//------------------------------//
// Chapter 77:  Voldemort 
// Story: The Accidental Invasion 
// by computerneek 
//------------------------------//

“Kill the spares.”
Fleur, still lying on the ground as she recovered from the portkey, rolled frantically to the side, dodging behind a tall tombstone before she scrambled to her feet and leaned against it, keeping herself hidden as she peered around it.
“Avada Kedavra.”
She saw the bright green bolt of light coming at Harry, Silver, and Cedric, who had already risen to their feet.
“No!” Silver cried, and leaped in front of Cedric, knocking him to the ground.  They crashed to the ground together, then Silver lifted herself up to her hands and knees, breathing hard.  It looked to Fleur as if Cedric had been stunned, rather than killed.
“Avada Kedavra.”
The bolt struck Silver again, and she collapsed limply on top of Cedric.
She watched, silently, as Silver’s killer dragged Harry over to a massive headstone and tied him to it, then ran off somewhere behind it.
“S-Silver?” Cedric hissed.
Fleur glanced over, towards the headstone, and back at Cedric.  “She’s dead,” she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.  She stepped out to help Cedric get out from underneath Silver’s body, then they both hid themselves among the tombstones.
“What is going on?” Cedric whispered.
“No idea,” Fleur answered.  “Pretty sure they think you’re dead too- and don’t know I’m here.”  She nodded towards the massive stone.  “They haven’t killed Harry, though.”
“They’ll probably kill us if they realize we’re here,” Cedric scowled.
She nodded.





“Robe me.”
“V-Voldemort,” Cedric whispered fearfully, peering around the tombstone at the man that had just risen from the cauldron.
“Voldemort,” Fleur agreed, a firm strength imbuing her whisper.  “Be ready to summon that Cup,” she told him.  “We’ll wait for the right moment to grab Harry and get out of here.”
He nodded silently.





“The hell-?” Cedric muttered.
Fleur remained silent, but she shared his sentiment- as did, apparently, all of the Death Eaters.  Voldemort had decided to duel Harry- and, when they had cast their spells at one another, their wands had connected, made them fly away to a clear spot just outside the graveyard, then made a dome of light around them.
She watched in silence as they dueled, or…  whatever they were doing in that dome.
When it finally disappeared, there were a few gray…  Ghosts?  Shadows?  There was Silversong, an old man leaning on a cane, a strange woman, and what looked like older versions of both Harry and Hailey.  The shadows congregated on Voldemort, while Harry fled back towards where Silver’s body…  wasn’t, Fleur realized.  She glanced around, but she didn’t see it- it had disappeared.
Then, it might have been a trick of the light, but Fleur could swear that Harry flickered as he fled through the graveyard, dodging spells.  His wand had…  disappeared, as well.
Then he flickered a second time, moments before a bolt of green light struck the back of his head…  and he crashed to the ground, as limp as Silver had been.
And Voldemort…  As near as Fleur could tell, Voldemort looked almost stunned- like he hadn’t expected Harry to die when hit by the Killing Curse.
“Hangon, there’s someone else,” a death-eater cried.
Fleur cursed.  She didn’t usually, but now was as good a time as any.
“Hide and get Harry back to Hogwarts,” Fleur commanded Cedric in an undertone.  “I will distract them.”
Then she burst from their hiding place and ran between gravestones herself, firing spells back at them and dodging all of their spells with that odd sense she’d noticed when Moody had attacked her.  She utilized both verbal and nonverbal incantations, and layered them as well- for some reason, that seemed to be coming a lot easier now.  Perhaps it was because she wasn’t pairing unrelated and very complicated spells?  Perhaps it was because this wasn’t surprise combat?
Exactly as intended, their attention was completely seized by her flight.  The whole crowd was charging after her.  They were getting closer- which they needed to, for her to hold their attention off of Cedric.
“Accio Cup!”
Cedric’s yell was loud and clearly audible, drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the entire graveyard.  They looked…  just in time for him to catch the cup out of the air, and vanish back to Hogwarts.
Fleur took a deep breath.  This was time for Part Two- she would just use her Talent to vanish into the darkness, then flee from the graveyard and, relying on her talent to keep her hidden, figure out where in the world she was and, hopefully, find her way back to somewhere she recognized.
