:Attention: Chapter Eleven is edited to clear up some of the confusion stated in the reviews
After many years, the incidents of Harry Potter's life have drifted away into many history books. The lives that affected Mr. Potter's life were both known and not so recognized and learned. As the former Death Eaters of Voldemort—a name now uttered by everyone without fear, only to be spoken during horror stories and eventually, muggle movies—to the great consternation of the wizarding world. (You need to fix this one…your appositive is fine, but the actual sentence 'As the former Death Eaters of Voldemort to the great consternation of the wizarding world' is not a sentence. An appositive is completely separate from the sentence, and your surrounding sentence isn't…well, isn't a sentence. You need a verb.) One of the great many mysteries during the Era of Potter, as it came to be called, to include both First war, Reign of Peace, Second War and the Aftermath, is why Harry Potter sought to destroy the texts of Necromancy but never completed his task, as he quit at the last minute, sparing two books.
Another enigma that was to be dealt with was that of Severus S. Snape. After Draco Malfoy tortured Harry into insanity, he was then cured by a phoenix that goes by the name of Fawkes, whose song then passed the healing powers to the Longbottoms via Mr. Potter's touch. (This sentence wasn't really a full sentence either, so I altered it to the best of my ability. I think that's what you meant. If it isn't, I apologize.) To this day the puzzle remains as to how the tortured victims of Cruciatus Curse were healed, as there have been no further victims to recover. This brings us back to the point with Severus Snape; as soon as The-Boy-Who-Lived recovered, he had immediately accused his former Professor of the crime in ordering his arch-rival Mr. Malfoy Jr. to curse Harry with Cruciatus. Once he was accused, Severus Snape fled St. Mungos.
Subsequently, Mr. Snape has never been seen again, eluding the searches by the Aurors and common folks alike. Today, he is presumed dead, as those of the generation of Era of Potter have long since been dead. It should be natural for a man like Mr. Snape to avoid the capture of the clawing Aurors of the past as he held a great famous reputation and there is no question that Mr. Snape has set the standard for future Potions Masters of Hogwarts. To this day, it would be very sad to see the Potions Master to be soured and ridiculed by the general population. Slytherin—on many counts—has faced great shame and humiliation as a majority of Death Eaters, Malfoys and Voldemort himself, have come out of Slytherin.
There was a rumor that had been flying around since the end of Potter's Era that Harry Potter himself was challenged to be put in Slytherin—hence the greater hatred for the Snake house. The love of Harry Potter has not lessened in today's times; his life has been deemed to be worthy of appreciation. Enduring the harsh life as a child, surviving the ridicule set by the Press and the general worship for him and The-Boy-Who-Lived as it was known to have hated his own fame. I'm not sure who you're talking about here, so I can't really fix it. It's very confusing.
The greater question is—why didn't Harry Potter destroy the last two books that lay before my very own eyes? What was his purpose in sparing the tomes? What stopped him? These questions were never answered when Harry James Potter left the Wizarding world, when he was recovered from the condition he was put in…
His fingers froze on top of the keyboard, studying the tomes carefully, trying to think. Sighing, he took a sip of pumpkin juice; that was once Mr. Potter's favorite drink. Drinking such liquids allowed him to put in a similar mindset of what Mr. Potter may have lived. Setting the pumpkin juice down, he sighed as he rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. It had taken him only six months to research the Era of Potter—ever since he came into possession of the Necromancy books. His boss insisted on having him research as to why Harry himself spared the last two of the books that he had been so keen on destroying.
Staring at his cup for a long time, his mind blank, he picked the drink up and took a long swig. He thought of Voldemort and his antics in trying to take muggle-borns, half-bloods and muggles out of the picture. Then his mind went back to the original question that had spurred the entire research.
What stopped Mr. Potter from destroying the last two?
He flipped through the yellowed pages of the Necromancy text, titled: Prickling with the Dead. He had read the tomes more times than he could count on his ten fingers and nothing still made any sense. He thought that Harry was right, Necromancy is evil, and there was no purpose to this particular branch of magic at all other than for evil intent.
Frowning, he turned his lamp on a little brighter to examine a page and read a section.
While the caster has the undead bodies under their control, the caster may do anything it wishes to, from battling against a large army to as menial a task as making a pact with other people. Battling large armies can be simple, as the caster can only send one command to the army. However, for the pact-making, it can be a bit more difficult to achieve, but may be worth the great sacrifices in the end. The sacrifices can be much more distressing than the caster can ever imagine. Another use for the undead bodies is…
He stopped reading, and leaned back, frowning, wondering what the pact-making meant. Taking the other similar-aged tome, titled: Thee of Undead. he looked through the pages, flipping one after another, searching for the correct passage and grinned as he found it.
