Chapter 80 Enemies Domestic, Allies Foreign

Condemnation had fallen swiftly upon Britain, as the ICW withdrew its support of the British Ministry of Magic within hours of the failed attack upon their German counterpart. The French representative to the International Confederation of Warlocks had condemned the actions of the British Ministry, calling upon the international magical community to take swift and decisive action, and was the first to act as the first closed their borders to Britain, and raised war wards that had lain dormant since the fall of Grindelwald and the muggle Second World War. In a rare show of solidarity, the Germans had followed suit within hours, followed just as quickly by Spain, Portugal, Italy, and even the traditionally neutral Swiss.

By the end of the week, magical Europe had closed ranks and its doors to magical Britain, including all lines of tourism and trade. The Americans, traditionally a staunch ally of the British, had quietly withdrawn their support and looked to its own internal security and borders. It sent a clear message to the British wizarding government: They were on their own.

"No surprise," muttered Harry as he read The Quibbler's and the surprisingly accurate report of events from the Daily Prophet, and even Witch Weekly. "Wizarding Britain has been fucking up for the past twenty-plus years ever since Voldemort began his first rise to power." True enough, given that during the first war the British Ministry had spurned international assistance, citing "Lord Voldemort and his band of rebels" as being an "internal matter." It had not been an internal matter. Ever. During Voldemort's first rise to power, the Death Eaters had spread across, garnered support and several countries had borne the wrath of the Death Eaters. The fact that it was – as far as everyone knew – the British Government that had ordered the assassination of the German Minister for Magic, left no reason for any nation to want anything to do with Britain.

Indeed, within Britain itself, Minister Fudge had rammed home decree after decree, rapidly constricting the freedoms of the magical population with a nationwide curfew, followed quickly by decrees that had shut down dozens of wizarding publications, taken full control of the Wizarding wireless service, and had begun to curtail the freedoms and rights of targeted sections of wizarding society: Muggleborns were suddenly required to register with the government. The persecution spread to encompass other magical species including the Werewolves, the Vampyres, and even the Centaurs were the victims of oppressive legislation that bore all the hallmarks of the legislation enforced across Europe by the Nazi Government.

But where the Nazis had taken years to build their government of oppression, the Minister created the same within months. It had not escaped Harry's notice that both sides of the conflict seemed to have no problem supporting such measures. All this made Harry wonder just what was going on politically and made him wish for the first time he was involved in politics.

The most important step would be to rally the people to Voldemort's banner, which is precisely why Lucius Malfoy walked through the harried crowd in Diagon Alley, snow crunching underfoot. He observed the downward cast eyes, the unwillingness of people to make eye contact, the rapid pace as everyone hurried to conclude their business and get home before the curfew was enforced with deadly force, without exception. Indeed, the ministry's grip had become suffocating but none would speak out, for fear of the Ministerial Inquisition which had powers of arrest, detention, interrogation, and sentencing as a part of its mandate to root out the traitors in their midst. Lucius smiled to himself: Fudge was playing his role perfectly by oppressing his people.

Malfoy climbed the steps, his dark fur-collared cloak billowed about him as he stood before the doors of Gringotts, and turned to face the still hurrying mass of witches and wizards. "Sonorus," he incanted, and then threw back the hood of his cloak. "My fellow Witches and Wizards!" he spoke, his enchanted voice carrying the length of Diagon Alley, and even partway down Knockturn Alley, "My fellow Britons: I beg of you, to hear my plea!"

The fast-moving oppressed came to a halt, and turned their heads to stare at the wizard who had called to them, "We. Are. Oppressed!" he shouted, platinum blonde hair whipping in the wind, "To rule by decree means that Minister Fudge has granted himself unlimited power and authority! He has broken his word to serve the magical world! He has become drunk with his power!" The gathered throng of humanity moved closer, and Lucius knew he had their attention, "He abuses his power, and his position: He denies us the liberties and rights guaranteed to us as the citizens of this nation!"

"The minions of Fudge and his Inquisition will be upon us momentarily, which is why I must speak, and speak quickly." The people looked around, nervous but none made any move to leave, "There is a way to end this tyranny! There is hope! The future the Minister promised can be ours! But we must rise!"

