The Ballad of Johannes and Voldemort

Johannes Cabal, infamous necromancer, had found himself in another precarious situation. He'd wagered against Satan, twice, and brought down a conspiracy involving war mongering Eastern Europeans, but he'd never faced anything of this caliber. Johannes Cabal had found himself in the company of a wizard, a powerful, evil, noseless wizard.

My entry into the crossover competition.


1. In Which Cabal Sits with Snakes

Johannes Cabal, a necromancer who had already been through his fair share of turmoil for one lifetime, was again evading danger and ultimate death. This was a very different happenstance, as Cabal found himself in the lair of a man with no nose and a large snake to compensate. The man, or at least that's what Cabal believed him to be, sat in a chair with crossed legs as he fiddled with a small, ornate twig. 

The snake hissed, and the snake-like man nodded. Cabal decided he'd rather deal with this person than Hell's bureaucratic gate keepers though that wasn't saying much. 

"Nagini tells me that you have a rare talent, you have the ability to commune with the dead," the man hissed, quite literally. Cabal shifted in his seat, not out of discomfort, but out of boredom.

"That's very interesting. Do you receive information from your pet often? You know, there are institutions to help with that," Cabal retorted. The man may have smirked, but it was so brief that Cabal all but missed it. The man stopped toying with his piece of wood, the euphemism not lost on the necromancer. The man pointed the end of the stick at Cabal, whose perfectly tailored black suit was just as crisp as his slicked back blonde hair.

"Bombarda maxima!" the man shouted. A great explosion occurred behind Cabal's chair, and when he braved a look, he found that the wall was now a giant hole. 

"Well that's new," Cabal thought. He turned back to the man, realizing that it was simply a warning shot, meant to keep Cabal's wit in check. 

"You have merged two worlds that should never meet. You're not even a mudblood, just a simple muggle who is dabbling in things he should not be interested in. I kill your kind without a second thought." the man began to twirl his twig without using his fingers. It levitated and spun in the air, like magic. Cabal chastised himself for using the word. He'd bargained with devils and raised the dead, but he knew that magic was an idiotic fantasy for children.

"Well, then I guess I have a date with destiny," Cabal pulled out his pocket watch to see that he was exactly thirty minutes late for a meeting with his brother, Horst. 

"Not quite," the man said, smiling. "See, you have a gift that I do not possess. I can raise the dead, but not in the way that you can."

"I raise corpses that are incapable of anything other than living for longer than two minutes or saying anything that is not programmed into them. I hardly see how that's helpful to you, Mr...?"

"Voldemort. My name is Lord Voldemort, and you will learn to help me, or you will die a most painful death." 

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