Nominated for Demona's "That didn't suck!" award, Ava's "Sometimes They Don’t Come Back" and Faith's Horrible Award.
I was also nominated for Best Crossover Author.
They found Buffy a day after the Minister of Magic commanded that she be given the Dementor’s Kiss.
Xander couldn’t look away.
Andrew had to look away.
Faith and Willow lost it.
“Get up, you piece of shit.”
Cornelius Fudge started to roll over in bed, but woke up as he felt an unnaturally strong kick to his gut.
“I said, get up you piece of shit.”
Blinking his eyes, he could hardly believe what he saw. Standing over him were two women, twenties, pretty. Both had dark hair and pale skin. He couldn’t see much else, the room was dark and the light of the moon glinting off their pitch black eyes, highlighting their unnaturalness.
Reflexively, he groped for his wand. The woman on his right grabbed his hand, which was over his wand, and effortlessly broke both with one single motion.
“You have been a very bad boy,” sing-songed the woman on the left. It was almost playful. It was also utterly terrifying.
He opened his mouth to speak and the one on the right ripped out his tongue. “No! You don’t get to speak.”
“You did a very bad thing,” the woman on the right said. “You did something worse than anyone has ever done before. But you don’t even care.”
She crossed his arms and rested a boot on his chest to keep him from thrashing. He could feel the springs of the mattress beneath him strain and his breath caught.
“If you had just killed her, it would have been one thing,” the violent one said. “You see…we’ve got, oh, let’s call them issues -- issues when it comes to people we love losing their souls. You could say it’s something of a complex.”
“Broken government, useless police force, incompetent leaders,” snarled the black eyed beauty. “Your society is so corrupt and you deny what is right in front of you. And then, when someone proves it, you have something
suck out her soul.”
“Oh, don’t worry, we won’t kill you,” the violent one said. “You’re going to witness what happens when you make that kind of mistake.”
“You all think you’re so much better, so superior,” the black eyed woman said. “You cannot even begin to understand what you have stumbled into.”
“We came to a decision, you see. Your rules don’t apply anymore. Your society is so corrupt that you can’t even see one step ahead of you. You wouldn’t even face the truth when a mass murderer comes back from the dead. Instead, you blame it all on the fantasies of a boy. And like I said, we came to a decision.”
determine what qualifies as a Dark Witch or Wizard. We
decide if they have gone too far.”
“Anyone who kills for personal gain.”
“Anyone who tortures.”
“Anyone who rapes.”
“Anyone who plays with memories.”
They grinned together. “As you can imagine, the list goes on and on.”
“There is no trial.”
“There won’t be any jury or review of the person’s peers.”
“We will kill them, just like a rabid dog that needs to be put down.”
“There used to only be one,” the right hand woman said. “And then she died, came back and then there were two.”
“And then, I made more,” the woman on the left said. “Thousands.”
“And they all answered to one person,” said the other one. “You had her soul sucked out.
"Now they follow me.”
The dark eyed one waved a hand. “Sleep.”
Cornelius Fudge felt horror as blackness claimed him once more. As he passed out, he realized he didn't even know what they were talking about.
The next day, Cornelius Fudge awoke in an attempt to scream, but it only came out as a hoarse cough or hack. He looked outside his home and saw the heads of the entire Obliviator department placed on pikes lining Diagon Alley.
Once again, he tried to scream.
No one heard him.
No one found the bodies.
The heads were particularly difficult to remove.
Three days later, Cornelius Fudge was awoken and dragged outside by women in black. They were covered from head to toe, so he couldn’t identify them. He quickly realized these women were not the ones that he was expecting.
Those two waited for him outside, with Lucius Malfoy on his knees before them.
Fudge watched them as the brown haired woman laughed at Malfoy’s attempts at negotiation. He was begging to be let go, citing his ancestry and wealth. She caressed his jaw, then his cheeks, and then let her fingers trail along his ears in an almost erotic fashion.
