Marcus L. Rowland (ffutures) wrote,
Marcus L. Rowland

Fanfic: Harry Potter and the Half-God Prince - part 16

Continuing my Harry Potter / DC crossover, previous parts on any of these archives:

On Archive of Our Own
On Twisting the Hellmouth

Harry Potter and the Half-God Prince

XVI: Bad Master's Secrets

"Cassidy, it's John. I need your help."

"Fuck off, Constantine."

Cassidy hadn't hung up, so John guessed that he was just being his usual abrasive self. "You still owe me a few favours, mate. And this isn't dangerous, not for you."


"Seriously, I just want you to pass on a warning to some of your mates in Britain."

"Which mates?"

"Your sort. Vampires."

"Fuck the lot of them, bunch of wankers."

"I don't love them either, but some of them have been working for the wand-wavers. I just want to tell them that they're on a hiding to nothing."

"What's in it for me?"

"Bugger all."

"Okay, now that I believe. What's the message?"

"You need to tell them that the wizards' Dark Lord has been lying through his teeth, he's been negotiating in bad faith. Hasn't even been using his real name with them..."

Hermione finished a long series of calculations based on the readings her spell had added to the map of Malfoy Manor. "I have good news and bad news. The good news is that it's a fairly old-fashioned sort of warding scheme, so the attack we have planned ought to work. The bad news is that it's a well-maintained warding scheme. For example, there are no trees or bushes along the direct lines from one ward stone to the next, someone's clearing them out regularly. I was able to sense the ward stones from altitude and a good distance, they're high-powered and not exactly subtle. My guess is that there aren't any weak spots as such, we're just going to have to overload it."

"What do you think they do?"

"There are seven main ward-stones around the edges of the manor grounds. This afternoon they were on standby, mostly passive detection spells and muggle-repelling. The muggle-repelling effect goes out a few hundred yards in all directions, which is why we had to change course to avoid the manor, everything else is inside the grounds of the manor. If they go fully active..."

"How bad?" asked Ron.

"Very. The one thing in our favour is the sheer size of the place. They've got a lot of power, but they need to spread it around a big perimeter, and I doubt that they can stay powered for long without Malfoy pumping more magic into the system. Let's see... they want to be able to see the eclipse coming, I'd imagine, which rules out major weather modification. Hmmm... With the tree thing my guess would be a fire-based defence, they'd keep the trees back to stop it spreading. Probably a defence that can't be canceled by flame-freezing charms. Also anti-apparition and anti-portkey if needed."

"Maybe electricity rather than flame," said Harry. "Wet trees and bushes would interfere with that, they'd have to chop them back."

"Too modern, I think."

"Not if you think of it as lightning. But you're probably right, fire does seem more likely."

"What about an actual barrier, like a force field, something to keep out physical objects?" asked Diana.

Hermione frowned. "Oh, sorry, that's bound to be part of it too, in fact I'm pretty much counting on it. They'll probably put that up first, before they start the ritual, and activate everything else as needed. If we can defeat that any other defenses will probably go down with it. Destroying any two adjacent ward stones will probably take it down too."

"Who would have done the work? Gringotts?"

"I hope not. I'm basing most of my ideas on things Bill and Fleur told me about curse breaking. You can be pretty sure they didn't tell me anything that would harm current Gringott's clients."

Ron grinned. "It isn't likely. Malfoy uses the bank, but the goblins really don't like him, and it's probably mutual. Something about some loans his grandfather defaulted on."

"I would have thought they'd take it out of his vault," said Harry.

"Oh, they did, the old git died penniless, but the mansion and most of the family money were entailed and separate, held in trust for the family. They only got a fraction of what he owed. Lucius makes things worse by putting the goblins down whenever he talks about them. Word gets around. Oh, maybe they'd do the warding work if he paid enough, but 'enough' is probably most of the money in his vault."

"What about the internal layout of the mansion?" asked Diana.

"Nothing," said Hermione. "We know the external layout, but you saw for yourself, we couldn't even see anything when we zoomed in on the windows, just net curtains."

"We need someone who's been inside."

"Not Snape," said Harry. "I know you think he's on our side, and I think he probably is too, but we'd be giving too much away if we asked him and any Death Eaters found out."

"Isn't there anyone else?"

Harry pointed at Hermione, "Muggle-born undesirable number two," at Ron, "Blood-traitor, and we're trying to keep your name out of it anyway," at himself, "Undesirable number one. None of us exactly move in those circles, and anyone we know who does is either with Tom or on his side."