…now, for the peace treaties, although extremely rare, it is very dangerous to embark on. To create such treaties, the two opposite sides, at one time, must have desperately seeked for a union but failed. Raising of the undead is the temporary taking of the soul of the body and the soul of the caster. In the end, the caster will be drained to the point of exhaustion. In the last record of such happenings, the caster did not live after spending two weeks in a coma. In the book of Living Dead check if this right , there is exact proceedings on how to achieve such peace treaties. The raising of undead with temporary souls will have the greatest effect of the society and there is a high chance that there will be a forge of such pacts. This is usually essential after a long, drawn out war…
Taking a break from reading the passage, he took another sip from his cup, trying to understand how this could be good. The spell sounded extremely dangerous, especially considering that people had died from such spelling. He thought to the current situation and found none in any parts of the world to be in need of a treaty such as the spell indicated. The rifts between the pure-bloods and muggle-borns had been finally given in to give a peace.
Then he thought about the muggles. Everyone in the wizarding world was still pointing their noses down at them, thinking that they were nothing more than mere bugs. Yes, most of the muggle-borns knew that was not true; but some still cannot help but put down the muggles. On the other hand, he did not know the general attitude of what muggles thought of magic. Certainly, the Middle Ages were hard enough on the Wizarding world and forced them all into hiding and to live in exile for many centuries.
"What good can possibly come out of this?" he spoke out loud, frustrated with himself. 'Heck, I'm even getting tired of living in exile while the muggles enjoy themselves…'
His thoughts stopped for a moment, and changed tracks of musings in his mind, 'Wait, what if this is the answer to the unification of Wizards and Muggles? But, how can this help at all? I am willing to think that muggles will be terrified at the very sight of dead bodies… the movies certainly have that much influence on the general population of muggles…'
He wrote his musings down on another paper, figuring that maybe, just maybe, this was the answer to why Mr. Potter had spared the last two books. Was it possible that he knew that Necromancy could actually prove useful? 'If he did, then why didn't he start on the unification of muggles and wizards?'
Tapping the paper in front of him with his pen, pondering the answer he brought on himself. 'Was it possible that Mr. Potter didn't want to risk dying for that cause? Or… maybe he never found the books?'
He sat up straighter at the last thought, frowning as his thoughts continued, 'If that is true, then that will certainly change a lot of things…' Sighing, he pulled another book, one which was about Harry's classes in Hogwarts and the professors he had—especially one of great influence, such as Rubeus Hagrid, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall and most notably, Albus Dumbledore. The findings on the number of Defense teachers that Harry had were appalling to the population of Wizarding world. How could one have so many teachers going after Harry Potter, year after year?
Shaking his mind, he flipped to the pages where he read about the Prophecy that Dumbledore had told Harry and frowned at the person that had foretold the Prophecy. Sibyll Trelawney. That name ringed an odd familiarity. His eyes glanced to the books on Necromancy. Then everything finally clicked together. Quickly, he pulled out another book on Seers and found the famous Seer, Cassandra Trelawney. After scanning the page quickly he stopped.
…the line of Trelawney usually skips for three generations and the following that went after Cassandra Trelawney is as follows: Sibyll Trelawney, Bornoa Trelawney, Harster Trelawney and the current one is Oprista Trelawney. Sibyll Trelawney is found on pages 421…
He flipped several pages and quickly read the page and sighed, it told him of nothing new as he went back to Cassandra Trelawney to finish the passage. At the last two paragraphs, he held his breath.
After Cassandra Trelawney's death, her house was found to be given a lot of excessive spelling and for a long time, no one could ever set foot in her own home. That is, until Harry James Potter stepped inside himself and found something that disturbed him greatly, causing several speculations as to what she may have left behind.
The speculations were that there may have been a prophecy that Mr. Potter found, or that he may have seen the memory of Cassandra Trelawney or any number of things that may have happened. To this day, the tomes of the books that Mr. Potter sought have never been found as he had never took them out of the house—if he even found them or touched them. The house of Cassandra Trelawney continues to be bound and warded completely, and the question of when the ward will be let up is yet to be determined.
