The New Princess
Hogwarts Year 1 - Arc 3 - Part 3 - Chapter 33
The Seminar - Part 2
Previously:
Susan tilted her head thoughtfully. "When you put it like that, it does sound grim, doesn't it?"
"Hopefully after this, we can finally start to move forward and learn to work together. If this seminar is a success, like we all hope it will be, it could completely change how the magical world sees Muggles," Hannah said, her voice tinged with optimistic yet cautious hope. "Maybe it'll be the start of something bigger."
"One can always hope," Susan replied, her tone laced with skepticism. "But centuries of prejudice don't just crumble overnight. They never do. It's going to take more than one seminar to undo all that... Senseless hate."
"True," Aryanna said thoughtfully. "But every re-education process starts somewhere, with that first step. It takes time—usually more than we'd like—but I believe magicals and Muggles can learn to coexist. The Prime Minister is already on our side, so that's already one foot in the door. Now we just need the other side to open theirs as well. And when they do, both worlds will be stronger for it - strong enough to survive."
"If we live long enough to see it you mean," Susan added with a wry smile, though a strong sense of determination flickered in her eyes. "Still, it's better to start, even if the initial success is low, rather than to do nothing at all."
"We will live long enough and more," Aryanna said firmly, her voice steady despite the enormity of the challenge ahead. "That's why we're here. That's why the crystal chose me. All of us. The Youma and their masters will try to stop us, of that, there will be no doubt. But we'll find a way to defeat them. The alternative is unthinkable."
The girls fell silent, the weight of Aryanna's words settling over them.
Meanwhile, onstage, 'Venus' gestured dramatically toward a new projection. A grotesque monster appeared on one blackboard, its misshapen features twisted into an expression of malice. On another, illustrations of scouts and guardians—both familiar and unfamiliar—came into view.
Intrigued, the girls straightened in their seats, their earlier conversation momentarily forgotten as Venus's commanding voice filled the hall once more.
And now the continuation:
"BEHOLD!... the enemy!"
Sailor Venus's voice rang out over the stadium, sharp and commanding, cutting through the hum of nervous conversation. The sound bounced off the enormous structure, echoing through the vast openness with an authority that demanded attention. In an instant, every booth's Magi-screen flickered, merging into a single display that projected three eternally looping magical images of fully formed Youma.
Gasps and startled cries rippled through the crowd as their attention locked onto the monstrous visions.
The first image depicted a creature of pure malevolence. Its grotesque form seemed plucked straight from a nightmare—an unsettling amalgamation of twisted flesh and jagged bones. Sickly green-purple skin, marred with pulsating, writhing veins, glistened under an eerie, unholy purple light. Hollow, glowing eyes stared through the screen, cold and unmoving, while uneven rows of jagged teeth dripped with a viscous black ichor that sizzled as it hit the ground. Its bony hands, tipped with elongated claws, flexed as though poised to tear through flesh. It was the embodiment of primal terror—so raw and predatory that even hardened Aurors in the crowd looked visibly shaken.
The second image stood in stark contrast. Strangely elegant, almost human in its grace, this Youma possessed an unsettling perfection. Pallid skin shimmered faintly with an iridescent sheen, subtle scales catching the light like whispered danger. Dark, unblinking eyes stared out, cold and soulless, as if peeling back layers of flesh to probe into the very core of anyone who met their gaze. Silken black hair framed its serene, unsmiling face, giving it an eerie tranquility that somehow heightened its menace. A predator wrapped in beauty.
But it was the third image that drew the sharpest intake of breath.
At first glance, it appeared utterly human—ordinary, unremarkable even. A young woman, barely out of school, with warm brown eyes and a quiet, loving, yet deceptive smile. No monstrous traits to give away its monstrous origin, no obvious signs of corruption. Just a person. A friend. A neighbor. A loved one. That's what made it so chilling. The hidden monster beneath could strike at any moment.
Venus stepped forward, her gaze sharp as it swept across the stunned crowd.
"This," she said, her voice cutting through the murmurs like a blade, "is the same Youma. Three forms. One enemy."
The silence that followed was deafening. Then the whispering began—scattered gasps and disbelieving voices:
"No way!"
"That can't be true!"
"It looks so… normal!"
Venus let the weight of her words settle before continuing, her tone sharper now.
"Take a good look at these images." Her eyes narrowed. "This may be the only time you'll see a Youma and live to tell about it. Notice any differences? Can you see any sign of a Youma in the third form? Any clue that it's not human?"
She paused, letting the crowd lean into the silence.
"And yes,"—her voice dropped, heavy with a warning—"before anyone asks, the third image is not human. It is a Youma. It's the same Youma as in pictures one and two. And this…" Her eyes hardened. "…is what makes them so dangerous, so insidious, so terrifying. They could be anyone—from a stranger to a family member—at any time."
The uproar was immediate. Cries of disbelief mingled with fearful murmurs as the realization swept through the stadium like wildfire.
