, he glanced up at them—

Crimson consumed his vision.

Gladiolus surveyed the Ministry's atrium. Thirty-nine rebels had been put down in a matter of minutes. She was almost disappointed by how easily they had been defeated. All but three were dead. Corpses were being prepared for disposal. No honorable burial awaited dead traitors. Not even she would know where the bodies would be buried. Perhaps they would be dumped in the North Sea or buried in shallow, wild graves.

Her gaze settled on the three rebels still living. Two had tossed down their wands and even now waited on her judgment, hogtied and bound like Christmas packages. One had been stunned moments after his wand slipped from his grasp. He had witnessed the full extent of her power when she carved through the group around the statue. That had left him frozen.

"Names," she demanded. When they frowned, Gladiolus snarled. "I want the names of your leaders. The first of you to tell me survives."

"…and the other?" one asked weakly.

Gladiolus stared down the questioning rebel. "They will die."

"We don't know any names, monster!" the other rebel shouted. "Just kill us both! We know that's what you'll do!"

"Is that so?" Gladiolus drawled. She had planned to kill them both, but there could be power in mercy. If they believed her word, then they would more easily follow her. "I swear now, by my magic and power in the Force, that I shall grant pardon to the one who tells me all I wish to know."

The rebels exchanged an uncertain glance. They wanted to doubt her, yet they could not guarantee her words were lies. A chance existed Gladiolus spoke true. That they would have a way out, despite all they had done.

A groan interrupted their conversation. The stunned man woke in spurts, adjusting against his bonds. Gladiolus had hoped to finish with these two men before he awoke, but it seemed he was more resilient than his reaction to her suggested.

Gladiolus turned to face him as his eyes flickered open. He blinked several times before he finally noticed her hovering over him. The man froze. Several seconds passed before he soiled himself.

"Pathetic," one of the aurors grumbled. She shot Gladiolus a disturbed look. "Must I remain here and witness this, my lord?"

"Yes. You must." She turned her gaze back to the man who soiled himself. "What is your name?"

"I… I'm Melvin Berkeley, Lord Gladiolus!" the man said, squawking the moment he called her 'Lord'. "I… I…"

"You need not fear my power," she said, smiling softly. Melvin stiffened. "I am merciful to those who are genuine in their remorse. You only need to ask for forgiveness and to mean your words. I will know the truth of your feelings."

Melvin glanced at his fellows. They glowered, pointlessly promising pain should they find the chance to lash out at one who appeared on the cusp of being a former compatriot.

I should have suspected how easily I can divide allies.

Gladiolus almost laughed at the glowers being tossed around.

Melvin turned back to her. "I… I couldn't," he managed to say. Gladiolus blinked. The man meant it, strangely enough. "You've done terrible things. Cassius is right when he writes about the terrible things you have done to this nation. I know now that nothing can be done… but it was worth the attempt."

"How fascinating. You're a true believer." Gladiolus smirked. "Oh, and Cassius is no 'he'. I've long known her identity." A sneer graced her lips. "She will suffer for her treason. Her betrayal must be answered tenfold."

"You know?" the three traitors asked with varying levels of shock and disbelief. The aurors present shot her similar looks, though they had the intelligence to remain silent.

"I do. I am impressed by the depths of her treachery." She smirked. "If any of you suspected the truth, then you too would be impressed by her betrayal. Once I considered her my dearest friend. But those halcyon days were sacrificed so I could pursue the task of ruling this realm in the stead of those who would bargain away the futures of generations yet to be born."

Gladiolus then turned to the aurors. "I want these three locked away until I can pass proper judgment. Snap their wands and break their hands. They won't require either."

Before any of the red-robed aurors could respond to her command, Gladiolus swept to the elevators. She entered the sole one open and uttered, "Command system Jen'ari. Korriban."

Destiny awaited her at the Ministry's pinnacle.

Katie Bell tried to swallow her fear as she watched the elevator bank of the Ministry's third level. Aurors and other members of her cabal waged a messy guerilla war deeper into the floor. The magical communiqué being used to maintain contact with the atrium cabal had fallen silent minutes ago. She had known when she agreed to join in on this rebellion that she might face injury or even death. But she had been part of Dumbledore's Army. She had been trained by Darth Gladiolus back when she was still Edelweiss Potter long ago.

