Chapter 41: One, Two, Murphy's Coming For You
Wade Wilson whistled at the motley collection of fools he was in the room with. Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. Bartemius Crouch, who looked like he should be goose-stepping in 1940s Germany with that mustache. Amos Diggory, who was looking down at Wade with suspicion. And one Pepto Toad, who Deadpool wanted to kick in the uterus on sheer principle.
'What did I do?'
In the crux of this situation, stood a young girl, who had been harassed by Death Eaters. Someone had shot the dark mark into the sky and caused a disturbance, best Wade could recall.
The biggest scandal happened to be the house elf found, which belonged to Crouch. Oh, he had been in a lot of hot water, and had been angry as hell that his elf. After sending the elf on her merry way, Crouch turned his aggressions to the one man on the scene of the crime.
"I'm telling you, it was Lucius Malfoy."
This did not go over well with all of the people involved. Fudge's eyes narrowed, almost as if Deadpool had slapped his cancer stricken mother directly across the face.
"Lucius Malfoy has an alibi," Fudge remarked. "Several prominent members of the pureblood magical community have vouched for him."
"Did you check their alibi?" Wade asked. "Or the fact that they might have been involved in that handy little mess?"
Fudge held up one finger. He did not want to hear about it. Especially from some glorified magical custodian.
"You have no right to meddle in the affairs of wizards," the pepto toad said. "Cornelius, I think that we should take a closer look at Hogwarts. After some of the more questionable decisions that Dumbledore has made."
"Now, Dolores, I'm certain that Albus is doing the best he could with the resources available," Fudge said.
The Pepto Toad just snorted and kept her eyes firmly locked onto Deadpool for a good long minute. It almost sickened Wade to his core.
'Come on, slap her, slap her.'
'Yeah, that's a good thing to get put in the pound me in the ass wing of the local prison.'
"Excuse me," the young girl said. "I was the one who had been assaulted….by these goons."
"Who are you?" Fudge asked.
The young girl stood up. She looked about seconds away from taking Fudge's head off.
"My name is….Rebecca...Black," she said.
'I wonder if she likes Fridays.'
The entire Ministry looked at the girl in response. Crouch was the one who narrowed his eyes at her in suspicion.
"And how do I know you weren't behind this?" Crouch asked. "Another Black...we know what they're all about. Why Sirius Black…."
"Was cleared of all charges," Deadpool reminded them.
"You stay out of this, squib," Crouch said.
'We're not going to correct him, are we?' Wade's inner voice queried.
Wade stood up to his feet, only for a snap of a wand to bring him back down. Amelia Bones, the only sane woman, or person for that matter, to ever work for the Ministry of Magic entered the room. She eyed the entire group, who stared back at her.
"What is going on?" Amelia asked.
Fudge stood up, chest inhaling and exhaling. "She claims her name is Rebecca Black, Amelia. We don't know who she is or what Black…."
Rebecca, carefully chimed in. "Regulus Black was my father. My mother died and she told me to go to Europe to reconnect with my family."
A carefully constructed lie, Voldemort thought. But one that the Ministry bought and one that could easily be fooled by any heritage tests.
"We'll be the judge of that, Miss Black," Fudge said.
"Judge how you want, Minister," Rebecca said. "I would expect nothing less of a man of your caliber to get to the bottom of this. Just like I expect that you will solve the mystery of who was behind this disgraceful attack."
Voldemort, or Rebecca now, thought the attack had been disgraceful, due to the fact that the Death Eaters risked public identification. Had it not been for the fact that Lucius had the Minister by both the nuts and the pocket book, there would have been serious, serious trouble.
"My dear, we will see," the Pepto Toad said with what she thought passed for a charming smile. "In the meantime, you will be in the custody of the Ministry, until your parentage would be verified."
"Of course," Rebecca said. "I would be happy to assist the Ministry….but I did want to attend Hogwarts. It was a dream, to go to the most prestigious magical school in the world. A credit to the Minister of Magic, helping run such a school no doubt."
Inflating Fudge's ego had been very essential for her plans to go through. Of course, the mere presence of this toadish terror in pink just made Rebecca want to stab the woman in the throat.
"We'll make the arrangements," Fudge said. "As for you…."
Here, Fudge turned his attention towards Wade who folded his hands into his lap, like a good little boy going to church. Or what passed as a good little boy going to church in his world.
"I'm going to let you off with a warning. One more toe out of line, and I will see you out of Hogwarts and into a Ministry holding cell."
"And you better watch yourself," the Pepto Toad said.
"Oh, I'll be a good boy," Deadpool said. "So any luck on that White Knight guy that we encountered?"
"It's none of your concern," Crouch said. "But, I can assure you that we are investigating the matter. And the person under that hood will be punished to the highest extent of our law. We do not tolerate vigilantes of any sort in the magical world."
