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The golden trio were settling down at the practically empty wizarding bar they were staying for the night when the antique muggle television in the corner flickered twice and turned on.
“A muggle television ? I wonder what could be playing.” Hermione questioned with a curious look at the bartender.
“Right, I’m surprised they’re still allowing muggle appliances when you-know-who hates them so much. I can’t make sense of it.” Ron agreed.
The bartender looked in their direction and answered gruffly. “It’s the mandatory magic nightly broadcast. Best watch and not ask too many questions, or the ministry could show up.”
“Mandatory magic nightly broadcast…” Harry mumbled as a few blurry figures came into view.
Voldemort himself, in front of the camera, while the death eaters, in order of seniority and public recognition, were lined up in choir-like rows behind him. It was like a twisted performance was about to take place.
“And they’re trying to appeal to the youth too,” the bartender sighed, shaking his head. “What a shame.”
“Wha–” Harry started, but stopped when Hermione nudged him with a shhh.
“They’ve already started! Let’s not miss any more of it in case there is valuable information.”
On screen, Voldemort was halfway through answering a question, hands clasped together like a preacher from hell.
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“The resistance has no,” Voldemort glanced at something beyond the camera before squaring his shoulders. “Rizz.”
“Pizazz, if you will.” Lucius Malfoy chimed in quietly.
“Yes. I mean yassss.” Voldemort agreed. “Now onto the newest extermination order for those with muggle blood in their lineage.”
He flipped a few pieces of parchment and cleared his throat, making a wheezy, serpentine version of a computer rebooting.
“The problem is…that…they are not very slay.”
“They are, dismissing–I meant dissing–our iconic wizard trads ? Trads ?”
“It means tradition, my lord, but cooler.”
Voldemort waved a hand impatiently.
“They are dissing our rad trads and trying to get them canceled! This is unacceptable and the British wizard population has gotten lost in the sauce. The sauce ? Draco, what is the sauce ?”
Draco Malfoy sniffled from behind the camera, as he wished harder than ever a tornado would crash into the manor and end it all.
“The sauce in this context means, riches and, contentment, my lord.”
“Draaacoooo, didn’t we agree that you would call me Sssslayer supreme ? I slay, don’t I ?”
“You’re the slayiest, my lord.”
“I outslay all the other dark lords, don’t I, Draco ?”
Draco stared. Were there even any other dark lords right now ? Bollocks, he hoped not.
“Yes my lord. You are kangerz.”
“Kangerz. That is correct.” said Voldemort, who was too embarrassed to say he had no idea what the word meant.
“Continuing on, the mudbloods that currently reside in England will be yeeted out of here. They are expected to find a new place of residence by the end of the month or will risk imprisonment. Which would be cringe.”
The death eaters shuffled a little in their lines. One scratched his neck as his eczema began flaring up. Why was it so humid ?
“Stay still you fools! Idiotic straggots!” a voice hissed, eager to avoid punishment from their lord–slayer supreme.
“I’m not a straggot! I’m a based sigma male!” another voice hissed back.
“It doesn’t matter what you are, we’ll all be dead if you two don’t stop talking!” A shorter death eater chastised, sweat dripping down his back and into his death eater robes.
“Mudbloods who are currently employed in government facilities will be forcibly isekaied by us. Moto Moto does not like you. Severusss, educate me on this…Moto Moto.”
Snape blinked several times. “I believe Moto Moto is a religious figure in the muggle world, my lord. We are employing religious guilt.”
“Hmm.” Voldemort mused before nodding. “Whoever came up with that is big brain. Mudblood government workers will also have to hand in a fine of 2000 galleons for being stanky bitches.”
“Stanky….so stanky….” murmurs agreed.
“And I have been made aware that some of you Mudbloods at the ministry had helped Harry Potter make his escape! Let me make this clear. If anyone is found to have helped that shady twunk, I will ass shit your konkey wackers. Like, cleared.”
“Clear their arses my lord!” came a fervent cry that sounded vaguely like Barty Crouch junior.
Gaining confidence on top of his already inflated ego, Voldemort raised both of his hands up in a powerful gesture. “Because now we have…the bad blood! You are all aware that it used to be mad love! So foolish order, take a look at what you’ve done!”
A gleam entered the dark lord’s slitted eyes as he declared in a raspy growl– “We will win this beef! Hasssshtag ended!”
“Ended! Ended! Ended!”
“Because few times we have been around that track, so it is not just going to happen like that! Behold an example that no one is safe from the omnipotent Lord Voldemort….as I present…Hogwarts muggle studies professor Charity Burbage!”
A raggedy looking Charity Burbage was dragged into the room, her arms and legs shackled as Nagini sat on top of her chest, forked tongue flickering.
“Charity Burbage, spreader of muggle propaganda.” Voldemort snarled, his hands on his hips.
“Are you ready to take this L ?”
For a moment, the bound and gagged woman looked like she saw a ghost, and she stared at the wall for three seconds before her survival senses kicked in and she shook her head desperately. “MMmmh! Mhhhnmph!”
“Omg! I’m shook!” Bellatrix squealed, hyping her lord up. “This broadcast is about to get lit!”
“Thank you Bella,” Voldemort acknowledged before turning his wand to point at Charity Burbage’s dirt streaked face and screaming hoarsely —-”Avada Kedavra! Periodt!”
Her body slumped to the ground, motionless. It was like all the air had left her body at once, or as the youngsters in Voldemort’s imagination would say, GTFO-ed.
A beat. Then by looking at Lucius Malfoy’s pale face, the rest of the death eaters realized that it was time to clap and they burst into rapturous applause.
“Hhuhehhhh of course, of course.” Voldemort said graciously, before continuing to read off his script, which had now come into view of the camera.
“And finally, I would like to introduce an update to the Hogwarts curriculum. As of today, Lucius Malfoy has created a new subject, titled ‘The History of Dark Magick’ for all years to study. It is, as many youths say, totally bussin, and I am sure it shall be a fruitful addition to the education of our next generation.”
Snape nodded deftly from his position next to Voldemort. “If any student has any issue with the new curriculum, I suggest visiting the Carrows for a vibe…check.”
“Be glad we aren’t skinning your little hides, mudbloods!” Bellatrix screeched.
“Best not to get too salty!”
“Why would they be salty ?” Voldemort mused.
Bellatrix thought for a second and then shrugged. “I think they are salty from their tears when they sob, my lord.”
“Dracoooo ?”
The blonde boy gave a frail thumbs up.
Voldemort nodded solemnly as Nagini began chomping on Charity Burbage’s corpse in the corner. She was really eating her up.
“And that brings usss to the end of tonight’s mandatory magic podcasssst. Tune in tomorrow night, or face ministry prosecution. Teetee. TeeTeewhyell.”
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With that, the television flickered dark, leaving the golden trio staring at the screen.
Ron groaned, shaking his head in dismay. “Do you hear all that fancy muggle slang you-know-who’s picked up ? Maybe he is going to directly invade them after all. And poor Professor Burbage…”
Harry and Hermione stared, captive at the dark screen before looking at each other. At the same time, they opened their mouths to speak.
“What the fuck ?”