A clicking noise filled the small entry. Katie glanced down the various paths to the elevator banks with a frown. The Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes had several routes into the many offices that comprised the surprisingly large department. Katie had never considered how much was contained within that particular department until planning for this day.

Maybe I should've volunteered for one of the other floors. They'd be simpler.

The clicking noise grew louder. Katie had been told what the clicking meant, but she just could not remember what she had been told.

"Merlin's beard, Bell!" shouted Graham Montague, one of the Slytherins she had faced several times playing Quidditch. He appeared off the left-hand passage, which happened to be across the elevator bank from where she stood. "What's that bloody click—"

A roar suddenly filled the elevator bank. An elevator door suddenly burst open. The impact sent them flying. Katie groaned as she tried to push herself up from her landing. Fire and smoke spread into the bank as a figure cloaked in black swept into the chamber.

Burning eyes found her. Edie! Gladiolus! Katie swallowed a shriek and raised her wand with a shaky hand. Before she could cast a spell, her throat constricted. Her mouth opened wide as she tried to draw in a deep breath. Her effort proved fruitless. Nothing entered. Her lungs burned. Her left hand grasped at her throat. She could not feel where the force constricting her was, despite knowing it was there.

Her thoughts slurred as she continued trying to gasp for air. To relieve the pressure on her throat. Her body tired, and without the strength to fight, Katie collapsed to the floor. Her eyes fluttered close.

Her last thought was a simple one.

Sorry, Mum. You were right.

Gladiolus sighed as she sensed Katie Bell's brain become lifeless. She almost felt bad about what she did. But Bell had thrown her lot in with traitors and had even attempted to ambush her with magical explosives. Unfortunately for the rebels, Gladiolus sensed the trap before their load of Dragon's Breath could erupt. A blast of Force power had been enough to propel the explosive force outward into the elevator bank. The small bay where Bell and another had awaited her was ruined as a result.

The other figure died in the wake of the explosion. He too felt familiar, despite already being dead. The aurors would identify him later. She would punish his family, just as she would punish the Bell's.

She returned to the blown-out elevator shaft. Anyone else caught in her position would be forced to find another way to Level One. Gladiolus was not constrained how common witches and wizards were. The Force granted her powers many could not fathom.

She stepped up to the edge of the blown-out elevator and peered up. It had always struck her as arrogance that the Minister's office was nearest to the surface instead of being deepest. Gladiolus suspected that without wards and expansion charms, half the Ministry would be above the ground, fighting against muggle Whitehall for space in crowded London

Gladiolus pushed off the edge of the threshold and leaped up to the floor above. She slammed the doors open with the Force. She stepped through a stumble before spotting a squad of aurors throwing curses at a band of rebels hidden from her sight.

"Report," Gladiolus demanded as she approached the aurors in the rear.

They stiffened but maintained enough discipline that only one withdrew from the fight and faced her.

"Lord Gladiolus. We didn't expect you on this floor."

"My hand was forced on this matter." Her gaze slipped past the auror and down the hall. "How have they managed to give you trouble?"

The auror sneered. "Those blasted Weasley Twins are involved somehow. There's a plethora of traps and obstacles that we can barely handle disabling while protecting ourselves from the rebel fighters occupying this floor. They have us outnumbered by enough margin to have halted our progress."

"A shame, but unsurprising on the Weasley matter," Gladiolus drawled. "Those two always were talented." Fury filled her veins. If any among the Weasleys should have remained loyal to her, it was the Twins. "Their loyalty appears to be to a dead man. They shall join him in due time."

The auror nodded, unwilling to argue with her. "Will you aid us, Lord Gladiolus? Or will you continue to the Minister's level?"

"I can spare a minute to push your line forward," she said with a toothy grin. "Consider it my lordly duty to lead from the front."

The aurors—they had listened in, even as they fought—offered her relieved smiles. Were they truly given such trouble they required her intervention? Gladiolus had assumed she trained her aurors better in her brief months with them. Clearly, she was wrong. Once this rebellion was ended and its ringleaders punished, she would see to furthering the training of her aurors.

Or perhaps she would train an apprentice instead. She had considered the prospect in the past, but never with enough seriousness to pursue the matter. Perhaps the time had finally come to find an apprentice and train a new Sith Lord. Perhaps even a future Dark Lord of the Sith. She knew a day would come when her worthy apprentice would find the strength to strike her down and ascend in her place. That, as her master informed her, was the Sith way. She had been incapable of striking down her master because she had learned solely from holocrons. There had been no flesh and blood Sith master for her to overcome. Instead, she destroyed two alike enough to be a Dark Lord to be worthy of that title.