Leaning back in his chair, stroking his gray goatee, his eyebrows knitted together. He knew that this book was slightly outdated as the house had finally been let up sometime less than a year ago. He wrote a few notes on that particular section that there may have been a chance that Mr. Potter had never found the books. Was that the reason why he had 'spared' the tomes? Or did something… intervene.
His eyes looked up to where he read about the unification of treaties or a pact of sorts and his musings went back to Wizarding and Muggle worlds. It would be nice to live among the muggles and be integrated in full society. 'What about the people who don't want to be bothered by muggles—there are several theories that muggles would go to us, seeking help… hmm, lot of opened job opportunities there… but too much corruption…' His eyes sought the tomes again and sighed. 'Can Necromancy really be the answer?'
Several weeks later, after meeting with a lot of general dismay, clamoring, and general jeering; slowly but gradually, people were given the chance at living in full society. Several headlines had run on how Necromancy would destroy the peace and upset the balance between the two worlds and bring new evil upon the world. Professor Enkran, the man who had been researching exhaustively about Era of Potter, brought on the idea of using Necromancy to create the unification between the two worlds.
Sometimes he had wished he never brought up the issue at all, there was just so much stress. Sighing, he massaged the bridge of his nose and stared at his colleagues. Some of them had been against the idea, and some of them still were. Setting his right hand on the table lightly, he glowered at the people who still were not open to the idea of having an open society.
"Just think of all the new jobs it would create, surely, the muggles would want to seek answers and ask for potions? Not to mention that there would be even more jobs such as researching which potions are suitable for muggles and which are not," said Professor Enkran.
"Not to mention, with our influence, we can actually bring down that awful pollution that muggles have been causing for the past three hundred years. I've heard such stories that they've been trying to create contraptions that allow them to fly over roads! This would only cause even more pollution, upsetting the very air we breathe!" said a woman who was going red in the face.
"Thank you Professor Dumbledore," said Enkran and turned attention back to the two men. "Please Sobeo, I know your line have been tainted since your great—"
"Do not mention him!" snapped Sobeo, looking surly. "Muggles are useless, and we are not going to mingle with them. Have you gone daft?"
"Perhaps," replied Enkran with a flippant tone. "Now, you're not being reasonable, you don't have any good reasons not to—"
"You want reasons? Oh, I'll give you reasons!" said the other man. "Honestly, living with muggles is just asking for trouble. Have you not forgotten about the Middle Ages?"
"We are much more educated than they were back then," retorted Enkran. "Plus, not too long ago, we devised a spell that will neutralize any bombs Muggles try to attack us with, including the most dangerous: the atom bomb. There really isn't anything to fear now. A great number of us know how to freeze the flames, unlike the Middle Ages. Can you ever possibly hope to refute any of that?"
The table fell silent and a clearing voice grabbed their attention, "Well, I suppose a poll is called for, and see what everyone in the wizarding world thinks," he said. "Professor Enkran, you have been most useful to our researching in Era of Potter. I don't think anyone ever made connections like you have."
"Please, minister," he waved him off. "It was simple. I just had the right books to research with. Especially on the topic of Necromancy… So, when do we begin?"
"A month," he replied. "That will give the public plenty of time, especially for around the world. This poll will be singularly the most important one in many years. The fate of the world will be riding on this," he said and shifted to Enkran. "Are you sure you want to go ahead with this?"
Enkran nodded in answer, not trusting himself to speak. The minister leaned back and kept talking. "If the poll has a popular vote in merging with the muggles, who will do the spell?" The question fell on everyone as they looked at each other in silence. Only Professor Enkran knew the dangers that the spell could bring.
"Why must we sacrifice an undead body? It would essentially kill the soul of the undead!" blurted Sobeo angrily. "Don't you get it? We can't disturb the quiet rest of the dead! You are essentially ignoring Mr. Potter's wishes! If your report is anything to go by, he would have actually destroyed the last of the two tomes," he said, now standing up.
"Sit down, please," Professor Dumbledore said quietly, feeling ashamed of her third cousin. With a huff, he sat down stiffly. "Now… I understand what you are saying Professor Snape, but you need to understand that the ties between the muggle world and our own have been strained since the end of Era of Potter. I don't think any of us can stand that kind of strain any more. Quite a large amount of muggles have found out about our existence and are of both alarmed and, grudgingly, acceptant."
"I still think this is a bad idea," said Sobeo after a long, pregnant pause. The minister shrugged his shoulders: What-can-you-do-about-it? Disgusted, Sobeo left the meeting.
