A Brave New World (Harry Potter/OC)

Nitramy

The Umbrella that Smites Evil
Bits and pieces from my "Time Traveling Dark Lord" collection. I plan to expand this into a full-blown story, but it will be slow going. Also a lot of these snippets are not chronologically sorted.

Synopsis: Ideas may be bulletproof, but wizards can alter reality.

***

It was neither the look of despotic triumph that he saw in Hermione Granger's eyes, nor the shattered look of betrayal that splayed all over the Weasley extended family; it was something else entirely that finally sent John Doe, muggleborn Hogwarts alumni, down the road to becoming the Dark Lord Deathbringer, the Wizarding World's most infamous mass murderer.

It was the apathy.

The Aurors physically dragging Francois and Apolline Delacour away, amid their protests; the Wizengamot audience looking up with a poisonous mix of adoration and apathy towards Britain's newest Minister; and in a few moments, the press would come barging in, with their cameras and smartphones and quick-quotes quills.

It was at this moment that nobody gave a shit about the recently departed Gabrielle Delacour.

He stood up, the face of Hermione Granger burned into his memory, and swept away from the Ministry chambers, windows cracking in his wake as he focused on putting one foot ahead of the other so as not to unleash his rage too early.

***

"...and they chalked it up as a biological weapon malfunctioning," John said. "Which to be fair, it kind of was. I thought I'd only get rid of their killers and rapists and bigots, but as the body count started piling up, the more they believed in killing and raping and hating." He sighed. "Who knew I earned my infamy because I did not take human nature into account?"

***

"You're not going to defend yourself?"

"No," I replied. "But for heaven's sake, Harry. Cast me into the Veil as soon as you can. I don't care how many loopholes you have to go through, just do it."

"Most Dark Lords would battle to keep themselves alive."

"True," I say. "But remaining here is just as bad. You feel it, don't you? With the cloak. And the stone always ends up in your pocket when you think about it. They know. And they're goading you to go after me, because they want ME to be the Master."

Harry Potter froze. The stone was inside his pocket again.

"I'm no Master of Death. That's you. I'm just a lowly Dark Bringer of Death Lord, or whatever that is. They don't care about that. They're drawn to me... throwing me through the Veil will sever that bond."

"I'll take this up with the head..."

"You're wasting time, Harry," I insisted, "time I don't have. I can already hear them. They want me to duel you and win."

***

(The whole thing about Tom being led down the path of darkness by a professor who was envious of Dumbledore isn't meant to exonerate Tom for his deeds, only that the game was rigged towards turning him into a Dark Lord from the very beginning -- and Dumbledore doesn't know this, until John confronts him with it near the end of the 6th book. They both figure it out, and Albus goes to his death with a clearer heart, knowing that he really did do everything possible to redeem Tom back in Hogwarts.)

So I've collated some of my ideas and came up with this: protag gathers clues that lead to the conclusion that after Tom made his first Horcrux, somebody cast a spell on him that railroaded his destiny into becoming a Dark Lord (and this spell only works on those who have fractured their soul). After discovering more clues, the protag comes to the conclusion that it was Albus Dumbledore who did it. The night before Dumbledore dies, the protag (thanks to his prior knowledge) confronts the headmaster, but as he explains this, he realizes one crucial mistake:

Albus Dumbledore didn't cast that spell. Someone else did.

And the scariest thing of all is that Professor Dumbledore thanks the protag for his deduction, for he now knows that for all of his efforts to keep Tom from the dark, he would ultimately fail. He thus goes to his death with one of his life's regrets addressed, and the protag (who previously thought Dumbledore to be a bit of a schemer) revises his opinion on the old wizard.

Story (arc) ends when he looks into the power struggle that led to Dumbledore being the front runner for headmaster... and the protag discovers the wizard who actually cast the spell.

It kind of turns the standard fanon Dumbledore tropes on its side a bit.

***
 
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Nitramy

The Umbrella that Smites Evil
***

Harry Potter -- only found out much later in life that his classmate John Doe was both the Dark Lord Carnifex and friends with Voldemort. After finding out the full story from Doe, he took the Dark Lord's advice and lived a long and fruitful life. Despite his ascent from professional Seeker to Auror to Minister of Magic, it would take him years to understand the friendship between two Dark Lords -- or why Doe never took out his disagreements with Potter on his children.

Ronald Weasley -- became a Quidditch lifer for the Chudley Cannons. After John Doe showed him a certain muggle game, Ron incorporated it into the Cannons, who upon his rise to coach, rattled off 5 Quidditch World Cup championships in 20 years. Quidditch teams everywhere would call the way the Chudley Cannons play as "the beautiful game", thanks to Ron's coaching.

Ginny Weasley-Potter -- during and after a productive career with the Holyhead Harpies, settled down with Harry Potter. Returned to the Quidditch pitch after her children were old enough as a coach, and the rivalry between her and her brother became the stuff of legend.

Neville Longbottom -- despite a rocky start as Lord Longbottom, he eventually reversed his fortunes to serve as a moderating influence on the Wizengamot. Given that he often takes advice from John Doe, the rumors that John Doe is running the majority bloc of the Wizengamot through Neville never really ended, despite all his own legislative achievements.

Luna Lovegood -- became an Unspeakable after graduating, spending most of her time searching for Phantasmal Beasts and cataloging them in the Quibbler. Rolf Scamander considers her the second coming of Newton Scamander, his grandfather, due to her amazing affinity to various magical creatures.

Draco Malfoy -- managed to bring his family's fortune around due to some sound investment advice from John Doe. Despite his lowered status due to being a former Death Eater, he worked tirelessly towards healing the wounds wrought by the second rise of Voldemort.

Pansy Parkinson -- coming face to face with a Dark Lord of her age gave her the scare she needed to take a good, long look at herself. At the moment where she was supposed to sell Harry Potter out... she held her tongue. Despite withdrawing with the other Slytherins in the Battle of Hogwarts, she was forced to fight Death Eaters to protect her underclassmen. After Voldemort's defeat, she assisted Draco Malfoy in repairing many things that were ruined by Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and they were subsequently married.

Marietta Edgecombe -- got over her blind faith in the Ministry and assisted in the Battle of Hogwarts, where she fought admirably. Though she ended up in a clerical job in the Ministry, she was appointed as Cho Chang's secretary when Ms. Chang was appointed as magical ambassador to the Far East. She never did tell Hermione how the curse on her was broken.

Astoria Greengrass -- to her family's initial chagrin, she found herself seeing John Doe on various official and unofficial functions. It is only after his impassioned speeches condemning radicalism from both pureblood and muggleborn factions that the Greengrass family gives Astoria their blessing. Though the two did not marry immediately due to John's duties and care for his goddaughter, they inevitably tied the knot when Delphi finished her studies at Hogwarts.

John "Carnifex" Doe -- after his stint in Hogwarts, remained there, working as a student assistant to provide for his goddaughter Delphinium while continuing his studies. After acquiring his bachelor -- and later Master's -- degree in education, became a member of the Hogwarts faculty, teaching Wizarding Customs and Muggle Studies admirably, hosting a Wizarding radio show (and later podcast) under the alias "Gilgamesh of Uruk", and holding teaching seminars and workshops during the summertime. Despite being a mere professor, he still wields considerable political influence, most of it towards "ensuring well-meaning idiots don't rampage through wizarding society and culture like a bull in a china shop". Despite this, he still maintains high esteem with the muggleborn and half-blood contingent because of his second-most famous speech: "Pureblood Supremacy is Killing Our Society", and galvanized witches and wizards from both pureblood supremacists and muggleborn progressives to start a coalition bloc that later became the classical liberal moderate majority that still rules the Wizengamot to this day. Is married to Astoria Greengrass, who also conducts research on wizarding customs and culture on her husband's behalf. He never did get the duel with Hermione Granger that he had wanted for so long.