'You would really hate New York.'
Regardless, this entire issue had been over.
"Come Ms. Black," Amelia said. "We will verify your identity."
"Yes," Rebecca said.
Voldemort always respected the magical potential of the Bones family. It was a pity she, he, had to kill so many of them. Because they decided to support ideals which conflicted with the Dark Lord's plan.
Regardless, Voldemort managed to keep a smiling face of a naive little girl. The only kink in Voldemort, or Rebecca's, evil plan happened to be that malicious mastermind, Albus Dumbledore. The entire world saw him as some kind of grandfatherly figure with growing senility, but Rebecca knew better.
And yet, she had to get into Hogwarts as a student, and get close to Harry Potter. And when the time was right, she would return to her old form, and and Lord Voldemort would rise again.
A small part of Rebecca thought she had been growing a bit too comfortable using feminine pronouns.
Albus Dumbledore whistled when walking down the hallway. Anyone who knew the score knew that Dumbledore's good mood could mean any number of things. Hopefully something mundane like a new brand of lemon drops coming out on the market, but one could never know with Albus Dumbledore.
Snape sighed, it had been much too early in the summer to deal with Dumbledore's bullshit. And speaking of bullshit, Wade Wilson just came down the hallway.
"So, you encountered them at the Cup," Snape said.
"Yes,' Wade said.
Snape snorted, amateur hour at it's finest.
"I would have give them the old one-two," Wade said. "But the Ministry got involved, and that's when things got messy. They thought that I was the one who conjured the dark mark. Can you believe it?"
Given that Wade Wilson had no magical prowess whatsoever, Snape could in fact believe that the Ministry, in their infinite degrees of stupidity, would do so.
"It would have been a tragedy if you had gotten yourself killed," Snape said. "A true and utter tragedy to say the very least."
Wade claimed his cleaning supplies and decided to tidy up the castle a little bit. "But, I guess there will be no adventures this year. Because the Minister said that he would personally see to me."
"And since when have you listened to reason?"
Snape would have liked to think that Wilson would have listened to reason.
"And what is life without a little adventure?"
Dumbledore popped up right at their shoulder, so fluidly that it almost made Snape jump and do a stumble into the bucket. Peeves, who happened to be passing by, cackled as he zoomed past the shell-shocked Snape.
"I have great news."
"You're retiring?" Snape asked.
"No, Severus, not until Harry Potter's seventh year," Dumbledore said. "Of course, it would be a tragic twist of irony, if I had died before then, but what are the chances of that happening?"
Deadpool just cringed and put his hand on Dumbledore's shoulder. "Headmaster, one should not tempt Murphy."
Dumbledore's brow crinkled in confusion. "Who is this Murphy? Is he a student here at Hogwarts who has it out for me? Or perhaps some assassin who you have met on your various adventures around the world?"
Sometimes, even the eccentric behavior of Albus Dumbledore baffled even Wade Wilson.
"The announcement, Headmaster," Snape said.
"Oh, yes, Alastor has agreed to teach for one year at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said. "Aren't you excited?"
"Tingling," Snape dryly said.
"Alastor?" Deadpool asked.
"Mad-Eye Moody, Dumbledore's oldest friend, and a paranoid kook," Snape helpfully supplied.
"Oh, right, Mad-Eye Moody," Deadpool said.
Dumbledore bounced up and down like a teenage girl with a fresh new vibrator. "And it's going to be great, it's going to be fantastic. Me and Alastor are closer...closer than any two men can be without being brothers….I know him like the back of my hand."
To demonstrate, Dumbledore held up his hand and then stopped with a stare.
"How long as that blister been there anyway?"
Dumbledore just shrugged. Regardless, Moody was here, and Moody would be one of the most interesting additions to the Hogwarts staff, since he opened up a position for a deputy caretaker of magical sanitation.
"Beware of being accused of smuggling poisons in your socks," Snape advised him. "And being cursed for breathing."
"Wade whistled. "I'm sure he's not that bad."
"Trust me, age has not made him mellow."
Snape took his leave to construct new lessons plans for a fresh batch of dunderheads. They did seem to get more and more inept at Potions as time had gone on. And Dumbledore refused to permit Snape to leave his post, until at least the year after Harry Potter's seventh year of Hogwarts. Where Snape was going to get a very handsome sum of gold which he could retire in solitude and isolation.
Would be a pity if Snape had died before he could receive that gold and be able to retire, free of students. A real shame indeed.
'What is with these wizards and flipping Murphy off?'
The Hogwarts sorting feast had begun. Dumbledore stood up tall to address the students.
"And now, I have an announcement to make," Dumbledore said. "The Triwizard Tournament will be returning this year."
