In a forgotten corner of Florida, nestled amidst the swamps, lay a secluded town populated by a motley collection of wizards and Muggles. The latter served the former in a shadow economy of smuggled magical creatures and other unsavory enterprises. But lately, their luck had soured; a crucial shipment had vanished without a trace.
"Damn it all," an elderly wizard grumbled, sprawled in a chair outside a dilapidated house, soaking up the sun. "Anything but that Zouwu! Do you have any idea how long we spent tracking that beast?"
A middle-aged man standing beside him was drenched in a cold sweat, too terrified to offer a single word of protest. Any outsider would have immediately recognized the old wizard's power and, more likely, his ruthlessness.
This old coot is as good as dead, the middle-aged man thought grimly.
Suddenly, a ripple distorted the air, and several figures in black robes materialized before them.
"Who are you?!" the old wizard demanded, his wand leaping into his hand. The middle-aged man mirrored his action, their eyes darting warily over the newcomers.
"You recently acquired a Zouwu?" one of the figures asked, his voice a low growl.
The old wizard's expression flickered—first elation, then suspicion. Subtly, he gestured for the middle-aged man to slip away and summon reinforcements.
Understanding his signal, the man began to retreat silently, intending to Apparate the moment he was inside.
Seeing the man close the door, the old wizard plastered on a kindly smile, his tone ingratiating. "Now, now, let's discuss this like civilized people."
His words were met with the crack of Apparition as more figures arrived. Within seconds, the entire town was encircled by hundreds of black-robed figures!
Even the dimmest witch or wizard would recognize that attire.
"Death Eaters…" The old wizard's eyes widened in disbelief. Then, he heard another sound—a heavy thudding.
Looking up, he saw a colossal, golden form bounding from the distant mountainside, closing the distance in heartbeats.
"A Zouwu! And…" The old wizard ignored the creature's bared fangs, his gaze fixated on the handsome young man perched atop its head.
One thought consumed him: I'm doomed!
Hadn't they claimed the Zouwu was untamed? As if the Dark Lord would ride an "untamed" beast! Next they'd be saying Dumbledore's phoenix was wild.
The old wizard cursed the informant who had sold him the Zouwu information—it made perfect sense now; a Zouwu could easily travel from America in the morning and be back in Europe by nightfall, right?
Rationalizations be damned!
Waaaaah… Why did you have to galavant around like that, you stupid Zouwu? Now look what's happened. You're injured, and I'm about to die!
The old wizard looked ready to burst into tears.
Soon, dozens more people were rounded up—mostly terrified Muggles, with a few petrified wizards among them. They gaped at their leader, who had never looked so utterly defeated.
Tom surveyed the scene with satisfaction.
This is why I sought out the Death Eaters in America. The Dark Lord can't do everything himself, after all.
Not all the assembled wizards bore the Dark Mark; only the high-ranking ones did. Tom had used the Dark Mark to summon these patriarchs, who, in turn, had brought their underlings.
As his subordinates pinned the old wizard and his cronies to the ground, Tom pondered how to deal with them in a way that would both satisfy Tom Riddle and amuse himself.
Just then…
Boom!
The air shimmered, and the middle-aged man reappeared, leading a dozen rough-looking wizards.
"Surrender now! Or we'll take that Zouwu back by force…" The middle-aged man's bravado evaporated as he took in the scene. He faltered, his jaw slack in disbelief.
He had imagined that, with enough backup, they could overwhelm a few foolish men in black robes. Instead, they had walked into a trap. Dozens of them were now surrounded by hundreds of Death Eaters!
This isn't a gang fight; this is a slaughter!
His stupor didn't last long. They were quickly subdued.
The middle-aged man looked pleadingly at the old wizard, who was groveling on the ground, begging for mercy from Tom Riddle. He only listened to the old wizard.
However, not everyone was ready to surrender. A few seized the opportunity to break free, only to face…
"Avada Kedavra!"
A tidal wave of Killing Curses surged forth, instantly obliterating the would-be escapees.
Witnessing the Death Eaters' sheer ferocity, the remaining captives lost all will to resist.
Tom watched the scene with amusement. "Here's what we'll do," he said, his voice carrying over the stunned silence. "No spells. Just hand-to-hand combat. The last one standing… I'll spare their life."
The Death Eaters released their prisoners and stepped back, confiscating their wands, though they remained watchful. After all, who knew if some of them possessed wandless magic?
Among the smugglers were both wizards and Muggles. Before, the Muggles would have simply resigned themselves to their fate, but now…
One of the Muggles lunged, knocking a nearby wizard to the ground with a savage punch.
The action triggered a chain reaction. Chaos erupted.
An hour passed.
Only the old wizard remained standing, panting and bruised.
Tom wasn't surprised that the survivor was a wizard. Magic did tend to improve one's physical condition. He was, however, somewhat surprised the old man had prevailed.
But, considering the old man's ruthless brawling, perhaps it wasn't so unexpected.
"Get lost," Tom said.
The Death Eaters parted to clear a path.
The old wizard hesitated, then, seeing that Tom Riddle didn't react, he scrambled away.
Watching the old wizard's retreating figure, Tom dismounted the Zouwu.
Gently stroking the magnificent creature's mane, Tom murmured to himself, "I said I'd spare your life, and I meant it. But whether you survive… is up to you."
He patted the Zouwu's head. "Go on, good boy."
"Kill him."
...
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