Perhaps I will be even more worthy of the title of Dark Lord of the Sith once I slaughter any Sith Lords who live in the galaxy beyond Earth's— No. Stop that line of thought, Gladiolus. Focus on the task at hand.

Gladiolus glided to the corridor filled with spellfire. Her lightsaber leaped into her hand. Her thumb instinctively settled on the ignition. Her blade ignited with that familiar snap-hiss, and she stepped forward into the line of fire. She used large sweeping motions to batter and destroy the spells that raced her way, all the while climbing upstream against their torrential flow. It was child's play carving through the offensive that had cowed the soldiers of the Ministry. Her jaw clenched tightly; she had failed in training them. She realized that she required an apprentice. One she could entrust with tasks that required a Sith Lord's strength, but not her attention.

Now was not the time for those thoughts, though. She had enemies to slaughter and a rebellion to crush.

She reached the first batch of rebels at the end of the corridor. They stared, awestruck and horrified by her capacity to overwhelm their magical offensive without issue. Her right hand reached out. Force lightning poured forth. Gladiolus stared, impassioned, as their skeletons flashed into view. Those few who avoided her Force attack flinched back from their dying compatriots. She allowed those already dead to collapse, blackened and smoking.

"Please, we—"

Gladiolus reached out with a hand and crushed the speaker's windpipe. Shouts echoed as the other rebels recoiled from the corpse in their midst. She had offered mercy earlier. Every rebel she encountered had rejected it. She would no longer offer it to any rebel—and especially not to those who delayed her aurors. They proved to be a danger to a stable rule. It was safer for her to destroy them and cast their corpses into dishonor.

One dared charge her instead of casting a spell. Gladiolus sidestepped his idiocy. She sliced off the wand arm of a witch who had not bothered to retreat before attempting to curse her. As the woman screamed, Gladiolus came back around and sliced through the back of the wizard who charged her like a rank muggle. He gasped before collapsing, a blackened mark stretching from buttock to neck.

A single rebel remained. She tossed down her wand and fell to her knees, hands raising as she pleaded, "Don't kill me! Don't kill me! Please! Please!"

Darth Gladiolus considered the woman's request for a heartbeat. She then beheaded her foe. She spat on the corpse and sneered. "You abandoned all hope of mercy the moment you turned against me."

The Sith Lord pressed on, seeking more rebels to slaughter. She sensed twenty or so remaining on the floor. Gladiolus determined she would not continue to her fated meeting with 'Cassius' and 'Marcellus' immediately. This floor should be purged first. Anyways, they would await her arrival. Let them be patient.

The Dark Lord of the Sith followed the dark side's beckoning with malice in her heart and her thrumming lightsaber in hand.

Draco glanced between the shaking Minister Fudge, the glowering Madam Bones, and the calm Unspeakable called 'Saul Croaker'. He did not believe the Unspeakable's name was real. But then one did not know what to think when it came to Unspeakables. They were a queer lot, hiding in their little corner of the Ministry, disconnected from the rest of the body tasked with maintaining the social order.

He tapped his foot, the soft leather of his boot clicking against the harsh tile. The gauzy rug did not extend to where he stood near a wall.

"She should've been here by now," he snarled. "Potter should've—"

"We assumed she would reach us by now," Granger corrected. "Not that she would be here." She sighed and shook her head. "We have no clue where she is. Not since the Atrium, along with those holding Levels Two and Three, went silent."

"She… She'll rescue us!" Fudge suddenly said. He turned to Madam Bones. "Right, Amelia?"

Madam Bones glanced around the small conference room. Twelve occupied the room: Draco, Granger, seven comrades of theirs, and their three Ministerial prisoners. Annoyingly, only Fudge seemed distressed by the presence of rebels in this room.

"She might. Or she might see this as an opportunity to get rid of us." Her hard blue eyes flickered to Granger. "She was right that Gladiolus desired power above all else. It was obvious from that first night when she openly bragged about killing You-Know-Who and then waved off murdering Albus Dumbledore in the same night."