Everyone started to talk about the tournament and who would be involved in it. Everyone agreed that it would be three tasks, which every student at Hogwarts could easily see when they watched it. To think that one of the tasks, never mind two out of the three would be impossible to spectate, seemed like pure lunacy and poor planning for the magical world.
"Now, in previous years, the tournament has been known to have quite a death toll, which was unfortunate. But, I can assure you, steps have been taken to ensure the tournament's safety. And I make a solemn guarantee that no student will die, thanks to anything in the tournament."
'And so the Death March of Murphy begins,' Deadpool thought to himself.
"Our two visiting schools will be arriving around Halloween," Dumbledore said. "And through an impartial judge, the most qualified student of Hogwarts will be chosen. There will be three champions, no more, no more less. Because, the name indicates that this is a Triwizard Tournament….and having more of three students will be completely illogical."
For some reason, which he could not say, Harry Potter started coughing. He shrugged and allowed Dumbledore to continue his spiel.
"And now...the sorting…"
The doors opened, and a gruff man, with scars, a pegleg, and magical eyeball stepped into the room. He just looked at all of the students with contempt, giving a pair of first years a good looking over.
"And ladies and gentlemen, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Dumbledore said. "Professor Alastor Moody."
"Would you like to take a seat, Professor?" Vector asked.
"As soon as I check that chair for curses," Moody said. "You can't be too careful….they are everywhere…."
Moody's eye whirled around. He sat down at the table dropping next to them. He gave Wade a long look, suspicious at his masked face.
"Why in the devil are you wearing a mask?" Moody asked. "Got something to hide?"
"Um, you really don't want to look underneath that mask."
Moody did so anyway, violating Wade's personal bubble. He recoiled in slight horror.
"Well, you have a valid reason," Moody said. "What the hell happened to you?"
"Badly healed cancer," Wade said.
Moody responded with a gruff nod and looked at the students. First-years, all of them seemed shifty, all seemed to be plotting something. Whispering among themselves. Nervous, almost as if those little scoundrels were hiding something.
The sorting begun after the hat's latest song. The girl which Wade encountered in the woods stared up.
"There's something off about that one," Moody said. "I'd keep an eye on her."
"Alastor, you say that about everyone," Dumbledore said.
"I trust you, don't I?" Moody asked. "Although Merlin only knows why."
"Black, Rebecca."
Says she's the bastard child of Regulus Black and some unknown witch, and it had been officially verified by the Ministry of Magic. Hogwarts newest student arrived.
Voldemort used his knowledge of the mental arts to create Rebecca's persona, to fool even the sorting hat. Although the Dark Lord had been angered that she, he, pronouns tripped up even the darkest of wizards, would have to contend with that nutjob Moody, in addition to Dumbledore. The Dark Lord had not been fooled for a single instance of the rumors of Albus Dumbledore's growing delusions and being disconnected with what passed for reality. She would not buy it.
He would not buy it. Bloody pronouns.
Dumbledore was putting on a charade. Voldemort personally believed he was also robbing Harry Potter blind and also setting up him to be underneath a love-potion induced marriage to the daughter of one of his most devoted acolytes. Likely a Weasley, there were a well few of them, and Voldemort made a mental note to help thin out the Weasel population.
For now, Voldemort has his list of people he intended to kill. Potter obviously, the Janitor, Dumbledore, and Dolores Umbridge, who rocketed to the top of Voldemort's hit list due to the fact that he spent several days in her presence. Something about that woman just sounded instantly hateable.
Regardless, Voldemort shifted into Rebecca mode, and adopted her character. Slytherin was out of the question, due to that would put Rebecca under close watch. The prejudice, which Dumbledore did nothing to discourage, that all Death Eaters came from Slytherin worked for Voldemort in certain circumstances, but worked against him in this circumstance.
It turned out that only about sixty two percent of Voldemort's supporters were Slytherin. And that number was only so high due to the fact that the meathead Gryffindors bullied them and pushed them further into his support. Not that Voldemort complained at all due to his number of red shirts being swelled.
While Gryffindor was appealing due to being close enough to get his unholy revenge on Potter, it would cause getting Slytherin allies to be difficult.
Hufflepuff was out of the question.
That left only one place.
'Well, Ms. Black, I mind like yours has only one place which it could flourish.
"RAVENCLAW!"
Rebecca just smirked. She sauntered over to the table, sitting next to a peculiar looking blonde with radishes for ears.
"Say, do you like Fridays?" the girl asked.
"Why do you ask?" Rebecca asked.
"Oh, no reason," the girl said. "I like Thursdays myself. Close to the end of the week...but I think that it gets overlooked and underappreciated for Fridays."
All Rebecca could do under the presence of this girl was smile and nod. The rest of the students got sorted, although they were of no concern to Rebecca.
Lord Voldemort returned home to Hogwarts. And only had to possess the body of his descendant from an alternate timeline to get there.
This year would be interesting.
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