"Slughorn?" suggested Hermione. "He's the sort that probably got invited occasionally."

"He's still at Hogwarts. Really don't want to try getting in there, all of the junior Death Eaters could really ruin our day. And he probably wouldn't have seen where they keep the prisoners anyway."

"I don't think there's anyone my family know that would have been there," said Ron.

Diana thought for a moment. "What about servants?"

"Nobody who'd talk to us," said Harry, "they use house elves and they can't... Merlin's balls, I'm an idiot."

"You've thought of something?"


There was a muffled pop. The bathroom door swung open, and a diminutive figure wrapped in a tartan scarf appeared. "Yes, Harry Potter?"

"Diana, meet Dobby, a free elf. Dobby, this is Princess Diana of Themyscira."

Dobby's eyes widened even more than usual. "You is helping Harry Potter?"

"I am. Hello, Dobby." She held out a hand, and Dobby shook it enthusiastically.

"Dobby has heard much of the kindness of Princess Diana, but Dobby is confused. People are saying that Princess Diana is dead."

"That's a different Princess Diana. I know it's a bit confusing."

"Dobby is pleased this Princess Diana is alive and helping Harry Potter. What can Dobby do for Harry Potter?"

Harry squatted down to be nearer to Dobby's height. "We need to know as much as you can tell us about Malfoy Manor."

Dobby grimaced, and twisted his own ears. "Dobby is sorry, Bad Master told Dobby never to talk of this, and even a free elf cannot break such an order. We keeps our masters secrets and our silence."

"But do you want to tell us?"

"Dobby wants to, but Dobby must not. It is Bad Master's secrets."

"What if something made you tell us?"

Dobby shrugged. "If something made Dobby tell, and Dobby could not resist, he would not be disobeying. Not as such." He didn't sound entirely sure about it, but Harry took him at his word.


Diana's lasso snapped out and wrapped around Dobby. "Tell us about Malfoy Manor, please."

Dobby struggled for several seconds, his eyes bulging even more than usual, then relaxed and smiled. "What does powerful Princess Diana and Harry Potter want to know?"

Dream of the Endless dons his helm, sculpted from the bones of a dead god, then strides out into the Dreaming. He slides and flickers through the currents and eddies of the subconscious, unseen, watching the fantasies of the mortals who have briefly caught his attention.

Voldemort dreams of power and pain, inflicted and received, and of the destruction of all who oppose him. The dreams are crude, generated by a fraction of a soul. Behind it all, buried in every image, the small bullied boy in the orphanage fearing / resenting / despising the world, and hating Dumbledore for freeing him, empowering him, but never loving him.

Ron dreams of sex. He's making violent love to Diana, who is bound to the bed by her own lasso, begging for more. He's happy to oblige. There's a third figure in the bed, amorphous in form, holding them both. Occasionally the image firms; sometimes Dream sees curly brown hair, sometimes black hair, glasses and a lightning-bolt scar. As Dream watches Ron wakes, unable to remember the dream, feeling horribly guilty but unsure why. He soon falls asleep again, and doesn't dream.

Severus Snape dreams of married life with Lily, the might-have-beens that are his nightly refuge. There is no Harry Potter, no Voldemort, no James, Remus, or Sirius. Dream has no memories of the real Lily's dreams, he was imprisoned throughout her life, but the inconsistencies he sees tell him that there is probably little resemblance to the real woman's personality.

Lucius Malfoy dreams of money and power. Dream is quickly bored.

Hermione's nightmare is an endlessly-branching corridor under Malfoy Manor, trapped and chased by Death Eaters. She wakes, heart pounding, before they catch her, then the door shatters and more Death Eaters burst in. She fights desperately, waking as her last defenses fail, in yet another iteration of the nightmare, this time with Dementors. But Harry's Patronus bursts through the wall to drive them off and stand guard over her bed. Soon she drifts into dreamless sleep.

Bellatrix LeStrange dreams of biting the heads off chocolate Harry Potters. Dream tries one; the chocolate is bitter but delicious.

Oliver Wood dreams of Quidditch tactics, and leading Puddlemere United to victory.

Diana meditates, sitting cross-legged on the floor in her room, her sword in one hand, lasso in the other. She is asleep but not asleep, dreaming but not dreaming, as her consciousness ascends to the plane of Olympus and seeks audience with her father. Dream knows that he will not be welcome there, gods seldom appreciate reminders of the Endless, and moves on.