More than half a month later, the ballots from the extensive poll had finally been counted; with great anticipation, Professor Enkran's hands were twisting in nervousness. They had finally chosen the castor for the spell—himself. There had been long, hard arguments on that topic, wondering who would cast the spell.
Professor Enkran felt this job would be the right one for him. He feared that Necromancy could have gone wrong, and ended up upsetting the balance of the world that Wizarding world tried to maintain for so long.
He saw Minister Granst approaching him with a blank face. He didn't know what to make of the blank face. Was it good or bad news? Had the poll somehow tied?
"Professor Enkran," he greeted him.
"Minister Granst," he greeted back with a curt nod.
"I'll have to say that—the polls are in; they're in your favor."
"Wha—wait, you mean, the general population approves this?" asked Professor Enkran.
"Yes, that would be the correct translation," he replied. "I guess we have to start preparing…"
"Yes… of course…" stammered Enkran, as an uneasy feeling stomach settled in his stomach. He wasn't sure if he wanted to do this. He watched the minister leaving him in the middle of a corridor. Even though there were a lot of people bustling around, he felt alone and numb.
He pulled out a scrap piece of paper, worn with a week's worth of being carried from pocket to pocket. It was something else he had found out. The only way to mend the society between the two different worlds, is to break the unspoken magical contract. Reading his own handwriting, he read:
…the unspoken contract that was formed in the Middle ages, had started with the Necromancy, creating and splitting the world into half. In several passages from both books, the history is brief on this detail… to mend both societies again, one will have to repeat the steps… One step is different. The caster must forfeit his soul.
When he stepped outside into the night, he glanced up into the starry sky. The pollution was a lot worse than it had been centuries ago. The only stars you could see were reflections of street lamps from the muggle world. He had seen pictures and he longed to see them himself; in his mind, he knew he wouldn't be able to see such fantastic details. He wished that Mr. Potter could have found out about the details inside the tomes and mended the worlds together earlier.
He wasn't recognized by most of the Wizarding population before he was a Professor in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Now, the recognition was even worse, with the poll that had been cast. He could now understand why Mr. Potter had always hated his fame. He imagined that it was worse for him, having no parents to turn to or having to deal with the fame at a young age—especially from such an abusive household.
He finally reached his flat above Diagon Alley, where he was living since he wasn't needed during the summers at Hogwarts. Plus he found it disheartening to see an empty castle and felt it was fitting to live in a chaotic place. He knew now that the polls were going to vote for him and create a peace with the muggles. Tired, he rubbed the bridge of his nose again; after he settled down to sleep, he waited to discover the date of the rite to invoke when he woke up the next morning.
"We've decided that we will begin to mend our worlds next week," said the Minister in the following morning. Enkran sighed and nodded in acceptance of his fate. "Meanwhile, we will speak to the muggle world and inform them of our existence," he said, turning to other people in the meeting room. "I'm terribly sorry, Professors Snape and Xellos, for reacquainting with the muggles, but this cannot go on any longer. If we were to leave Muggles for another year to their devices, then the world as we know it will die."
The room lapsed into silence, shifting slightly and staring at different people, most of their gazes fell on Professor Enkran. The minister turned to him, eyes intent.
"Professor, is there anything you wish to tell us?" he asked. Professor Enkran nodded, swallowing thickly. The only thing they didn't know was that he had to sacrifice his life and soul.
"I have to forfeit to my fate," he said quietly.
"I refuse to allow you to do that!" Professor Dumbledore objected, slamming her fist on the table. Professor Enkran's eyes ran over her coolly and shook his head.
"I'm sorry, but do you want to live for longer than a year? See the stars for the first time in centuries?" asked Enkran, furious feeling growing inside his stomach as it was clenching and unclenching with each breath. He met the room with heavy silence. "Well?" demanded Enkran. Professor Dumbledore hesitated and sighed, shaking her head to dislodge something in her mind.
"Then it is settled," said Enkran, "now, do excuse me." With that, he got up from the chair and took his leave. When he disappeared through the door, the room was still silent and no one knew if it was out of fear or out of awe or anything else. Professor Dumbledore sniffled, using her left hand to cover her eyes to conceal her sorrow.
The Day to show themselves to the muggle world had finally dawned upon the Wizarding world as the Minister stood in front of a muggle television camera, swallowing thickly from nervousness. No one knew exactly how the muggles would accept the wizarding world. The cameraman signaled the minister that he was now live.