Delphinium B. Riddle -- apprenticed under Poppy Pomfrey during her fifth to seventh years in Hogwarts, and became the school's Healer when Poppy finally retired. Those who remember the rise of Voldemort find it truly ironic that the child of two Dark Wizards is spending her life healing injuries rather than causing it. Has a more productive pastime of setting up her godfather with various witches, because she thinks he works too hard and needs some female company in his life, ultimately succeeding with Astoria Greengrass. She eventually became the Headmistress of Hogwarts, the greatest of ironies and the Dark Lord Carnifex and Voldemort's greatest prank on the Wizarding World.

Gabrielle Delacour -- lived a long and healthy life. Also worked as Beauxbatons faculty for a time. Has never figured out that John Doe's interest in her isn't romantic; she still sends him letters from time to time.

Viktor Krum -- became Durmstrang's youngest headmaster. His educational reforms were so similar to Doe's teaching philosophy, that rumors that Doe actually gave him the manual persist to this day.

Cedric Diggory -- after Hogwarts, spent some time as the steward of his family's estate because of his near-death experience. He became a Hollywood celebrity after being found by a photographer on the street. Is juggling life as a celebrity and Wizengamot moderate with some difficulty.

Hermione Granger-Weasley -- after Voldemort's reign of terror, she led the progressive bloc in the Wizengamot. Despite her early political victories in crafting new fiscal policies for Wizarding Britain, she was soundly and decisively defeated when she attempted to legislate radical cultural change, thanks to John Doe's most famous Wizengamot speech, titled "Our World is Fragile". She continues to lead the (gradually weakening) progressive bloc, hoping for an opportunity to bring down the more moderate Wizengamot majority, currently led by Neville Longbottom. Her radical progressivism and constant (and not entirely unfounded) allegations against Doe for orchestrating certain global events that broke the progressive bubble have many wizards calling her "the Alex Jones of the Wizarding world".

And no, Cursed Child doesn't happen. Because the circumstances causing it have been cut off completely.

Excerpts from "Our World is Fragile":

-- esteemed gentlemen and ladies of the Wizengamot, I wholeheartedly agree that we must move towards the future. But we must not be dragged forward by the headstrong, nor should we fall behind by moving too slowly. We have to move at a pace we set, a pace that allows us to retain who we are.

We have all dreamed of a wizarding society that is unified, modernized, and independent: with magic and technology working hand in hand. But should we risk losing who we are or where we came from -- the triumphs and tragedies, successes and failures -- by moving haphazardly into the future?

All of us have a voice. We should not be afraid to speak. Even if we may be branded with a mark of shame, or assailed by insults.

Our world is changing.

Our world is fragile.

To understand that fact means that the stewardship of our civilization lies in the hands of every witch and wizard in our community, those who have had the good fortune to choose a good womb to emerge from, and those who have not had that fortune. To wield a wand and know how to use magic means that all our actions have consequences; whether it be our rise or fall.

That is why I, with the sponsorship of Lord Longbottom, propose that wizarding customs and culture along with muggle studies be made as compulsory classes for all magical schools in Wizarding Britain, with a constantly-evolving curriculum that will teach all aspiring witches and wizards how to think -- not what to think! With the power we wield, it is all too easy for our world to be snuffed out, and it is our duty to our sons and daughters to have a wizarding culture and community to grow up in!

I agree with Madame Granger in the sense that wizarding culture does have room to improvement. But let us not, shall we say, proceed blindly, and erase large swaths of our tradition because someone took offense! It would be just as absurd if my right to rule over this assembly was based on if I could pull a sword from a hat!

The solution I propose is thus a means with which we retain who we are, and take more nuanced steps towards the future. We cannot afford to be rash, and we cannot afford to be afraid.

Excerpts from "Pureblood Supremacy is Killing Our Society":

-- magic does not choose based on which womb you emerge from! To have a stranglehold above all others based on this fact alone is a creeping ailment that is slowly, but surely, killing off our society. The mediocrity of nepotism, the blatant disregard for merit, the entitlement and privilege -- these are all aches and pains that we suffer, and for what reason or purpose?

***

-- to see a hemorrhaging of talent, magical talent, because opportunities are given only to those of pure blood is an affront to magic itself! This policy only results in stagnation, corruption, and revolution! You have all seen the coup Madame Granger pulled off, and you still remain blind to the idea that magic does not solely reside in the blood! There may still be several thousand lights hovering outside Diagon Alley, for all we know!

***

-- if we are to rise above this as a single community, we have to bring our muggleborn and half-blood fellows into the fold. Which is why I will throw in my support for Lord Longbottom's proposal to amend the Wizarding Ancestry act, allowing all wizards, regardless of their birth origins, to begin their own wizarding lines!
 
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Nitramy

The Umbrella that Smites Evil
***

It was the moment he had been waiting for, nearly all year long: to finally face the biggest object of his hatred on the dueling pitch.

John Doe strode with purpose onto the dueling arena, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles as he stopped, bowing to let his opponent on first.

His burning gray eyes met those of his scheduled opponent, and he was just chafing at the bit for the referee to say "go", and he'd be all over this witch like white on rice.

Harry Potter was the referee for this destined match.

"Stances."

Orthodox stance for her.

Hirazuki for him.

Every student was wary.

His battle readiness was at the level where a visible haze of magic was seen emanating from him by everyone in the Room of Requirement.

"Ready."

Three.

Two.

"It's the Inquisitors, they've found us!"

John's magical aura petered out a bit before it was renewed with a tinge of bitter disappointment, and later, hostility.

After taking a moment to bite back from shouting an expletive, he turned to his would-be opponent and clicked his tongue.

"Next time," he gritted out, before shifting his attention to the ringleader of this Defense Association. "Evacuate your fellows. I will hold them off."

"Are you sure about this, John?"

"Positive. Someone needs to Leonidas the fuck out of your army; I just happened to draw the short straw. Now go."

"Good luck," Harry said before turning away and ushering the other students to the alternate exit.

"They'll need it, not me," John Doe said to Harry's retreating back, and when he shifted to the source of the intrusion, the students of the Hogwarts Inquisitor Squad was standing around and facing him.

"Well, well, well," Draco Malfoy said as he strutted forward. "Turns out the wannabe who thinks he's too big for his britches is in cahoots with Potter."

"You've overstepped your bounds one too many times," John observed. "And in your excitement, you seem to have gone ahead of that fake-ass toad bitch."

"You don't talk about Professor Umbridge that way!" a female voice shouted from the back.

"On the contrary," John replied, rolling his shoulders with a crack that echoed across the Room of Requirement. "The only ones in this room are me and the eight of you. And the Room of Requirement has no ears with which to hear -- which means I get free reign to talk as much smack about that authoritarian amphibian as I want."

"There are eight of us here," Montague said, "and only one of you. What can you do when you're trapped in here with us?"

The magical haze surrounding John returned in force, and a smile that Draco could swear was similar to that of Lord Voldemort graced his lips as he cracked his knuckles.

"You seem to be mistaken, Montague," Doe replied, his smile growing even more sinister, and the Inquisitorial Squad just starting to realize that something was wrong, but too late to figure out exactly what that was.

"I'm not trapped in here with you. YOU'RE trapped in here with ME," he continued, his voice beginning to take on a manic glee at the chance to face off against eight wizards on his own. "And since you lovely piles of amphibian shit decided to drop in, just when I was about to duel Hermione fucking Granger, I think I'm going to take out my frustrations on the lot of you."