Fudge swallowed and nodded awkwardly. "That… That makes sense, Amelia." He chuckled awkwardly. Draco had heard muggle prisoners in his family's cellar laugh that way the moment they realized there was no hope of rescue or escape. The Minister was losing it, and would likely go mad if nothing changed. "Of course, she'll get rid of us. I should've seen it all along! She's just like Dumbledore!"

Madam Bones regarded Fudge coolly. After a few seconds of listening to him laugh and mutter to himself, she turned to the Unspeakable. "What about you, Croaker? Do you expect to get out of this alive?"

"I do," he said. "And so should you, Amelia. Lord Gladiolus would never dare admit it, but she likes you. Perhaps had she not changed into who she is now, she would have admired you. Desired to be like you." He shrugged. "But she made choices which turned her into who she is today. If I were you, I would sit back and wait. She'll come. If not for us, then for her."

The Unspeakable stared at Granger. Granger stared back, almost challengingly.

Malfoy watched them for a while, wondering if they would start arguing or if they would only stare at each other. As he watched them, he fiddled with his hawthorn wand. It had served him well over the years, yet he had a feeling it would not help him much longer. Events were coming to a head quickly. While he planned to kill Gladiolus, he had to fight down the fear he would survive long after slaying the vile witch who dared seize control of their society. Merlin knew what she had done to the aurors. Not a single had been swayed to their side. Too many had to be obliviated to preserve the secret of their brewing rebellion.

A sudden chill ran down his spine. Had Potter known they would act as they did? Was this a trap meant for her to gain even more power? His blood froze at the thought. Draco had assumed they remained steps ahead of Potter. After all, it had been easy to seize control of the Ministry, even with the complete lack of assistance from the aurors. Their numbers remained beneath the hundreds from before the war. They should not have mattered. They should not have mattered.

And yet the aurors would matter. Perhaps not enough to completely sway the outcome of this day. But they would matter just enough to give Potter her opening to stop them.

Draco stopped playing with his hawthorn wand and grasped it tightly. Unlike Granger, he would be prepared for when "Darth Gladiolus" arrived. Perhaps he could get the former friends chatting long enough to murder one of them—or even both. He would not allow any sentimental thoughts toward Granger to prevent him from seizing the justice that was his due right.

A rumble rippled through the hallway outside the office's antechamber. Draco stiffened, but he did not turn and stare as everyone else did. He already knew what it was. Shouts and screams followed, shifting from the former to the latter as the sounds drifted closer and closer. He closed his eyes briefly.

And then the outermost door of the minister's office groaned open. Footsteps approached, floorboards groaning and whining as Darth Gladiolus neared. Draco glanced to the door into the meeting room. The doors shifted as they were pulled slightly, and then opened silently to reveal the monster Edelweiss Potter had become. Sulfuric yellow eyes burned in her skull, highlighted by the black marks across her face. They granted her a fearsome look as she prowled into the room like a jaguar on the hunt.

"Malfoy. Hermione. I'm almost insulted. To think you two would dare go against me." And then she tisked with disappointment.

Gladiolus grinned at Hermione, flashing her teeth as if on the verge of snarling. Her former friend flinched back a hair, reeking of fear and regret as fear flashed in her brandy brown eyes. Good. She would learn before the end that she should have never betrayed Darth Gladiolus. But any hope of mercy was gone, now that words had become actions.

Gladiolus turned to Malfoy, who stared with hatred burning in his grey eyes. As with Hermione, it was a shame he dared go against her. But where Hermione might have had a peaceful future under the rule of Darth Gladiolus, Draco Malfoy could have become a worthy apprentice and successor to her. Hatred and wrath ensured the cycle of the Sith—the cycle of master and apprentice—carried on. Their order could not be exterminated as long as one person hated another, and desired power to destroy their enemies.

The Sith Lord scanned the three Ministry heads present. Minister Fudge and Madam Bones she had expected to find waiting with the conspirators against her. Their role in this affair would be discovered once the situation had been brought under her control as she desired.

But she did find Croaker's presence a touch surprising.

"What brings you out of your department?" she asked Croaker.

"I was sent to check in on the Minister after these rebels launched their rebellion. I got swept up by these two after I made a mistake."

"Ah. So you were spotted."

Croaker grinned sheepishly, silently admitting to his error.

Gladiolus sighed. Her eyes nearly closed, but she sensed a wave of hatred rippling her way. Draco Malfoy had raised his wand, pointing it at the thin line that ran from the point of her central forehead marking to the bead on the tip of her nose. Magical energy churned within him yet remained too uncoiled to be wielded effectively against her. At this range, he had a vague chance of causing some injury to her. Nothing truly severe, but injury was injury.