Parents clutched their children tighter. Children, sensing their parent's dismay, cried out in fear, hiding in their parents' arms. Wizards exchanged uneasy glances. One young witch fainted, caught just in time by a nearby wizard. The atmosphere buzzed with raw panic—fear sharp and tangible in the charged air.
Venus allowed the chaos to continue for a full minute, her expression calm but watchful. She was letting the truth settle in, letting the fear take root. Fear, after all, was the best motivator, the first step toward vigilance.
When the noise reached its peak, Venus raised her hand. The murmurs cut off almost immediately as if silenced by a spell.
"The Youma have been around for millennia—longer than anyone can remember, longer than recorded history. They have existed as long as humanity itself, invaders from a parallel realm known as the Negaverse."
Her voice softened but carried an unmistakable resolve.
"Humanity has always known them as demons, the Great Other. They are powerful, yes, it's true..."
Her gaze swept the stadium, lingering on the fearful faces below.
"But despair not."
A hush fell over the stadium as her tone shifted—calm, steady, but brimming with quiet strength.
"You are not alone."
She pressed a button on the podium. The Magi-screens split in two: one side continued to display the looping Youma images, while the other revealed a radiant, inspiring sight—a group portrait of nine girls, each striking a dynamic pose in unique sailor uniforms.
The Sailor Guardians.
Venus gestured toward the screens, her voice brimming with pride.
"Behold... the Sailor Guardians. The Avatars and Guardians of the planets of the Solar System..."
She paused, letting the image sink in, the Guardians' confident stances and determined expressions offering a lifeline of hope amidst the darkness.
"…and yes," she added with conviction, "thanks to the Minister of Magic, now also the Guardians of Magic itself."
For a moment, there was only silence.
Inside the minister's booth, Fudge straightened up as dozens of heads turned to look at him. His expression was a picture of smugness, enjoying the sudden limelight. Slowly, the tension in the crowd shifted. Fear gave way to hesitant relief as they took in the sight of their protectors. The Sailor Guardians' poised stances and fierce expressions were a silent promise—a vow to stand between humanity and the darkness threatening to consume it.
A light flickered on the backboard behind Venus. She turned toward the general location of a booth, nodding slightly.
"Booth number 179, you have a question?"
She folded her arms and waited expectantly.
Booth Number 179, That Very Moment
A young girl, no older than eight, huddled in her seat as Sailor Venus's voice echoed through the stadium, amplified by the Magi-screen system and transmitted directly to her booth. Her parents, seated beside her, exchanged surprised glances but remained silent.
Sophie's hands trembled as she gripped the armrests of her chair. Her face was pale under the unexpected attention, but her voice—though shaky—was clear enough to carry across the enormous crowd.
"S-Sailor Venus?" she asked timidly.
Venus's expression softened. "Yes," she replied warmly. "I can hear you. What's your name?"
"Um... I'm Sophie."
"Hello, Sophie," Venus said with a reassuring smile. "Did you have a question for me?"
Sophie hesitated, her cheeks flushing as she glanced nervously at her parents. "Yes... I mean, I do."
Venus's tone remained patient. "Take your time. What's your question?"
After a deep breath, Sophie blurted out, "You called the Youma... demons. Does that mean you're an angel? Do you... know God?"
The question hung in the air like a weight. A ripple of whispers spread through the stadium, and Sophie's parents shifted uneasily in their seats.
Venus's lips twitched in a faint smile. "That's a brave question, Sophie." Her tone turned thoughtful. "When you say angel, do you mean like in the Bible?"
"Yes, ma'am," Sophie said quickly, seeking her parents' approval with a glance. "My parents are very religious."
Venus nodded, her voice steady. "The answer, Sophie, is yes—and yet also no."
A collective gasp swept through the stadium. Sophie's parents exchanged concerned glances, her mother's lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval.
Venus raised a hand to calm the audience. "Let me explain. None of us Sailor Guardians would ever claim to be the angels described in your Bible. But throughout history, people have indeed called us angels—especially when we appeared to fight Youma, who are often seen as demons. Our leaders—the strongest among us—have even been known to manifest wings in moments of great power. That's part of why people have made the connection."
She paused, her voice tinged with humility. "But we aren't angels in the divine sense. Our powers come from planets, not Heaven. We may have been mistaken for gods or angels, but we fight because it's our duty—not because we were sent by 'God.'"
"Gods? You are gods?" Sophie's voice rang out, surprised.
Venus's eyes widened slightly. She quickly composed herself. "Some of us have been called gods," she admitted carefully. "Take Sailor Pluto, for example. She's ancient—over ten thousand years old—and lived among the people of ancient Greece and Rome. They called her Artemis, the goddess of the hunt. When you've been around as long as we have, it's only a matter of time before someone starts to believe you're divine."
A shocked murmur rippled through the crowd.
Venus's gaze softened. "But don't misunderstand me, Sophie. We aren't gods in the way you might think. We're Sailor Guardians—protectors of life and harmony. Our powers may be extraordinary, but we aren't infallible. And we certainly aren't divine."
