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Lord Voldemort had rallied his forces to Hogwarts, wearing a triumphant smile that told the world that he had won. Hagrid carried Harry Potter and cried. Voldemort’s smile widened as he witnessed the morbid and horrified faces of his opposition. Their Chosen One, their Boy Hero had perished under green light as befitted him.
He opened his mouth, then, to regale the students of Hogwarts that there need not be further bloodshed. In fact, he would pardon them all of their crimes as they were children and did not know any better. ’’Really,’’ he said, conversationally now that there were no threats on his life, ’’eighteen does seem more mature than whatever your seventeen year old minds can concoct. More grounded, if you will.’’
The children stared back at him, their faces tear-stained, their eyes shot wide with sleep deprivation and fatigue mixed in with adrenaline. Blood smeared across their forms drenched them in battle and trauma.
Voldemort attempted to connect with the youth. It was a grave error. ’’Put down your wands and I will look the other way.’’
The Death Eaters waited, their fingers itching to pull at their wands, to see if they would need to use their wands once more. Both forces had dwindled in number. Everyone waited raptly as Lord Voldemort continued to speak.
Neville Longbottom blinked. He just kind of couldn’t handle it anymore. So, what he did was something that the whole wide wizarding world would remember. This would go down in history as Neville Longbottom’s greatest feat. He raised his brows in disbelief and cut You-Know-Who off.
’’I can’t do this.’’ He said.
Ginny looked at him, her scream of grief for Harry trapped between her teeth.
Hermione, whose blood pumped so loudly she could barely hear anything else, her eyes glued to Harry’s still, unmoving form.
’’What did you say?’’ Voldemort was trying to be civil. You know, because he’d won and was desperately trying to salvage the population of magical Britain so he couldn’t just kill all of these kids. That would be catastrophic for the economy. Without nuclear families, how would big corporations profit off of unsuspecting working class people?
’’I,’’ Neville’s head was bleeding quite a bit, ’’I just think you’re full of shite, actually.’’
The Death Eaters all gasped dramatically and almost threw themselves at the Boy Who Could Have Been in Hagrid’s Arms. Voldemort stopped them from attacking, his teeth gritted, but his resolve firm about not attacking the children unless they attacked first. He needed to set the tone for the world he would become ruler of. Today was his first chance to convince some of these kids that he wasn’t all that bad. A fool’s errand, really, but he was feeling incredibly optimistic to have won against a foretold enemy. Teenagers (not foretold) seemed basically inconsequential. There was no way anything they said could ever hurt him. These were the words of trapped and scared children only.
’’Pray tell,’’ Voldemort smiled and spoke with a haughty, yet slightly curious voice, ’’what makes you say such a thing.’’
’’I just...’’ Neville glanced at the Malfoys huddled together, looking for exits, yet trying to be covert about it, he glanced over to Luna who had tilted her head to the side in anticipation, ’’no, but, really, you’re only speaking lies. Plus,’’ he added before Voldemort could say a single thing, ’’I can’t take you seriously. I mean no offense to you – well, a little bit actually, yeah, – but I can’t take a bloke who called his Defence professor MUM in front of the entire class seriously. It just doesn’t make sense.’’
Neville’s micro-expressions of sheer disgust and bafflement got Ginny Weasley to burst into shocked laughter. She finally made eye-contact with the bogeyman from the diary, only to see that for the first time since coming to Hogwarts he was red. Livid. Baffled, himself. Horrified that anyone knew this.
’’I called her ma’am.’’ He all but spat at them.
A noise of disapproval and disbelief came from behind Voldemort. The Dark Lord turned eerily slowly at the culprit. It was one of his own Death Eaters, then called Knight of Walpurgis. ’’Do you have anything to say, Avery?’’ Voldemort almost hissed, but he reigned in his impulse to kill. How were his red eyes not intimidating the man? Were his forces so insane that they would speak against him like this?
Avery bobbed his head left-right. ’’You did, though. My lord. You did call her mum. I was there. We laughed at you for a good month. It was right after OWLS and you were a bit sleep deprived. Anyone could have called their professor mum. Especially knowing you and professor Merrythought shared a bond. She humoured you and answered all of your questions. You lacked the maternal attention and soaked it up where you could.’’