John Doe took up a dueling stance, wand already glowing in anticipation of what would follow.

"Come on, Draco," he taunted, as soon as he saw the Malfoy scion take a step back. "First spell's fucking free."

***

When Umbridge went inside the Room flanked by Argus Filch and that nitwit Edgecombe, they were greeted with a sight of the inquisitorial squad scattered about the room in various states of unconsciousness, with the sole conscious occupant a Ravenclaw mudblood in the middle of the room using his wand as a nail file.

"I was too late," he said. "It was a trap set by Potter and the others. I hid, barely escaped detection and waited for you."

While the two faculty members were in a panic and talking about where to go next, John dragged Marietta by the sleeve and pulled her out of the Room.

"Do you want me to get rid of that?" he asked in a long-suffering tone as soon as he dragged her to a vacant classroom.

She could only nod.

"Brace yourself, this is going to hurt like no one's business."

She braced.

And then something powerful came flying to her face, sending her crashing to the floor in a heap.

"What was that all about, John -- wait, I can talk?" She transfigured a chair to a mirror, and gasped. The spells cast on her were gone, except for a hand print on her cheek. "Thanks! But... why did you have to slap me?"

"Ancient spell," John answered, "slapping the stupid out of someone is one of those spells learned by despots to keep their minions in line. The stupider you are, the more it hurts. Now come on, I've already created an alibi so they'll think I'm the mole, not you."

As they were walking back to the Ravenclaw common room, Marietta was struck with the need to ask the question.

"How did you know the way to undo Granger's spell on me?"

John snorted.

"It's personal," he replied with such deep-seated hostility that Marietta did not dare say anything further as he answered the riddle and they entered the Ravenclaw common room.

(And because I never signed the contract in the first place. Harry just brought me on because of that time back in second year where I ran roughshod over the Dueling Club, and in fourth year where I whipped his ass in shape for the third task.)

***

Note: His name really is John Doe. And the reason he's willing to help Harry in some parts is because he'll do something to remove opportunities for him to gain strength in others (i.e. dueling club, third task). He also fucked up the Inquisitorial Squadron because if there's someone else he hates more than Hermione Granger, it's Dolores Umbridge and her goons.

And yes, John DOES lethally defeat Umbridge in Year 7.

"If you rate publicly humiliating Granger as 100, how did killing Umbridge rate for you?" Del asked.

"An easy 98," John said with a wide smile on his face.

***

TTDL snippet inspired by Limpieza de Sangre.

***

"This place makes Knockturn Alley look like the bloody Vatican," Tom grumbled as we were walking down the street. "Total shithole. What did you say this place was, again?"

"The inner city of Chicago, Illinois," I answer as we turn the corner towards a nearby convenience store. "It's also where I go to when I need perspective."

"The only thing you'll find in here are addicts and thugs," Voldemort replied as we weaved through the store's lanes, where I picked up a six-pack of beer, two bags of chips, and what the natives called a "forty". "Addicts, thugs, death, despair... what kind of Dark Lord are you that you can find what you call 'perspective' here?"

After I paid for the stuff, I laughed, because he made air quotes and aped my voice when he said 'perspective'. "You'll see. Come on."

Barely two minutes had passed since our departure, the convenience store was held up.

We apparated to the rooftop of a nearby building and saw it happen while we were having the beer.

"Still don't see it," Tom said.

I shrug.

"This is a muggle city. Of course you won't see it. This is hell. And how good intentions drove this city into the abyss."

Tom remained silent.

"I go here every so often, so I can see firsthand despair and nihilism eating away at romance, rationalism and humanity," I continue. "When you don't have anything worth living for or aspiring to, and the only thing you're working towards is surviving day by day, all hope choked away by despair, it's when the animal man overshadows the rational man."

"This is where magical civilization will end up if the mudbloods take over," Tom said.

"Rightfully so."

"You're not fighting a person, are you John? You're fighting an idea. You've been fighting ever since you finished Hogwarts. Those spells, those rituals, that research..."

Tom shook his head.

"You really are a time traveler. I never would have guessed."

I open the bottle of liquor and pour down a portion of it before filling two cups, since the beer was already consumed.

"Yep," I reply. "And I'm here because if I fuck this up again, this is still where wizardkind is going to end up being. In the shitter."

"That's why you run through everything with a fine tooth comb," Tom says softly, red eyes glowing with acknowledgment.

The liquor was finished in an oppressive silence.

***

My eyes opened up to see the new Defense teacher saunter up and give a speech.

"That's bizarre," I say. "Totally unexpected."

"What is?" Cho Chang asks me.

"I was expecting Umbridge to show up wearing hoop earrings and plaid. Turns out my eyes were playing tricks on me again," I say, eliciting a chuckle from the Muggleborn contingent seated to my other side.

For all of my Dark Lord-ness, there was one person I loathed more than Hermione Granger, and that was Dolores Umbridge.

But since this is my second time on this rodeo, I suppose I should bring my skills to appropriate use and turn her tenure here into something straight out of Silent Hill -- if that won't scare her straight, nothing will.
 

Nitramy

The Umbrella that Smites Evil
***

I remember the first time I made a Dark Lord recoil in disgust when they view my memories.

Tom was the first.

He reacted the same way someone who split his soul seven times would... but there was still a reaction.

This person, though, he took the full brunt of the horror I endured... and the horror I unleashed in retaliation.

Gellert Grindelwald looked like he was hit with the Cruciatus when he finally withdrew from the pensieve memory. He took hesitant steps back, teetered, and dashed for the toilet, where he quickly emptied his stomach of its contents.

When he was finished, I was still there, the cell door turned into a glass panel so I could read his body language.

(The protections on the door remained -- it was but one of the features this prison had.)

He looked up to me, pulled up the chair, and sat down.

"What sort of..."

"The future. My future. The future I'm fighting to keep from coming to fruition," I reply. "If you want to help avert this crisis, tell me: do you know anything about magic that places people's destinies on rails?"

Gellert's eyes widened.

"Magic like that requires power. Way more power than the average wizard can employ," he explained. "The only way you would be able to completely plot out someone's destiny if the target's soul was..."

I raised an eyebrow and Gellert gasped.

"...even half a soul. Yes. Half a soul. Riddle never bothered to look into why horcruxes had their own limitations. If he had done it back when he was studying, then that would mean..."

He paled.

"Morgana's bosom, Albus..." he whispered. "What did you do?"

I gave him enough time to reorient himself.

"I did my research, Mr. Grindelwald," I explain. "Inert phylacteries are a beacon where a soul can evacuate to should the body become damaged. A horcrux is sentient, because the half of the soul torn off eventually gains its own consciousness. A phylactery is weak, but does not require sundering the soul. Seven times... he would have been dragged along by the whims of fate had it not been for my intervention."

"Riddle is your friend?"

I nod.

"But I didn't come here on his behalf, if that's what you're worried about. We're just two dark wizards talking shop here."

He nods at me. "Talking shop... yes. You want some insight on the spells that bound your friend's destiny."

"Also because I think your friend Albus also wanted to tie up your loose end based on that destiny-based spell. It's only common courtesy that I warn you."

He slumped back onto his seat.

"Everything a man could accomplish in life, I have done. There is nothing left for me but the next great adventure," Grindelwald admitted.

"Which brings me to my question. What kind of magic would alter someone's destiny?"

"The magic to alter destiny? It was lost. The age of Mesopotamia, the age of the Gods, that was where you could breathe the magic in the air," the older wizard began. "Sadly, as the age of the gods passed and the age of men began, the magic slowly lost its potency. And when the land of Palestine was invaded... the magic was lost. All traces of it... destroyed."