Sophie nodded slowly, shyly. "Okay... thank you."
Venus smiled warmly. "Thank you, Sophie. That was a brave question." The light above Sophie's booth dimmed, signaling the end of her turn.
A soft hush settled over the stadium as Venus turned toward the next booth. The light above Booth 267 flared to life. Venus's gaze sharpened. She straightened her shoulders, preparing herself for whatever came next.
Booth number 267
A young man's voice cracked as he spoke, his nerves painfully obvious. "S-Sailor Venus... if these Youma can look like us...then... how do we know who to trust? I lived through You-Know-Who's reign. I saw what the Imperius Curse did to families. What if they've already infiltrated? What can we do?"
His question sent a ripple of unease through the crowd. Parents instinctively pulled their children closer, their eyes scanning the gathering for any sign of danger. The tension in the air was palpable, the echo of Voldemort's reign still fresh in too many minds.
Venus raised a hand, silencing the growing murmurs with quiet authority. Her gaze swept over the crowd, steady and unwavering. "That's a valid concern," she began, her voice calm but firm. "The Youma thrive on deception. They know exactly how to twist our fears and desires against us, turning them into weapons. They don't just infiltrate—they corrupt."
She gestured toward the stadium's massive Magi-screen, which flickered before showing the image of a smiling broomstick salesman holding a Nimbus Extreme. "This man is not a Youma. He's an ordinary person doing his job. But now imagine this—imagine he has been compromised and turned into a youma, he tells you you're his thousandth customer and offers you the broomstick of your dreams at a price that seems too good to be true."
Her gaze sharpened as the screen zoomed in on the salesman's cheerful smile. "You buy it, and at first, it feels amazing—faster, lighter than anything you've flown before. But then you start feeling weaker. Every time you fly, you come down more drained. And yet, you want to keep using it because you have become addicted to it. That's how Youma hunt. They don't just steal your energy—they corrupt you...and make you hand it over willingly. Happily."
A ripple of discomfort passed through the audience. Some people stiffened; others cast wary glances at their neighbors, mistrust already taking root.
Venus's expression hardened. "It's not just about the broomstick—or any one object. It's about how they prey on your hopes and ambitions, turning them into tools for their gain. But understand this—fear is their true weapon. They want you to distrust each other. To isolate you. To make you believe you can't rely on anyone. That's why we must stand together. Unity is our strongest defense."
The crowd shifted uneasily. A few people blushed and glanced awkwardly at their neighbors. Others avoided eye contact altogether.
The young man's voice wavered as he spoke again. "But what if... what if it's someone we love? What if there's already a Youma among us?" His words carried a trembling vulnerability that cut through the tension.
Venus's expression softened as she stepped toward the edge of the stage, her presence radiating empathy. "That's the hardest part," she admitted quietly. Her gaze lowered for a brief moment before meeting the young man's eyes. "If someone you love has been taken by the Negaverse, they may still look and act like themselves—but they aren't. And if they've been turned completely…" She hesitated, her voice dropping almost to a whisper. "...we may have no choice but to fight them."
A heavy silence fell over the stadium. Several older witches and wizards nodded grimly, their faces shadowed by memories of the Dark Lord's reign. The echoes of lost family and friends hung thick in the air.
Venus allowed the weight of her words to settle before continuing. "But even then, there is hope." Her voice strengthened, steady, and clear. "If we act quickly, we can sometimes reverse the process and bring them back. The longer we wait, the harder it becomes—but we are not powerless."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "And you are not helpless. Sailor Guardians can sense and expose Youma, even when they're disguised. It's not a perfect system—we can make mistakes, and we can't be everywhere at once—but we are here to protect you. And we will teach you how to recognize a Youma, how to stay vigilant, and how to protect yourselves long enough to get away and call us."
The young man's eyes filled with uncertainty. "But how can we trust anyone? What if it's too late?"
Venus took a breath, then smiled gently. "You trust by remembering what we're fighting for. The Negaverse thrives on doubt and fear. If we let those emotions control us, they've already won. But if we stand together—if we face this challenge with courage and unity—we can overcome anything."
She stepped back, her voice rising with quiet conviction. "During this seminar, we will teach you how to identify and expose Youma. And if one of you has already been taken, we will find them—and we will do everything in our power to help them." Her gaze sharpened. "Trust in us. Trust in each other. Our strength lies in unity. Together, we stand—together, we win."
A ripple of applause began, hesitant at first but growing quickly. It was not the applause of celebration, but of determination—a shared resolve to face the threat together.
Venus gave a small, encouraging smile and nodded to the young wizard in thanks. "That's all the time we have for questions now. If you have more concerns, write them down in your notebooks—we will address them. For now, focus on learning. Focus on protecting yourselves and each other."
This time, the applause thundered through the stadium, a roaring wave of solidarity and hope.
