I'm a Mage 1.4 + Epilogue

A/N: I couldn't post this last Wednesday because I fell sick, so here it is guys! The end of Chap 1 of I am a Mage!

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(Tom Marvolo Riddle with the chuuni name Lord Voldemort)

December 23rd, 1997
British Ministry of Magic
Improvised Throne Room

The Ministry of Magic has become Voldemort’s new seat of power, and now his next plan is currently proceeding: wipe out the current Muggle-borns because they are an existential threat to his plans to dominate Britain. It’s better to focus on children to educate them about their place in society and foster their allegiance to the Ministry under his Aegis.

The current Muggle-borns know how things were, and people who remembered always rose up, so he decided to do away with them.

He looked at the ruby red wine in his golden cup, an evil smirk on his face as he thought about his enemies brought low by his minions, who sowed mayhem in the muggles' neighborhood to quench their bottomless thirst for blood, rapine, and destruction. It took seventeen years to go back to how things should be since he had almost won the last time. This time, he had been smarter about how he went about things; he took over the Ministry silently while bullying everyone into joining him.

He had thought that all those sheep would listen to Hazel Potter, but they didn’t, and now look at them, they seemed to like the boot that Voldemort had on their collective necks.

Despite his elation at his victory, something went wrong; Bellatrix, her husband, and some of his faithful have disappeared. Voldemort doesn’t know where they were, it’s been weeks since he has seen them. He asked his minions to scour the entire country for them, but they still haven’t come up with their whereabouts at all. He also lost track of different teams of hunters who have been tracking down Hazel Potter and her merry band, still at large.

Wasn’t that worrying? But what could a bunch of teenagers on the run do? Shake like leaves while awaiting death like a good sheep when a pack of wolves was upon them, that’s what!

BOOOOOOM! The Ministry shook as if a small localized earthquake had started.

“What is happening?” The wine cup fell from his hand until the shaking stopped, and the lavish room’s painting and other decorations fell on the ground. Voldemort stood up while his snake familiar hissed in fright. Just at this moment, the door opened and a rotund woman wearing pink clothes ran into his throne room. 

“Lord Voldemort!” The woman in pink shouted.

Voldemort pointed at the woman and demanded petulantly, “You, Pink Toad! What’s happening!”

“We’re under attack, my Lord!” She answered automatically.

Someone dared to attack him in his new redoubt! Voldemort was so angry that he whipped up his wand and cast, “CRUCIO!!” at the toad-faced woman.

“Aaaahhhh!” She croaked as if he was killing her as all her nerves went afire, and she started rolling on the ground. 

Once satisfied that the toad knew her place, Voldemort stopped feeding magic into the Cruciatus Curse and asked, “Tell me that again!”

The pink-clothed woman tried standing to bow at him, but couldn’t, so she started talking. “We… we’re under attack.”

Voldemort clicked his tongue, just when his loyal lieutenants weren’t available! How did they get killed or captured?! “Morgana’s tits! Then send in the Dementors!”

The toad-faced woman, whom he didn’t remember the name of, stood frozen before him. She started shaking as she stammered to explain, “T-They’ve all been… killed, my Lord!”

Voldemort stopped moving and frowned at the woman. “Surely, you jest.”

She somehow found the strength to stand, and she shook her head violently as she said, “No! I swear my Lord! They’ve all disappeared in a flash of light, and all that's left from them is some kind of black crystal.”

Voldemort didn't know what was going on anymore until he heard the sounds of combat coming from behind the door of his throne room. The building shook again, and the acrid smell of smoke rose in the air. Voldemort decided to go see who dared attack him in his domain.

He strode toward the door and opened it, his steps echoing into the fancy throne room that was once the Minister of Magic's meeting room.

The cries of people panicking and of an explosion on this floor forced him to cast a barrier charm around his body preemptively. The door opened, and he saw complete chaos; flashes of light and spells were exchanged between the attackers and his men.

