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How to be a Dark Lord
Because I need somewhere to put this drivel.
“Good morning class. Do forgive me for my tardiness.” The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher strolled into class five minutes late, a habit of his. Kudret Szarka could easily walk in an hour late, and no one would object. It is never wise to speak brashly toward a man who seemed to fill a doorway. With his broad shoulders, some of the students said that he reminded them of a cloaked Gothic gargoyle. They must be demonic wings hiding under those robes. Many agreed on one thing: He was too handsome to be a teacher. A man who turned the heads of the paintings didn’t belong at Hogwarts. There was something very sinister about him, but no one could ever find out precisely what it was. He was dangerous, but he was also full of guile and wit. “I took some special medicine to clear up a headache, and I’ve been hallucinating since Tuesday.” He was also, at the very least, reckless. “Just on my way here, I had to fight a zombie horde comprised of every famous wizard and witch who had ever died in the past thirty years along with a Punjab man who looked unreasonably like Prince Charles.”
Some of his students had learned to never ask any questions about the bizarre details of his life whenever he mentioned them in class. Others couldn’t stop themselves. “Is that true, Professor?” asked a wide-eyed student.
He laughed a little too cheerfully. “No, but wouldn’t that be hilarious?”
It was better to leave that question unanswered. The students offered their own tepid chuckles, glancing at each other nervously. Some had grown used to their teacher’s eccentricities, but the man was so unpredictable that the simple state of being in class could be downright stressful.
“Now then.” Tossing his attaché and books effortlessly on the front desk, he turned the blackboard. “We are going to learn about something inane that some of you know and others of you won’t pay attention to.” He took out his wand from his robes. “If you already know this, then well done to you. If you aren’t paying attention, that’s fine because you’ll be the first to die during the rise of the next Dark Lord. Sorry, or Dark Lady. We should always be egalitarian and inclusive.”
Dark Lords, dark magic, dark-ness. There hadn’t been a dark anything in over twenty years. The world was more carefree place. “…Sir?”
“What—oh.” He cringed over his shoulder, acknowledging the student. “What say ye, Dracula?”
Scorpius sighed but had long ago given up on discouraging Szarka’s nicknames. The rationale was that because his father was Draco, he must be ‘little Draco.’ It gave the boy more incentive to be less like other people in his family. “Forgive me, but laws and way of life have improved society for us all. We know now what makes a Dark Lord, and we have therapy instead of punishment. We are much more progressive in this day and age than ever before.” He had a habit of rambling a bit. “I…Defense against the Dark Arts. It seems a bit obsolete.”
The teacher wore a feigned simper, making no effort to hide his contempt. “Well, if it were truly obsolete, I wouldn’t have to stand up here and teach it to you. I could be doing more fulfilling things such as taking over the Isle of Man.”
“Sir.” A fellow Ravenclaw came to Scorpius’ defense. “He’s right. Vol—He Who Can’t Be Named. He was the last great Dark Lord.”
To this, Szarka’s dark eyes widened with incredulity. “The last ‘great’ Dark Lord?” He rolled his eyes at the comment, sneering snidely. “Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort. It’s a very stupid name for a very stupid person. Worst Dark Lord yet. I refuse to call him by that name. Instead, I call him Dark Lord Riddle because he hated his given name.”
“Wait.” A Hufflepuff shyly raised her hand. “By worst, what do you mean?”
He narrowed his eyes, seeming insulted by the question. “He was sloppy at best. There is a very effective and efficient way to carry out one’s master plan. And his goals were utterly laughable!” This was unsettling. Everyone else they had known still talked about the last Dark Lord in hushed tones and with fearful respect. The Malfoys, Weasleys, and Potters were even more apprehensive when talking about the Dark Lord. To see their teacher trivialized him seemed to border blasphemy.
One student wouldn’t tolerate such indignance. “Murder is nothing laughable!” cried a Gryffindor, glaring venomously at the teacher.