Several Hours Later
The seminar had paused for a lunch break, giving attendees a chance to stretch their legs, grab a quick bite, or visit the facilities. Most of the public lingered in the stadium, where the enticing aromas of various cuisines mingled with the hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter.
Backstage, however, Sailor Venus, Mercury, Jupiter, and Neptune occupied a private rest area, their conversation far from lighthearted.
"So," Sailor Jupiter said, crumpling the wrapper of her sandwich and tossing it into the bin, "are we ready for this? No room for mistakes?"
"We've been ready for days," Sailor Neptune replied, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. "The YDHQ will be glad to finally get rid of it. Our magicless brethren are on the verge of a nervous breakdown. They know they can't handle it themselves. For them, it's like sitting on an active ticking time bomb. Some haven't slept for days, even with a full platoon of huntresses guarding it and Sailor Pluto on standby."
"They've done their best," Jupiter said, her expression serious as she leaned forward. "You can't blame them for being on edge. They're not like us—they lack our training, our power... even our commitment. They haven't seen what we have seen, and haven't gone through what we have gone through. They're nothing like the battle-hardened Youma Defense Forces we had back in our time. Sitting on something that dangerous would unnerve anyone."
Mercury frowned, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, tension visible in her knuckles. "I still can't believe we're doing this. I mean, executing a prisoner—Death Eater or not—in front of adults is one thing, but... in front of children?" Her voice tightened. "Terrifying kids just to make a point? Aren't the speeches enough?"
Mars stood by the window, her gaze distant as she opened a small silver locket. Inside was a picture of a young girl, her smiling face framed by her blonde hair. Mars let the locket fall back against her chest and stared out at the crowd below. Laughter and chatter floated up, cruel in contrast to the grim reality ahead.
"I say we scare them until they can't sleep for weeks!"
"MARS!" Venus and Mercury cried out, horrified, while the others looked down, grim-faced.
Mars turned sharply from the window, her voice as cold and cutting as her eyes. "You think I want this? Watching them suffer? Scaring them! But we've tried everything else. Terror is the only language they understand."
Neptune shook her head, dismayed at her friend's behavior. She had never been the same since...
"This whole thing is a spectacle," Mercury said quietly. "That Death Eater—he's doomed the moment we let the Youma loose. It'll suck him dry in seconds."
"That's the whole point! That's exactly what they need to see," Mars said, picking up a glass of water. Her hands trembled as she took a sip.
"We've tried reasoning before," Neptune said, her tone subdued. "Warnings, pleas—but they didn't listen. Gryffindors think they're invincible, Slytherins think they can outsmart anything, Ravenclaws think they have all the answers and Hufflepuffs—bless them—charge in blindly to save anyone they can. Sometimes they're worse than the Gryffindors because their loyalty demands they never leave a friend behind." Her voice softened. "And the purebloods? Their pride blinds them completely."
She sighed, her gaze dropping. "If scaring them saves lives, then we do it. I hate it. It's ugly—but it's necessary."
The room fell into tense silence. Mars's jaw tightened as she gripped the glass harder. "You saw what happened last time," she said, her voice low and trembling. "They thought they could handle a Level 4 with numbers and a few advanced spells. Their arrogance... It cost them everything." Her voice cracked.
Before anyone could respond, Mars suddenly hurled the glass at the wall. The sharp sound of shattering glass cut through the air, fragments scattering across the floor like tiny stars catching the light.
Mars slumped, seemingly defeated.
"It cost... her."
"Mars..." Venus began, stepping forward, but Mars shook her head sharply.
"Don't." Her shoulders trembled as she pointed toward the crowd below. "Look at them," she said, her voice raw. "Look at them and tell me I'm wrong. Do it!"
Venus's calm voice cut through the tension. "And what happens when terror turns to hatred, Mars? What then? Do we risk them fearing us more than the Youma? That's a line we can't uncross."
Mars stiffened, her hand hovering near the locket, trembling. For a moment, it seemed she might lash out once more—but instead, her voice dropped to a whisper, jagged with emotion. "I don't care. If it means she... 'they' stay alive this time... then... their fear... their hatred... it's a price I'm willing to pay."
The somber tension in the room was abruptly broken by the soft creak of the door. Sailor Moon stepped inside, her presence both radiant and subdued. Her gaze flicked to the shattered glass, then to Mars, whose shoulders were still trembling.
"Ladies," she said, her voice calm yet resolute. "It's time. The crowd's waiting, and we've only got a few more presentations before they witness the Youma. Is everything ready?"
"Does that mean..." Mercury began hesitantly.
Moon nodded. "Yes. He's ready... and so is the Youma. Starving, waiting." She sighed. "At least this way, it'll be quick. No one in that crowd will leave doubting the threat. After it's done, there won't be a soul who thinks normal wizarding magic stands a chance against these monsters."
Mercury stood, her voice trembling. "The potions—are they in place? Please tell me they are."
Moon stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Mercury's shoulder. She gently wiped away the tear that threatened to fall from her loyal friend's face, offering a soft smile. "Yes. I double-checked everything myself."