"But what can we do against such Darkness?" cried a plant in the crowd.

Malfoy smiled, "Rise! Rise against our oppressors and his machinations, and those of Fudge's Inquisition! All tyrants and despots have long feared one thing above all else: They fear the people that they rule with an iron fist! They fear the people will rise against him! This is what Fudge fears! This is what the Ministerial Inquisition is supposed to crush beneath an iron boot! I say we give Fudge, Umbridge, the Inquisition, the Aurors, and any others who support this regime of corruption a reason to fear us!"

The crowd quickly became something of a mob, and Lucius raised his arms in the air, the puppet master directing his marionettes. "The army to resist the illegitimate reign of Fudge exists! But it needs strength! It needs support! Such strength can only come from those who wish to see their country, our country free of such tyranny! Such an army requires the support of the people!"

Lucius paused and the crowd filled the momentary silence with a roar of support. "Our army grows! It will soon be poised! I ask you, as free Britons to bide your time! But be ever ready to raise your wand alongside mine! Alongside those that will liberate our country against those who control you!"

He smiled broadly as he raised his wand overhead as the crowd gave bloody screams of affirmation. "We were once a proud nation! Our history is glorious! And we have fallen! A sickness grows within us! A disease that will consume her from within! And so we must fight to free her! To keep her pure!"

The crowd roared once more, and he suppressed the urge to laugh as the mob voiced its approval, pledged its strength to the cause, and promised its support to these freedom fighters. "Rise and Unite! Rise and form a bastion that enemies within and without will break against! We must expel the tyrant Cornelius Oswald Fudge! He must be held accountable for his crimes!"

There was a skirmish at the edge of the crowd and Lucius Malfoy could see from the ranks of approaching Aurors that his time was up. With a tap, his portkey activated, whisking him away to safety as he had a very important, perhaps the most important meeting of his life ahead of him, with the ICW on its final day of business for the year before much of Europe, and indeed Britain itself closed for Christmas and the New Year.

What is known today as the International Confederation of Wizards, also known as the International Confederation of Warlocks, also known as the International Federation of Warlocks was essentially the Magical equivalent of the Muggle European Union –which comes as no surprise given that three of the European Union's founding fathers – Konrad Adenauer of Germany, Winston Churchill of Britain and Robert Schuman of France – were also wizards who held positions of power, authority and influence within their respective ministries during the late 1940s through to their respective retirements and "deaths" in the muggle world. Indeed, the three men still held positions within the ICW.

Like many organizations of both worlds, however, The ICW used Switzerland, specifically the city of Lausanne within the French sector of the country as the home for the ICW. Indeed, those in the know had cracked a smile on more than one occasion, given that the structure was the fully disillusioned and temporally secured sixth through seventeenth floors of the Lausanne City Government Building, Flon district, at the heart of the city.

None truly know the exact date the ICW was actually founded, but the histories concur that its first recorded meeting was in 1289, at what was dubbed the International Warlock Convention, and that the first meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards took place in France under the first Supreme Mugwump Pierre Bonnaccord took place nearly a hundred years later. Perhaps one of the most significant, far-reaching decisions made by the wizarding world was during the 17th Century, when wizardkind, facing persecution by the Muggles enacted what would become the Statute of Secrecy, simply vanishing from the face of the Earth in 1689 followed by a number of critical decisions that culminated with Clause 73 to hide every trace of every magical creature across the world.

It was within the confines of these hallowed, history-laden halls that Lucius Malfoy waited patiently for his opportunity to address the gathered delegates who had chosen to attend the emergency session with regards to the English situation, specifically the attempted assassination of the German Minister of Magic by the Fudge Administration.

Already the representatives of Western Europe had condemned the actions of Fudge, and it was when the Romanian Delegate rose to his feet, "It is my belief that we are all fully aware of the situation in England, including the most heinous acts of Cornelius Oswald Fudge. We have already condemned their government! We have already closed our borders to both trade and aid in all forms! It has been our hope that the worsening situation in Britain, first with the return of their Dark Lord Voldemort, and then the insanity of their government's actions would be enough to convince the people to act! To rise against without international action! With each passing day, the possibility of such a resolution grows less and less likely." His remarks drew general unease from the members of the ICW.

