"In your absolute defiance against tyranny, lies and all odds; lies therein, your true moral strength. Rise!"-Mamur Mustafa
"Never give in, never give in, never, never, never, never-in nothing, great or small, large or petty-never give in except to convictions of honor and good sense"-Winston Churchill
Subterranean Cavern, below Gringotts
"Your Majesty, please-"
"Wizard. Human. Why should we join in your battle?"
Scrimgeour looked at the goblin sitting opposite him. He counted to ten in his mind, breathing deeply.
"It is not only our war," he said, as patiently as he could. "If Voldemort wins-"
"If your Voldemort wins, he will treat us as brutally as you have for centuries. Denying us our basic rights"
"Haven't we shown that we're trying to change that?" Scrimgeour half-shouted.
His words echoed off the cave's walls.
In the dim light, he could make out Olrik's teeth appearing, as he snarled silently.
"You give us a pittance, and expect us to kowtow to you?" He hissed. "We do not require your handouts, wizard. We are not prepared to die for your measly gifts. You know what we want"
"And I want nothing more than to give you wands. Truly. But I cannot. Not at this juncture. There is too much bad blood between us"
Cold amusement seemed to bubble up as the Goblin spoke. "Are you afraid of us, wizard?"
' Careful now'
"I would be a fool to not recognize strength, and to not feel the appropriate emotion"
"Wizards and their wordplay. Tell me, wizard. Why should my warriors risk their lives in your war? And it is not just our warriors. If we join forces with you, and we then lose, your Voldemort will kill us all. From the stooped over elders to the newborn. Why should we abandon our policy of neutrality, and join with you?"
"Because if you do not, we will surely lose. And if we lose, Voldemort will treat you worse than ever you were treated. Because if you join us and we win, public opinion of your race will rise to a point where perhaps, I might be able to pass legislation allowing you wands"
Olrik nodded silently, his long fingernails clicking against the stone table.
"And because-because I have shown that I am willing to give you, at least some of your desires. You can trust me to give you all that I am capable of"
The clicking stopped.
"Trust. So easily do you humans speak of trust. Why should I trust a human, when every time my people have, our trust was cast back into our faces?"
' Stebbins, if this works, I'll have statues of you put up'
"If you agree to fight. I will give you every bit of Goblin-wrought metal, jewelry, and the like that the Ministry of Magic possesses"
Olrik froze, his figure seeming carved from stone in the gloom.
"You say that I have merely given you pittances. And perhaps, from your point of view, that is accurate. I promise to give you wands when the social life between our two races is more friendly, and you say you cannot trust me to keep my promises. Would my returning to you all of your possessions, as you see them, not speak for my trust?"
Olrik's fingernails resumed their clacking.
"As you know, Goblin law will be viewed as equal to wizarding law from the start of next year. And I am returning all of your precious objects. Is that not enough to gain you my trust?"
"You think trust can be bought?" Came the Goblin's rasp.
"Of course it can. How else is it gained?"
At first, the harsh, hacking noises scared him. Nothing in Stebbin's briefings had prepared him for that. Then he understood.
Olrik, the king of the Goblin Nation, was laughing.
"Come, wizard," he said, rising. "My brethren await my decision"
"You do not have to confer with them?"
Olrik snorted and spat out of the corner of his mouth. "What is the point of choosing a leader, if they will make their own decisions afterward?"
"Too true. You see. Wizards do have a lot to learn from you"
Olrik glared balefully at Rufus, leading him until they were just outside of a pair of enormous stone doors.
"We know that," the Goblin King said, "but do you?"
And he pushed open the doors.
The light from within blinded Scrimgeour, after the hours he had spent in near-darkness.
But this, this was a cavern at least a few kilometers long, and enormously wide.
Hundreds, thousands of candles floated near the ceiling, throwing his mind back to his first time walking into Hogwarts' Great Hall.
But what drew his eyes was not the candles.
It was the stands lining the high walls, full of easily ten thousand goblins.
Olrik walked forward a few meters and raised his horned hands.
He growled out something In Gobbledegook, and whatever magic the Goblins used, they clearly knew their stuff when it came to voice magnification.
The giant cavern fell silent, not a single goblin making a noise.
Silent, except for two pairs of footfalls, growing louder.
Two elderly goblins appeared, carrying a large silver box.
As they drew nearer, Rufus made out the many jewels encrusted in the lid of the box.
They stopped before Olrik, both of them bowing.
There was an uncomfortable feeling in the air as Olrik ran his hands reverently over the lid. A feeling as if every Goblin there was holding their breath in anticipation.