"But Albus was able to use it. I've seen its effects. Tom's being railroaded to do things, and he's had days where he wakes up and has absolutely no knowledge of what he does. What destroyed the magic of the age of the gods?"

Gellert whispered.

"Zealotry."

It was at that moment that I realize how Dumbledore did it.

A moment of silence passed between us two Dark Lords until Grindelwald broke it.

"Can you please humor this old man?"

I smiled. "Anything that's not calculus, money, heavy lifting, or me aiding your escape from here."

Gellert laughed.

"Oh no, that is not what I ask for. Tell me, how was the trip through the Veil?"

I could feel the blood rush away from my face.

"...so you know."

"Yes... I do," Gellert answered. "Your visions are of the future. And a magical world destroyed because..."

"...don't say it, Mr. Grindelwald. I can still feel the taboo on the words. Tom and I are going to hunt down the source of the taboo and destroy it [note 1]."

"I see... I must say, for a mudblood, you do have a heart bleeding for the world of magic."

I snorted. "Yep. I couldn't give half an ounce of deep fried shit over pureblood politics, but neither do I want some bleeding heart morons burn down the wizarding world because of their 'socially conscious' utopian bullshit."

The older Dark Lord smiles at me.

"For someone who will only meet me once, you sure have made an impact..."

"Carnifex. The Dark Lord Carnifex," I say as I stand up and give him a lazy salute. "Thanks for the talk, Mr. Grindelwald. You can be assured that I will do everything in my power to make sure the future you saw will change for the better."

I transfigure the cell door back to normal, put my robes back on with a flourish, and leave the wizarding prison.

Next stop: Tom and I are heading to the lair of the Dark Lord Globus.

It's time we finish this before that bastard spreads his poison all over the world.

***

***

It was some time during sixth year when the study was completed, and I was called up to the Headmaster's office to serve my detention: dusting the office with a paintbrush.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't get the detention on purpose, because I wanted to be there when the metaphorical nuke got dropped.

Sure enough, ten minutes in, the Headmaster entered, his eyes twinkling as he was carrying a few magazines and periodicals. Fawkes disembarked from his shoulder and flew onto his perch, gave me a disdainful look, and promptly took a nap.

Fifteen minutes into the Headmaster's reading, I could see the exact moment his eyes widened like dinner plates, and he rushed to call Professor Snape to his office.

As soon as he walked in, I heard bits and pieces of the conversation.

"Read this, Severus," Dumbledore said, pointing to a medical abstract, and it took two minutes for Snape's face to pale.

I barely prevented myself from laughing and continued brushing one of the dustier portrait frames.

A past headmaster saw my chuckles and moved to me, though.

"What's so funny?"

"It's nothing," I whisper back. "Just found a good use for a weird spell is all."

And then the punchline came.

"'Because the creator of this spell wishes to remain anonymous, all proceeds from the use of this spell will be forwarded to a trust?' What is this?" Snape asked, completely confused over what has just transpired.

"This was your spell, Severus," the Headmaster explained. "wasn't it?"

The Defense professor sank into his seat.

"Yes, but... I never expected it to be used that way."

Dumbledore clapped Snape on the shoulder.

"Then you should have nothing to worry about -- your legacy is all but assured. Who would have thought that the curse you invented would find use as a healer's surgical tool?"

For some odd reason, I could feel that Snape was going to blame Harry Potter for this.

I was sorely tempted to shout "You thought the man who made Sectumsempra a way to sever cancerous tumors was Potter, BUT IT WAS ME, JOHN DOE!" but I clamped down on that thought faster than a newlywed bride on her first night.

Snape and Dumbledore gave me an odd look while I returned to my dusting.

***

tl;dr: The "Dark Lord" anonymously suggests using Sectumsempra as a spell to slice away tumors, it works better than expected, and Snape ends up mysteriously getting the credit.

***

"You never told me why you styled yourself a Dark Lord. Heck, John -- you have two Muggleborn parents!"

"It's because the difference between a muggleborn and a mudblood is so easy to determine that if you went by that ruling during your first reign of terror, next to no one would stop you," John said. "But that's not important here. You really want to know?"

Tom Riddle nodded.

"I turned the entire stock of a rapist's seminal fluid into sulfuric acid, with one spell."

Even the Dark Lord Voldemort had to wince after hearing that.

"And this was in prison?"

John Doe nodded.

"Their merry little group of deviants didn't bother me much after that. Turns out that according to them, if you get your privates nuked here, they'll stay nuked when they end up in Heaven or some shit."

"That's fucked up."

"Yeah, but I ended up cursing them with the same spell before I left."

Voldemort shook his head.

"I was wrong about you -- you really ARE a Dark Lord."

Excerpts from John "Carnifex" Doe's Rules For Successful Dark Lords:

  • Theatricality is two-thirds of the process. To be a Dark Lord, you have to be more of a stage magician than a Hogwarts alumnus.
  • You have to be petty as fuck in one aspect. It helps make others believe that you really are as dark and as evil as you present yourself as.
  • Unforgivables aside (though because of the Ministry, more in-depth study of these curses have never been done), it is less about the spell and more about how you use it. I placed a Placidus Charm on an object, and the result freaked out the Ministry so much the Minster's hair became white overnight -- I consider that one of the highlights of my Dark Lord career.
  • Accept the fact that everything you do will never be taken as good. The sooner you do this, the more you will be able to act according to what needs to be done, whether it be good or evil.
  • Your reign of terror has to be legendary. If you want to be a Dark Lord, don't hide in the shadows. Be visible. Become a legend.
  • If you want something done correctly, do it yourself. Followers and minions are only mostly good as meat shields or lookouts.
  • Never, ever, EVER stick it in crazy.
***

Once upon a time, I thought that closing my eyes to see Gabrielle Delacour's glassy, dead ones staring right back at me was the worst thing that a filthy mudblood wizard like me would ever get to see.

But that was during the first trip around this merry-go-round.

For some reason or another, I earned another go on this ride from hell.

As it turns out, seeing the modern boogeyman of the Wizarding World shudder, vomit and collapse in sheer unadulterated disgust after subjecting me to a legilimency probe is pretty damn close.

***

Rosmerta was quick to the scene -- cleaning up the mess, giving "Quirrell" some hot tea to compose himself, massaging his back to keep the shudders away -- and once she saw he was good enough to sit up straight, she returned to her spot at the bar, with next to no one the wiser on what just transpired.

Tom could only ask me one question.

"How?"

"It's not my first time here," I replied, "thank the Veil."

Tom was a lot of things, but he was also quick to know what was going on. He nodded at me.

"You'll tell me all about those images later?"

"I will."

***

"You want to know the truth, Tom? I made you look. I made you see. I made you care!"

"Did you really have to resort to that sort of manipulation?"

"Because the Wizarding World is its own power. Do I feel like a wanker for doing this to you? Of course. But with or without you, the Wizarding World is sitting on a time bomb. And I'd rather have you on my side defusing that bomb with me. Think: all that knowledge, all that tradition, all the old ways and old magic -- wiped from this world because people say it's dark", I finish, the last word rolling of my mouth like an insult.

"It would be a waste," Tom finally admitted.

"Our world isn't doomed yet, now," I say. "We still have time, Tom. Time to make a difference."

***

"Tell me again why we have to go through all this?"

"Because unicorn blood is seven times more potent when freely given. One of these bad boys filled with this? Will last us long enough until I can get you a homunculus."

"You had better be right about that," Tom said as I uncapped the syringe and let him drink the shiny, silvery liquid.

"Thank you," I tell the unicorn, and stroke its head before it leaves the forest.

***

Homunculus creation is simple.

First, you find a pregnant woman whose hatred has poisoned the soul of her child-to-be.