’’The great big Dark Lord lacked maternal attention and soaked it up where he could.’’ Ginny Weasley mocked. She was the sister of Fred and George Weasley and her time had come.
’’Avery,’’ Voldemort raised his wand, ’’I promised the children I would not kill them if they did not draw their wands. I did not promise you.’’
’’Honestly,’’ Avery nodded, having become suddenly disillusioned, ’’I welcome the sweet release of death.’’
Known Death-fearing Lord Voldemort could not combat this. He turned around and said: ’’I called her ma’am.’’
’’She said you called her mum.’’
’’She misheard.’’
’’Are you calling professor Merrythought a liar then?’’
’’I am not calling her a liar.’’
’’I think you are.’’ Luna interrupted. ’’I think she would not think highly of you doing so, sir.’’
’’She’d probably send you to time out.’’
’’Give you a rap over your knuckles for being so rude in public.’’
’’Yeah, orphan boy, don’t be rude to your mummy figure.’’ In this world, the Slytherin students had not been locked up. They had been given a chance to fight for their school, and taught by professor Merrythought, they had come to the conclusion that fighting for what is right far exceeded the things your family thought was right. So, this sick burn was delivered by none other than Pansy Parkinson, bully extraordinaire. Her time had come.
Millicent Bulstrode was shaking with fear as she said: ’’Y-yes, y-you better apologize.’’
A series of OOOOOOOOOOhs scattered throughout the gaggle of children.
Daphne Greengrass’ was the loudest.
’’Whatcha gonna do now, Oliver Twist! If I were you, I wouldn’t let this sort of behaviour stand!’’
Hermione came prepared with a muggle literary reference. It hit, because Voldemort had probably read the damned novel as a boy, as well.
In a high pitched, pathetic, and squeaky little voice came: ’’Please, miss; please, sir, spare an ounce of affection.’’ Collin Creevey snapped Lord Voldemort’s face with his camera.
''I bet Draco's grandpa didn't even like you, but only went out with you out of pity.'' Rumours of Abraxas Malfoy having been entangled with Lord Voldemort were old and verified. ''Booo!!!''
Bringing his love life into this was the last straw. ’’All right, this has gone on long enough.’’ Voldemort warned them, trying to be the bigger man here, even though he felt incredibly small when faced with such bullseye precision when it came to singling out his weaknesses. ’’It was just a lapsus linguae, you miscreants. There is no need for this sort of behaviour. You are only degrading yourselves.’’
Ginny snapped her fingers and swayed, having spotted a figure in Hagrid’s arms desperately trying to stay still and somewhat failing, ’’Aww, look - the orphan wanted to have a mum! Sweet Merlin, all of this must be so embarrassing for you! Everyone, please, let’s stop – we’ve made the little fascist prick uncomfortable!’’
Draco Malfoy’s eyes strayed towards Potter. Because, of course they did. He was ruddy obsessed.
He saw a face screwed up in pain. Pain from stopping himself from making even the tiniest of sounds. Draco looked at his wand and thought and picked a side: ’’My grandfather told me he called Slughorn dad once, too!’’
Lucius and Narcissa were horrified.
Voldemort raised his wand. Enough was enough, damn it!
A voice laughed.
’’I do not know what has gotten a hold of you children –’’
And a hero returned with a thud.
Voldemort slowly turned around to see that Harry Potter had rolled out of Hagrid’s arms, busting a gut laughing. Tears ran down the boy’s face. He could barely gasp for breath.
’’You’ve got to be kidding me.’’ Voldemort said, lapsing for a moment back into cockney.
’’What’s a bloody Londoner even doing trying to be a Tory? Mate, with that accent of yours you’re much better off being a chimney sweep let alone a Lord. A bit overambitious are you?’’
’’Yeah,’’ Avery added, ’’Walburga Black bullied the accent out of him.’’
Pansy then called Walburga Black a legend and said that they could only hope to strive to be as cutthroat as she was. ’’Anyone that made fun of you had the right idea.’’
Draco Malfoy aided Harry Potter’s escape to the gaggle of children. Cacophony began and it was a series of spells, actually, that killed Voldemort. His body fell to the floor with finality. His last moments filled with mortification.
THE END