With a swift motion, the king flung open the box and drew out the huge, double-headed ax that lay on the velvet lining within.
He raised it high over his head, and with his muscles rippling, thrust it into the stone floor.
It cut through the rock below it like it was butter, sinking in until only the haft stood out.
The king raised his arms again and shouted.
And when every goblin there repeated his words, the cavern shook with the force of their cries. Once the echoes had died down, Olrik turned to Rufus.
"The Goblin Nation has declared war on your Lord Voldemort"
Rufus' jaw dropped.
' So quickly!'
Unconcerned, Olrik continued. "Give us a list of every known Death Eater. We will share the contents of their vaults' with you. As you know, war requires gold"
"I-I will"
"Of course, any objects of Goblin origin within their vaults will be claimed by us"
"Of course," Rufus said, nodding as hysterical laughter bubbled within him.
"Three of our war chiefs will accompany you back to your Ministry. They will meet with your generals, and report back to me"
"Excellent. Your Majesty, on behalf of the Ministry of Magic, and on behalf of Britain, I must offer you our thanks. Together, we shall triumph. And we shall usher in a new age of wizard-goblin relations"
The king nodded, his expression not changing in the least.
"Mark me well, wizard. Do not betray us. Do not abandon us. Do not forget the dues you have sworn to us. For if you do, your treachery will forswear any possible future peace between our races. And we will never forgive you"
A shudder tried passed through him, only held at bay by years of experience in politics.
"I will not, your majesty"
Olrik watched him as he left, his large incisor poking through the gap between his lips.
"See that you do not" he whispered, before turning to marshal his people.
For the first time in nearly two hundred years, the Goblin Nation prepared for war.
Council of Wizards, New York
"May I address the council before the vote?"
The muttered conversation fell away as Sobhuza Mbetwe stood up. As one of the oldest wizards in the council and one of the longest-standing members of the council, everything he said was listened to with respect.
Generally, at least.
' Not that they will be happy with my statements today. But I do not care. I am no longer a child, to worry about the opinions of others'
"The chair recognizes Sobhuza Mbetwe. Do you speak as a representative of the Ngwene, or as a representative of Swaziland?"
He smirked slightly, his teeth standing out harshly against his skin.
"Neither. Today, I speak for Africa"
Behind him, the representatives of all the African tribes and countries nodded and muttered their assent, as gasps filled the room.
For one man to represent an entire continent. For an entire continent, particularly one as diverse as Africa to agree on something entirely. It was almost unheard of.
The current chairwizard though deserved some credit. He quickly recovered from his shock.
"Very well. Speak as you desire"
He gazed over the assembled witches and wizards for a few moments, looking at the representatives of hundreds of different countries and tribal groups.
His eyes lingered for a moment over the empty table which usually held the Japanese council members.
' Asuka was an honorable man. And he would have agreed with me, on this'
"Many, many moons ago" he began, his rich voice filling the room, "when I was but a child, I asked my father a question. As many of you know, my father was a member of this council, as was his father before him. I asked him why we did not give aid to our countrymen, to protect them from the terrors of the colonialists. He responded, that it was not up to us to interfere with internal muggle politics. That for us to take a stand would cause the wizards of Europe to be required to take a stand. That our job was to prevent magical interference in muggle life"
He glanced around the room, noting the cocky smile of the Russian representative.
' There is a special place in hell for you and your ilk'
"I argued with him for a long while, until eventually, I came to concede the point. Our job, our duty, is to prevent the muggles from suffering at the hands of witches and wizards. And when the time would come, our job, our duty would be to usher in a new age, wherein muggles and wizards live together, work together, and achieve new heights together"
' And now comes the point where they will become my enemies'
"I have served on this council for one hundred and eight years. I have been involved in hundreds of missions, peacekeeping, military, aid giving. But never before now have I been ashamed to be a part of this council. Not until today have I ever thought this council was made up of cowards"
There was an uproar, at that. It took the chairwizard shooting several fireworks out of his wand to restore order.
"I have listened to cowardly prattling for several days now. For the next few minutes, you will listen to me" he said, cracking his voice like a whip.
The Russian looked like he wanted to attack.
Sobhuza locked eyes with him and smiled.
"You talk of pulling out of Europe, of securing your own borders. Cowardice. When you leave Europe, you will be leaving it to Voldemort. You will be gifting it to him. And do you truly believe he will stop there? Do you truly believe he will heed any of your cowardly talks of a treaty? One does not make treaties with evil!"