"Hello world," he spoke, "I am Minister Granst and I am here to announce something we have hidden for so long. Since the mid-Middle Ages, we have hidden ourselves from you; the people behind me," he said, turning slightly to gesture to the witches and wizards, "are people who are quite similar to you, except for the fact that we have magic. I understand that some of you will think this is a joke, and any magic we try to conjure is manipulated by your come-pa-tubers or however you call them. We ask for your acceptance and any witch hunts you try to attempt will fail. Back in the Middle Ages, large number of us had been rather uneducated and poorly defended. Today, the entire Wizarding world, as we call our world, is educated and, well, we want to co-exist peacefully."
"Also, I understand that there are a large number of Christians in your world and you will surely call us spawn of the devil or other utter nonsense. Please do understand that most of us also believe in the coming of Christ. Just like your world, there are many of our religions and beliefs, none of which celebrate Satan," said Minister Granst. "In a matter of days, there will be a rite that will sacrifice one dead and one living, to break this unspoken pact that had the hand in splitting the world in half. Alarmingly, during the last few centuries your pollution has been killing all of us. Many of us estimate that the world as we know it will fail to support us within the next year. Most of you know that as well."
"If you wish to help Earth, we ask for your peace and your willingness to co-exist with all of us and make the world a better place with no pollution. Once we live together, there will be many jobs created, and the economy will surely rise. If you have any doubts, you will not have them within the next week as all of us will show ourselves in your public places and even in your residence areas. We have hidden ourselves for so long that none of you have, up until the last few months, suspected anything. Thank you for your time and have a good day," he said as the television camera went dead.
In the same meeting room, Minister Granst asked them all a question that had stumped all of the staff members.
"Which dead soul are we going to use?"
For a long time, everyone was silent, wondering who to use to sacrifice the very soul of the dead. Then Professor Snape gave an answer.
"How about a criminal one? Did the book say specifically that we have to use certain souls?" he asked snidely.
"No…" answered Professor Enkran, shaking his head. "I didn't find anything on that topic…"
"So, we can use a criminal's soul?" asked Professor Ubvra hesistantly.
"One who has committed the most terrible of crimes…" said Minister Granst to himself. Then everyone lapsed into silence again, they knew who to use.
"Voldemort," the room rang out loud.
"It's fitting. He used Necromancy himself and did a lot of heinous crimes. This rite will surely destroy the soul of Voldemort once and for all. There won't be a chance for him to even haunt us!" said Professor Ubvra in a hushed voice. Minister Granst nodded in agreement, his eyes thoughtful.
"But, what about the body?" asked Professor Xellos coolly. "If I heard Enkran correctly, you need a corpse in the rite."
"That is true," amended Professor Enkran. "Someone at the Final Battle scene had collected the dust of Voldemort in a vial… I guess the Defense Against the Dark Arts is cursed, it didn't even last more than a year…" he said, chuckling darkly.
"Where is this vial?" asked Minister Granst, frowning.
"Right now, I'm assuming it is in Sobeo's possession," replied Enkran, his eyes roaming over Professor Snape. "Severus Snape had collected the dust and put it away somewhere in his house."
"But how will dust do in the rite? Don't you need a full corpse?"
"I'm sure you know about the decomposing stages. Any dead body will do, even in the form of dust. The cremation remains, I have read in the book, are able to form into some semblance of a body—if not entirely whole," said Enkran. He checked his notes and nodded. "Yeah, that's correct… Makes sense as all corpses tend to turn into dust. So, Sobeo, do you have this in your possession?" he asked, looking at Professor Snape.
He glared back at him and slowly nodded.
"Of course I do, it was too priceless and dangerous to give the vial away," he said.
"Very well, will you bring the vial on the Day of Rite?" asked Minister Granst. Sobeo nodded in answer and Minister Granst gave a small smile, "Good, good," the minister said, almost to himself. "Well then, I suppose we can adjourn this meeting until the Day of Rite?" Enkran nodded with terse movements. He knew he had only few days left and during that time, he had to prepare things such as wills. Sighing, he got up to leave with the others.
The dawn of the Day of Rite had, at last, arrived and before Enkran could turn off the alarm clock, the clock rang noisily. With his right hand, he smashed the alarm clock sleepily. He knew what day this was and he only had at least an hour's worth of sleep.