The attackers were not stunning them, but were killing them! Voldemort raised his wand and threw a heart-stopping curse, and… the target, a man wearing a black uniform, deflected it, and when they recognized his grand visage, they shouted in some kind of mouthpiece, “Voldemort on site!” Then they simply apparated away before Voldemort could shoot an AK at him.

This happened all over the building; somehow, they heard him present. He clicked his tongue and didn't understand how they could apparate when there was a ward protecting against such a method of transport in this building. He tested the Ministry's wards and realized something, they were completely gone!

This was frustrating! But Voldemort contained himself; he needed to assess the damage incurred by this assault on his people and partisans, and if there were still bad actors in the ministry.

Three hours later, he estimated that some of the personnel were abducted and others killed as well. The difference was that those he coerced into working for him were taken, and those who embraced his ideology were eliminated. An unwelcome sign that they've been infiltrated somehow.

The ward technician and the guards that were left discovered that the Heartstone of the Ministry had been tampered with and was irretrievable as its ward had been completely shattered.

Someone infiltrated the ministry and allowed this attack to happen.

Bang! Voldemort punched a pillar; fortunately, he wasn't physically strong enough to harm it as it supported the atrium's floor. 

“They might attack again.” He realized.

Voldemort stared at his men with determination, and they waited for him to react. He stood up and addressed his remaining faithful. “Call back our remaining men to retaliate, and we need a base; this location is no longer safe-”

The noseless man wavered, his sense of equilibrium momentarily disrupted, his field of vision distorted and blurred. “W-what's… happening?!”

His body started to sag on itself, and his skin slowly started to melt into thick white molasses. He started screaming and trying to move; it frightened his remaining men, some even fled, while others watched what was happening with object apprehension. 

Voldemort couldn't see anything after his eyes melted, and he was thrown into complete darkness, still trying to call for help.

It was at this point that the second assault on the ministry started again.

# # #

(Hazel Potter)

Southern France
Little Spira
White manor
Ritual room
3 hours earlier…



The Girl-Who-Lived, Hazel Potter, looked as her mentor and teacher was making preparations in the room for an extremely complex ritual destined to curse Voldemort. The ritual room was made of beige and smooth stones from the ground to the ceiling and was situated at the top of the tower of the white manor. With a complicated series of circular dais and a magical skylight decorated with trees with different colors of leaves nourished by the sunlight.

Hazel liked this room; it was airy and well lit, and it could also contain a huge number of people. Getting out of her reverie, her eyes fell on her friends and teacher. Hermione and Cirilla were drawing a magic circle with white chalk around a white marble altar with silver veins that encased its surface.

“This is hard work. I don’t know if I want to do this ritual.” Hermione complained as she finished drawing on the ground.

“Your face is full of chalk, Mione.” Hazel joked as she bopped her friend’s nose.

Hermione wiped her face with her robe’s sleeve and wrinkled her nose. Cirilla tutted and said with a tone full of reprimand, “Rituals are a serious affair. When you practice one, you’re essentially asking for an audience with the force of nature or an entity, and it becomes a transaction between you and those forces; they often ask a price, which can be either magic, blood, or a sacrifice. A ritual always costs something.”

Hermione recoiled at that and said in outrage, “No wonder it’s banned and considered dark!”

Hazel shook her head at her friends in dismay; she spoke from ignorance again and regurgitated the Ministry of Magic party line. Cirilla rolled her eyes at Hermione as she passed in teacher mode. “Only in the British Isles, Hermione; did you really think that being a magical was without responsibility? Your people forgot their roots and to honor nature and the Gods. Why do you think that some magical lines have completely disappeared or become weaker? They’ve lost the boons that their ancestors have gained and betrayed their duty when the ministry outlawed all forms of rituals. It’s why squibs are a thing, beyond the genetic problems that interbreeding brings.”

This little tirade rendered Hermione speechless. “...”

This was another reason why Hazel and Hermione had agreed to become Cirilla’s teacher; she seemed to know everything about the wizarding communities, and she wasn’t shy about sharing that knowledge with them, whereas at Hogwarts, they wouldn’t do that. Hazel started to slowly realize that she had been living with lifeless and highly sanitized knowledge drip-fed to her.