Mercury closed her eyes, exhaling shakily. "I'm glad."
"What about Uranus?" Venus asked, her tone lighter despite the worry in her eyes.
Moon smirked. "She's handling… other duties."
"Babysitting?" Jupiter raised a brow.
"Who better than her?" Moon's grin was infectious, and for a moment, quiet laughter filled the room. Even Mars managed a brief smile, a fleeting reprieve from the storm ahead.
But the moment passed quickly. One by one, the Guardians' expressions hardened. Without a word, they nodded and filed out, their footsteps echoing through the quiet space.
Venus lingered behind for a moment, her shoulders slumping as the door clicked shut behind the others. Sailor Moon moved closer, wrapping her arms around her in a gentle hug.
"Sometimes," Moon murmured, her voice soft but firm, "being a Guardian means making choices no one else can make. If we do this right, we'll save lives. That's what matters."
Venus sighed, resting her head briefly on Moon's shoulder before straightening. "We'd better make it count then."
"We will," Moon replied, her gaze steady. Together, they left the room, walking side by side toward the daunting task ahead.
A few minutes later, the seminar resumed. A student from Hogwarts stood on stage, his face pale as he began recounting the recent harrowing attack on the castle.
"...We were huddled together in the Great Hall, every student from first-year to seventh-year, as the professors struggled to maintain order. The cries of fear from the younger students—and even some of the older ones—echoed all around us. We could hear the sounds of battle as it grew closer, more menacing...more desperate. We could hear that it wasn't going our way. The cries of spells - the eerie howls of the Youma. Explosions shook the very stones of the castle. When the headmaster roared a spell, the entire hall trembled."
He paused, his eyes taking on a haunted look.
"Then came the loudest crash I've ever heard, and the shaking grew worse. Some of us stumbled and fell. Later, I learned that was probably when the staircase collapsed. After that... the order to retreat. Professor Tonks and Professor Flitwick returned soon after. He could barely walk. Seeing him like that—a famed dueling champion, pale and afraid—shocked us all into silence. 'Evacuate Hogwarts.' I never thought I'd hear those words. That, more than anything, made me follow their orders without question."
The student paused again, visibly disturbed by the memory, his voice trembling as he pressed on.
"Professor Tonks... she instructed us to follow her and the other professors through hidden passages and a secret tunnel. I never even knew it existed. It was so dark—only the faint light of Lumos charms and the occasional flicker of a wall-mounted torch guided us. Two of us were tasked with carrying Flitwick. Others were told to keep an eye on the younger students, to make sure they didn't get lost.
"Even though most of us were as unsure as them," he added with a weak laugh.
"Twice, we had to backtrack, forced to find another route after encountering a collapsed ceiling. I was terrified the roof, maybe even the entire castle, would fall on top of us."
He took a shaky breath, looking out into the audience, the weight of his words heavy in the air.
"It's okay. Please, take your time. Do you need a break?" Sailor Venus' voice broke the silence gently.
The student shook his head, eyes glassy as he continued.
"Along the way, I saw glimpses of the devastation. Flashes of light from spells, screams I couldn't place... The smoke and dust made it almost impossible to see clearly. I think I saw parts of the moving stairs shattered across the ground. When we finally made it outside, it hit me—the scale of the destruction. The Astronomy Tower had collapsed. Some of it had fallen onto another tower. The rest was scattered across the roofs of the other buildings, or in the courtyard. It was... terrible."
The student paused again, the lump in his throat rising.
"It was only afterward, when the sounds of battle stopped and the Aurors arrived, that we found out what had happened. It was a Youma... just one. One Youma had done all this. If the Guardians hadn't arrived... well, the professors couldn't handle it. If they hadn't arrived..." His voice faltered, and he stopped, unable to continue as tears rolled down his face.
Sailor Venus stepped forward, her presence a calming force. "It's okay. You don't need to continue."
The student nodded, his face strained, and slowly walked off the stage. The weight of his words hung in the air, leaving the stadium heavy with silence.
Sailor Venus stepped back to the podium, her expression calm, yet heavy with the weight of the moment. She allowed the silence to stretch on, letting the words of the student echo in the air for a few moments longer. The entire stadium seemed to hold its breath, the atmosphere thick and uneasy with the weight of what had just been shared. The stillness clung to them, uncomfortable and oppressive, as if the very air had become heavy with fear and sorrow, refusing to be shaken off. It was as if everyone was waiting, unwilling to exhale until she spoke again. Finally, when the silence had stretched on long enough, she did, her voice steady but laced with restrained emotion.
"What you just heard were the words of a Hogwarts student who survived the recent battle at the castle. Hearing it directly from someone who lived through it... It's terrifying, isn't it?" She paused, her gaze sweeping over the audience. "It reminds us of the dangers we face... or could face, at any given moment."
She took a deep breath, steadying herself before she continued. "Our next guest speaker is Auror Healer First Class Miriam Greengrass. A professional healer and Auror, she has graciously agreed to share her experience responding to a Youma attack on a Muggle village. What began as a simple case of accidental magic turned into a nightmare."
