Well, this took a few days longer than I had planned, enjoy.

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Voldemort basked in his triumph like a cat lounging atop a mountain of dead mice. Hogwarts' defenders lay broken. The Great Hall smoldered. Even the stars seemed to bow to his glory—though, now that he thought about it, why was there a sun blazing in the midnight sky?

"Greyback,"he snapped, pointing at the suspiciously divine beam of light slicing through the Forbidden Forest."Investigate that… whatever it is."

The werewolf sauntered forward, all swagger and unearned confidence. "Probably just Dumbledore's ghost haunting a ficus, my Lord,"he sneered, stepping into the glow. Nothing happened."See? Just a bunch of sparkly no—"

AWAKEN, MY QUIVERING ABS!

A chorus of synchronized"AYAYAYA~"erupted from the heavens as a figure materialized behind Greyback—a man so oiled he could've single-handedly caused an OPEC crisis. His biceps glistened. His pecs sang. And his speedo? A crime against wizarding decency (and several international treaties).

Before Greyback could scream, the stranger's arm—sculpted by what could only be a team of Renaissance artists—snaked around his throat, yanking him into an embrace that straddled the line between attempted murder and something far worse.

"OH MY!"the stranger purred, his free hand "casually" exploring Greyback's trembling form."A werewolf? How…ruggedly traditional."

Voldemort stared. His Death Eaters stared. Even the crows stopped mid-caw to stare. The only sounds were Greyback's whimpers and the stranger's disturbingly sensual humming.

"WHAT IN SALAZAR'S SAGGY LEFT—"Voldemort began, before remembering he had a brand to uphold.—WHO. ARE. YOU."

The stranger released Greyback, who collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. Slowly, dramatically, the man turned. Moonlight ricocheted off his oil-slicked abs with the precision of a long las. Voldemort's eyes watered.

"Is that you,"the stranger crooned, tilting his head with a smirk that could've curdled unicorn milk,"little Tommy boy?"

Voldemort's mind short-circuited. Anger over the Nickname warred with unmitigated fear at this... creature, knowing him. Before he could decide between "Avada Kedavra" and "fleeing the country," the oiled Adonis closed the distance, his gait a hybrid of ballet and predatory sashay.

A Death Eater lunged, shouting"FOR THE DARK LOR—"

THWACK.

The stranger punted a pebble with the force of a Bludger. It punched through the Death Eater's skull, leaving a hole whistling"Yakkety Sax"in the wind. The remaining minions collectively decided:

"HE'S ALL YOURS, MY LORD! WE BELIEVE IN YOU!"

Voldemort's scream died in his throat as the man loomed over him, radiating the energy of a yoga instructor who'd also conquered several star systems.

"Miss me, Tommy?"The man's hand somehow materialized on Voldemort's backside."Still skipping glute day, I see. Tsk. But don't fret—my brothers and I will rehabilitate you."His whisper dripped with innuendo."We'll play…games."

Voldemort, conqueror of death, defeater of Dumbledore, and full-time torture pro, did the only thing he could: he whimpered and cupped his buttocks like a nun at a Metallica concert.

"Adorable,"the stranger cooed."But pointless."

A flash of light. A scream (high-pitched). A lingering scent of coconut oil.

Silence.

Lucius Malfoy cleared his throat, nudging Greyback's still-twitching body with his toe."All in favor of me taking over—with no torture Tuesdays,yes to dental plans, and a strict 9-to-5 genocide policy—say 'Aye.'"

"AYE!"

"What about paid vacation?"piped up a Death Eater near the back.

Lucius paused."...Granted."

"Workers' unions?"

"What in Morgana's knickers is a workers' union?"

The crowd murmured. Somewhere, a lone wolf howled. It was probably Alpharius.

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Fun facts of the day

1. sashay is in fact a word. One that I very much so did not know before rewriting this chapter, I found it while looking for pretenious sounding words.

2. Yakkety Sax is something that you probably all know, you simply don't know that it's called that

3. A bit of information for those not into 40k. Custodians have a game that they play to entertain themselves and to keep in shape. They collect all kinds of prisoners, release them into the (absurdly huge) Imperial palace, wait a bit and then hunt them.

Cheers.