Somehow, the ministry took the magic out of the magic. Hazel wanted to say something, but… “I don’t know what to say.”

Cirilla walked up to them and hugged them while saying, “You two, this is not your fault. Again, this is a form of control from the ministry; it cannot afford to have people stronger than them, so they passed laws to limit what people could and couldn’t do.”

Again? It always came back to politics, and Hazel hated that; why can’t people be free? Cirilla let go of them, her gaze focusing on the bushy-haired girl. “Hermione, rituals are not necessarily bad things, they can be simple things, lighting up a candle and pray to the gods like the Morrigan, and Hecate in the Summer and Winter Solstice, their price is more affordable as it take on the form of ‘faith’, it can be an intangible form of payment between people and the forces of nature. I think magical communities still practice it here in France; they have festivals and gatherings.”

Hazel asked, “Do you think we can have the same here?”

Looking back at the red-haired girl, Cirilla nodded. “I plan to make the celebration mandatory here because some of the mundane born from your country came to ask me if they can live on my land and change nationality. I intend to introduce them to their cultural roots; it will be good for their magic and spiritual equilibrium. Little Spira will house a school I plan to create and a tourist spot. The Dwarves are enthusiastic to have one more place where they can use their skills to build.”

The Dwarves again? Cirilla seemed to like them because they were good artisans. It seemed that she had plans for this place after they got rid of Voldemort. “But didn’t you tell me that you intended to have your own creature reserve?”

This was something they had spoken about some weeks ago. Cirilla is interested in creating a reserve for her own use for cultivating magical plants and raise creatures by building something she calls a ‘Demi-Plane’ and storing them there while being supported by the Ley-line in the area. Cirilla said that it was some kind of other dimension riding on this one with a finite size that could vary from a garden to an entire island.

“Yes, I’m going to have one here, and the kids will be able to get in contact with different magical creatures.” Cirilla smiled.

She was interested in raising the level of magic education in the UK and France, as she had found the magic here too restricted and a shadow of what it should have been; it was weird to her that magic and technology hadn’t been combined yet. Cirilla wants to create a school where someone could make this happen.

The hours passed, and they finished the preparation for the ritual. Cirilla made everyone put on those hooded red robes with a stylized Egyptian Hank symbol on their back. Hazel, Hermione, Luna, Neville, Sirius, Cirilla, and Tonks were all gathered in a circle around the altar. Because of the prophecy hanging around her neck, it came to her to lead the ceremony to curse her enemy.

Hazel walked toward the altar, careful not to walk on the chalk line; the ceremony would be disastrous if she broke the circle.

On the altar was a tall silver cup with an athame at its side. Cirilla looked at her and nodded; Hazel hesitantly grabbed the knife and slashed her hand over the cup, the wound burned slightly, but it wasn't anything Hazel hadn't endured before.

Like Cirilla had told her, she let her blood pool, then she used a Regen spell on herself wandlessly, closing the wound. It's only recently that Hazel was made to be able to use magic without a wand; she had broken the ritual enacted each time a child chose a wand at Mister Ollivander. 

When you take on a wand, you forsake any other form of magic, may it be spiritual, shamanic, or other fields that aren't available with the use of a wand. That was something that had shocked everyone, that such a thing wasn't explained at all to children. The ministry robs you of your choices by forcing you to take on a wand.

“Great, Hazel. Let me do the rest.” A crystal pendulum appeared in a flash of light and floated in the air, gravitating around Cirilla's head.

Then a silver Diadem, a large cup, a ring, and a locket appeared around her. Next, a huge snake landed on the altar, causing Hermione and Neville to scream and step back; Sirius and Tonks already had their wands out. Fortunately, they didn’t have to worry.

 Cirilla snapped her finger and chanted, “Gijel.”

The large snake hissed in pain as golden glowing chains caught it and surrounded it to bind it completely. It tried to struggle, but the magic restraint kept it in place firmly. And with this, all the Horcruxes have been captured, Cirilla proceeded to cleanse the artifacts and the animals of the soul shards infesting them.

