A short oneshot about Louise summoning Voldemort. Unfortunately, in the vast majority of crossovers involving the ZnT fandom, there has been a rather dismal trend. Summoned characters, no matter who they were in canon, are turned into complete pushovers like Saito, they move along the canon like puppets, silently agreeing with everything that happens (they even did this to Madara and Vader!). I strongly dislike this approach, so I decided to put the proverb into practice: "if you want something done right, do it yourself". I have no idea if I will continue this story. If you want a continuation, please share your ideas about what should happen next. I will use all your comments as inspiration for the plotline.

The great event took place in the midst of the ancient stone castle where generations of wizards in England had been educated. It was a true confrontation of good and evil. The green and red spells, cast by two legendary wizards, clashed in battle: Avada Kedavra and Expelliarmus. It seemed impossible that the spell taught to even the youngest twelve-year-old students as their first means of self-defense could stand up to the highest form of the death curse, capable of killing with just a touch.

But the truth was that this was no ordinary Expelliarmus, as one might think. Magic was never an exact science. It couldn't be measured, calculated, or understood through Muggle scientific methods in any way. Though it never adhered to any rules imposed upon it, one thing remained constant - it always followed the will of the wizard.

To be honest, it wasn't even Expelliarmus anymore. In this spell, which defied the deadliest curse with its power, the will of thousands of wizards had been concentrated. Hope, anger, belief in a brighter future – all these emotions fueled the spell cast by the leader of the magical community in England. The people were tired of the attacks by the bloody tyrant, and he hurried, albeit unconsciously, to express this through their unofficial leader.

This battle was not initially on equal footing. Voldemort was unquestionably a great wizard, capable of defeating, albeit considerably older, the most powerful wizard in England - the late Albus Dumbledore.

But against the collective will of all the wizards in England, which they followed with bated breath, one might say, with their hearts and souls, believing and hoping for the victory of the new leader of the Light... Voldemort had no chance.

Finally, the red spell, cast by Harry Potter in a moment of desperation, managed to overcome the irresistible curse and struck the astonished Dark Lord, sending the legendary Elder Wand flying from his hand.

It seemed that this spell had deprived the Dark Lord of all his willpower, causing him to helplessly fall to his knees.

Tiny flakes of white ash began to peel away from Voldemort's skin, carried away by the wind high into the cloud-covered sky. And in an instant, the entire body of the mighty wizard began to rapidly disintegrate into dust, swirling upward in a small vortex. It seemed to mark the end of the era of the Dark Lord's rule over magical England, and from this moment, the entire British wizarding community could finally rest easy. In part, it was true, for this place, the dark times had come to an end, and all the newblood wizards could finally breathe a sigh of relief. But for the Dark Lord Voldemort himself, this was far from the end...

"Answer the call of my heart... and come under my command!"

After these words spilled from the lips of a young sixteen-year-old girl of short stature, whose hair was dyed a soft pink, a familiar yet more powerful explosion resonated throughout the local magical academy.

A tremendous shockwave easily knocked her off her feet, carrying away several onlookers who had the audacity, whether out of curiosity or sheer foolishness, to approach too closely. This happened because the protective carefully set up by the teacher didn't take effect on them.

A thick cloud of dust rose up for a good dozen meters, concealing the outcome of the spell from curious eyes.

"Did you expect something else?" came a doomed mocking a boy's voice, the owner of which had successfully hidden behind the teacher's shield.

But the subsequent response from the pink-haired witch was drowned out by a loud wind summoned by the previously silent girl with blue hair, who, in terms of her appearance, resembled more of a thirteen-year-old girl than a second-year student, whose ages were usually not less than sixteen.

A strong and swift wind effortlessly scattered the dusty veil, revealing an intriguing scene to the gathered students.

In the center of the deep crater lay an unprecedented creature, unknown to this world, a noseless humanoid being, presumably male, shrouded in a dark cloak. There was no visible hair on it, and its pale bluish skin, more reminiscent of a not-so-fresh corpse, further marred the appearance of the presumed familiar.

"Is that a vampire!?" came the frightened voice of a chubby boy, who had previously tried to get as close as possible but was now attempting to hide behind the backs of his classmates.

This unexpected cry managed to stir the previously frozen crowd of students, who began to panic, reaching for their wands, looking fearfully at the unconscious creature.

"It's not a vampire," said the confident voice of a middle-aged balding man, who, staff in hand, began to approach the unconscious being slowly.

"Looks more like a homunculus," muttered the girl with glasses, the very one who still tightly held her staff in her surprisingly strong hands.

"Or perhaps a strange chimera."

It seemed that this statement was able to somewhat calm the considerably nervous teenagers, for whom the appearance of a vampire was an event only slightly better than the sudden appearance of legendary elves. At least they had heard plenty of terrifying stories about both in their childhood.

"B-but I don't want homunculus or chimera!" came the frightened voice of the pink-haired girl. "They're heretical creatures, and the first ones don't even have souls!"