Dolores Umbridge lies screaming as the Corinthian takes her eyes again and again. The duty healer thinks about giving her some Dreamless Sleep potion; instead she adds to the case notes, a recommendation against the potion, repressing the dreams for now will just make them worse later, best get it over now while Umbridge's eyes heal. Her daughter is at Hogwarts, she remembers how Umbridge treated her, so it's an easy decision to make.

Narcissa Malfoy sleeps fitfully, terrified that Draco is already too deep in Voldemort's thrall, imagining endless failed attempts to get free.

Fred and George Weasley both dream of new toys. Most of their ideas could easily be used for civil disobedience.

Harry dreams of the ritual, of Voldemort summoning Eclipso, becoming him, razing Hogwarts and killing Ginny. Then Harry's dancing with Death in the ruins of the castle, as a band plays Candle in the Wind. Death clicks her fingers; the music stops, and she looks at him sadly. "Really not a good idea, Harry. Love the living, love life, not me. But thanks for the dance." She kisses his cheek and walks off into swirling mist, as the music starts again and Ginny taps his shoulder, her face a bloody mess, and asks for the next dance.

Luna Lovegood dreams of dancing too, a stately minuet with a crumple-horned snorkack. She waves to Dream as he passes.

Draco dreams of power, surpassing his father as the Dark Lord's right-hand man, with Harry Potter caged and impotent, watching the triumph of the Dark.

Ginny dreams of marrying Harry, Great-Aunt Muriel interrupting the wedding at the worst possible moment, and Harry carrying her off on his broom as chaos spreads behind them.

John Constantine dreams of what he's done to Voldemort and smiles.

Dobby dreams of dying free.

In Diagon Alley, lying at the bottom of a swamp which has stubbornly failed to go away, a plant elemental communes with the Green, neither sleeping nor awake. Occasionally what little remains of the human fraction of his consciousness thinks "Christ, what an imagination I've got."

"Will Dobby be okay in your room?" asked Hermione.

Harry swallowed the last of his muesli and glanced around the dining room to make sure that none of the staff were in listening range. "He's fine, watching The Big Breakfast on the TV. Not sure how much of it he understands. I've put a 'Do Not Disturb' tag on the door and locked it with Colloportus, he knows not to let anyone else in."

Ron glanced at his watch. "Nearly nine. Diana must be having a lie-in."

"She said she'd be talking to her father," said Hermione. "Not sure how that works, but I'm pretty sure there's more to it than a quick prayer or two."

"Let's hope he's feeling like lending a hand, we could really use the help, and... she's behind me, isn't she?"

"Unfortunately it doesn't work like that," said Diana, taking a seat. "The Gods don't interfere casually. The world is fragile, direct intervention could be catastrophic."

"So what can he do?"

"I'm reasonably sure he sent you to me. Why else would Severus leave my device where you found it? Why else was John at my namesake's funeral?"

"Coincidence?" suggested Hermione.

Diana shrugged. "At his level there are no coincidences."

"So what did he say?"

"That we'll have help when we need it."

"Well, that's annoyingly cryptic," said Harry. "Not quite in the Dumbledore league, but really... Well, any help is better than none."

Diana smiled. "About half way through that you realised that he might be listening, didn't you?"

"Uh... yeah. Sorry if it was offensive."

"If you were an actual worshiper, or a member of the pantheon, you would have cause to worry. Since you aren't, he's going to ignore anything short of a fairly direct insult. But be careful, you're starting to believe in us, so things could change." She got up to go to the buffet.

"She's winding me up, isn't she?"

Hermione shrugged. "I wouldn't count on it. Why take the risk? You've met a demigod, a god and the anthropomorphic personification of Death since the start of the month, it wouldn't kill you to be polite. And... um, I really can't believe I just said that without being boggled by it. Except I am, a bit."

"I think we all are," said Ron. "I'm getting more coffee, anyone else want one? Or tea?"

"Yes please," Diana said as she sat down. "Just black coffee, no milk or sugar."

Harry glanced at his watch. "Ten hours to go. What else do we need to do?"

"Not a lot, really. Check that everything's ready, but don't obsess about it. If there's anything we've forgotten now's the time to remember it, apart from that rest and keep a low profile; we're supposed to meet John at three, if he's done his part of things we'll be able to set off for the manor at five or so. That gives us plenty of wriggle room if we need it."