After his small, last breakfast, which consisted of two buttered toast and orange juice, he left his apartment. Once apparating in Hogsmeade, he stalked up the Hogwarts grounds, ignoring the detail that would prolong his arrival. His mind was on auto, he couldn't think of anything but nothing. He decided not to say good bye to anyone and leave a letter behind instead. Once arriving in his classroom, he let out a long breath. On the desk, he found the vial of what was left of Voldemort. Staring at the dust made him feel sick and he shivered. Looking away, he scanned the paper—of which contained the steps.
Smell the corpse of the one the caster will sacrifice for two minutes
Set the corpse in front of the caster
Speak the incantation in order to make the corpse come 'alive'—Vimotusader
The spell to call forth the soul of the corpse and for sacrifice: Animonsecro
Sacrifce thyself—caster, with the incantation of: Misusecro
He skipped the last step; he couldn't
bear to read it right now.
The thought of it was far too disturbing for him to accept. He looked at the vial in question, and knew that the corpse the notes were talking about was the dust. Taking a deep breath, he took the stopper of the vial and slowly breathed in the smell.
Resisting the urge to retch, the scent he whiffed had the worst awful, nastiest, foul odor and it was nothing like anything he had ever smelled. The scent felt grimy to his nose and it literally burned the nerves in his sinuses. Trying to regain some semblance of control over himself, he was needlessly reminded that the odor he smelled was of Voldemort. It was hardly surprising. As he continued to smell the odor, he realized that the air around the vial was filled with misery and death, and it felt oily against his skin.
Once he was sure the two minutes were over, Professor Enkran pushed the vial away from him, desperate for some fresh air. Once he composed himself, he made sure the vial was in front of him as he took his wand out, preparing to make the dust come alive but not with a beating heart.
"Vimotusader," he murmured, spelling the vial and the dust. The dust flew out of the vial and materialized into a face. Biting back a gasp, Professor Enkran stared at the face, shocked and fearful of the once-alive wizard before him. Right now, the face was empty and somewhat calm. Taking a breath, he remembered the next step, a very important one as he would have to call upon the soul of this face—briefly.
"Animonsecro," he said, waving his wand. He waited with bated breath for several moments, waiting to see what would happen. The air swirled into existence around Professor Enkran, air pressure increasing and slight electrical flashing around the room. Then the effects snapped with a sudden bang, and, for a fraction of a second, he saw anger and bewilderment on Voldemort's face before it went back into emotionless façade. Gripping his wand with terror, he knew the soul was now in the room. He could sense his presence and he knew that Voldemort was angry.
Swallowing with effort, he readjusted his wand hand, staring at the face. He had two more steps to do. His chest heaving with large amounts of air and anxiety. Gulping again, he waved his wand, muttering, "Misusecro."
Instantly, he felt as though he had two entities, one of physical and one of astral. You got it, it's called Astral Projection. In his astral form, he can now see Voldemort clearly. He never knew anyone could be so extremely pissed before today and that was an understatement. The way Voldemort held his mouth in the most intense anger possible, his eyes in the narrowest way that he thought not achievable. His nose was flared with wild rage. The ire was evidenced in Voldemort's brilliantly, horrifying red eyes.
"So, you decided to bring me back from the depths of hell," he whispered in a way that terrified Professor Enkran to the very core of his mind. "And decided to sacrifice both of us for foolish reasons…"
Professor Enkran knew he had to complete the rite now, or Voldemort would return; in his body no less.
"I'm sorry to interrupt what I'm sure will be a speech, but I need to complete this now," said Professor Enkran with a cool demeanor that set Voldemort off slightly, but caused him to grin.
"Ah, don't think so, you little man," he sneered. Before Voldemort even realized what happened, Professor Enkran did the last step with a wave of his hand and shouted.
"Confanima Mitto!So long, Voldemort," he said. Voldemort widened his eyes in horror as they both watched each other fade away into nothingness. With a yell, Voldemort screamed and then there was nothing but a face of Voldemort and a soulless body.
A year after the events of Sacrifice and Necromancy, the muggles, wizards and witches are finally able to co-exist with each other, perhaps without order but there is peace nonetheless. The muggles had been wary of the other world at first and there had been a lot of discrimination and attempted witch hunts with Atom bombs which they, the muggles, failed in miserably. After six months of co-existing, both worlds finally came to terms with each other—only in understanding. As the staff of Hogwarts predicted, there had been a lot of jobs created and the economy rapidly boosted. The state of the Earth that had been once filled with pollution was finally getting under control. What was once rare was now a frequent- Muggle and Wizarding alike were able to gaze at the stars for the first time. Everyone knew that it may take years for each world to fully accept one another but it was only the beginning.