They didn’t disappear; they all gathered in the diamond pendulum where Hazel’s parasite has been stored. Hazel was happy to have met her teacher, who changed her life by taking down this soul shard in her head. Maybe that was why Dumbledore insisted on keeping her in Britain, the old goat knew that there was this thing inside her.

It all made sense, he wanted to control the prophecy and her, to kill the coward that was Tom Riddle. The soul shard that resisted the most was the one in the snake; it clung to its anchor, but it was in vain. It flew toward the pendulum and was quickly absorbed. 

“Now it’s time to get back what was stolen from Hazel, her blood and magic.” Cirilla declared as she readied her magic.

The cup Hazel had filled with her blood floated from the altar to the waiting hand of Cirilla, who started speaking in an unknown language. Smoke rose from the cup, and Hazel saw blood starting to fill it; she knew that she had only put five drops in it, and here it looked like there was at least 500 milliliters in the cup.

The thick smoke coming from the cup turned into a large stag-like construct that reared itself back and charged toward Hazel. She didn’t attempt to flee. Cirilla had told her that she was getting back the magic potential Voldemort had stolen from her when he resurrected himself. The smoke reached her and entered her body through her nose and mouth.

She felt something rise inside herself, Hazel couldn’t guess what it was, but it was in her mind, and in her heart, and when the smoke completely disappeared, she only felt… completeness. Cirilla came walking toward her and grabbed her gently. “Let me check your source.”

“Source?” Hazel asked, not knowing what she was talking about.

Cirilla smiled. “Mhm, I mean something a bit like your soul.”

“Oh.”

Hermione never missed an occasion to know more about something, came right next to Hazel and Cirilla, and asked, “Can you expand on what a source is, Teacher?”

“I don’t want to get too academic about it, but a Source, the fundamental concept that forms one's existence, is hidden within every living being. Your magic power is generated by it; it resides deep within your bodies, beyond your soul and spirit. It’s what makes people who they are.” Cirilla’s eyes glowed, and symbols were appearing in them as she peered at Hazel. The redhead felt somehow naked as Cirilla looked into her eyes.

“Your people found where magic comes from? Incredible!” Sirius, who came up to them, looked at Cirilla with wonder.

Hazel’s teacher warned them. “It’s better not to circulate that knowledge; the Wizarding World doesn’t seem ready for it just yet.”

“I won’t be telling nothin’.” Tonks reacted immediately.

Hazel looked at her pink-haired older friend, Tonks, who had been a bit shellshocked by what Cirilla had been doing, it seems; because of this ritual Cirilla summoned all the Horcruxes from afar. Her healing abilities and innovative travel portal were the least of Cirilla’s incredible magic. The redhead truly wished to see her teacher duel; she bet it was something to witness, just like when she killed Bellatrix Lestrange and the other Death Eaters the last time she was in the UK.

Cirilla’s eyes stopped glowing, and she blinked, the strange symbols etched on her irises fading. She patted Hazel’s shoulder and said, “Mhm. You’re going to be fine, you got back everything you lost and more. Voldemort, that idiot, must be unable to move right now; his body should have collapsed as you got your blood and magic as I undid his complete resurrection.”

Hazel sighed. She was finally free from that monster! And the Old man was dead too, she can do whatever she wants now!

“Everything is over now?” She questioned with a tone full of hope.

Cirilla gave her an answer that didn't satisfy her at all the way. “If you mean your destiny with Tom Marvolo Riddle? Yes. You vanquished him multiple times at that. But if you meant about if he is dead right now? No, and that’s why I must go fetch him first and hand him to the ICW. I doubt he is in a state to run out at all.”

Her teacher turned to the snake, who was still alive, and snapped her fingers. The snake froze as if it were encased in ice, and it disappeared in a flash of yellow light.

Cirilla clapped and announced, “Everyone! The ritual is concluded, you can go back to do what you want.”