The American stood up. "Honored Sobhuza, I-"
"Shut. Up. I have stayed silent for you, you will be silent for me"
"I-"
"If you do not, I will teach you to respect your elders, boy"
The American sat back down, face flushed.
It was a mark of how great the esteem was for Sobhuza, that he was not immediately taken to task by the chairwizard for his insult of a fellow council member.
Or perhaps the chairwizard too feared the path they were treading.
"Will you surrender to him, when this Voldemort comes to conquer your lands? Will you allow him to educate your children on the vileness of muggles, on how-"
"Wizards come first, old man" the Russian stood up, and began shouting, "and we must-"
Sobhuza raised his hand, twisting it into a claw and holding it high in the air. He made a fist and slammed it downward.
The Russian fell, screaming as his legs broke beneath him.
Immediately, the other Russians jumped up, drawing their wands.
And every African behind him stood up themselves, raising their ceremonial spears and staves.
The Russians sat back down.
"I am not done talking. Another few minutes" he said dangerously.
"What is the purpose of power, if we do not use it to defend the weak? If we abandon Europe now, we abandon all the muggles therein to Voldemort's whims, and we give him time to gather his strength further, making it more likely he will conquer our own lands"
He glanced around the room again, looking into every face.
Few of them would meet his eyes.
"One day, we will all go to meet our ancestors. I can proudly tell them of my actions. Can you?"
He sat back down.
As he had expected, his words did not sway any of them.
Most of the European representatives had voted against withdrawing the military support, as of course, had all the Africans.
But they were hopelessly outnumbered.
He stood up again, once the decision had been made.
"Honored Sobhuza, you have not-"
"In honor of my hundred years of service, allow me one more chance to address the council. Please"
The chairwizard nodded slowly, eyes flinty.
Sobhuza pulled his sash off of his chest. The sash he had so proudly worn for over a hundred years.
The sash denoting his membership on the council.
He held it in his fists, and with a thought and a small hand motion, it caught alight, burning away entirely.
It didn't even leave any ash behind.
"Africa will not withdraw her warriors from Europe," he said calmly, ignoring the shocked stares coming his way. "And if Voldemort wishes to take our land. Let us see how he stands against the might of all the tribes united. Let us see how he stands against a rampaging Nundu. Wizarding Africa has never fallen to an outside conqueror, and it never shall"
With that, he strode out of the room, his brethren following behind him.
Lord Voldemort's Manor
"Can I trust you, McDonald?"
He didn't gulp. Didn't swallow, or lick his lips. He showed no outward signs of the terror that began to fill his mind.
' If it must be now, then it must be now'
"With anything, my lord"
"Anything" Voldemort murmured, stroking his chin with his long fingers.
The utter inhumanity of the monster before him made McDonald's want to throw up.
But he couldn't.
"We leave in ten minutes. Tell nobody. This is a matter that must be kept in utmost secrecy"
"As you say, my lord," he said, bowing low.
' It won't be now. He'd want to take me out in public. Make an example'
They returned less than an hour later, a slight smell of the ocean clinging to their robes.
Lord Voldemort sat on his throne and watched the man before him.
"I have shown you great trust in this, McDonald. If anyone were to discover the location of that cave, it would be catastrophic"
"I-I thank you, my lord"
With a careless wave of his hand, he dismissed McDonald and looked on as the traitor left his presence.
It bit at him, acidic bile eating at his insides, to know who the spy was, to know what he had done, and to let him live.
' Just for a little longer. Until I am certain he's told Dumbledore of our little jaunt'
He had been so foolishly certain of the spy's identity. He had never even considered McDonald.
That failure bit at him just as deeply.
It had been nothing more than pure, foolish luck that he had discovered it. Nothing more than chance that he had caught a glimpse out the corner of his eye.
That he had seen McDonald murder one of his own, in battle, and feign that it was the enemy.
Pure chance, that the spy who had been so pedantically careful up until that point, had been less cautious right then.
And he had seen Mulciber fall to a Killing Curse, clearly aimed at the man's back.
And with that piece of knowledge, everything else had clicked into place.
Any lesser man would not have been able to control their fury.
But as much as he desired to inflict such torments upon the spy that in a thousand years time his fate would still be discussed in hushed, horrified whispers.
As much as he wanted to keep him alive for years until every single inch of skin showed the price for his betrayal.
He chose to use him instead.
' As soon as he has met with Dumbledore. I will leave it no longer'
Dumbledore would fall into the trap, that much was certain.