"We probably will," said Ron, putting down the coffee. "Something's bound to go wrong somewhere along the way."

Harry grinned wryly. "You're probably right. But imagine the stories you'll be able to tell your grandkids when it's all over."

"Grandkids? What grandkids? I'm not even married yet!"

"You mean we're not even married yet," said Hermione.

Ron stared at her. "Are you serious?"

"I might be open to persuasion. If someone actually bothered to try..."

"Okay... have you finished your breakfast?"

Hermione mopped up the last of her egg with a finger of toast, said "Just about," and put it into her mouth.

"When you're done let's go somewhere a bit more private, and I'll try and be... persuasive."

Hermione slowly chewed the toast, swallowed it, and washed it down with the last of her tea, stood, and said "About bloody time. Excuse us, we may be a while." She took Ron's hand and pulled him to his feet, and out towards their rooms.

"Young love strikes again," said Diana. "How long have they been avoiding it?"

Harry grinned "Four or five years, I think, though there was a bit of snogging now and again the last couple of years. But Ron's a bit thick sometimes and Hermione's way too patient with him, so it's been slow."

"What about you? The girl they're holding prisoner, is she someone special?"

"Luna? We're friends, but we're not dating. I'd be dating Ginny if we hadn't had to go on the run, and I think Luna's been seeing Neville. What about you? Did your father have anything to say about... um... Steve?"

"Aphrodite confirmed that Steve's still alive somewhere in the world, but for some reason none of them can see him. She's a little annoyed, we're supposed to be together again."

"Maybe he's hidden by something like a Fidelius spell?"

"That's certainly a possibility. It'd have to be a strong one if none of the Gods can find him."

"It's a pity you're not Norse gods, isn't Heimdall supposed to see everything?"

Diana shrugged. "That's what the legends say, but the little I've seen of them doesn't confirm it. Thor is a loud-mouthed oaf, Loki is as crooked as a corkscrew, and both of them were on the side of Grindlewald and Hitler in the forties. I really doubt they would be helpful."

Harry stared at her for a moment. "Every time I start taking this for granted, you say something like that. How is there room for so many different gods?"

"All gods exist if enough people believe in them. I prefer my own pantheon, but I've met others. Usually they don't interact much, but they're around."

"Okay." Harry stared at the remains of his breakfast, then pushed the plate to one side. "I think I've had enough."

"What about Dobby? Does he need food?"

"Good point. I'll take something up." He took an unused plate to the buffet and made a big bacon and scrambled egg sandwich with HP sauce. When he got back to the table he waited until nobody was looking then wrapped it in a napkin, shrank it and popped it into his pocket.

"Will that be enough?"

"I think so, I've never seen him eat much."

Diana finished eating. "Okay, I'm going to go check my equipment, I'll see you a little later."

"Right. I'd better see to things too."

"My Lord," Lucius said nervously.


"I have received an owl from Sanguini."

"The vampire?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Well? What did it say?"

"My Lord..."

"Crucio." Voldemort held the spell on Malfoy for ten seconds. "Now tell me what he said!"

"There was no message, my Lord, just..."

"Out with it, man!"

"The head of Eldred Worple."


"Our negotiator. Not one of us, my Lord, he was a writer. We picked him because he was familiar with vampire culture and easy to control."

"No great loss then. Why did they kill him?"

"At a guess, my lord, they have chosen to break off negotiations."

"Obviously. Any other brilliant insights?"

"They're making it clear that they don't wish to resume them?"

"Yes. You, boy." He gestured to Draco. "Anything to add?"

"Um.. I think that we should retaliate."


"To set an example. Killing our envoy... any envoy, even one like Worple... shows disrespect to our cause. And to you, my Lord!" Draco added hastily.

"Very good. Lucius, have Sanguini's lair found and have him staked. And any other vampires found there."

"I'll arrange for it right away, my Lord."

Voldemort turned back to Draco. "You're learning, boy. But don't get cocky... Crucio!" He held the spell on Draco for five seconds, enjoying his screams. "You got off to a bad start when you failed to kill Dumbledore, you have yet to atone fully for that failure. It is only through your father's plea that I let you live."

Draco struggled to stand. "My Lord, thank you for your forbearance. I will do my utmost to atone."

"See that you do. Leave me, all of you, I must rest before tonight's ceremony."