The truth was that the representatives of the various European nations knew the carnage wrought upon the French and the destruction of the Delacour's at the hands of the Death Eaters. The rampage across France was something that none wanted to be repeated, especially in their own backyard, "However, there is still hope! The possibility of an internal resolution, if we can find it without ourselves to act in support of the burgeoning resistance! This resistance has laid its roots amongst the magical population! Hogwarts itself, under the leadership of Albus Dumbledore, has turned its back upon the Ministry of Magic and is now rapidly becoming a sanctuary to those fleeing the Death Eaters, and The Ministry Inquisition."

The chamber had exploded with the protests and cries of the delegates, and the Romanian delegate waited for silence to claim the chamber once more, "My fellow delegates, Lucius Malfoy fled Britain after his public announcement of his opposition to the authoritarian dictatorship lead by Fudge. My government has granted him asylum and he has joined us." The representative motioned to Lucius, "I yield the floor to Mr. Malfoy."

"Thank you, Ambassador Decebel," said Lucius as he walked to the speaker's podium. He waited for a long moment, letting the silence build, fuelling the anticipation of the waiting delegates. He took a quiet breath, "Representatives and delegates of the Wizengamot, my nation is in crisis." His voice was quiet, firm, but it echoed and carried with the same terminal finality of a gunshot, "My nation, my people have long grown, indeed prospered under Minister Fudge. But in those days, he was a man, elected to the office who had the good of the people as his utmost concern. Today… he is a tyrant, consumed, and made rabid by power. The people are cowed, but within them, are many who are ready to rise up and willing to fight and restore Britain to her former glory, but to succeed, we will need to international recognition once a new government is established and assistance, supplies, and resources to rebuild and restore our nation. I speak to you, now, as a representative of a nation oppressed. Help us, so we may help ourselves."

Pin drop silence echoed as Lucius stared around the chamber. It was a long moment before the representative of Germany rose to his feet, "The sons and daughters of Germany shall stand with you!" With the conclusive proof of the attempted assassination attempt, there was really no other recourse open to Germany.

"You shall have the support of Romania!" There had never been any doubt about that. After all, the various nations of Eastern Europe had taken a more lenient view towards the so-called "Dark Arts." That and a number of these nations were already in Lord Voldemort's pocket through the application of the usual methods of blackmail, threats, and bribery. The avalanche of Eastern European support spoke volumes, and none spoke against him directly.

"The people of Britain, stand behind me and some of you," he nodded in gratitude to those representatives who had pledged their support, "have pledged to stand with us."

"And what of Dumbledore?" shouted the Italian delegate, dispensing with protocol.

"Dumbledore has turned his back and broken with the Ministry of Magic. Hogwarts is now more of a refugee center than it is a school. He cowers behind the battlements of the castle, though I do not know whether he is unable or unwilling to fight, I have no idea," replied Lucius, allowing his genuine disgust, and dislike of Dumbledore to bleed through in his voice. He turned to face the gathered delegates, "I ask," he said, and then, to the shock of all gathered he knelt before the assembly, "I beg you, help us take back our country." He stayed kneeling for only a moment before rising smoothly back to his feet, "And, I thank, this august body for its time, consideration and I hope, support for the plight of my nation."

The last pieces fell into place, as the assembled delegates proceeded with the most pressing business of the day, and was announced by the Supreme Mugwump, "The motion is carried by the popular vote of this legislative body: The government of Cornelius Oswald Fudge is hereby declared null and void. Minister Malfoy, please take the seat of the English representative to the International Confederation of Wizards. We shall place an international task force at your disposal to restore legitimate rule and government to the British Isles."

Minister Malfoy could not help but smile inside as Lord Voldemort's plan came to fruition, "Thank you Supreme Mugwump. We shall make our final preparations and strike," his smile was almost feral in nature, "Within days, Magical Britain will once again be under the rule of its government."

"Good luck, Minister Malfoy."

"Days," was an unsurprising overstatement: The moment word reached the ear of Lord Voldemort, the Death Eaters and their erstwhile allies were mobilized in force. The muggles seemed to know, or perhaps feel that something was up, having abandoned the general area where St. Mungo's and the Ministry of Magic stood.