Next, you exorcise the soul and send it to limbo, lest it linger in this world and become a conceptual entity -- that was the reason Jack the Ripper was extremely elusive, she wasn't just a serial killer, she was one of those conceptual entities made up of a thousand or more unwanted children.

Third, you make a ritual that transfers the soul from location A -- which is the inert form of Quirinus Quirrell, who upon waking up will have his knowledge of the last year be magically replaced with him going on a book tour for his Defense Against the Dark Arts primer -- to location B, which is the soon-to-be-born fetus which now does not have a soul.

Since Tom was dumb enough to make seven horcruxes, the transfer is a lot less difficult than if I was working with a whole soul.

Needless to say, the ritual was a success, and after several aging potions, Tom's now back in fighting shape and is ready to bring the Death Eater party back together.

"I'm going to need your help before you do your whole civic duty, Tom," I say. "I need your assistance on conditionally binding curses to people."

"I'm just the Dark Lord for the job, Johnny. But we'll need to take a year off to do all the required studying to cast the curse successfully. What kind of curses are you talking about?"

"Peace, honesty, and sterility."

"Those aren't curses."

"They will be, after I'm done with them," I reply with a smile.

***

Tom came up with the idea of sneaking into Hogwarts just to mess with the Headmaster.

I thought it was a side effect of the aging potion only getting him up closer to my chronological age (not my actual one).

But here we were, seated at the Ravenclaw table, introducing him as a transfer student named Thomas Crapper ("really?" Tom asked me), and that was when the delegation from Beauxbatons arrived.

"She's beautiful," Tom observed.

"That's her sister, Fleur," I added.

***

"Remind me again why I shouldn't call the Aurors every time you have to pat Gabrielle Delacour's head each time you run into her?" Thomas Crapper asked me. "Honestly, it's disturbing."

"During my first run back here, you broke the first rule when it comes to dating witches: 'never stick it in crazy'."

"You're just jealous because you died a virgin."

"Look, Tom, that had to be the most earth-shattering mind-blowing attain-a-higher-level-of-consciousness thing for you to end up with Bellatrix freaking Lestrange."

"Well, you ARE accurate, John. She IS a freak."

"ARGH!"

***

"It's fine, John. I already knew."

"How soon did you know?"

"Around the time we were reading about those conditionally binding curses."

I couldn't help it. I had to wipe a tear out of the corner of my eye.

"And you couldn't do anything about it. It's a weakness of having that many horcruxes -- your soul is split so many ways, when someone uses a ritual bound to destiny itself..."

"You're fucked. I... I'm sorry, Tom."

"Don't be. It's been fun, John, but I can already feel the curse's compulsion on me. I must tread this path. Destiny wills it."

I can see him walk away, transforming into his full form as the Dark Lord, and I can only wish him godspeed.

***

My victory feels hollow.

And yet, there is still one challenge Tom left me.

I see the basket at my doorstep with a baby in it, and I read the card addressed to me.

"This is the final favor I'll ask of you, to honor our friendship. Make sure she doesn't end on the path of her poor parents."

"I never liked your mudblood arse, but the Dark Lord trusted you... so I will as well. Look after our daughter in our stead."

"T & B"

***

I walk the streets of London with my goddaughter, walking our dogs, when I look to the sky and remember her parents.

"Uncle John, are you still pining over Gabrielle Delacour?"

The name startles me and I turn to the girl.

"What did I say about poking your nose in grown-up matters, Delphi?!"

***

"Tell me about my parents, Uncle John."

"They loved you very much, Del. That's all you need to know about them for now."

***

"And here I thought you were a filthy mudblood, John," the Death Eater said. "Turns out you're just as bad as we are."

"True, true," I say. "I try not to go overboard, though. Oh yeah, good news. The Wizengamot has passed the legislation for registering muggleborn wizards as first of their respective wizarding lines. We're going to be okay."

"Are you insane?" the Death Eater asked.

"No," I reply, before turning away. "Seems you still haven't understood the difference between a muggleborn and a mudblood."

I leave him to his rambling and go to Fenrir Greyback's cell, where he is kept under strict watch by silver golems.

***

"Uncle John, I'm guessing things went well with Astoria's older sister?" Delphi asked me as I hand over the karaoke microphone to her.

"What makes you say that?"

"You only put on The Lonely Island when you're happy. And with that song..."

Delphinium Riddle wagged her pinky finger, and I blushed.

"No teasing your godfather, Del."

She just laughed, and I laughed with her.

***

***

Two Dark Lords were gingerly getting up, bits of masonry clinging to their robes.

One of them spat out a tooth.

"You said this was going to be easy," Voldemort began.

"It was easy back then because I had a shit ton of expendable mooks to throw at his dumb ass while I was charging up this humongous kill shot," Carnifex retorted. "Please tell me you have any other tricks up your sleeve."

"I'm all out. And the curses this bastard's been throwing at us are beginning to sink in."

"He likes doing that. Fucker lives off despair. Haven't found the horcrux yet, Tom?"

"Give me a moment..."

"There!"

The gigantic statue started stomping towards them.

They jumped out of the way as a pair of gigantic red beams came flying towards them... only for both of them to get hit as the beams changed direction mid-flight.

Voldemort and Carnifex fell in a pained heap.

"Here lies the Dark Lord, scourge of Britain, stomped to death by a giant marble statue in motherfucking Ronsperg."

"A Dark Lord does not curse so wantonly," Carnifex quipped as he dragged himself up. "Stop 'sperging out."

Voldemort laughed for a moment before launching into a hacking cough, spewing blood all over the marble floor.

"Looks like this is it, my friend."

"But we're not going to go out without a fight."

The animated marble statue raised its fists to strike.

"NOW!"

Carnifex leaped to the gem on the giant's forehead.

And behind him, Tom Riddle's face, in a rictus of sheer hatred, briefly morphed into that of Lord Voldemort as the tip of his wand glowed a bright green.

"AVADA KEDAVARA!"

But instead of being hit from behind, the curse stopped short at the tip of Carnifex's wand, hovering at its tip like a sickly green ball of light.

The giant saw the other Dark Lord in the air, and only had a moment to see what was going on, before Carnifex swung his wand in several slashing motions, leaving a trail of green light across the giant's head.

An unearthly roar shook Ronsperg Castle as the horcrux was shattered by Voldemort's Killing Curse and Carnifex's Severing Charm: Iaido Variant.

And as the magical backlash of such a powerful horcrux being destroyed rippled through the entire magical world, Carnifex descended, and spun his wand stylishly before blowing it out.

"And so ends the reign of the Dark Lord Globus, way ahead of schedule," Carnifex declared. "As I live and breathe, your utopia will never come to pass."

Voldemort dragged himself over to where his fellow Dark Lord stood.

"Do you really think this will work?"

"I hope so, Tom. The curse of Globus will weaken over time, and people will stop being deluded by him."

Tom raised a finger to the air.

"This magic... I am now beginning to understand why you despise that Granger person so much, John. Her magical signature is a lot similar to his."

"I wouldn't be surprised if they were related," John "Carnifex" Doe replied. "Let's get out of here before the cops and Aurors show up."

***
 

Nitramy

The Umbrella that Smites Evil
The Wizarding World is at the safest and most prosperous it's been for quite a long time.

Even if I have not set foot in it for... the good part of a decade, I still have my sources and ways of finding this out.

They'll never figure out who did it, how he did it, and why he did it, though.

And that's fine with me.

***

I use my membership in the Knights of Walpurgis to its full extent: gaining bodyguards while I put my plans into motion.

"Melissa Smith, maiden name Melissa Fletchley. First-generation wizard, left Hogwarts and settled down into muggle life. Hello, Melissa. My name is... hmm, you can just call me John Doe. And I'm here to ask you for a favor."