"So you have volunteered to die first," she drawled.

"You'll come with me, bitch!" Malfoy snarled. "For my fathe—er!"

The wand fell from Malfoy's hand as it shot to his throat, grasping and clawing as he choked. Gladiolus kept her right hand close by her side, thumb pinched inward toward the rest of her fingers. Her lips twitched, straining against the impulse to smirk in the face of her impending victory. How amusing that Malfoy thought he could have a chance of killing her. He could have attempted to attack her without speaking. It would have failed, but she would have needed to rely on her instincts than on watching him telegraph his spells.

And that in a fight to the death could prove to be the deciding factor.

"You stupid fool!" shouted Hermione. Her fear had transformed into anger and frustration. "You should have known trying to curse her to her face wouldn't work! She killed Dumbledore and Voldemort in the same bloody night!"

"And within a few minutes of each other," Darth Gladiolus added while admiring the back of the armored hand not choking Malfoy. She released the pressure slightly; enough to keep him down, but not enough to kill him off soon. He had first collapsed against a wall before being supported by two of his supporters. She glanced around and noted seven others followed Hermione and Malfoy into her deadly trap. They all stared at her with horror in their gazes and terror in their hearts. She was almost impressed they managed to stand their ground.

Perhaps I should give them all a true reason to fear my presence.

Gladiolus breathed out softly and projected an aura rich in the dark side's influence. All of her hatred, malice, and wrath filled the conference room as though she had tried to stuff a cloud into the room. Reactions were instant and immediate. Three of the seven, along with Fudge, whimpered and drew away from her. Two of the seven shook as they strained against Malfoy's weight, while the last two bolted for the door behind her. She let them pass. She already knew their names and faces. They would face their due punishment, no matter how far they ran. Escape from Darth Gladiolus was impossible now, no matter what those cowards thought.

Malfoy, Bones, Hermione, and Croaker all held firm. Gladiolus glowered at the small smirk Croaker shot her before turning her gaze to the other three. Madam Bones maintained a bored expression in the face of the dark side of the Force. The woman had been an auror once, so no doubt she did not fear death. Malfoy, for his part, hated her enough to resist being repelled by her aura, even as he struggled for a complete breath.

It was Hermione's reaction that surprised Gladiolus. Her courage wavered several times, yet she did not break. Despite the hatred and malice poured forth, she did not withdraw. She did not retreat. She did not give into fear. She did not even match hatred with hatred, as Gladiolus secretly wished.

And then a tear slid across Hermione's face. It was followed by a second and a third.

"You cry," muttered Gladiolus, astonished. "Why?"

"Because I remember who you were, and I've realized the truth. You killed her. You… you fiend!"

"Fiend?" Gladiolus cackled. All but Hermione flinched. She was all that mattered now. "I am not some mere fiend. I am Darth Gladiolus, the Dark Lord of the Sith! This world will be but a stepping stone to a dominion that shall bring every star under its grasp! Your friend, Edelweiss Potter, had enough ambition and strength to know I was her only hope of victory over the monsters that destroyed her life."

"So she sacrificed one for two."

"No. She sacrificed many and became more than a mere martyr. She ascended, and was reborn." Gladiolus gestured to her person. "Weep or gnash your teeth. It matters not. I can kill you here, or I can execute you before the baying horde of the masses. They will enjoy seeing one of those who would plunge their society, rescued from the flames of war by myself, into chaos and destruction." Her sulfuric eyes flickered to Malfoy for the briefest of moments. "You cannot think he would allow you to install a muggle government after I was tossed down. He would enslave your kind, and place those like him with 'pureblood' from old families permanently atop society. No upward movement. No hope for a better future."

"You say that like anyone could have had those under you!"

"…perhaps you are right, but I do not think so. A Sith rule would not leave its people so weak. It is the ethos of the Sith to compete and to clash. 'Peace is a lie. There is only passion'. One cannot hope to grasp what they desire without dismissing the folly of passivity and embracing that which makes them human."