There was a sudden crack of apparition, and she felt the point of a wand between her shoulder blades.
That just wasn’t fair.
“Crucio!”
She thought she had known pain before, but she hadn’t.  It was excruciating.  Was this what the accelerated Papa Tango would have felt like?
She collapsed to the ground…  and it stopped.
It took her several seconds to recover enough to raise her head.  She could feel the lasting damage the curse had done- and the residual pain was intense.
The grass around her- she had gotten some distance from the graveyard before Cedric had portkeyed back out- had been replaced by a dense forest of gigantic, black stone spikes sticking out of the ground, twisted in all sorts of directions.  Voldemort was behind her, sidling through one of the gaps.  He stepped forwards, and put his foot on her back, pinning her down.  “Powerful little girl, aren’t you?” he snarled- but there was something off in his tone, which…
She recognized it, she realized.
She blinked, and grinned.
Voldemort was susceptible to Veela.
For the first time ever, she willingly pushed her lust aura.  “Don’t you mean pretty?” she asked, straining to keep her voice soft and dainty, the way that was most effective.
His foot left her back.  “Yes, very pretty,” he agreed dreamily.
She could have laughed out loud.  She had him wrapped around her little finger.  It was almost comical just how easy that had been.
“Could you be a lad and help me up?” she asked.
He did.  He bent down, and helped her up to her feet, completely wordlessly.  She looked at him, and the odd, pervy look on his face that she was so used to despising.
“Can I see your wand for a second?”
“S-Sure, my wand,” he muttered.  “Are you hurt?”
And he gave it to her.
She pocketed it.  He had him so strongly.  She fought to keep the grin off her face, present a pleasant smile and cute shrug.  “I got a booboo on my hand,” she pouted, fluttering her eyelashes at him.  “Could you kiss it?”  She held out her left hand in a loose fist, her right holding her wand by her side, and concentrated on her Veela magic.  She had him strong enough that this should work.
She could tell that she had been successful.  That gleam in his eyes, the way he shuddered…  She had just permanently imprinted on him, which would make him especially vulnerable to her (though quite resilient to other Veela)…  and forever unwilling to hurt her or allow her to be hurt.  He accepted her hand, and bent forward to kiss it.
Whack!
A female Death Eater had managed to wiggle her way in between the spikes where Fleur couldn’t see, and had slapped Lord Voldemort in the face.
But, Fleur knew, she was already done.  The Dark Lord Voldemort might recognize the slap as an attempt to shake him out of the Veela-induced trance, but he would not appreciate the attack.  As a matter of fact, she would have deliberately broken him out of his trance after the kiss, since he was basically useless- aside from acting like a lovesick puppy- while in that trance.  Since she had imprinted, there simply wasn’t a technique out there that could stop her from gaining a lesser level of control- he wouldn’t be able to resist willingly letting her in.
And she needed a lesser level if she was going to make him use his brain.  It was kinda annoying how the higher levels had that trance effect, but she could manage it.
But, especially considering the death eater’s sudden appearance, it was a good thing she had decided to go for broke and imprint as the first thing she did; because recapturing someone after they had been awakened would have been much harder than catching someone unawares.  That was especially true for him, since she was fairly sure he had trained himself to resist Veela attacks, and just hadn’t realized she was part Veela!
Fleur whirled on the death eater, while Voldemort was still recovering from the slap.  This woman was actually dangerous to her- and unfortunately, Veela magic simply never worked on women.  And, Voldemort didn’t have his wand on him, so he couldn’t stop her, even if he hadn’t been recovering from a blow hard enough to turn the side of his face cherry red.
“How dare you!” the woman snarled, pointing her wand at Fleur.  “Cruci-!”
She never finished.
Fleur’s hand had struck the stone spikes behind her- and exactly as she had guessed, it was she that had caused them to appear.  In response to that same strange ability, two massive stone slabs had leaped out of the ground and smashed the death eater flat like giant jaws, crushing her skeleton with a sound like a potato chip getting stomped on.
She took a deep breath, and let it out.
Then, the death eater’s head dropped down between her and Voldemort, cleanly severed.
Both of them stared at it.  Her stone slabs wouldn’t have severed her head like that- they were a good two feet taller than she had been, and would have smashed it with everything else!





“The first Champion to touch this cup,” Hailey announced to the crowd, “and the winner of the Triwizard Tournament…”  She turned towards the rest of the judges.  “Is Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons!”
