Catalyst

Chapter 47: Escalation

Abathur had thought long and hard about his situation. He'd had little else to do for the past sixteen years. He had thought on every aspect of his crippled existence, from the need to pander to human sensibilities, to the necessity of hiding beneath the absurdly fragile pink skin that the terrans never seemed to improve on. He had thought about the isolation, his mental incarceration, trapped within his own head and unable to sink into the bliss of the Swarm's hivemind. Then there was the constant fear of discovery and extermination. Abathur wasn't afraid of death. But he had been afraid to die without ever even knowing what had come of his work, unsure that the Swarm had lived past him. And above all, he had thought of the terrans, the primitive, essence-starved terrans, the pathetic worthless beings that had dared to corner him and force him into their flesh, both in the future and in their current mewling state of being.

Abathur absolutely despised humanity.

He hadn't really realized what they'd deprived him of until he had reclaimed his place amongst the Swarm. He had almost forgotten the bliss he found within the organized chaos of the hivemind, had forgotten just how much he enjoyed being able to focus all of his time and energy on crafting his proud weapons of war. It was even sweeter now to make them. Not only had he been only just rediscovered the pleasure, but soon he would use his beautiful creations against his most despised enemy.

The essence of this world had been bountiful. It had to have been, for him to build any presence on it. The scant few hints he'd scavenged from the human subject's mind regarding the topic had indicated that there was so much more yet to collect. Nothing substantial, of course. That would be too simple. Abathur had learned that humans were always going to throw obstacles in his way, no matter how he approached them. But she had proved her worth in another. He had considered just discarding the mind and using the corpse when he had finally found a use for her.

"Ministry, not threat? Explain."

The newborn zerg clicked her new jaw, more closely resembling that of a hydralisk than the weak human one Abathur had cut off. It hadn't really been necessary in the first place.

"The Ministry will be thrown into turmoil by the public reveal of You-Know-Who," came the thought, accompanied by a wave of fear. Irritating. He clearly hadn't spent enough time altering her hormonal system. He had spent more of his time setting up the basic regeneration and reinforced bodily tissue.

"Minister Fudge's and my efforts made it so that few people even suspect there was any reason to be worried, much less prepare for a war." It had been something of a rushed conversion, to avoid the tedious task of repairing the brain damage that humans tended to suffer from even brief deaths, but Abathur hadn't needed it to be perfect. Judging by her pitiable performance earlier, she wouldn't be seeing much combat anyway. "The Auror's will still be scrambling to raise their numbers and gather information. Even if they knew about you, they aren't nearly strong enough to fight a war on two fronts, especially against us." A wave of excitement this time. Clearly still acclimatizing to the hive mind. Irrelevant in the end, but irritating in the moment. If the information she provided wasn't so interesting, Abathur would probably have his claws still buried in her skull.

"Hmm. Useful. But, Dumbledore?"

"That is...more complicated, my lord." And still no understanding of the hierarchy. This would be a long project. "We may have reduced his influence on this isle, but internationally, he is still a powerful figure. If I were him, I would seek aid from the other Ministries."

(Transition)

Dumbledore strode confidently through the Parisian Ministry's glass halls, making his way towards the meeting place of the ICW, the stone rim of his shrunken pensieve digging into his leg. He could feel the shifting liquid weight of the memories within all too well. The large crowd of press and spectators pressed close to the ancient stone building parted before him. The position of Supreme Mugwump wasn't something Dumbledore could say he was particularly fond of, but he did have to admit it had its advantages. He would need every advantage he could get.