House Elves VS. Death Eaters
Things were not pretty. And this time, it may have been Hedwig’s fault.
It started with Dobby standing front and center, his mini army behind him and ready to dominate.
Aurors appeared nervously, having sensed malevolence. The first sight that greeted them was Dobby standing over Dumbledore’s unconscious body and Voldemort’s baby body inching away in the background.
A hundred beady eyes lasered their skin.
Quiet. A couple of beats pass by. A bead of sweat runs down a young Aurors face.
Dobby raises his hand. Immediately, the elves charge.
Hedwig is watching from a safe distance, and oh god, what a sight to see.
Their short little legs run as fast as they can take them. Spells are shot out left and right, the elves not needing wands.
No one here is given mercy. Have a body? A target that needs to be pierced.
Not only are the Aurors going toe-to-toe with the angry and vengeful house elves, but the Death Eaters have been caught up in the mix as well.
A Death Eater goes to carry the toddler body away, but Kreacher hops onto the man and bites down hard. The man is Lucius Malfoy.
Voldemort gets tossed and his body rolls away.
Kreacher has officially lost it.
Was it the years of abuse? Did he truly form a bond with Dobby? Or perhaps, maybe this has been his true form all along.
(Voldemort spent months planning for his true resurrection. He had it all planned nicely. After he defeats both the Minister and Dumbledore, safely keeping his magic, he would put an end to this once and for all.
His followers were ready. The Wizarding World would be his!
He will not let a couple of lower beings get in his way!)
Whilst the chaos ongoes, Voldemort crawls into the bushes on his toddler hands and knees, putting a hand to his forearm and calling up Barty.
After a couple of seconds, Barty appears, no longer looking like Moody. He bends down to one knee dramatically, the glow of a fanboy in his eyes.
“My lord.”
Voldemort rasps when he speaks, an odd sight for… whatever he is.
“Now. We must do it now!”
Barty looks shocked. He looks around before ducking down closer to his Lord. “Right here?”
Voldemort nods gravely, his deformed child head slightly lopsided from being thrown around.
Voldemort, ever the cunning strategist who just refuses to die out of pure spite, had been devising a plan all year. His glorious self would come about once more.
Barty Crouch Jr. had been the ideal henchman, someone who he had successfully and with ease coerced in the past.
Barty got to work on getting out the ingredients. He had no choice but to conjure a cauldron of his own.
However, there was a huge difference this time, much unlike what Crystal had once watched but barely remembered.
Harry Potter was missing.
In fact, Harry hadn’t even been targeted this year.
Voldemort, the deviant fool, had made some adjustments, a different target in mind.
Who better than the immortal bird with the power of a Philosophers Stone?
Hedwig watched with bewilderment from above as both men grumbled and rumbled, Barty taking out a bag of… bird poop?
Holy Spirits above. That was hers. They’ve been harvesting her bird shit.
(When this plan formed, Voldemort simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity. He had to bare with the looks from his followers, but he knew it would all be worth it in the end.)
Crouch held up a small vial containing DNA from Hedwig’s excrement in his right hand. In the left hand he held another, stranger looking vial. Voldemort didn’t seem to see the panic build up on Barty’s face.
Within the blink of an eye, a war call could be heard in the distance, vibrations coming closer.
Dobby was leading the pack. What happened to the Aurors?
Voldemort turned to Barty. “Hurry up, you fool! Get it done immediately!”
Barty was sweating. “My… my Lord… uh…”
Desperate, eager, and unwilling to be the target of house elves, Voldemort ripped both vials from Bartys hands and dumped them into the cauldron. The vial of DNA disintegrated into particles of mist. The other one… did not.
It bubbled??
Crouch, with a pained look on his face, dumped Voldemort’s baby body into the cauldron with no caution, water boarding his Lord.
The cauldron started smoking as Voldemort’s body disappeared, only for a huge blinding orange light to take over.
A minute later, he crawled out of the cauldron, light fading.
…
Crouch stared. Hedwig stared.
Dobby who just approached while leading his pack stared.
Looking up with his new body, only now does Voldemort notice Hedwig watching from up above.
They look at each other bird eye to bird eye. Enhanced eyesight to enhanced eyesight. They both grimace and look away.
(Why is Dumbledore now conscious and wearing a shirt that says “I am with the elves”?)
Voldemort stood up slowly, running a finger through the trickle of blood streaming from his forehead. His gaze edged around and met Dobbys, an icicle shooting straight through the elf’s chest. Dobby shivered but did not waver.
Beak from X Man stared back.
Hedwig is traumatized.
Eyes too big, white owl feathers sticking up around his bald head, unnaturally long fingers and toes, a gigantic ass nose that puts Snape to shame.
Oh god, is that a small beak?
With the wave of his hand, Voldemort gave a silent order to his Death Eaters through the mark, them swiftly rushing to his side.
There they both stood, a new faction officially joining the game.
Eye to eye, Voldemort moves first. In uneven formation and all with unhealthy mindsets, the Death Eaters move forward, wild spells firing.
With one step walking forward, he… trips.
Voldemort tripped.
In a battle zone.
The spirits of the Death Eaters are automatically waned, terror filling them.
Taking one glance back at the house elves ready to ravage them and burn their bodies at the stake, it is now everyman for himself.
In the chaos, Voldemort crawls away once more.
(Once he’s at a safe distance, he presses a hand to his mark, demanding Snape to come. There is no reply.)
(Snape is busy feeling the high of one-hundred anxiety pills.)
(Who drugged Severus Snape?)
Hedwig watched as the house elf cult stormed past, the Minister being tied up like a wild hog.
She wondered where they were off to.
Completely forgotten in the midst is the cup. Hedwig picks it up. Nothing happens.
Oh well, she supposes.
——
Harry and Hermione are exploring ancient ruins in Egypt.
Completely and utterly lost.