A light show began, and the red robe disappeared, and Cirilla returned to her usual garments, a white and purple pleated, flower-patterned kimono; black boots; a black spaghetti-string camisole under a white sash that wraps around her neck and over her chest; and a yellow patterned silk belt.

“I really want to learn how to do that,” Hazel mumbled, it was like seeing a real-life magical girl transformation from Sailor Moon.

Cirilla waved at them. “See you later. Gatom.”

In a flash of blue light, she disappeared and Hazel asked everyone around her, “Now what?”

Neville answered that and came next to her. “Hazel, come here, let’s go play some Quidditch on the Pitch, Cirilla made it for us last night.”

“Really? Let's go!” She grabbed Neville's arm and ran towards the exit.

She might not like the Wizarding World much, but one of the best things coming from it is Quidditch!

# # #

(Commander Samuel Griffin, ICW Special Force)

December 25th, 1997
Liberated Diagon Alley

Everywhere he looked in this alley was destruction and the result of a failed ideology; Samuel got flashbacks of his tour in Germany in the 80s when he fought against the Communist Wizards. He really wanted to be home already; Samuel missed his family because Yule had already passed. That's why he was desperately trying to wrap up everything in the UK to return. He wanted the same for the men and women who came to free the British Isles from a dark lord with delusions of grandeur and who seemed to not know anything about magic and the culture surrounding it; if he did, he wouldn't have gone with this pureblood dogma shite as magic is not just blood and lineage.

Didn't they stop celebrating Beltane, the summer and winter equinox, and Yule and other magically important celebrations, which are supposed to renew their magic and put them in equilibrium? 

He avoided walking in the pothole before him; the main street in Diagon Alley has gone unmaintained for a while. Most of the shops were closed, some of the owners having fled, were killed or were interned in the death camps.

Voldemort had no idea what he did here united pretty much all magical polities against him; the man was practically called Magical Hitler. Fortunately, some people met a good Samaritan who was experimenting with magical travel, and she stumbled on Hazel Potter, and this is how she started exfiltrating as many people as she could with the help of the local resistance. 

Samuel watched as some of his men were extracting a couple with children from their house. They looked emaciated, and he understood why; they had boarded up their home and had strong wards, and their dwelling was cut off from the floor network. So they stayed isolated for months and ate magically duplicated food. The healers will have a field day with them.

He walked up directly into the command tent placed before Gringotts bank with the permission of the Goblins, who, for once, wanted a quick resolution of the conflict between the wizards to get back to business.

Disgusting creatures. Samuel thought as he was disgusted by the opportunistic attitude of the bankers.

A witch accosted him; it was one of his adjutants who also served as his secretary. “Sir, welcome back! We have some updates for you!”

“Good! Show me.” Samuel nodded and came to stand before the table with an interactive map of the British Isles. It was made with proprietary magics that showed in real time where all his troops and their foes were. They pacified Diagon already and the Ministry; there were still two camps left, and he intended to attack them tonight.

The woman brought a stack of paper to him. “Here it is.”

Samuel started leafing through the reports he was handed; he learned that the Terrorists’ resistance had not been too fierce in the South-east and West, but there were still pockets of Death Eaters, werewolves and vampires, and mercenaries all over the North. Many wanted dark wizards had come from all over Europe, where the pure blood ideology was still ruling strongly. This situation was, in essence, a boon to root them out now that they had the advantage.

The midlands were still being a problem as the dark families of England were providing support to the terrorists; if he couldn’t break their holds, Samuel would be forced to send the African units and they will simply massacre everyone if they went there; now that he thought about it, it was all dumb that they fought now instead of resisting against Voldemort.

Magical Britain was full of… idiots? It was strange that those people got taken over by such weak wizards spouting nonsense about blood purity. Then again, those Death Eaters mostly relied on being a grassroots movement, used fear tactics and surprise attacks against a cowardly and ignorant population who became brainwashed into relying on a really old man. Samuel would love to see those clowns try that shit in France or MACUSA, or worse… Italy. Certain families there didn't play around.