Professor Szarka had many ‘moods’ as he called them. Sometimes, one ‘mood’ made him so irate that he threatened the lives of students who dared breathe a word of objection. Another ‘mood’ allowed the students to speak freely, but always allowed himself an opportunity to make the student seem very stupid. “Once you make your virgin kill, it is almost too easy to commit murder. What is hard is careful planning, something that Dark Lord Riddle was horrible with!” He growled under his breath, rolling his eyes as he often did. “If you must copy a failed dictator’s plan, follow the plan to a T. Grassroots organizations accomplish nothing! All you’re then leading is a rag-tag group of fringe terrorists and no one listens to terrorists.” He suddenly calmed, tilting his head. “…Well, terrorists who don’t control the government. We must always make that distinction.” In another moment, he had reverted back to his anger. “In any case, a good dark lord does not engage in genocide or ethnic cleansing of any kind because it grates against one’s true cause. If you truly want to take over the world, you need to find a way that makes your ideals and beliefs appeal to everyone. When you are first starting out, you need as much support as possible. Everyone, even the dense and dull-witted, are included! Whoever doesn’t serve your purpose can be disposed of quietly at a later time!
The incredulous students were utterly at a loss for words. What could they possibly say to such brazen remarks from a professor? This made it clearer to the children that this man should never have worked at Hogwarts. They had heard horror stories from their parents about Dolores Umbridge, but this man made her seem like a nice old lady.
He took no notice of their horror. “Enough dallying,” he said with a snort, turning the chalkboard and erasing that day’s lesson. “Anyone with average intelligence and focus can learn the dark arts, and the same goes for defending yourself. I think it vital that you, my students, learn the importance of what I’m talking about.” He wrote “THE SYSTEM” in large letters. “How do you break this?”
They stared at him with bugging fish-like eyes.
“The system!” he growled. “How do you break the system?”
“Why would we want to break the system? What system are you talking about?” asked Bonnie Blue in her usual, trembling voice. The class was her weakness grade-wise because she irritated the teacher, and she looked as though she’d faint within a few minutes.
“Because that is how you accomplish your evil plan!” He slammed his fist on the desk so hard that the drawers rattle. “The system! The way that things are! The construct of society and government that bars you, the mastermind, from your selfish desires! If you are any reflection of generations past and present, then it is no wonder that Dark Lord Riddle couldn’t reach his goals! Tell me this instance. How do you break the system?”
“By attacking it?” Calvin Luther blurted out. He had an awful habit of speaking in class, particularly when he didn’t want to. The pressure was often too much, unfortunately.
“But how?” This time no one answered. “Answer me! How do you break the system? How do you attack it?” There was still no answer, and his dark eyes became livid. He bellowed, “Fifty points from each house unless someone can give me a satisfactory answer! How do you break the system?!”
A brave soul spoke up, none other than Albus Severus Potter. He had a talent for all types of magic, but it seemed as though there was always something, or someone, distracting him. “You become part of the system.”
“And?” he demanded, looming over the student. “One hundred points from Slytherin if you can’t give me a complete answer.”
“And you destroy it from the inside!” He shrank back from the teacher, staring up like a terrified rabbit.
Szarka smiled grimly. “Well done. You have saved us all.” He turned sharply back to the blackboard. “He has spoken the truth. To break the system, you become part of the system and then you destroy it from the inside. Now, you have a few choices when it comes to deciding ‘what’ the system is. It can be the Ministry of Magic, or it can be any one of the fine muggle government dotting the countryside on this green island. It could even be monarchy itself, in which case you find a way to overthrow the King. The best way to do that is to become a member of the Parliament.” He looked around the classroom, sneering. “I’m not paid to just lecture. Take notes because this will be on at least one test. If we can’t get through all of the material today, this will become an entire unit of study.”
The students hastily pulled out their parchments and quills, madly scribbling down what the teacher had said thus far. Some even started writing about what possible ‘systems’ could be destroyed with their teacher’s technique. They found it bizarre at best that anyone would take great lengths to instruct them on being evil.
