Fidelius - a tale of pig-headedness 3: The Coming of The Angel of Death

by Polydicta

Once more, Harry Potter is called upon to save British Wizarding society - this time from a Minister for Magic who simply won't change his mind. Warning for Biblical Plagues and nasty death.

Disclaimer:

All fiction is derivative and fan fiction doubly so. I make no claim to own any part of any of the following, all I have done is an attempt to put together the elements in a novel fashion, using words and ideas like Lego ™ bricks.

There is no money involved – all I do is to share what I do for my own amusement.

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Fidelius - a tale of pig-headedness 3: The Coming of The Angel of Death

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The Prophet had re-run the story about the prophesy with each of the plagues, showing clearly how each plague had been foretold. This time, there was a note of panic in the article, suggesting that should things continue as they were, then the next plague would be a plague of death.

When Harry modified the charm in order to make British Magicals forget they could taste and smell more than a hint of anything a week later, there was a mass outpouring of vocal panic.

A further week saw hearing being muted by the same method, and The Prophet was loud in its commentary that the darkness was falling over more than just the loss of daylight. At that time, a further prophesy was publicised.

I saw in the mists the shape of a man wearing a bowler hat, and his foot was on the neck of a ram that lay at his feet.

A shadowed figure carrying a blazing sword spoke to him, "will you relent in your path, Minister?"

And the minister said, "I will it not."

At that, the mists drew back and there was a field full of rams, each had a figure stood in plum silk robes over it, and each held down by that figure's foot.

The figure spoke again, "and will you relent in your path, Minister?"

And the minister said, "I will it not."

The mists drew further back, revealing the ewes and their lambs, and each ewe had a figure stood with a foot on its neck, and these figures were in peacock robes, each with a wand drawn and aimed at the lambs. Many of those figures had a black robed figure behind it with wand threatening the peacock robed figure.

Once more the figure spoke, "and will you relent in your path, Minister?"

And the minister said, "I will it not."

"Is it by your will that these innocents die at the hands and feet of those you control?"

The minister replied, "I care not."

The mists cleared and I could see a sea of red-robed figures facing outward and ready to wage war on the rams and ewes and lambs in the next field. Many of those in red robes were also threatened by black robed figures.

"Is it by your will that those innocents beyond the borders shall die at your command?"

Once more the minister replied, "I care not."

"So be it," quoth the shadowed figure, "by your will each shall be dealt according to his heart."

The figure swung his blazing sword, and the blade passed through the multitude, and those in black and those unthreatened in peacock robes and red were felled.

Once more the figure spoke, "and will you relent in your path, Minister?"

And the minister said, "I will it not."

Again, the figure swung his blazing sword, and the blade passed through the multitude, and those in plum were felled.

Once more the figure spoke, "and will you relent in your path, Minister?"

And the minister said, "I will it not."

"Then by your will shall you also be dealt."

The figure swung his flaming brand, and the minister cried, "I will it not."

Thrice the sword smote the minister, and his cry was the same, but the third stroke had hurt him most sorely, and he sank to the ground.

As he lay, he cried, "I will it not!" and there rose up from his wounds a foul fume which took on the semblance of a foul face, and it cried, "I will it not"

The figure swung the sword once more, and the cloud was split in twain, and its miasma dissipated.

Harry, once more visited the Ministry, but this time, his words to the Minister were, "Will you relent your path, Emannuel Cracknell?"

The Minister's shock at the words were visible in the way he stiffened, but he declined to comment.

"Are you so determined to wage your war on the entirity of the magical world?"

"I so will it," was the quiet response.

"So be it, then death is your choice."

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That night, it was with a heavy heart that Harry, without anyone present but for Hermione cast a further fidelius-curse: "those who willingly and knowingly follow the Wizengamot's and the current minister for magic's oppressive orders know how to breathe."

The next day, The Prophet ran an article on the advent of The Plague of Death, saying how a number of aurors and hit wizards had died in their sometime overnight, and that a number of other wizards and witches had done likewise. They noted that each wore an expression of utter terror, and had died clawing at their throats. All had blue lips and bloodshot eyes.

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Harry's visit to the Ministry saw haunted eyes and terrified faces throughout. His visit to the Minister was only slightly changed.

Again, his words to the Minister were, "Will you relent your path, Emannuel Cracknell?"

This time, after the minister gave no reply, Harry asked, "do you repent the deaths that are upon your head?"

The minister looked up and simply replied, "I care not one whit for those sheep."

"So upon your head be it."

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Midnight saw a guilt-ridden Harry once more casting the fidelius-curse, "those of The Wizengamot who willingly and knowingly follow the current minister for magic's oppressive orders know how to breathe."

The Prophet's next headline was assured. "The Plague of Death continues - 128 dead of 196 sitting members of the Wizengamot died in agony and terror."

Hermione noted that the majority of the deceased were from families that had members who had been Death Eaters during Voldemort's reign of terror.

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The eyes of the Ministry personnel seemed to contain something akin to hope and relief.

Harry once more demanded of the Minister, "Will you relent your path, Emannuel Cracknell?"

Again, after the minister gave no reply, Harry asked, "do you repent the deaths that are upon your head?"

The minister looked up and simply replied, "They were damned the moment they acceded to my demand."

"So upon your head be it."

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Moving to an empty office, Harry got out his map, and cast the fidelius again, "The Minister for Magic, Emannuel Cracknell knows how to breathe."

Returning to the Minister's office, the man was choking, already blue around the lips, but seemingly composed.

"Will you relent your path, Emannuel Cracknell?"

The man shook his head and mouthed a foul epithet at Harry.

Returning to the office Harry again cast his curse, "The Minister for Magic, Emannuel Cracknell has a heart that can beat and a body that can is under his control."

This time, the Minister was twitching, already dead but still moving … and aware.

"Will you relent your path, Emannuel Cracknell?"

The man shook his head and mouthed a foul epithet at Harry.

Returning to the office Harry again cast his curse, "The Minister for Magic, Emannuel Cracknell has a brain that can contain his thoughts and being."

Upon returning, Harry saw that the Minister was just about to expire completely, and as the light left his eyes, a familiar apparition arose from his mouth, a smoky form that became the face of Lord Voldemort.

"I don't know who you are, but I will destroy you …" it hissed.

Harry cast his final abuse of the fidelius curse then and there, he had reached the point where he could cast the curse silently, and this time took next to no magical power.

"Arcanum est: Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Vodemort, knows how to survive death. Occultatum eam. Hoc sacramentum participes omnes non poterunt. Fidelis!"

The smoke dissipated with a small pop.

By the time that Harry returned home, the curses, all but the final one, had been dispelled.

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"What is it Harry?"

Hermione could see the look of utter horror on her friend's face. He looked at her.

"We missed one, 'Mione. He was back and this time it was personal."

"Back? V ... Voldemort?"

"He's gone again. This time, I truly believe that he's gone forever. I hope."

That night, Hermione cast her own fidelius: "Harry Potter was the Hand of Prophesy that took so many lives under the ministry of Emannuel Cracknell." It took all of her strength, but there was no way that her friend would ever know what he did. It was the least she could do to repay his saving her … again.

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