Diana shaded her eyes and looked along a narrow country road that led to some isolated farms and eventually joined the A31 to Southampton. "I think this is... yes, that's John."

Peering along the road, they saw a large dusty green camper van, covered in swirling patterns of gold stars, picking out the words "Mucous Membrane," followed by a small lorry.

"What does that mean?" asked Ron.

"They were a punk rock group in the seventies," said Hermione, "I think Mister Constantine was their lead singer and guitarist."

"Punk rock?"

"Think the Weird Sisters, but louder and less tuneful."


They pulled over to the side of the road. Constantine got out of the van, while Chas stayed in the drivers seat of the lorry. "'Ullo, Princess. Thought you'd like some transport."

Diana raised an eyebrow. "A little conspicuous, isn't it?"

"Last thing we want to do is look sneaky, that just attracts attention. We've got four hours to get ready, and some of that's just going to be waiting around. This van's air-conditioned, and it has a fridge and a loo. And it's got the best magical screening some very inventive shamans could provide."

"What's in the lorry?" asked Harry.

"My mate Chas, a generator, and all our old technical gear."

"What sort of technical gear?" asked Hermione.

"Let's put it this way," said Constantine, with a wolfish grin. "Ours goes up to eleven."

"My Lord," said Lucius, "There has been another development."

Voldemort looked up from the Daily Prophet. "You've found the vampire?"

"A different development, my Lord." He hesitated for a second, then carried on. "My Lord, more of our Dementors are missing."

"How many more? How many, Lucius?"

"Most of the Dementors deployed in England and Wales. There are still some near Hogwarts and Hogsmead, the others have gone."

"Crucio!" He held the spell for twenty seconds, then waited while Malfoy staggered to his feet again. "Where have the Dementors gone?"

"Nobody knows, my Lord. Early this morning they kissed their handlers and left. It's taken some time for the reports to arrive. Some were sighted heading towards Azkaban, most have simply disappeared.

"Why were the reports delayed?"

"Most of the handlers were incapable of reporting, my Lord, and for some reason owls seem to be delayed today."

"Hmmm... The Dementors are fleeing, the vampires have withdrawn from negotiations, and now the owls are delayed? Do you regard this as coincidental?"

"No, my Lord. I've sent Gibbon to investigate the owl post, and Selwyn is questioning the survivors of the Dementor attacks."

"Good. Now then... I see that there was a small fracas in Diagon Alley yesterday. What I don't see is any evidence that it accomplished much."

"My Lord, I don't quite follow..."

"Has there been any word from Travers?"

"No, my Lord."

"Floo him. I wish to see him before tonight's event."

"Yes, my Lord."

Lucius went to the floo, wondering what Travers was supposed to have done, while Voldemort returned to his paper.

Chas parked the lorry on a Forestry Commission fire road on the other side of the ridge that overlooked Malfoy Manor, and waited while Constantine's friends unloaded the big stack speakers.

"Don't try to help," said Constantine. "Diana's got it covered."

"I can see that, mate. That weighs a couple of hundred pounds, how the hell is she lifting it?" Chas watched incredulously as Diana carried the biggest speaker over the rise, with the teenagers following. Ron and Harry were carrying a smaller speaker between them, with Hermione rolling a cable drum and unreeling it as she walked.

"Clean living, Chas, something neither of us knows much about."

At half past six Severus Snape was in his office dealing with the school's usual paperwork when he felt the Dark Mark on his arm start to throb. For some reason it felt weaker than usual, an ache rather than the usual stabbing pain, and for a moment he wondered if he was imagining it. He rolled up his sleeve and looked at it, sensing the magic in play, and realised that it was a real summons. He also noticed that the mark looked a little paler than usual. Could the Dark Lord's power be waning? He dearly hoped so.

He finished the form he was working on, locked his office, and floo'd to Malfoy Manor. Across the country the top echelon of Death Eaters were following his example.

Chas started the generator, and waited as the engine settled down into a steady low throb. "We need to do a sound check."

Constantine shook his head. "Don't worry about it. This is a bit of a surprise for someone, if it doesn't work it won't be a big problem. Okay, have you all got your stuff out of the van? Okay, Chas, what I need you to do now is get the hell out of here. Drive the van to Southampton, we'll meet up at that boozer where you nutted Big Jimmy a couple of years back. If I don't get back by closing time sleep it off then head back to London, I'll catch up with you there."