The crowd applauded politely.
Hailey sighed, and handed the cup to Madame Maxime.  “I’m sorry, the applause would probably be fuller if the Tournament was taking place at Beauxbatons instead,” she told her.
Maxime only sighed, the pain from finding out Fleur had sacrificed herself to let Cedric return safely still showing on her face.
Then Hailey turned around.  “Aaand, Moody’s running off with Cedric.  Ready for his trial, Sadarina?”  She drew her wand.  “Confundus!”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Sadarina answered eagerly, jogging up next to her.





“Did he welco-hurk!” Moody gasped, one hand snapping to his throat.  He’d apparently been stunned during the Task, and woke back up shortly after the portkey had activated.
Cedric Diggory gasped and stumbled backwards, where a dementor caught him, and gently set him back on his feet.
Moody, meanwhile, melted into someone Cedric didn’t recognize right away.  His magic eye popped out, flying over to land in a glass of water Cedric hadn’t seen when Moody had rushed him to his office.  It was sitting on a beautifully carved wooden desk- and speaking of wood, Moody’s leg popped off too, flying up to the desk…  which had Hailey sitting behind it.  She brushed off the leg with her other hand, then picked up the glass with the eye in it and held them out to Sadarina.  “Could you take these to Godric, please?  It’s about time he gets them back.”
Sadarina giggled, accepted them, and left the room.
The strange man, who had staggered and fallen into an iron chair set in the middle of the room, struggled to free himself from the chains that had wrapped themselves around his arms and legs.
Morning Sun, who was standing next to Hailey’s desk, sighed.  “Bartemius Crouch, Junior,” she announced.  Her voice was completely emotionless, but her eyes told a tale of enormous pain- the same pain that had been much more visible when he had reported Silver’s death.  She had lost someone important to her…  because of the man in front of her.
The man flinched, looking up.
“You stand before us, accused of:
“First, interfering with the Triwizard Tournament by casting the Confundus Curse on Victor Krum at a critical point, causing him to fail the Third Task;
“Second, interfering with the Triwizard Tournament by directly dueling Fleur Delacour during the Third Task;
“Third, interfering with the Triwizard Tournament by casting the Cruciatus Curse on Silversong at a critical point;
“Fourth, casting the Cruciatus Curse on a fellow human being;
“Fifth, the attempted murder of Bartemius Crouch, Senior;
“Sixth, conspiring in the resurrection of Lord Voldemort;
“Seventh…”
The list seemed to go on.
“Twenty-seventh, violating a mother’s trust.”  Morning finally lowered the scroll she had been reading from.  “How do you plead?”
“I- Innocent!” he cried, half panicked.
“Very well,” Morning nodded, and looked to the side, where a series of people- several of them dementors- were lined up as if waiting their turn.  On the other side of the room, there were three rows of dementors, just…  standing.  Not a single one was drawing their rattling breaths of despair.
It took a very long time for the row of people to step forward, one at a time, and present their arguments and evidence against him.  Even Professor Moody testified against him!
“The prosecution rests,” someone said.  She was younger, and had a long sheet of blue-green hair.  The girl that had comforted Morning, a murderous fire in her eyes, when they had heard of Silver’s death.
Now Morning was standing again, having sat on the end of Hailey’s desk while she watched with an angry fire in her eyes.  Now, it was the blaze of white-hot steel as she gazed at him.
“How will you defend yourself?”
He only cried into his lap.  “Please, no,”
Morning sighed, and looked over to the side.
Professor Snape stepped over, holding a tiny bottle.
“Magical Britain has no law to protect you from testifying against yourself,” Hailey muttered softly- and, Cedric realized, dangerously.
They forced him to swallow just three drops from the bottle.
“Please tell us about the events you have been accused of,” Morning told him.
He started talking.  The bottle must’ve contained a truth potion, because he told them everything.
It took him forever as well- then, when he finally went silent, Morning looked towards the rows of Dementors off to the side.
The entire lot of them crossed their arms over their chests, all at once.
Morning looked back down at Crouch.  “The verdict is thus,” she said, calmly.
“Guilty as charged.”
Almost instantly, the truth potion seemed to wear off.  He flinched, and started struggling again.