"Don't worry, Miss Valliere," the professor's calm voice rang out. "No one will declare you a heretic if your familiar turns out to be one of these two. The bonds between a master and a familiar are sacred, and whoever answers the summons, the Church will not punish or condemn the summoner. Accusing the sacred ritual of conjuring something displeasing to the heavens is already considered heresy. Even if, Brimir forbid, an elf were to answer your spell, the church wouldn't think of accusing you of anything."

"Really?" Valliere asked with a slightly more confident tone, and after receiving a nod, she began to approach her future familiar hesitantly. "Louisa, calm down. Remember what Mother told you." She chanted her mantra. "After all, what better could I have hoped for? Wise, beautiful, divine... What nonsense," she sighed in resignation.

"And if you think about it, I probably could have even fulfilled the promise I made to that a bitch! After all, some chimeras can even take on earthly dragons! Not to mention her stupid lizard," she thought, her spirits lifting, as she approached the unconscious familiar with a bit more confidence.

But as she looked into the snake-like face, which looked even more repulsive up close than from a distance, Louisa lost some of her enthusiasm.

"You'd better hurry up, Miss Valliere," came Professor Colbert's slightly trembling voice as he nervously shifted his staff from one hand to the other.

Casting a surprised glance at her usually composed and unflappable professor, Louise, abandoning her previous thought, finally focused on the task at hand.

"Well, after all, I won't be sharing a bed with it!" she thought, pushing aside any regrets. "I just need to utter the incantation and... kiss." She grimaced slightly.

After taking a few deep breaths, Louise was finally able to collect her thoughts and, after rolling the incantation on her tongue for a bit, pointed her wand at the creature's face.

"Pentagram..." was the only word she managed to say before losing consciousness from the sudden pain in her head, which came from gazing into the suddenly wide-open red eyes burning with cosmic malevolence and hatred.

Lord Voldemort was not in the best of spirits. It was difficult to say when he was last in a different state, as the sudden death at the hands of an infant, followed by a long existence as a ghost, with subsequent not entirely successful possession, had not been a catalyst for good moods.

Voldemort's mood improved slightly when he finally managed to obtain a more or less normal body and was able to cast a good Cruciatus curse on Potter's stupid face. But even this event was overshadowed by Potter's subsequent escape, forcing him to postpone the execution of his fateful enemy to an unknown future date.

The events that followed were also able to put the Dark Lord through considerable emotional swings, which could be measured by the number of Crucio cast on his subordinates.

However, perhaps the best mood he had experienced in the last few decades was when victory no longer seemed so distant, and it was within his grasp. Dumbledore was dead, and all he needed to do was crush the last stronghold of resistance, which was located at Hogwarts, and finally finish off his enemy for good.

But the unexpected defeat from Expelliarmus, one could say, plummeted the Dark Lord's mood to a record low.

So when he saw a little brat, whose pink hair and eyes could give away her Metamorphmagus nature, pointing a wand at him, preparing to cast an unfamiliar spell... Voldemort snapped.

A powerful Legilimency attack, one that could probably shake even Severus Snape's Occlumency shields, who was renowned as the strongest Occlumens in the British Isles, immediately sent the girl into unconsciousness. Driven by his rage, Voldemort swiftly wrested the wand from her hand with the most potent wandless summoning charms, something he wouldn't have been able to do if she had been conscious. Initially, Voldemort wanted to kill the girl right away, but when he noticed that he was surrounded by unfamiliar wizards, reason managed to break through the veil of anger. Immediately turning his body into semi-material smoke, he began to swiftly gain altitude, pausing briefly at a height of thirty meters from the ground to survey his surroundings and assess the situation more comprehensively.

Familiar landscapes of Hogwarts gave way to wide green meadows, amidst which stood a massive castle complex consisting of five tall towers arranged in the shape of a pentagram, connected by walls, and a massive central castle.

In the courtyard of this castle, a small group of sixteen-year-old teenagers had gathered, surrounded by magical and not-so-magical beings of various shapes and sizes, led by a balding man with a staff who stood near a wide crater, from which Voldemort had emerged.

"I'm very far from England," he immediately realized, listening to the magical background. "This seems to be some school. Not very well-known, since I've never heard of it. And a ritual was conducted here. Probably a summoning, since I ended up here... I need to urgently try to summon someone from my inner circle."

But when the Dark Lord attempted to fly away from the presumed magical academy, he felt small, icy icicles pass through his limbs, causing no harm to his semi-material body, their trajectory originating from the castle courtyard.

"Do not let Miss Valliere's familiar escape!" came a male shout in French.

"Familiar!?" Voldemort thought angrily, hearing the unfamiliar but deeply offensive insult. "From whom, the frog-eaters? From these cowards? How dare they call me, the great Voldemort, a familiar!?"

This outburst completely pushed logic out of Voldemort's consciousness, leaving only all-consuming rage that dictated killing anyone who dared to defy him in the most painful way.