Venus's expression darkened for a moment as she drew herself up to meet the audience's gaze. "Until now, this event was classified by the DMLE. But the Ministry has authorized its disclosure tonight, to help you understand just what we're truly up against."
She paused again, her voice softening, filled with a quiet resolve. "I hope you never have to face anything like it yourselves."
She softened her tone even further, addressing the audience with care. "Before we proceed, I must apologize for the emotional weight of what you're about to hear. Throughout this seminar, you will be exposed to unfiltered accounts of the horrors these creatures bring. We do this so that you can fully understand the reality of our fight."
There were murmurs in the audience as Venus let her words settle in. "The Ministry has permitted us to present these accounts without restraint. However, I must warn you: what you're about to hear and see will be distressing—especially for our younger listeners. Some of the imagery will be deeply unsettling."
Venus took another moment, her voice softer now, almost tender. "To help you manage what you're about to experience, please look beneath your seats. You'll find a magically shrunken trunk. To unshrink it, simply remove it and say the command word: unshrink ."
A ripple of movement swept through the crowd as many reached down to find the trunks. There were curious murmurs, some trying to calm their anxious thoughts.
"Inside, you'll find calming draughts, anti-terror and depression potions, and dreamless sleep potions—all clearly labeled. If you feel overwhelmed, don't hesitate to use them. Some of you will be deeply affected by what you hear and see tonight. Please, take care of yourselves."
The audience exchanged anxious glances, but some nodded in understanding. Venus let them take a moment before gesturing toward the side of the stage.
"Now, please join me in welcoming Healer and Auror First Class Miriam Greengrass," she said, stepping aside as an older woman took her place.
Polite hesitant applause followed as Miriam Greengrass stepped forward, her navy robes trimmed in lime green, signifying her dual roles. Her presence was commanding, her posture straight and proud, though her face bore the marks of age and wisdom. Her eyes, however, told the story of someone who had seen far more than anyone should.
"Good evening," Miriam began, her voice steady, yet warm. "I am Master Healer Miriam Greengrass, a healer at St. Mungo's and an Auror with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. For any muggle-borns among us who are unfamiliar with my role, think of me as a magical combat medic."
She paused, scanning the audience before locking eyes with the camera now pointed toward her.
"In my thirty years as an Auror, I've faced unimaginable darkness: the reign of the Dark Lord, Death Eater attacks, and countless battles with dark creatures. I've witnessed the Killing Curse, endured the Cruciatus Curse, and survived more horrors than I care to recall. But nothing—nothing—prepared me for the devastation left by the Youma."
Her hands gripped the podium as her voice dropped in volume. "The day a Youma attacked a Muggle village will haunt me for the rest of my life. We were called to investigate what we thought was a simple case of underage magic—a frightened child, an accidental spell. Routine. Or so we thought. Instead, we found..."
Her voice faltered for a brief moment, and the audience held its collective breath, captivated by her words.
"What we found was a nightmare," she continued, her voice steadying, though the weight of her memories still tugged at her. "A nightmare which, with your permission, I will now show you."
The stadium fell into a deep silence as Miriam turned to Venus, who met her gaze with quiet concern.
"Healer Greengrass," Venus said softly, stepping closer, "are you sure? We can proceed without it if the cost to you is too great."
Miriam's eyes hardened with resolve. "No, Lady Venus. I need to do this. If my memory helps even one person here today understand the stakes, it will have been worth it."
Venus hesitated before nodding, turning to address the audience. "This is an Auror-level, Ministry-approved Pensieve," she explained, gesturing to a small, rune-carved bowl filled with silvery liquid. "Pensieves are typically used in trials to present memories in vivid detail."
She then turned to a second nearby grim-faced Auror who stepped forward, offering him a small vial filled with milky liquid.
"Master Auror Shacklebolt will verify the authenticity of this memory," Venus continued.
The Auror cast several verification spells over the vial, nodding in satisfaction before handing it back to Venus. "This memory is genuine and untampered with," he confirmed, his voice unwavering. "I swear this on my magic and my life." To demonstrate, he cast a small Lumos, the tip of his wand glowing brightly—a silent but powerful affirmation of his oath.
The stadium murmured again, the tension rising by the second as Shacklebolt left the stage. Venus uncorked the vial, carefully pouring the shimmering liquid into the Pensieve.
"What you're about to see is the aftermath of a Youma attack," Venus said softly, turning to face the camera. "Parents, please comfort your children. For the rest of you, brace yourselves."
As the Pensieve activated, a ghostly image began to rise from the bowl. It was faint, translucent, a haunting silhouette against the otherwise still air. As the scene took form, the devastating aftermath of an attack became all too clear: a small child, a crumpled, lifeless husk, skin paper-thin and contorted in unnatural angles, as though every trace of life had been sucked from it in an instant.