All was bone-chillingly quiet as if everyone knew that something terrible, something truly evil was about to happen. Though Voldemort sought to rule magical Britain, he would still have to tread with caution when it came to the muggle world. Indeed, Voldemort was no fool. He knew what the muggles could do, and would do if he declared war upon them. No, for now, ruling over Magical Britain would start. Ruling over muggle Britain would take more time and planning. That would be a matter of months from now, and future consideration, given the more pressing matters of the moment.

"Cornelius Oswald Fudge!" The voice of Lucius Malfoy carried easily across the deserted London Street, "We, the people, demand an accounting for your crimes! And judgment shall be passed!" He walked towards the entrance of the Ministry of Magic, the Inner Circle of Voldemort's Death Eaters at his side, followed by the remains of the Effingus, death eaters and foreign Aurors, Hit Wizards and other auxiliaries. "Face the wrath of the righteous Cornelius!"

There was a crackling string of pops, like Chinese firecrackers as the Aurors still loyal to the Ministry, apparated into the street, taking up positions and effectively forming a cordon around the ministry building. Edison New Kingston stepped into the open, his wand raised, and pointed, "By Order of the Ministry of Magic you are ordered to surrender your wands and selves. The charge is Sedi…."

Edison dived aside, as two bolts of green death sailed through the space his body had occupied moments before. Rolling back to his feet, he cut downwards with his wand, "CAST! CAST! CAST" he roared. Both sides charged, both sides unleashed a blistering array of magic, and collided head-on like matched, thundering express trains.

Edison dodged and ducked, dancing in between spell fire with ease as he cast and killed without hesitation, striking down one foe after another without mercy. Behind him, he could hear the pops of apparition as reinforcements arrived. He risked a glance over his shoulder and felt both hope and fear course through him: Their reinforcements were composed of nearly every able-bodied witch and wizard in the Ministry's employ. Many of whom, he knew would die this day.

Though rank amateurs in the deadly art of war, their weight proved telling as they first stopped, stalemated then began to turn back the tide of black-robed witches and wizards led by Lucius Malfoy. Incredible as it seemed to Edison, he watched as yet another Wizard threw himself in front of a curse aimed at Malfoy, screaming in agony before vanishing as an emergency portkey whisked the fallen fighter to safety.

Edison smiled tightly, knowing that victory here would help ease his pain. The smile froze, cracked, and shattered as all spell fire targeting his enemies suddenly failed to connect. Some were deflected but many more simply evaporated before reaching the embattled line of black-robed wizards. "Hold!" he ordered, "HOLD!"

It took several minutes before the embroiled combatants on both sides could settle their differences enough to disengage and reform their respective combat lines, their wands raised and ready. Edison swooned as a black cloud swam through the assembled ranks of the Death Eaters and finally coalesced into The Dark Lord Voldemort.

"Oh shit," muttered Edison as an overpowering aura of terror and fear washed over the ranks of the defenders. They hesitated, there were those that took a shuffling step backward as Lord Voldemort stepped to the forefront of the line. Many of the foreign Aurors did not balk. Indeed, the Eastern European contingent was fully aware of who the new leader of Wizarding Britain was going to be. The French knew who they were supporting and the Germans were only interested in their bloody revenge against Fudge. The flock of wizards and witches that had flocked to Lucius Malfoy's banner actually hesitated and then fell in line, alongside the Death Eaters. Just like that, British Wizarding society had made its choice.

A considerably paler Edison struggled to process the unfolding scene as the Dark Lord took one step onto the abandoned road, one step towards the ministry, and perhaps most terrifying of all: one step closer to him. The rictus on Voldemort's face sent fear crashing through the defenders' ranks as Edison felt his body unwillingly take a step back. The Yew wand was suddenly a blur, flashing left and right as wizards on either side of Edison fell to the ground.

"Shields up! Return fire!" His men complied, but it was pointless as Voldemort's wand twirled sending curses and hexes lancing back at their castors. Several attempted to curse the Dark Lord, but their efforts were half-hearted, and they were rewarded with pain before they were cut down like wheat before the farmer's scythe.

"Broadsword! Broadsword!" Ministry personnel activated their portkey or apparated, retreating to the Ministry where they would enact their final stand, leaving their dead and dying in the streets of muggle London. The battle had only just become, but soon it would be a slaughter.