"What kind of favor would have you barge in my home in the dead of night and have me meet you in my living room?" she asked.

I smile. She can see it through my hood.

"Do you want to be one of the few who can proudly say they've saved the Wizarding World, Melissa? Because that's what I'm trying to do, here. We Knights need your talent for a tiny, insignificant thing."

The idea intrigued her.

"What thing is that?"

***

"You just want me to admit a certain kind of people to the area you highlighted there."

"That's right."

"You're asking me to basically make a ghetto."

"It will be... for a few years, at first. Then I work my... magic, no pun intended."

"If this is all you want me to do... honestly, Mr. Doe, you didn't have to do all this, I was proposing something similar."

"Well then, let me thank you and leave you to your work then, Mrs. Fletchley.

***

But that isn't the big favor old Tom asked me right before he marched into his inevitable death.

"Take care of her for me," he said.

As soon as I enter, I see a girl running towards me.

"Uncle John, I got a magic letter!" she said.

"Delphinia Circe Riddle," I replied, "what magic letter are you talking about?"

***

***

"Okay. I'm going to put something on the line here. I'll show you one Muggle thing, and if you two like it, I want Muggle Studies. Being a filthy mudblood myself, I know enough about the world outside this one to teach, but I'm not stupid enough to think I can change it."

"Deal," the Carrows said.

***

"John, tell me, why are my Death Eaters proposing that we do all operations in four-person teams? Also, what is in that Muggle device that has most of them on it during their free time?"

I smile at Tom.

"Doom," I replied.

His serpentine face showed some confusion.

***

And that was how I was able to teach a class in Hogwarts despite still being a student.

(Too bad a certain moral busybody wasn't around. I would have LOVED to rub it all over her smug face.)

***

***

"So that was all an act to get Voldemort to do our job for us?" they asked me while I was in the holding cell. Despite, you know, keeping the Carrows off the muggleborn students, and starting the purebloods on the road towards integrating with society as a whole.

I think the whole "dramatically removing my hood and giving Hermione Granger the backhand I spent two lifetimes saving up for" may have had something to do with it.

"That's right," I replied.

"And slapping Hermione?" Ronald Weasley asked.

I may be many things, but an idiot is not one of them.

"Part of the act," I say.

"Everyone in school knows that the only one who hates her more than Draco Malfoy is you," Harry added. "And unlike him, none of us yet know why."

I take a deep breath.

"Of all the tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It may be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end, for they do so with the approval of their own conscience."

When I finish quoting C.S. Lewis, Ronald and Harry look to me in confusion.

"Just promise me you won't let Granger railroad you into anything without taking a second or third opinion from someone else," I said. "You'll know what the thing I quoted means in a couple of years."

Silence.

"Also, Ronald?"

He turns to me.

"Put a damn ring on it as soon as you can."

His ears turn pink, and the three of us laugh.

***

The day I was set to be released from Ministry custody, Harry Potter -- the boy who defeated the dark lord -- was there to see me off into the world.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

***

"How were you able to deal with someone like Voldemort? The evil in him is unfathomable."

I grin.

"Harry, have you ever heard of the phrase 'nobody is a villain in their autobiography'?"

He shakes his head as I am handed back my belongings.

"There was one thing Tom wanted above all," I say. "He wanted to teach. Did you notice that during your duel in the graveyard, Tom was dueling at your level? You did see him fight Dumbledore here."

"And in the final battle..."

"You felt his joy, did you not? No postmortem curses, no 'from hell's heart I stab at thee', just the spell backfiring and a smile before the last trace of him was wiped off existence."

"I did. I thought it was his joy at finally getting to finish me off."

"You're not the hero in his story, much like how I'm not the hero in yours, Harry. Besides, I was the first one to treat him as just Tom and not the Dark Lord. Sucker bet that while he was around, he only thought that the people around him were threats or minions. I don't know, he did say that 'when people are nice, they want something from you' when I first ran into him. I remember saying 'yes, I do. Nothing special, though. Just some advanced rune work.'"

"You were chummy with the Dark Lord this whole time?" Harry whispered in horror.

"Why not?" I ask. "He never asked me to be his minion and I never offered. Just talked about spell theory and rune combinations. Would have made a wonderful professor, if you ask me, if not for this Dark Lord business..."

We silently walk towards the Ministry atrium, Harry giving my words a lot of thought.

"Were the rumors really true? You hated Hermione because she usually had better grades than you?" he finally asks as we reach the main entrance of the Ministry.

I laugh.

"Call it one of those 'comfortable lies' instead of the 'uncomfortable truth'," I say. "Harry, these last seven years were but a dream to me. A far from idyllic dream with wizards, witches, and hags, but I have to wake up and live in the real world eventually."

"She's an idealist. I'm a realist. Connect the dots. There's also the fact that she's shrill, worships authority, and can never accept being proven wrong. Not saying to cut off ties with her, but for Merlin's sake, Harry. It's your job -- you and Ron -- to keep her grounded."

"See you," he said, shaking his head at me before apparating away.

I give the space where he stood a lazy salute before hailing a taxi and returning home.

***

"So, what are your plans for after Hogwarts?"

I shrug.

"Study spellcraft in my free time. Work on my specialty. But other than that, it's the only dealing with magic I will have. Return to the muggle world, go to college, get a perfectly mundane job, start a mundane family, live a quiet and ninety-nine per cent muggle life for the rest of my days."

"It would seem like a waste for someone like you. You could be in the dueling league--"

"Professor, you and I both know that there's only room for one token mudblood in the dueling circuit," I said, and my head of house gasped. Maybe it was due to the insult or my resigned tone. Didn't care. "And that he has the worst record so far, but that's neither here nor there."

"Maybe. But your grades, you're practically a few points shy of Gr-"

My eyes narrow immediately.

"Professor, it will be a cold day in hell before I consider being compared to that person a compliment."

A moment of silence passed by.

"My apologies. For all these years in Hogwarts, that is still... a very sore point for me."

***

"How in the bloody hell could a mudblood like you be so chummy with the Dark Lord?" Draco Malfoy asked me, the mark on his arm still tingling.

"I work with him, not for him," I say with a grin. "Consider it... brainstorming."

***

"I'm not one to be judgmental, but the way you act around Fleur's little sister is a bit disconcerting... and creepy."

I reply without thinking, to my eternal dismay.

"It's her eyes. They sparkle."

For the rest of my stay in Hogwarts, I was referred to as "that muggleborn with a crush on Gabrielle Delacour".

***

...And during seventh year, I was appointed the unofficial champion of the Muggleborn contingent.

Just because the Carrows didn't dare mess with me.

To be fair, when I asked to take over the Muggle Studies material (to ostensibly free up their time for Death Eater business), they folded immediately like a bad poker hand.

It helped that being a mudblood, I knew more about the world outside this one, and as such helped the purebloods even further in a way that Hermione Granger in all her insufferable know-it-all-ness could not.

***
 

Nitramy

The Umbrella that Smites Evil
And here's the stuff I haven't posted on SB.

Future Tense

***

"John Doe, also known as the Dark Lord Deathbringer, do you have any last words?"

I smirk at the Auror asking me the question. Harry freaking Potter, the Boy-who-Lived: reading from a pamphlet while two of his Auror flunkies are holding me. All of the Muggle cosmetic operations on my face and he doesn't recognize a year-mate of his.

Nobody did.

But it's fine. Even in my last moments on Earth, I find amusement.

"Nothing to say?" one of the flunkies holding me asks.

I shrug -- or try to.

"The only thing worth saying is that the Wizarding World is doomed, whether you toss me through the Veil or not," I reply haughtily. "And that if I had the chance to go back to the beginning, I'd make sure this wouldn't happen."