It wasn’t Morning that had spoken- instead, one of the dementors that had testified against him was striding forwards, lowering its hood.
It was Amelia Bones, the head of the DMLE.  She stopped in front of Crouch, and turned sharply to face him, her long, black cloak seeming to melt into nothingness.  “Any last words, Mr. Crouch?”
“No, please, no,” Crouch moaned.
Amelia sighed.  “Sentencing, then.  You will be slapped, then Kissed and disintegrated.”
Several of the non-dementor people around the room- Dumbledore, the Professors, Minister Cornelius Fudge, all the Twiwizard Judges (including Karkaroff, who had testified for the Confundus against Krum), and even Rita Skeeter in the corner- blinked in apparent surprise.
Then, one of the dementors glided forwards, lowering its hood.  Its cloak also seemed to melt into nothingness as the girl it revealed landed gently on the floor and stepped directly in front of him, gazing at him.  She looked like a first-year- not unlike Sadarina, perhaps.
Crouch simply stared at her.  “M-Mother,” he gasped.  “P-Please-!”
WHACK!
The girl slapped him so hard that blood flecks scattered across the floor.  “I doomed myself to that prison so you could have a second chance,” she told him, in a low, but very calm, tone.  “And what have you done?” she asked him, still deadly calm.
“P-Please!” he gasped.
“You have squandered it,” she told him.  “You are no son of mine.”  Then she stepped forward, seized his head in her hands, and kissed him, right on the lips.  It lasted a couple of seconds, during which he went limp- then she stepped back, raised one hand, and slashed it down, straight through his body- which popped, almost, into a cloud of dust.
Moments later, there was a pile of dust settling on the floor around the empty chair.
The girl sighed, then turned to Amelia.  “Thanks for indulging me,” she told her, with a bow.
Amelia chuckled.  “No problem.”
“I don’t suppose that means he’s going to no-show the rest of his detentions,” Hailey mused, her words triggering a wave of laughter around the room, “so we can finally fire Junior.”  She sighed.  “Minister Fudge?” she called.
Fudge looked up, from where he had still been staring at Crouch’s very sudden demise.  “Huh?” he muttered.
“I’m sorry to keep you from your duties for so long,” Hailey continued, “but basically everyone else involved agreed that you needed to know.”  She sighed.
“If Voldemort has returned…”  Fudge shuddered.  “This is not a good time for that.”
“Good thing my fortune-tellers say he will be going stealth for a while,” Hailey agreed.  “We can prepare for him, and even fight him, without announcing it to the public, if need be.”
Fudge tilted his head.  “True,” he muttered.  “That’ll…  Yeah.  That’ll also improve people’s trust in the Ministry, when we appear so prepared when he finally shows himself- and allow us to take stronger, more powerful actions against him.”  He nodded.  “Thank you, miss…  Hailey, was it?”
“It is,” Hailey nodded.
He nodded as well.  “So, ah, may I request the assistance of some of your people in coming up with a suitable media strategy?”
She nodded.  “Sure.  Shall I have them visit you in the Ministry, so your Cabinet can join in as well?”
He paused.  “Uh, yes, please.  Would…”  He scowled.  “Tomorrow afternoon work?”
Hailey flipped open a planner on her desk.  “Yup, wide open.  One o’clock?”
He nodded as well.  “Excellent,” he stated.  “And, um, can we meet now as well, for the, er, non-media strategy?”
Hailey shrugged.  “Our people don’t know the first thing about fighting Voldemort,” she told him.  “No matter how hard they study, wands are still foreign to most of them.  Your best bet on that will be Professor Dumbledore.”  She gestured towards him.
Fudge looked inquisitively at Dumbledore.
“We’ll need to send envoys to the Giants,” Dumbledore told him.  “We need to keep them at least neutral, if not in our favor.”  Then he smiled.  “Normally, I would also have recommended removing Azkaban from the control of the Dementors…  but something tells me that won’t be an issue this time.”  He glanced around the room.
All the dementors laughed, reaching up to flick down their hoods- and, in most cases, float down to the floor, since they were children underneath their vanishing cloaks.  One of the others was Barty Crouch Senior- who stepped forward to hug the girl that had erased his son so quickly.  His cloak didn’t disappear- he must not be a real dementor.
Madame Maxime blinked.  “So that’s why it was only attempted murder of his father,” she muttered.