Hermione froze, her brandy brown eyes wide and her teeth gritted with frustration. Gladiolus watched as her old friend, the friend of the girl she had once been, struggled to grasp all that had come to pass, and all that would come to pass. She could see it in Hermione's eyes: the realization, the horror, the disgust. A moment of acceptance almost passed, but that turned to naught. Hermione could not accept that the ways of the Sith were the best for Britain. That her ways, the means of Darth Gladiolus, could lead the people to happiness. Ironically, it was only through the conflict and struggle of the Sith that a lasting peace could be found. Let the Jedi preach their peace of weakness.

The peace of the Sith was that of strength. It was of the strong ruling the weak for their benefit.

"Embrace the truth, Hermione," Gladiolus whispered. "I can feel your mind and heart in conflict. One knows I speak true, yet the other cannot embrace the truth.

"Let go of your weakness. See that I am the way forward. The path to—"

Dodge!

Gladiolus suddenly leaned back. Color flashed in her vision. A spell, one cast with silent precision. She knew in an instant that the Force had responded to the ill will of one around her. Malfoy had tried to curse her—to blow off her head—while she had been busy trying to twist Hermione Granger around to her way of seeing the world.

Sulfuric eyes swiveled to her left, even after her left hand rose and clenched the offender with the Force. Draco Malfoy grasped, color draining from his face as he tried to lift his arms high enough to grapple with the unseen force on his neck. She widened the impact of her Force power to restrain his limbs.

His wand had fallen from his grasp, lying on the short-carpeted floor. Gladiolus sneered at the weapon. She drew on the dark side and willed his magical medium to burst into flames.

It snapped first, a clear strand of hair blackening before soft flames began to chew away the wood.

"You… You bitch!" Malfoy shouted through the power restraining him. Gladiolus weakened her grasp on him enough so his words could come through completely. "You murdered my father!"

"And? Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater. His life was forfeit the moment he allowed that false pretender to brand him like cattle." Gladiolus turned to completely face him. She slowly began to close her raised hand. Malfoy released a pained groan, lacking enough air to properly scream. "I should have disposed of you earlier, but I thought that you might learn. That you could be smarter than your father." She sighed and shook her head. "It seems the sins of the father are the sins of the son. Your hatred was no match for mine, Draco Malfoy."

In the span of a heartbeat, she clenched her hand closed. Malfoy's body crushed as though a massive hand smashed him. Blood and offal spewed from him, pouring forth from mouth and nose, eyes and ears, and any other orifice. His fluids sprayed across the ceiling, walls, and floor, along with two of the rebels standing nearest Malfoy. They froze; fear gripped them so tightly their hearts risked skipping a beat and dropping them to the floor.

"Why… Why…?"

Gladiolus's disdainful eyes swiveled to Hermione. The girl squeaked and stepped back into the wall behind her. "He forced my hand by attacking me." Her sulfuric gaze drifted from face to face. "You all saw it. An assassination attempt, thwarted solely through my power."

"But… But you didn't need to kill him!"

"No?" Gladiolus tilted her head, pouring every ounce of false innocence into her expression. Hermione recoiled as though bitten by a snake. "Responding with equivalent force is perfectly legal, Miss Granger. And that includes not just violence against a person, but also violence against the state." She straightened and revealed the full depth of a Dark Lord of the Sith. "You have committed treason by leading an attack against the rightful magical government of Britain. You sought to remove me, the Witch-Queen of this nation, from her rightful place within the government, serving purely at the pleasure of Her Majesty, the Queen of England, Scotland, and Ireland. I hope you know the punishment for treason."

"…death."

"Aye. And not just any death, but a most terrible one. While the muggles have modified their laws to remove the most heinous executions, they remained within our laws when the Statute of Secrecy was implemented.

"That means you, along with several others, shall be drawn by entrails, quartered, and then hung until dead. Your four limbs will be placed across magical Britain as a reminder of the fate that befalls all traitors."

And as though summoned by her pronouncement of justice, aurors stormed into the room. Their raised wands drew surrender from the remaining rebels. Hermione hung her head, defeated.

"Take them away," Gladiolus commanded. She then left the room, disappointed.

None of this should have happened. I should have foreseen this. I should have struck them before they were ready.

But instead, I allowed it to happen… for I can accrue power from their failure.

She breathed out, closed her eyes, and reached out into the Force. Minds reached out to her, and she smiled. Many remained faithful. Loyal. But also fruitful of what might transpire without a mighty leader to follow.

The time for an apprentice was nearly at hand. For now, Gladiolus needed to clean her home and purge it of vermin.