As he continued his perusal of the report, his Witches and Wizards filled after action, his secretary wearing a similar black and grey uniform to his, came back and stopped before his desk. She was accompanied by one of the mundane MI7 agents who helped them coordinate with this country’s government.

He looked up from the file in his hand. “Yes, Miku?”

“Sir.” She performed a sharp salute with her hand closed in a fist on the right insignia of the ICW’s special force. “A woman called Cirilla Luxia Andromeda is here to see you.”

Samuel frowned and put down the file he was holding. “The name is familiar…”

The MI7 agent next to Miku interrupted with a cough. “It’s the woman who created portal magic.”

“Ah, yeah… her.” Samuel sighed; he already anticipated that meeting this woman was going to be a trainwreck. She invented a spell that circumvented every security measure the ICW has in place.

Cirilla Luxia Andromeda is supposedly a French witch with Japanese ancestry who developed her own magic system. She uses wandless magic and a staff, from what he heard. The woman abhors wand magic, calling it limited and restrictive, and there was nothing they could do to her as she was too rich and well-connected in France since she greased the right wheels to make all their inquiries go away.

She made big moves in France recently by starting to build her own Wizarding Settlement and is supposedly the richest woman of Europe; the problem for everyone that felt concerned about her was that no one knew where she came from, and the big wigs theorized that she comes from an even more secretive wizarding community with no ties to the ministries or ICW.

Samuel asked, “Oh. What does she want?”

“Sir, Miss Andromeda said she dealt with Voldemort and wants to hand him over to you,” Miku replied. She had an expression of disbelief on her face.

The Commander stood up in shock. “Wait, really?”

Miku nodded sharply. “Yes, sir. She gave proof by showing us his snake, wands, and… well, his body. The thing is that she says… that she ritually cursed him, sir.”

“Shite.” Samuel ran outside and saw a big gathering near the entrance of Gringotts. There was a really bad smell coming from there.

The Goblins were there, and he even recognized their King, Ragnok, as they performed some kind of ritual. Was that a bloodline ritual? Ragnok grinned mercilessly at the ICW soldiers while a woman with a blue and yellow witch hat said with a lack of patience in her voice, “Now, do you believe me? This is Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr. The man calling himself Lord Voldemort, can you believe the idiot called himself "flight from death?”



It was really that woman, Cirilla Luxia Andromeda. She was a pretty and exotic brown haired woman, wearing an atypical Japanese outfit with a staff in her hand. Her blue and green odd-eye settled on Samuel. 

She smiled and waved at Samuel. “Ah, finally, the man in charge. Bonjour Commander! I bring you the man who caused all this.”

How does she know me?! Samuel was surprised by the woman walking up to him.

The MI7 agent accompanying him appeared next to Samuel, and he wrinkled his nose before putting his sleeve over it. “Ewww, what’s this disgusting smell?!”

Cirilla pointed her staff at a white blob sitting on a flying dark marble tile that had been carved out. “Here is the odorous Tom Riddle, aka Voldemort. Sorry about the smell, he can’t move to go to the toilet in this form.”

There was some brown liquid oozing from the slime, and everyone stepped away from it.

“Disgusting.” Samuel found himself saying as he witnessed the fate of the so-called Dark Lord of Britain.

“You really cursed him?” Samuel asked as he tried to sense how powerful her magic was. He felt it… and he decided to be more polite with her.

Miss Cirilla showed up a parchment with the official stamp of Gringotts, on it were the bloodline results with the name of Voldemort’s three generations of ancestors, with the names of his direct parents: Merope Gaunt and Tom Marvolo Riddle Senior. “Indeed, it is him; I have the proof with me here, the Goblins were paid a gold ingot to make a bloodline test on him.”

Samuel heard the slime writhe, but was unable to move; this activity proved that he could hear them speak. The witch turned and cast some kind of charm, and the smell of urine and feces completely disappeared. “As you can see from his state, he has used many things to keep himself alive: he created Horcruxes, drank unicorn blood, performed the father, son, and blood of his enemy ritual to resurrect himself. The thing is, I had to devise a completely custom ritual to undo it and get back the blood and magic potential of my student, and his body, anchoring his soul to this plane of existence, is collapsing.”