“Anything can be the system. So, what is the ultimate goal of every well-organized dark lord?” Before anyone could answer, he wrote on the board: “NEW WORLD ORDER.” He underlined it twice. “That is the ultimate goal. Destroy the system, and then become the system. And remember this mantra, children: knowledge is power, and power corrupts.” He smirked. “So study hard.”
“That’s not fair,” piped Rose Weasley. She didn’t care if the teacher branded her a failure. “Knowledge can be use for good things too. We have used knowledge to better lives and improve our medicine. Knowledge has improved our relationships with the muggle governments of the world, and it has brought us closer to answering our questions about our existence.”
He feigned a yawn to show his boredom. “Are you quite done? I should mention that all those good things come at a great expense. Our improved medicine came at a price of experiments which ended less than well. It may have abolished servitude, but those people who were servants now lack means of supporting their families. But thank you kindly for that interruption. While we’re slightly off-topic, this is a note to you all.” He took off his black robes to reveal a gentle blue dress shirt with deep blue trousers and a matching jacket. He looked professional and stylish, but it didn’t do much to detract from how strange it was to see anyone, let alone a teacher, tear off the school uniform. “It helps to be casual because believe it or not, what you wear has a psychological effect on your mind.”
The students traded glances before reluctantly writing down the advice. There was no telling what exactly would be on the test. “Can you explain that, Professor?” asked a student.
Szarka seemed to approve, somehow. “Ah, the first worthwhile question all day. There is a psychology to colors. Avoid black when possible. Notice that I’m wearing blue today. It’s a very calming color, and when I glance at myself in the mirror I can feel all the anger in my body drain away.” To prove his point, he glanced down at his clothes and let out a content sigh. “Bright colors encourage positive thinking, so don’t forget to dress your minions in bright colors as well. Why, make it fun and let them decide what to wear.”
“Um….” Susan Brambleberry raised her hand, looking at her notes. “I feel silly for asking this, but are there any color schemes that we should know for the test or that you’d recommend?”
“No, but that is good thinking.” He gave her a wink that made the girl blush in embarrassment. “You are best to talk with a reputable fashion consultant. Now, once you are part of the system, there will be lots of bartering and bargaining. Remember these people later on and return the favors a little later on. Don’t wait too long to return the favors, of course. Keep up a healthy exchange of favors. Oh, and please keep your personal life separate from your professional life. Make friends outside of your career to keep them from getting tangled up. It will also insure that they haven’t the slightest clue as to what you’re doing.”
“Sir, lying to your friends seems wrong.” asked Calvin Luther. He was gradually starting to calm down now that the teacher wasn’t yelling at them or making threats. “Should you really do it?”
“It’s not really lying so much as good business techniques. Business is business, and pleasure is pleasure. And speaking of pleasure, don’t be afraid of sex. In fact, make time for it when you’re taking over the world. Be good to your partner and be careful about who you choose because they might come back to soil your reputation years later. Oh, and use plenty of contraceptives. The last thing that a dark lord needs is a child because they are a distraction.” He’d tell them about sexually transmitted diseases and drugs a little later. That wasn’t the most important piece of information at the moment.
Now students ventured to ask more questions. “I take it that the last Dark Lord didn’t follow these rules?”
He shook his head, sitting on the edge of his desk which groaned under his weight. “We cannot know for certain, but we know that he at least did not have children. This is good because I assure you that if Dark Lord Riddle did have children, they would be hooved and horned. Very ugly little things.” As if being finned and fanged, like Szarka’s children, was somehow a better alternative. “I would have to say the same about Severus Snape’s children. Now, my understanding is that being a Death Eater did promise the possibility of many concubines, also known as ‘bitches and hoes.’ No source states this as fact, but I think that it comes with the territory. From what I understand, Dark Lord Riddle had the touch of a sex-starved cobra. I am certain that in his new world order, they would be plenty of ‘bitches and hoes’ for all. When there is a hostile take-over, cheap women get picked up fast. Oh, and boys, make friends with a whore so that when the new world order comes, she’ll be yours and yours alone.”