Then she grabbed him by the head with both hands and twisted until it broke free, dragging his spinal column out of his torso with it.
Narcissa Malfoy, sitting next to her husband, screamed at the top of her lungs as she was spattered with her husband’s blood and gore.
“Now, now, no hysterics,” said the murderer. “You never complained when your husband went out and killed for fun. We’re just dispensing justice.”
“Don’t worry,” said the black eyed, black-and-red-haired beauty. “I can see your soul. You taste like tart raspberries. You may never have killed anyone, but you never stopped them, either.”
The woman waved her hand and Narcissa Malfoy found herself pressed against a building, tangled in a mass of brick and mortar tendrils. She then looked on as her husband’s arm was torn apart from the elbow and shoved into the corpse’s mouth, giving the impression of the Dark Mark slithering out of Lucius Malfoy’s mouth in a horrific parody of the image displayed over Death Eater attacks.
“You get to watch!” the woman said with a slight clap. “Aren’t you lucky?”
And she did watch, as they duo brought forth her son and his classmates, and the spell caster flayed the skin from their bodies.
They bled out remarkably fast.
It always took time to regrow his tongue. He tried to speak every time, but they always came back and ripped it out again.
In one of these instances, he wondered where the aurors went. He found them outside his house the next morning. All had been given the Dementor’s kiss.
But they weren’t alone.
He watched as the entire Wizengamot was Kissed. One by one, their souls vanished.
When the deed was finished, the women simply destroyed the Dementors without even blinking an eye.
Some time later, he awoke to the all too familiar sight of the two women in his darkened room. However, this time they were not alone. They had brought a…thing with them. Scales covered its flesh instead of skin, completely hairless, but very distinctly humanoid.
“You can’t do this to me!” it snarled in a half hiss like some anthropomorphic serpent. “I am the Dark Lord! I am destined to rule over all!”
The women didn’t say anything.
The brown-haired woman ignored the creature as she pulled out a knife and started skinning it. It was still alive.
It took hours.
The creature never died.
And no one ever answered the screams of pain and anguish that echoed throughout the house.
After what seemed like an eternity, the murderer held up the skin.
“Huh,” she said. “Thought there’d be at least enough for a new jacket.”
The Dark Witch grinned, and chanted a spell. In an instant, the creature’s skin regenerated.
The brown-haired woman smiled and pulled her knife out again.
The next night, they did the same with Fenrir Greyback. He made a wonderful fur lining.
Exactly one month after Buffy Summer’s soul was removed from her body, Diagon Alley burned. Shops went up in flames that never touched a living thing, but brought all else to char. The next morning, it was a physical scar on the face of London. Its mystical scar was twice as bad to those who could see it
The flames never touched Fudge. Fires ceased as soon as he entered a room, only to restart after he left.
Nothing was left but char and a few bones and a sign inscribed with the motto of the Ministry of Magic. It was Latin and it didn’t say what the wizards thought they would be.
It was funny, though -- just when he thought all hope was lost, they came -- Dumbledore and his merry band.
Wands out, they burst their way through the burning rubble.
Harry Potter himself cast the spell that stunned the murderer. She fell backward into the flames and burned up, screaming in pain and outrage.
And Mad-Eye Moody dueled the dark witch himself, easily besting her with his years of experience.
The Weasleys cut through the Dark Witch’s army like a hot knife through butter.
They saved the day and Cornelius Fudge cheered them on, clapping as he watched the battle!
It was amazing. Diagon Alley was rebuilt -- greater than it was ever believed possible. There were medals and banquets and celebrations that went on for years.
Everything was perfect.
Faith and Willow looked down at the cackling man with confusion. He seemed… happy. Drool fell from the corner of his mouth and he grinned as he twitched his mangled hands. He never stopped giggling.
Faith looked at her compatriot with a questioning look.
“I think we broke him.”
They looked at each other for another long silent moment. Then Willow sighed.
The Author owns none of the characters or such. Joss and JK do, however.