“You’re handing him to us.” Samuel surmised, it seemed that the woman wanted to be done with this affair quickly. She devised a ritual in a matter of weeks to deal with this dark lord who committed crime after crime against magic. The woman needed to be commanded for this, and he will write a recommendation for her later.

“Yeah, but you better take him, he is fading fast.” She huffed tiredly.

Samuel nodded. “We will take him out of your hands.”

Cirilla flew the marble next to him with a wave of her hand. “Phew! I can finally go back to experiment with magic and develop my settlement! Goodbye, if you need me for the trial, you can mail me at my postbox in place cachée.”

She gave him a wave and returned to speak with the goblins. “So, King Ragnok, where were we? Do you want this deal or not?”

The Goblin King looked behind her, then at the witch. With a reverent tone, he queried, “Can I invite you for a cuppa, my Lady?”

“Ah, certainly.” Cirilla and the goblins moved toward the entrance of Gringotts, leaving the human wizards completely baffled.

Miku, who was at Samuel’s side, remarked, “That woman is terrifying; she didn’t even put the dark lord in her eyes.”

Samuel sighed in relief when the door to the bank closed, and with them the emanation of Cirilla’s magic disappeared. “Couldn’t you feel her magic? She’s maybe half human… look how the Goblins treat her?”

Miku nodded, a bit scared. The MI7 agent, who is a mundane, couldn’t understand what they meant. He only saw a pretty young woman earlier. “What do you mean? I don’t see any difference.”

Samuel rolled his eyes at the mundane man. “There is, and it is big. They treat her with respect.”

With that, they took in the fallen and inhuman form of Tom Marvollo Riddle and used his wand to float the marble he rested on. He swore that he heard a whimper and some crying from it as he brought it back to the temporary gallows.

# # #

Epilogue

# # #

(Ivanoe Greengrass)

2 years later…
January 6th, 2000
The United Kingdom
Greengrass Manor

It is remarkable how the times evolve. In just two years, the very fabric of magical societies has been altered.

The Wizengamot has been dissolved, the Court of Common has been implemented instead, replicating the one in London that meets nine times a year; a bloody travesty in Ivanoe's opinion. Each magical settlement in the UK has a representative who is voted in by their constituents. Which has been proven to be a meritocratic system, as only the best administrator was allowed to manage the country.

The Muggleborns wanted this system to be implemented and in barely two years, every pureblood law made to turn the Muggle-borns into second class citizens was repealed. The Representatives took a good look at France and Spain, which were the closest and modern countries nearest to them and drafted a Magna Carta with a Bill of Rights that guaranteed rights for everyone, even the Werewolves and other sentient magical creatures.

With this new system, the Justice Department of the new Ministry has taken care of all its prisoners; they even commissioned The-Witch-of-Spira to craft the Hall of Justice with a conceptual magic called the Field Of Truth, where no lie could be uttered or any illusions were shattered. The woman’s fame was at an all-time high because of this, since she took care of Voldemort; she didn’t have many enemies after the way she cursed the dark lord.

A lot of Death Eaters, marked and unmarked, received capital punishment. Their supporters also received a prison sentence. The ICW chose to build a more humane jail for magical criminals called the Black Tower. The entire building was covered by what the Dwarven builders called an antimagic field, and employed muggleborns who were used to magicless environments. 

The Dementors were all exterminated in the Second Blood War by the ICW forces, so the death Penalty was now enacted through the use of a magic guillotine.

How French… this has that woman's influence all over it. Ivanoe Greengrass thought as he leaned through the Truth Gazette, the brand new newspaper in the Isles. 

The Daily Prophet's higher-ups were found to be taking massive bribes and making fake articles to support the Death Eaters’ cause. As a consequence, the newspaper went bankrupt, and from its ashes, the Truth Gazette was born.

Ivanoe read the newspaper and in black bold letters, he saw:

The-Witch-of-Spira does it again! She found a cure for Lycanthropy!