A collective gasp filled the stadium, and many averted their eyes, unable to bear the sight. Others stood frozen in stunned silence, their faces pale with horror. The sounds of frantic shouts from Aurors and the anguished wails of grieving families, all emitting outwards from the Pensieve, filled the air, making the image even more unbearable.
Miriam's voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke, tinged with sadness. "Sweet Merlin, I never wanted to see that again." Her voice firmed as she continued, her hand gesturing toward the image. "This is what a Youma leaves behind. A lifeless shell. A victim robbed of everything they once were."
With a solemn nod from Miriam, Venus deactivated the Pensieve, the image dissipating into the air. The stadium fell into heavy silence, broken only by the sounds of quiet sobs and a few retching sounds from the crowd. Young children clung tightly to their parents, their faces buried in robes, while older students sat motionless, their expressions filled with fear, sorrow, anger, and disbelief.
Miriam stood at the podium, her hands steady, though her eyes betrayed the emotions swirling within her. "If you are ever unlucky enough to encounter a Youma," she said softly, "don't try to fight it. Run! And if you can't run... pray. Pray to whatever gods you believe in, and then pray to others as well, in case yours don't listen. Pray that a Guardian—anyone—is there to save you. Because the Youma will have no mercy. They never do!"
Her voice quieted, but her words continued to carry a quiet power. "And if this memory stays with you, good. Let it remind you of what's at stake—and why we cannot afford to falter."
The rest of her speech wove harrowing accounts with practical advice on survival. By the end, the audience was silent, many faces pale but resolute, determined to fight and survive at any cost. Many reached for calming draughts, but no one dared to leave.
Three speeches later
The audience remained still, the silence thick and unyielding as the final speaker concluded his words. The man, a simple shopkeeper who had lost everything in a Youma attack on a small magical hamlet, gave a single, solemn nod. He didn't seek applause. He didn't care for recognition. As he left the stage, his quiet dignity hung in the air, adding to the heavy atmosphere.
Venus reclaimed her place at the podium. Her figure was bathed in the harsh glow of the stadium lights, casting long shadows across the stage. She stood tall, but there was a weariness in her eyes, a shadow of sorrow that didn't quite match the strength in her posture.
"Thank you for listening to our speakers today," she began, her voice firm yet laced with an undercurrent of sorrow. "I know their words were difficult. They were meant to be. What you've heard and seen was never meant to be easy. It never should be easy. But it was necessary. Necessary so that you can grasp the reality of the dangers we face—or what you may face, should you ever cross paths with a Youma."
Her gaze swept across the audience, pausing briefly on those who seemed too shocked to move. "We will now take an hour's recess. This is your time to breathe, to settle your thoughts. Take a walk, find comfort in your families—do whatever it takes to regain your composure. In one hour, when we reconvene, we will present something… final. A demonstration, for those of you who still foolishly believe you can face a Youma alone. It will be shocking. It will be graphic. But let me assure you: as long as you remain inside your shield, you will be safe. Each booth is protected by rune-based shields, and in the highly unlikely event of a breach, we will take immediate action."
She paused, her eyes hardening slightly as she leaned forward, her voice growing quieter. "Please, make sure you use the facilities now. Once we begin again, you won't be able to leave until after the demonstration."
The crowd remained eerily still, the weight of her words sinking in. She didn't wait for a response before turning, nor did she look back as she exited the stage.
The audience remained in a hushed, uneasy murmur, the air thick with anticipation as they processed what had just been said. Some shuffled nervously, others remained frozen, caught between the desire to leave and the fear of what awaited them next.
Meanwhile, Far Away in Riddle Manor
Valda—once the infamous Dark Lord Voldemort, now the newest Queen of the Negaverse—sat upon her dark throne, her expression darkening with each passing moment. The Seminar broadcast over the Wizarding Wireless Network (WWN) echoed through the cold chamber, Sailor Venus's commanding voice cutting through the static like a blade, slicing apart her meticulously crafted plans.
For hours, Valda had listened, her unease deepening with every passing word. These so-called Guardians represented a threat she could no longer afford to ignore. Every lesson they imparted, every speaker who stood before that audience, chipped away at her schemes. Their growing influence was a menace that made her existence—and that of her Youmai—more precarious by the day.
Her grip on the armrests of her throne tightened, her knuckles whitening as she thought back to the fiasco at Hogwarts and the Ministry's response afterward. Not only had she failed to kill Dumbledore—or anyone, for that matter. But now, like every other magical citizen, she had received an official owl declaring the rise of the Guardians as the "Guardians of Magic" and summoning her—indeed ordering her—to attend this mandatory Seminar.
Attending, however, would be suicidally reckless.
Her ongoing transformation into a Youma meant she wasn't yet strong enough to face even one Guardian directly, let alone the combined might of the Aurors and the Guardians themselves. Yes, she could mask her monstrous features—just as the infiltration Youmai often did—but Metallia had warned her: the Guardians possessed an innate ability to detect her kind. The moment she entered that stadium, she knew she would be exposed.