His old enemy was far too weak to force another to drink the potion in his stead, no. He would drink it, and he would return to Hogwarts, weakened tremendously.
And then Harry would kill him, and proudly proclaim his allegiance to the greatest wizard in history.
He would still face opposition, he knew that.
The Africans would be a problem, but they would mostly be a future problem though.
The Goblins, however.
His knuckles whitened as his fingers gripped the arms of his thrones, his features twisting in rage.
' Disgusting, miserable wretches! How dare they stand against their betters? They will all die!'
Goblin magic was something that even he knew little about.
There were some aspects to it that he could understand. The parts of their magic that related to Blood Magic, for instance.
Even though he was no expert in Blood Magic, even though it was not his forte, he could understand it.
But the way in which they enchanted their objects. That he did not know.
And that was where their prowess truly lay.
Their armor, thick enough to stand up to a Killing Curse, and yet light enough that they could run in it. Somehow capable of withstanding almost every spell cast its way.
Their axes, ever sharp enough to cleave stone, able to deflect spells.
Their knives, capable of being thrown with near-perfect accuracy, no matter the distance.
Yes. The Goblin Nation could be problematic.
Still, their armor would break to pieces after being hit by a Killing Curse. And it would not defend them against earthquakes or powerful winds. It would not defend against fiendfyre.
' The giants and the Dementors must be brought in. Let me see what occurs when a giant crushes an armored goblin underfoot. Let me see how their axes work against Dementors"
The Goblins would be a problem, but they would be dealt with. And perhaps. Perhaps he would keep some of them alive, keep their finest smiths in his employ.
He focused on McDonald's Mark, thinking deeply.
' Heavy, heavy wards. Must be in Hogwarts. Interesting, so soon he runs to Dumbledore. Perhaps I can deal with him this night?'
He smiled and began to summon some of his followers. Those who were available, and who would take pleasure from the spy's unmasking.
' And those who could use the encouragement'
He smiled again, baring his teeth.
Lord Voldemort's Manor, two hours later
He knew it the second he stepped into the study.
He wasn't sure what exactly it was that gave it away, that let him know the game was up.
Whether it was something unreadable in the face of the monster he had defied.
Whether it was the laughter hiding under the blank expressions of all his so-called companions as they milled around him.
But he knew.
And he stepped forward willingly.
He heard one of the Carrows' slimy snickers as they moved in behind him, blocking off his exit.
He didn't check which of them it was. It didn't matter, really. Where one went, the other did as well.
He saw the Malfoys, both the father and the son, standing near one of the bookshelves.
He saw Yaxley.
He saw a werewolf. Not Greyback, unfortunately, but Redtooth.
He saw Rabastan Lestrange and the Parkinsons.
He saw a group of Eastern Europeans, barely more than children.
He saw the Healer who betrayed the basic tenets of what should be a noble profession.
And as he walked forward, his eyes trained on Voldemort, he realized he was absolutely furious.
' I've worked with a lot of monsters, over the years. But this one takes the cake. And if I'm going to die, I'm going to die under my actual name'
He stopped a few meters away from the throne. He gave no pretense of a bow, instead choosing to give a cocky grin.
"McDonald, I am-"
"Fenwick, actually. Gabriel Fenwick" he interrupted, ignoring the hissed of outrage from around the room. "Perhaps you remember my cousin, Benjamin?"
Voldemort smirked, red eyes burning a hole through Gabriel.
"Benjamin was brave. He died well. You won't"
"Won't I?"
Voldemort laughed, and the Death Eaters laughed with him.
Behind him, the Carrows drew nearer. He kept his shudder internal. They were bad, but not quite as bad as Bellatrix.
Besides, it wasn't like he was going to fall into their hands.
"Oh, no. I'm afraid you'll die, after long having given up hope for that sweet release. First, you're going to-"
"Fuck off, you high and mighty, uppity cunt"
That wiped the smile off of Voldemort's face.
"You hypocritical twat. Talking about blood purity, when you're naught but a half-blood yourself. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, you entitled, selfish sociopath"
He felt a wand tip press into the small of his back.
Before a Crucio could be applied to him, he smiled, breathing in one last time.
Air had never tasted so sweet.
"Carpe diem"
He said the code word and had the explosives clearly in mind.
And the tens of kilograms of c4, dynamite, and ball bearings, that he had spent weeks meticulously shrinking, enchanting, and sewing into his robes.
They exploded.
The world went white, and Gabriel Fenwick's last expression was a self-satisfied smirk.