"Now do your job, Boy-who-Lived," I finish, with all the venom I can muster on those last three words. "Cast me in."

They did.

As soon as I passed the veil...

I screamed.

And I opened my eyes.

***

...and what I see is the ceiling of my house.

"John, there's a letter for you!"

I get up and glance at the mirror to see my eleven-year-old self, and I grin wickedly.

So I do get my second chance after all...

***

"When we descend on the streets of London, Paris, and Washington, the taste will be far bitterer, because not only will we spill your blood, but we will also demolish your statues, erase your history, and most painfully, convert your children who will go on to champion our name and curse their forefathers-"

I am a lone wizard against a horde of billions.

I only have my wand.

"You can't destroy an idea, John! That's impossible!"

The voice inside my head tells me this is a fool's errand.

But I have magic.

"Watch me do just that, fuckers."

I cast the spell...

***

...and I wake up.

Fuck this.

I was born too early to make a difference. They're already spreading their tentacles in muggle society.

MUNDANE society, I tell myself, you're not a wizard, yet. And you haven't given enough fucks about the world at large to actually use the word.

But you have your memories. And how everything goes down.

And you know you can make a difference.

You just have to move the pieces a little so you can strike at the hand manipulating these events... or make it so that you can be that very hand yourself. All it takes is a leap of faith.

I sit up in bed, wondering.

Faith.

During your last go on this roller coaster called life, you were witness to hope turning into despair... faith turning into doubt, love turning into hate.

I try to shove my memories back into my subconscious before I give sleep another go.

Except that the moment I close my eyes, the first thing I see? Gabrielle Delacour's glassed-over green eyes accusingly staring at me, admonishing me for my failure.

Sleep does not come to me for a long, long time after that.

***

I have magic.

Even better than that.

I have time.

And I have a chance to make a difference.

Just like the last time, it's Professor Snape who picks me up from home. Instead of acting up around him before, I surprise my parents by behaving like a consummate young adult, asking the important questions and giving him the respect his position is due.

I go through the motions in Diagon Alley, but as I do, I resort to using some of the tricks I've learned in my tenure as the Bringer of Death: make enough magic flow through your eyes in the right way, and you can start seeing wards and magical sigils. Spent half a year breaking curses learning that little gimmick.

Professor Snape doesn't seem to notice me picking out out-of-the-way spots to put sigils and wards, the types of spots a normal Auror or Unspeakable won't bother looking in.

Easier said than done, as the last time I tried to put protective sigils around Diagon Alley, the Aurors got trigger-happy and fifteen bystanders ended up dead... all that, and a bag of chips, they gleefully put on my tab.

I had long since gone past the "this shit isn't fair" phase of my life, and into the phase where I tend to think that this is the type of shit you have to wade through when it happens, when you want to see something done... the fine print of fame, quoting Clark Gable.

Madam Malkin's for robes -- and yes, Professor Snape said that due to a certain incident a decade or so ago, students were allowed to wear muggle clothing under their robes.

I noticed the pained look in his eye when he said that. Maybe he had something to do with that ruling.

Textbooks followed, and I only got what I needed. The Prince, Art of War, Book of Five Rings... Transcendental Meditation For Dummies, Transactional Analysis: A Primer, How to Win Friends and Influence People... those are the first of what I plan to bring to school.

Professor Snape approved when I decided to forego the sweets and head straight back to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch, back to the alley for potions tools and ingredients, and finally... my wand.

Ollivander gave me the most scrutinizing look I have ever seen in my life... or lives. He shook his head.

"No, it will not do," he said enigmatically before going to the far end of the shop and took several minutes to rummage through a few boxes before coming up with something that looked more like a wooden dagger than a wand. As I took a closer look at it, past the grip, the wand flattened out and tapered towards the end, giving it the appearance of a rapier.

"Yew and sickle weasel claw, twelve inches, unyielding," Ollivander said. "Exceptional affinity to both runes and cutting spells. Its very essence is to cut right to the heart of the matter. Perfect for a wizard with purpose, but also has a playful side. Give it a try, Mr. Doe."

On the way back from Ollivander's, Professor Snape was giving me a very calculating look, as I had simply thrust from a stance with the wand, causing a ray of light to shoot out from it.

"History of Magic," I explained. "Even today, some of Mahoutokoro's alumni who become duelists use Hirazuki as a stance, passed down from Hijikata Toshizou himself during the latter days of the Tokugawa Shogunate."

"Ah, an admirer of the Orient," the professor said. "Were you interested in going to Mahoutokoro?"

"Not really, sir," I replied. "I just find their history fascinating. The way the history of Japanese wizarding society paralleled that of the world outside it is uncanny, truly. Back then, even the would-be wizards from Mahoutokoro could not resist the wonder and nostalgia that being a member of the Shinsengumi brought."

Professor Snape nodded. "If you can show that kind of attitude towards Potions, we will have no problems, Mr. Doe."

The ghost of a smile passed by his lips, which I answered with my own.

Yes, the second go around is a lot more interesting than the first one.

***

The trip to Hogwarts was uneventful, save for when Professor Quirrell walked by. A little magic to my eyes... and yeah. He looked like one of those Siamese twins. Creepy.

But when he passed by, I smiled at him, and winked at the back of his head as he went over to another train car. Wonder how that guy would react. Judging by what I was seeing, there was some surprise there.

I suppose that some time would need to pass before I made my move.

Tom Marvolo Riddle had some forbidden knowledge I desperately needed, knowledge that was excised by the Ministry of Magic in its zealous foolishness to keep the Wizarding World a "safe space".

As we took to the boats, I saw a familiar group of people, and my anger began to simmer towards a boil.

How dare they.

HOW DARE THEY.

I am going to make the Wizarding World even greater than their puny minds can even imagine.

...but I have to go through seven years and see my plans through, first.

That way, after these heroes cash in their fifteen minutes of fame and try to exert their authority, they will find that the game has already been rigged against their... beliefs.

I am going to savor turning them away from the monsters they ended up being.

I am going to... oh, it's the Sorting Hat.

***

Well now. In all my years of existence, I have never run into someone like you.

Takes different kinds, Hat.

With a sense of humor, too. I assume your magic is what allows you to think like an adult despite your brain still catching up with your mind. Having trouble casting spells?

In my line of work, you do need a sense of humor. It's one way to stay sane. Also, about my spell casting? The difficulty is just about the same as the last time this rodeo was in town.

Ah. An Americanism. You must have traveled the world before.

That's true. And no, despite my loads and loads upon loads of ideas and plans within plans within schemes, for all that's good in the world, don't sort me in Slytherin... I'm a filthy mudblood.

The hat laughed.

Ah, that is a very un-Slytherin attitude to have. Humility.

It's not like that at all. I mean, can I get anything done while I'm casting eyeballs at the back of my head? You know that with everything I need to accomplish, I can't do it watching my back 24/7.

The hat laughed even further.

Another Americanism... and to think you were once the Dark Lord Deathbringer.

I snort. Who says I ever quit being the Dark Lord?

This IS a school full of students, you know.

And this is my second time on this carnival ride. I may be evil, but I'm not stupid. Besides, the only way anyone can get anything done quick in this world as a mudblood like me is to become a Dark Lord. Not to mention everything I've done was mostly flash and fanfare. Not my fault the Aurors escalated and ended up getting innocents in the line of fire.

You still got people killed, Deathbringer.

Yes, and their lives still weigh on my conscience daily... even if they're still around over here. If all goes well, I get to finish doing what I need to do before the Aurors start getting involved and in their incompetence and zealotry start bringing innocents into the crossfire.