The next projectiles, in the form of small stone blocks launched by the shouting man, were intercepted and then transfigured into hundreds of small stone darts that flew at the students scattered across the field at the speed of crossbow bolts.

Most of the students managed to erect shields that struggled to deflect the stone projectiles. Others were destined to be pierced by the stone darts, which, despite their small size, inflicted significant damage and unbearable pain on the young wizards'. Several students had the worst luck as the darts struck them squarely in the head, causing their skulls to shatter.

The first spilled blood in the battle brought Voldemort immense pleasure, but he was denied the opportunity to savor the moment by dozens of elemental spells cast by angry students who no longer listened to the words of the suddenly changed teacher's face, forcing him to evade.

"Only elemental spells and battle transfiguration that won't harm me in my semi-material state. No one has used any charms yet, which is strange. Very strange," he thought intrigued, preparing for a counterattack.

The uncontrollable rage gave way to a more or less manageable reality, allowing Voldemort the ability to analyze.

With incredible speed, a multitude of differently colored spells of varying lethality began to fly off the tip of Voldemort's stolen wand, striking students one after another. The few who didn't dodge the spells and attempted to shield themselves with air or fire shields faced the inevitable fate of being struck by the spells, which were far from merciful. Only those who managed to erect earthen shields remained on their feet.

Observing how the sixteen-year-old teenagers, who at Hogwarts could have been sixth-year students, couldn't defend themselves against fairly powerful but still ordinary curses, Voldemort couldn't help but be amazed.

"I understand this isn't Beauxbaton, but has French education really deteriorated to this extent?" he thought. "Can't any of them use Protego? Don't they know that elemental shields can't protect against curses? It's absurd! Elemental shields are much more complex than Protego, yet no one seems to use it."

He was unable to further develop his thought due to that very professor sitting behind the blue-haired girl, who was approaching him on a peculiar-looking dragon. But just as Voldemort was contemplating unleashing infernal fire to engulf the three suddenly appearing opponents, the professor suddenly shouted:

"Please, don't touch the children! We didn't know you were a wizard!"

"You... wretched worm," Voldemort hissed contemptuously in French. "After your words, you still have the audacity to beg for mercy from me... Crucio!"

A red bolt of lightning pierced through the blue-haired girl, passed through her body, and struck the chest of the senior wizard.

Loud screams echoed across the sky, causing Voldemort's cruel smile to widen. The blue dragon that had been rapidly approaching him suddenly changed its course, trying to fly as far away as possible from the terrifying creature.

The once clean and well-kept courtyard of the academy was now impossible to look at without shuddering. The smooth green lawn had turned into a veritable battlefield after an artillery barrage. The entire area around the castle was drenched in blood and littered with mutilated bodies.

All surviving and conscious students had managed to take cover behind a large earthen wall, so Voldemort decided to slightly adjust his target.

Swiftly approaching the earthen wall as a black mist, the Dark Lord returned to a material state and, twirling his wand, was ready to unleash a powerful Bombarda at the wall. However, a small pink spot on the edge of his vision slightly tempered his fervor.

"I still don't know where I am," he realized, shifting his attention to the miraculously surviving girl who still lay at the bottom of the crater. "But leaving my back exposed is also imprudent."

Formulating a small plan in his mind, Voldemort began to make long and sweeping movements with his wand, which had been consuming an exorbitant amount of magic throughout the entire battle, as it was entirely unsuited for him.

"Resurrecto Mortuorum Inferum "

After these three words, the once cooling corpses began to rise from the blood-soaked ground with a deep growl. They did so with difficulty, as many of the freshly risen inferi were missing various parts of their bodies.

With annoyance, Voldemort surveyed his makeshift army, which consisted of only twenty dead, and which could only momentarily delay moderately experienced wizards. He raised his wand-bearing hand in the direction of the crater.


Feeling only slight resistance, Voldemort was mildly surprised. Even the worst graduates of Hogwarts knew that summoning charms couldn't be applied to living creatures. However, very few were aware that it could be applied to the clothing worn by a wizard. The lack of knowledge about this fact among the masses wasn't surprising, as even the cheapest robes were enchanted against this spell, drawing upon the magic of the wearer. Moreover, even without these enchantments, the magic of the owner greatly hindered the casting of summoning charms on objects in close contact with the owner's body. Therefore, wizards who knew about this fact could only apply this knowledge to Muggles.

Of course, any protections could be overcome, so none of this applied to great wizards like Voldemort.

But the absence of elementary protective charms on the obviously expensive clothing of the witch greatly surprised him.

Only a few seconds passed before the unconscious girl finally flew into the spellcaster's hand, who with exaggerated ease grabbed her by the leg and tossed her over his back as if she were a sack of potatoes.


"Did I imagine it, or did someone's white beard flash in the tower window?"

Since this brought rather unpleasant associations, Voldemort decided to leave the premises of this educational institution as soon as possible.

One turn, a loud pop, and the only evidence that the Dark Lord had ever been here was the scarred earth and the horde of inferi approaching the barricaded students.