The Dark Lord studied the building across the street from him critically for a moment, then raised his wand skyward, "My loyal followers! Together, we strike as one! For the purity and supremacy of our kind! Of our nation!"

The howl was one of approval and approbation as over a hundred wands followed Voldemort's lead and then cast. The physical bricks of the wall disintegrated beneath the brutal assault, as the wards cracked then shattered under the barrage of magic. Indeed the wards on what was supposed to be the most secure building in magical Britain had not been properly maintained in years. Something that left the defenders not huddled on the far side of the atrium, cowering behind the Fountain of Magical Brethren. "Lethal force! Concentrate fire!" shouted Edison as he added his own spread of reductor and piercing curses to the barrage of spells lanced out, the first barrage in what could only be described as the last stand of the Ministry of Magic.

Despite the advantage of heavy physical cover and extensive shields, coupled with clear fields of fire, the Death Eaters advanced, uncaring o their casualties as they followed their Dark Lord and master into the fray. Pitiful and pathetic the ministry wizards might be, but they were certainly well trained and fought well. But for the moment, Lord Voldemort had his eyes on only one wizard.

Edison ducked low as the Killing Curse swept over his head, striking another defender full in the face and neck. He rolled back to his feet and fired his own killing curse back at the Dark Lord who conjured a block of marble to block the spell. The marble shattered and the knife-like shards were blasted back towards Edison.

The shards smashed through his shield, the impromptu projectiles crashing into his chest, pulverizing first his ribs then his arms as he desperately sought to physically shield himself from the onslaught. Edison fell to his knees, with a choked gasp as blood soaked the front of his robes. He slid stupidly to his knees, staring around him at the dead, interspersed with the few wounded who called and pleaded for aid and assistance.

"Sectumsempra!" Voldemort cast. Edison grunted one as the curse struck, and fell silent. Cleaved in half, from the waist up, he fell backward as his legs slid forwards.

Another flurry of spells directed at the Dark Lord was deflected away as he strolled across the atrium killing all those who stood before him as he stalked towards the lifts that would lead him directly to his puppet's office. Already, his forces had suffered far too many casualties and it was time to end this.

Minister for Magic Cornelius Oswald Fudge, winner of the "Stylish Wizard of the Year 1995" could hear the raging battle. The portly little man, with rumpled grey hair, knew that the fate of magical Britain would be decided today. Considering the situation like a game of chess, he came to the conclusion that it was the support of the ICW that had tipped the scales in Lord Voldemort's favor. Otherwise, the Aurors, the combined might of every wand in the ministry would have proven to be more than adequate to crush the Death Eaters. And, the plan was flawlessly simple: Everyone who stood against Voldemort would die today and that would leave the government in his hands. Effectively, the only resistance would be the vaunted Order of the Phoenix, and Potter's Legion. Both would fall, to his master or each other.

Just outside his office door, he heard the last few defenders calling to each other, spells hissing and sizzling as they whipped back and forth. They continued fighting to the death. He heard the high-pitched scream of his second-in-command, Dolores Umbridge and it heralded the end.

"I believe that your office is currently occupied, Lucius. Shall we?" Voldemort's voice came from right outside the door. The Dark Lord knocked on the door three times and then turned the handle, opening and stepping into the minister's office. "I hope you don't mind if I come in, Cornelius."

Cornelius rose and walked around his table, wand resting in his pocket. He dropped to his knees before his Lord and Master and then lay down literally on his face to kiss the hem of the black silk robes, "Your office my lord."

The Dark Lord stared down at Fudge, his effingus, and for a moment, actually regretted the loss of Percy Weasely, for a moment. There had been a mind worth honing and sharpening to better serve him. He would have been given great responsibility in the government of the new world order. "Complete your task," hissed Voldemort melodiously.

Fudge exhaled a breath he had not realized he was holding and swallowed heavily. He pulled his wand from his pocket. Gripping it tightly, his fingers white as the blood drained from them, it pointed the wand at its temple, "Reducto!"

It would be a Happy Halloween for Lord Voldemort, who smiled, in anticipation of Christmas just two months away. Hogwarts would be a spectacular way to round out the year.