You're going to need a lot of knowledge. And a lot of power.

You know as well as I do that there is no knowledge that is not power, Hat.

Very well then... Ravenclaw it is.

***

The first couple weeks passed by without anything untoward happening... except for when my Head of House gave me a small lecture about some of the things I've done with "accidental magic".

***

"So you like to use a duelist's stance when casting, Mr. Doe?"

"It's a personal preference, Professor Flitwick," I respond. "Plus my wand says it prefers someone with flash and style."

"That it is, indeed. It's been a long while since I saw someone use Hirazuki. You must be one of those prodigies. Why, I'll wager that Hijikata Toshizo himself taught you the stance -- it's flawless!"

"Thank you, Professor," I say, my cheeks turning pink. "I've always been a fan of those types of work."

***

"...so all of this, the rituals, the homunculi, the misadventures, all of this was you trying to remove the spell cast on me that ultimately doomed me?"

"I'm sorry, Tom," I replied. "Using magic to pre-ordain the destiny of another is where the witch drew the line. She said it was one of the most vile things to do: it reduces the victim to a mere plaything of the universe. I asked if it could be undone. She said that... even if I had the power of Solomon himself, it wouldn't be a sure thing. The spell itself was weak, but because the soul was split..."

"...Albus counted on it. He gambled on whether I'd split my soul."

I nodded.

"He turned you into an enemy of the Wizarding World, because he wanted another dragon to slay, after Grindelwald. And when he thought his destiny-fixing spell failed, he got someone else to finish the job he started."

"Potter."

"He's not the one you should be angry at," I say. "He's just a tool. Granted, he's been drinking the Dumbledore-brand Kool-Aid, so once he comes back after vanquishing you, well..."

Tom sighed.

"Is there really nothing we can do at this point?"

I shrug.

"We've already pulled the rug out from under the useful idiots of the Wizarding World, Tom. We've done more than you can imagine. Our war is all but won. But what I can't do is fix the history books. You're still going down as a villain. Maybe me, too."

***

The nice thing about being the best of both worlds (i.e. a muggleborn Dark Lord, who knew those things existed) was that you had magic smarts... and you had street smarts.

Plus, you could go to any old grocery store, buy a six-pack of beer, and have nobody recognize you or get on your ass for being underage (based on my age when I went through the veil I'm pushing 50 now, so gimme the beer!).

Magic's awesome like that.

"We got what we came here for, Tom, let's go."

I yank my fellow Dark Lord away from the Slurpee machine and out the store, laughing all the way.

***

The very next day, I find myself sprawled out in an unnatural position on the couch.

I was lucky. Tom was pasted on the ceiling like a ghoulish version of Spider-man.

A few household spells and a hangover potion later, Tom is recalling the drunken bender with a lot of good humor.

"That was the funniest thing I've ever seen you do, John," he said, rubbing the tears out of his eyes after he laughed at me again. "I mean, you succeed in destroying an idea with no one the wiser, you save the Wizarding World from cultural annihilation, and those goody-two-shoes Aurors got you on fucking physically and mentally undoing the effects of sexual assault because, as I quote, 'it's a Dark spell'?"

I sigh.

"This type of shit is why beer and Pensieves don't mix," I say, looking at the toppled Pensieve at the corner of the room. "Yeah, keep laughing it up, Tom."

Five minutes later, he gets over his laughing fit and looks back at the Pensieve before turning to me.

"You had the right idea, my friend. I mean, once I bring the old band back together, I'm going to use that punk Rabastan Lestrange as a guinea pig for that spell of yours."

My eyes widen.

"Really?"

"Never liked his fucking face. Or the fact that he's a fucking hematophile. Once I use him as an example, they're all going to learn to keep it in their fucking pants. I didn't raise the Death Eaters for them to be whoring their way through Wizarding Britain."

"Well, thanks, I guess."

"No... thank you. But what I mean is, you messed it up. You didn't have to add the whole 'transmute seminal fluid to acid' component to it. That's overkill. Just power up the binding spell enough and when the bloke wakes up the next day, he'll find that he can neither fight nor fuck any more."

"So, all I need to do is... hit them with the peace, honesty and sterility charms."

"I picked up a dick-withering curse while I was touring Dun Scaith," Tom added. "They're not going to touch someone if they don't have the equipment to do it. But honestly... John. All my doubts about you not having the balls to be a Dark Lord vanished the moment I heard those animals screaming."
 

Nitramy

The Umbrella that Smites Evil
tl;dr: Deathbringer's Curse is threefold.

If you lie to advance your faith, your tongue is forever cursed to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
If you rape to advance your faith, your dick withers away / if you want to bear fifty children to advance your faith, your womb becomes barren.
If you kill to advance your faith, prepare to die a painful and agonizing death.

To nullify the effect of the curse, simply abandon your faith. And mean it, as the "lie" clause also works.

Also, the Dark Lord Globus Deathbringer and Voldemort defeated is Couldenhove-Kalergi. More specifically, a horcrux Kalergi made to ensure his plan would be enacted after his death (in this universe, he had very little magical aptitude and was laughed out of the wizarding world because of it; part of the reason for the Kalergi plan was to destroy the wizarding world through demographic replacement).
 
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Nitramy

The Umbrella that Smites Evil
EPILOGUE

I was in New York during that time.

This was long after I finished my magnum opus, the charms that would make me do what V thought impossible: destroy an idea.

I left Del at home with a babysitter; she could handle herself and the sitter was trustworthy enough.

The morning minutes ticked by.

I turned my head to the sky.

No planes.

I turned and gave a middle finger to the clouds.

Not today, fuckers; not today.

It was a perfectly calm September morning in the year 2001...
 

Nitramy

The Umbrella that Smites Evil
Couple things in this timeline.

First timeline: John Doe goes full Dark Lord and destroys everything that has anything to do with Islam via a powerful concept-destroying curse (aka Deathbringer's Curse 1.0). He gets punted through the Veil.
Second timeline: John Doe starts working on his curse and succeeds in destroying Islam by rendering its followers sterile and nonviolent (aka Deathbringer's Curse 2.0). Granger catches him, he gets punted through the Veil again.
Third timeline: John Doe and Tom Riddle destroy Richard Couldenhove-Kalergi's horcrux before Doe brings the Deathbringer's Curse on Islam. He never gets caught, and Hermione Granger never gets any political power or influence (Doe ends up implying that the Kalergi horcrux is empowering Hermione Granger, and with the horcrux gone, all of her "smarts" vanish along with it).
 

Nitramy

The Umbrella that Smites Evil
Couple other things:

Being chucked through the Veil maintains Doe's connection to the Deathly Hallows, because nobody has done what he has (killed an idea), to the point where if Doe becomes a Caster-class Servant, he can manifest the Hallows as his NP.

Iconoclast EX

Reserved for Servants who have destroyed ideas that have nearly doomed the Human Order as part of their legend.

This manifests in multiple ways: first, as a gigantic statistical bonus against those who espouse these ideas. Second, a lesser statistical bonus against those Caster deems as "zealots". Caster also gains more mana from harvesting people who espouse these ideas.

Meaning, Caster John Doe can one-shot the First Hassan with a finger flick if they were ever to battle (though the stars would have to align a certain way for that to happen).
 
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Nitramy

The Umbrella that Smites Evil
As an aside, John Doe also has a hit list of people he will be preemptively giving the Lockhart treatment during his Death Eater career.

Most of those targets are social justice-oriented academics and elites, those who remind him of Hermione Granger in her full Knight Templar worst.

If you can give me names, I can write snippets of Doe blasting the stupid out of them with overpowered Obliviates.

Doe can also destroy the mind of the founder of intersectionality before it becomes a fad.
 
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