The boys in the class quickly scribbled down this advice, many writing down what kind of prostitute they would want. Two of the more talented boys even began sketching the girl of their dreams. The girls of the class glared at every one of them before turning their icy leers to their teacher.
He smirked at the girls before moving on. “Now, as we all know, the Dark Arts horribly disfigure your body and drive you to madness. A good dark lord refrains from using something that can hurt him. That is why you must always implement a measure of creativity.” Pulling out his wand, he turned the inkwell on his desk into a snowy dove. The dove cooed in content when he picked it up and cradled it carefully in his arms.
A few people hoped that this might be the softer side of their teacher which they had been hoping for. But in a talk about evil, the appearance of a dove was baffling.
“One of the reasons why dark witches and dark wizards use the Killing Curse is because there is absolutely no evidence of how someone died. However, if there is no evidence, then people suspect the Killing Curse. There are more creative ways.” He pulled a small pistol out of his pocket and tossed up the dove. As soon as it got high enough, he shot it through the heart. The broken bird fell onto Rose Weasley’s desk, causing her to shriek in fright. “Ah, but I’m not done.” Approaching the desk, he scooped up the bleeding corpse. When he pointed his wand at it and exclaimed a transfiguration charm, the bird morphed into a white rose which he handed to the student. “There. It is easy to cover up your murders when the body is hidden right in front of someone.”
Poor Rose stared at the flower in horror, big tears welling up the longer she watched it. She couldn’t stand looking at it much longer and had to hand it off to someone else. However, the boys of the class seemed much more interested in the shiny thing that Szarka happily displayed to the class.
“Never underestimate the power of marksmanship.” The teacher polished off the muzzle of the gun with his sleeve. “In the time it takes any one of you to cast a spell, I could kill you with this gun. All guns are purely mechanical, meaning that magic has no effect on them. Since the United Kingdom has become increasingly more stringent about gun control, there are plenty of countries in Africa and Asia you can visit to obtain a fantastic firearm for a good price. In parts of the States, this gun affectionately called a ‘piece.’ So when you’re confronted by an enemy, the best thing to do is kill them or ‘smoke them’ with your ‘piece’ and then transfigure the body into something innocuous like a pair of socks.” On another day, he’d have to tell them everything about firearms, including how to remove gunpowder from their hands.
One of the boys eagerly raised his hand. “Professor, will you be teaching us marksmanship, by any chance? Will we get our own firearms in this class?”
He scoffed with a snide and mocking simper. “As they say in the States: b***h, please. I don’t have enough guns for all of the slightly off-kilter, morally confused, and socially insecure teenagers in this place. I’d suggest stealing a parent’s gun if you can or buying one through mail-order.” He stashed the gun back into his pocket. “And upon killing your enemy, take every single magical object off their body, wand included. It would be right ugly and sloppy on your part if you let those objects get passed on to vengeful relatives. So, that is one alternative to the Killing Curse. Five points on the next test to anyone who can come with another, equally creative alternative. It must involve killing someone, though. Can’t leave them to die or wound them horribly. Your technique must kill them.”
Many usually pounced on the idea of more credit, but this opportunity was too lurid for most. However, it didn’t deter a few of the students from jotting down possibilities. With luck, they could ask the teacher for ways to improve these possibilities.
Professor Szarka stroked his chin pensively, studying the faces of his pupils. “…Aye. We will most certainly need to dedicate an entire unit to this topic. For that reason, I have already devised a final project for you.”
The color melted off the faces of the students if it hadn’t already. The words ‘final project’ were a curse in themselves. Not a test that they could study for the night before; this was a presentation that they needed to invest weeks, research, and great effort into. Worse yet, they knew that their exams were mandated by the Ministry. He’d squeeze everything out of them in the project, leaving them with a withered brain when they took the test. It was torture. Not even the Cruciatus Curse could’ve been this painful.