He sighed. That woman continued to invent new magic and discover cures to magical maladies and conditions that had been long thought incurable. She even created a new branch of magic that she called Magitek that wedded magic and Muggle technologies. France found itself at the forefront of this techno-magical singularity. 

The magical world has the equivalent of the telephone now, it is called the visiphone, where you can contact anyone in the world. It was a technology that allowed voice and image to be transmitted through a tablet called a Visiphone.

The Black Family and The Andromeda Institute entered into a cooperation to make this important item, which worked through the Aetheric Transmit System Towers, which allows instantaneous communication wirelessly over large distances. 

Thanks to the ICW, 4 towers exist, one that covers all of Europe, one in Japan that covers all Asian countries, one in Africa that covers that entire region, and one in North America that covers the Americas.

With just this little bit of advancement, she completely changed how the Wizarding Society works. The Owl mail service was now thought of as obsolete; she made the Visiphone even more affordable than an animal.

She also made a panacea against all sorts of illnesses, such as Dragon Pox. The cure to Lycanthropy, though? This was game-changing, it would bring to the Duchess of the Principality of Little Spira more power as a legion of werewolves would come seeking out the cure.

Ivanoe put down his newspaper on the table. He called his elf and asked for a cuppa of tea… then he reached back for the newspaper and saw what was on the second page.

His eyes widened as he couldn't believe his eyes as the news immediately concerned him and his family.

The-Witch-of-Spira cures blood malediction! 

Everyone, I am sure that you all know what a blood malediction is! It's also known as a blood curse, which had various and powerful negative effects and could be passed down to one's descendants! Cirilla Luxia Andromeda created a ritual approved by the ICW to rid magical and non-magical families of them. 

It is safe and the one they tested it on, who had been turned into a large snake for decades was transformed back into a human…

Ivanoe's hands trembled as he thought of what that would mean for his second daughter, Astoria. He needed this! He wanted this! But… the backlash would be bigger than when the Malfoy were collectively executed and their death brought a recession due to how many businesses they had in Britain. Would the public turn against the Greengrass more than when they were shown to have stayed neutral in both Blood Wars?

Their enemies might smell blood, despite the pure blood ideology dying, people were still proud of their lineage. He needed to choose between his pride and his little girl… and in the end, he chose his child.

Ivanoe called for his elf, “Morris! Fetch me the Visiphone!”

# # #

April 06th, 2007
Little Spira

 I looked over the city of Little Spira from the tower of the White Manor. My lands spread all over the Massif de L’Etoile to Marseille, but I made it all hush hush with my development of the Demi-Plane that hid my small community from the prying eyes of the mundane and magical government, but not totally. I didn’t want to have any spy problems, since I came up with the Visiphone invention.

Despite my sharing the advances I make, there were still wizards or witches trying to steal my work to put their names on it. There’s something I realized with the Wizarding World’s people… they’re all indolent and unmotivated. I clearly expected them to go extinct by the year 2000 when the CCTV networks and YouTube were a thing.

But thanks to my side work where I replaced the fuel and fissile materials of all the nukes in the world or destroyed the knowledge of how to make them from countries like Iran or North Korea, I avoided the disaster scenario. It was why I was sent here, apparently, to destroy their nuclear arsenal to dodge the huge extinction event that humanity both magical and mundane, would wage.

I looked at the school not too far from the manor, the children seemed to have a lot of fun with the blitzball court. I wasn’t surprised to see Hazel be the umpire for the game, she really fell in love with magical rugby…

With a sigh, I found myself restless. I did everything I could with what I have but I wanted to visit another world already. I eagerly waited for any other mission the Cabal had for me as mine in this world was already complete. One year ago, the Cabal of Enlightened Gods who sent me here contacted me in a dream, and congratulated me for doing a good job. They said that they will contact me for my next mission and that I could do whatever in the meantime. 

So, I did, now I have a bunch of worlds to visit to loot their knowledge and resources from them! I have a list of universes and worlds to visit and the next one is a boring one but it is rich in resources.

Next destination! Azeroth, here I come!