The Guardians would undoubtedly teach methods to detect Youmai, and even her carefully honed ability to mask her growing transformation wouldn't withstand such scrutiny. The Aurors would test her the moment she arrived, and the Guardians, actively hunting for Youma, would tear her apart. Spending an entire day surrounded by them? Unthinkable.
Her gaze drifted from her slowly transforming hand to the mirror across the room. Her reflection mocked her—once a handsome, charismatic wizard, now a grotesque amalgamation of human beauty and monstrous distortion. Pale, flawless skin was marred by jagged cracks, glowing faintly with a sinister purple light. Her once-piercing red eyes now shone with an unnatural, cold gleam, a constant reminder of the power Metallia had bestowed upon her.
Power always comes at a price.
Valda's thoughts turned to the Ministry's obsessive efforts to ensure full mandatory attendance at the Seminar. Radios now blared in every corner of Azkaban—from the low-security wings housing petty thieves to the maximum-security levels where the most dangerous criminals—murderers, rapists, and her former Death Eaters—languished under the torment of the Dementors.
Even the sick and dying had not been spared. Portable radios and magi-screens had been installed in every ward at St. Mungo's, ensuring that even the unconscious couldn't claim ignorance. For those not incapacitated, attendance was enforced by portkeys issued to every magical household. The Ministry had even expanded the stadium with enchantments and spatial charms to accommodate more attendees if necessary.
How the Ministry had managed to finance such an outrageous endeavor, she had no idea. Damn that woman, Setsuna Potter. The meddling witch had ensured no one could escape—providing return portkeys to all magical citizens, even those abroad. No one had been left unaccounted for.
Not even the dead!
A radio had even been set up for the ghosts at Hogwarts!
No one had been overlooked. Not even Valda.
Or... at least, that was how it used to be.
Valda knew better than to walk willingly into a trap.
She allowed herself a rare smile, a twisted thing, as she recalled her recent narrow escape. Her initial reaction had been pure fury. Hours of meticulous planning... reduced to dust in an instant as she vented her rage, leaving her office in ruins. The Fidelius Charm could—indeed would—shield her location, but it couldn't erase her existence. The Book of Magical Citizens, an ancient artifact buried deep within the Department of Mysteries, ensured her name remained inscribed. Not even the strongest anti-owl wards could stop its relentless reach.
For a fleeting moment, she had entertained the thought of hiding indefinitely—letting her enemies exhaust themselves in their search. But that idea had quickly died, smothered by her impatience and the gnawing hunger growing within her. As a developing Youma, her needs were changing. For now, she could survive on food—but not for long. Sooner or later, the hunger for human energy would take over. No ordinary sustenance could quench it. The Nega itself could sustain her, but hiding would only delay the inevitable. Hunting while being hunted? A losing battle.
For a time, it seemed she was doomed to fail.
Destroying the Book of Magical Citizens herself had been a tempting thought—but equally dangerous. She currently had no human minions to send on such a perilous errand. Attempting it herself, in her incomplete transformation, was an option, but would have been disastrous. At the moment, the Ministry didn't know she existed, and she intended to keep it that way. Prematurely exposing herself to the wizarding world would be catastrophic. The time for open war had not yet come.
And then, fate intervened.
You see, Youmai, unlike witches and wizards, did not possess magical cores in the traditional sense. Their power came from the Negaverse and stolen human energy, making them invisible to the Book's enchantments.
While her soul had survived, allowing her to continue as a wraith thanks to her horcruxes - even allowing her to continue to use her old magics, Valda had stopped being Tom Riddle the moment she took her new body. The Book had recorded her death years ago at the hands of the purple Guardian. Instead, the owl that had delivered the Ministry's summons had sought out the witch whose body she now inhabited.
It wasn't until days later that the Daily Prophet announced the death of her stolen body. The transformation into a Youma had altered her magical signature just enough for the Book to mistake her for dead. The Ministry, believing her gone, had ceased their search. No portkey arrived, and no investigation came.
As the news spread, Valda had smirked, savoring the sweet taste of victory. The Ministry believed her dead—and that was good. That meant no summons would ever reach her. Her presence was no longer required at the Seminar. It was as though the walls had crumbled, and she had slipped through their grasp entirely.
Her smirk deepened as her gaze shifted to the chessboard beside her. Fingers drumming against the armrest of her throne, she considered her next move.
The Guardians were a nuisance, yes—but not for much longer. By now, her forces should be nearly ready.
"Only a little longer, and after them, it will be your turn... Dumbledore... Potter," she murmured, her eyes glancing at two pieces—a king and a queen—on the other side of the board.
Her gaze narrowed at the empty space where her rook had once stood—a casualty of the Hogwarts fiasco. It now lay broken on the ground.
With deliberate precision, she moved her queen forward, her fingers grazing the piece as a cruel smile spread across her face.
"Check," she whispered.
Leaning back into her throne, her smirk twisted into something colder, darker—a predator savoring the hunt.