“I’m dictating the instructions, so write down every single word that I say. Aye, that sentence included. For this project, you are an aspiring dark lord. You have a very specific goal in mind, a goal that I will let you decide. Remember, this goal must be selfish. An example would be to all the dragons in Europe. Make certain that your goal is legitimate. For example, it would be practical to control all the dragons in Europe so then you can cow people into asking for your protection from the aforementioned dragons. You must give a very detailed plan of how you will accomplish your goal, and you must give background information on your field of interest. If you plan on creating an organization, you must create a system by which the people in your organization can identify each other. This includes, but is not limited to, a costume.” He paused, glancing over the room. “Minus ten house points for every quill I don’t see moving. Now, you will have ample time to work on this project, but you must work on the project in your own time. It must be individual work. On designated days, you will present the fruits of your labor to the class. During your presentation, I might field a few questions. You will be graded on cruelty, creativity, rhetoric in your presentation, charisma of the presenter, how practical your goals are, what you will accomplish through this place, and mechanics such has grammar and spelling. I will tell you the rubric in good time. Right now, I don’t have one because I thought up the project ten minutes ago in class.”
Knowing their teacher, ‘a few questions’ could be five minutes of biting interrogation. It’d be worse than a kind of Spanish Inquisition. They hurriedly wrote down even the smallest detail, not daring to ask any questions about how much credit they would get or what they should expect. He probably wouldn’t answer their questions.
Standing up from his desk, Szarka took on a panther-like air as he slinked around to the other side. “Now, because of how things have gone in the past, none of you are to talk about this specific unit. Do not talk about it with the teachers, or your parents, or the Ministry, or the headmaster. If you must talk about the unit with your peers, take great care and stay away from the paintings.” He growled his words, the leer of his dark eyes feeling like the stare of a basilisk. “Know that I do not need magic to accomplish my ends. “
The students were too shocked to gasp or even shrink away. From the drawer in his desk, he had produced a very nasty-looking dagger with a green stone in its pommel. A small tag with neatly written letters hung off the hilt.
“Hmm… this little item says, ‘Here lies….’” His smile grew venomous. “‘Scorpius Malfoy.’ So. If Scorpius doesn’t do the right thing, he just might find this buried to the hilt in his back.”
Now, students were convinced that Professor Szarka was utterly out of his mind. The only way they could save themselves was by doing everything he asked of them. One of them whimpered but quickly stifled the noise.
He saw that they were cowed into submission. They’d do anything he asked. Their fear was almost palpable. “I’m glad that we have an understanding. If anyone wants to know, the current unit is on dark objects, which isn’t too far from the truth.” He gathered up his robes, turning to the chalkboard. “For tonight, you will need to research five good rulers and five bad rulers. By good, I mean that they were kind and righteous. By bad, I mean that they were feared by their people and ruthless in their policies. You may choose from magical or muggle history because frankly, I don’t care.” As he wrote the instructions, the chalk squealed hideously. “Write down the characteristics of their rule and whether or not they were effective. Take care to give specific examples. Also write about the end of their rule and how much that might’ve been affected by how they ruled. Tomorrow, we will have a discussion on what makes an effective leader. The next day, I will assign Machiavelli’s The Prince for the night’s reading.” Szarka paused, looking over his shoulder. “Any questions?”
The room was so quiet that the students could hear each other’s panicked breathing. They all vigorously shook their heads. There was no need to take any risks with their deranged and disturbed professor.
He smiled all too cheerily. “Good. Well, I see no reason for you to stay. Move along now. You have other classes.” He flicked his wrist as a gesture of dismissal.
At first, the students didn’t move because they couldn’t tell if he was being serious. When he turned his backs on them completely, they got his message. The students gathered up their possessions without a word to each other, too frightened to speak lest it send their professor into a sudden rage. Outside the classroom, a few students from the next class lingered. They shuddered to see the other students so gaunt and silent.
Inside the classroom, Professor Szarka grinned with pride to himself. “Oh, Thomas,” he murmured under his breath. “How you will spin in your grave when I destroy your reputation.”
 Persephone13 · Tue Aug 14, 2007 @ 04:58pm · 0 Comments |
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