"What do I do if Big Jimmy's in the boozer?"

"Nut him again, of course."

"What about the truck?"

"It's insured, isn't it?"

"'Course it is."

"Wait a few days then notice that someone's nicked it and report it to the police."

"Okay. Right, see you later."

As Chas drove off Diana tensed and said "Something's coming."

"Right," said Constantine, "knew I'd forgotten to mention something." A dark-haird woman in armour appeared, the left half of her face covered by a white mask, the right inhumanly beautiful.

Diana stepped forward, her clothes morphing into armour, her hand on the hilt of her sword, half-drawn from its sheath.

The masked woman said "Vintruszz mee, Consstinteem."

"Right. All of you, this is Mazikeen of the Lilim, a general of Lucifer's army. Maze, can you do something to make it a bit easier for everyone to understand you?"

Mazikeen raised her hands to her face, seemed to concentrate for a moment, then lowered them. "You know I hate this, Conthtantine."

"Sorry, love, we've got about fifteen minutes, there isn't time for misunderstandings."

"What do you want here?" asked Diana.

"Damage control," said Mazikeen. "The fools you fight released a plague of petty demons, and plan to do more. My Lord Lucifer wants an end to it."

"And your intentions toward me and my friends?"

"I have no interest in you. But since we face a common foe, I will do you no harm so long as you do no harm to me."

"That works for me," said Harry.

"Okay," said Ron.

Diana looked at Hermione. "What about you?"

"I'm not happy about it, but I'll agree, so long as you do us no physical or spiritual harm."

Maze smiled on the flesh side of her face. "A Christian, or a rules lawyer, I assume. Relax, you're far too wholesome and innocent to be my prey." She said 'wholesome' and 'innocent' as though they were insults. "I have much bigger fish to fry."

Diana sheathed her sword. "I agree to your terms."

"Excellent. So... what's the plan?"

"The Dark Lord will conquer, and we shall be at his side," said Draco. "It is our natural destiny. History is with us, not the mudbloods and traitors."

"That's a pretty speech," Luna said through the grille of the cell door, "but I'm really not sure you believe it. You don't sound like you do."


"Draco, why are you being so cruel to this poor door? What did it ever do to hurt you?"


"That was the cell wall, Draco. I really think you need more practice. Maybe you should try opening the door first, it can't be easy casting a spell through that tiny opening."

"You're trying to trick me! Crucio!"

Luna side-stepped, and the spell struck the cell ceiling. "Are we having fun?"

"You fucking bitch! Crucio!" This time the spell was barely a pale flicker at the end of Draco's wand.

"I think you need to take a rest, all of that shouting can't be good for you."

The moon rose just after sunset, most of its disk dark, already in the Earth's shadow. Spaced out along the ridge Hermione, Ron, and Harry watched tensely as the Death Eaters came out to the terrace and began marking out the pentagram Diana had seen at their rehearsal, each of them crouched over a box of quidditch balls. Diana and Constantine watched the terrace through omnioculars, while Dobby waited in the truck. Mazikeen waited, a sword in her hands, another long sword sheathed on her back.

"There's Malfoy," whispered Harry. "And... yes, it's Tommy."

"Two minutes to totality," said Constantine. "We'd better start."

"On the count of three," said Hermione, "One, two, three." On 'three' Harry, Ron and Hermione cast a triggering spell. The boxes opened, and the Quidditch balls lifted a few feet into the air and flew off towards the mansion. Hermione smiled, and said "Fly, my pretties! Fly! Cry havoc, and let loose the bludgers of war."


"I move from dreamer to dreamer, from dream to dream, hunting for what I need. Slipping and sliding and flickering through the dreams; and the dreamer will wake, and wonder why this dream seemed different, wonder how real their lives can truly be."
Neil Gaiman, The Sandman

Swamp Thing's dream is stolen, with modifications, from John Brunner's novel Stand on Zanzibar.

The vampire Cassidy is borrowed from Vertigo's Preacher.

In some DC canon Thor was tricked and mind-controlled into serving Hitler during WW2. J.K. Rowling has hinted that Grindlewald was at least partially responible for Hitler's rise to power, which means that he was probably involved in all of Hitler's supernatural projects.

"Ours goes up to eleven." Obligatory Spinal Tap reference.

"Fly, my pretties! Fly! Cry havoc, and let loose the bludgers of war." Obligatory Wizard of Oz and Shakespeare reference. It's Hermione...

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