Title: The three forms of evil
Characters: Dumbledore, Grindelwald & Voldemort.
Prompt: Horace Slughorn never taught at Hogwarts.
Word Count: 1, 555
AN: I believe that if Horace Slughorn hadn't taught at Hogwarts that Tom wouldn't have found out how to create horcruxes. I believe the reason he asked Slughorn was because no one else would tell him. I still believe he would have attempted to find the answers himself and maybe eventually he would know who to ask but by then a few years would have gone and Dumbledore would stop him.
"Can't you see it? You and I are the same." In the aftermath of the fight, standing in the middle of the rumbles and looking down on the dead man, Tom's words echoed inside Albus Dumbledore's head. And for the first time he heard the tiny bit of truth that lied within those words. "We are both guided by our principles and can agree that human sacrifice is a means to an end. You are in other words no better than me, or Grindelwald."
Dumbledore shivered and crouched next to Tom. He closed the young man's eyes and stood again.
Dumbledore was a man of many qualities. He was an excellent magician with a knack for combat and he often got away using moves his opponents did not expect of him. That had been the case since he was a student at Hogwarts rather than a teacher and then headmaster. There was a constant game of chess moving inside of his head but instead of chess-pieces he saw human beings. He, of course, was one of the pieces being moved along the board. Anything else would be outrageous. As with his magic he saw what would come before the other players did and he acted accordingly. Only one time had something happened which Albus Dumbledore did not see coming. Or two counting this one.
The first time was when Tom Riddle walked into his office and asked about horcruxes. Dumbledore had felt his blood run cold and he had stared at Tom with an unreadable expression before answering that he never wanted to talk about it again. It was a horrible part of magic history and a big mistake.
The second time was when he found out from spies that Tom was still searching, attempting to find the answer for his questions regarding the creation of horcruxes. The fact that he couldn't find the answers annoyed him to no end and he showed his aggression by attacking innocents. That's why the two wizards found themselves standing on the opposite side of a street. The houses were damaged by magic, some were on fire while some were just black from the explosions that had broken of huge pieces of wood and other materials. Dumbledore didn't want to be in this position. Yet there he was. His white beard had turned into a shade of grey and his muscles ached from dodging Tom's curses and from occasionally being hit.
Tom Marvolo Riddle or Voldemort as he liked to be call panted. His long hair hung around his head and almost hid the cut on his cheek.
"Is that all you got?" he screamed. There was a layer of insanity amongst the anger. An insanity Dumbledore had never heard nor seen as strongly before. "Come on old man, put your back into it."
Dumbledore half-heartedly sent a curse in Voldemort's direction which the young man blocked with ease. He remained quiet while responding to the attack with a colourful spark of his own. The brightness light up his eyes and showed wide open eyes. Why were they wide open? Dumbledore couldn't tell. And though he was watching an adult there was still a part of his brain that couldn't forget the child version of the man that stood in front of him. The child he had met at the orphanage. The child with the deep and calculating eyes. Who planned each and every step he took much to the point where even the physical movements he took look as if they were planned out long before he made them.
He, to a certain extent, reminded Dumbledore of Gellert Grindelwald. The young version of the man he had become. Maybe not in the sense that they looked the same but they shared certain qualities and in those aspects the similarities couldn't be ignored. There was a level of craziness in their voices. They were both calculating and believed that their cause was worth fighting for regardless of how many people were hurt in the process. There was an intensity in their actions, in their words and specifically their eyes. Both Grindelwald and Voldemort had the power to make anyone feel special. Being watched by them could only be likened to being followed by a spotlight.
"I'm disappointed, sir." Voldemort put the emphasis on sir as a way to mock him. "I thought this was going to be a challenge. I didn't expect to win so easily. I thought for sure I was going to fight harder than this. I even suspected that I could lose. But it looks like you'll be the one losing. You do know what happens to the loser?"
Dumbledore knew what happened to the loser. And Tom did too. It was as clear in his actions as the insanity he couldn't hide anymore. In that sense, Voldemort and Grindelwald differed from one another. Grindelwald could be stopped without anyone of the two dying in the process. Though it broke Dumbledore's heart he knew that wasn't possible in this case. It was either him or Voldemort. Either he died or Voldemort did.
"I'm sorry it had to be like this, Tom." The man on the other side of the street lowered his wand for a split of a second. "I wish I could have helped you more when you were a child. Maybe then we wouldn't be here."
Voldemort laughed. A controlled yet insane laughter. "Maybe we wouldn't be here?" he laughed again. "Oh sir, I can see why that would be a beautiful idea in your eyes. I'm however certain that it couldn't have ended in any other way. There was never another option. It was always meant to end right here. And no matter what happens nothing good will come out of it. Evil, as you like to call it, wins no matter who dies tonight."
Dumbledore frowned. "What are you saying, Tom?"
Voldemort's lips turned into a thin line and he angrily threw a curse which Dumbledore almost couldn't dodge. "Don't ever call me that!" he called from across the street with hate burning inside his eyes. "I am Lord Voldemort."
Dumbledore sighed and repeated his question. "What did you mean when you said that evil wins no matter who dies tonight?"
The anger was still evident on Voldemort's facial expression. The muscles on the side of his jaw tightened a few times and his chest raised and lowered itself rapidly. For a split second, it almost looked as if he had no control and then he regained it so quickly and smooth it looked as if it had never gone away.
"You really have no clue." Voldemort laughed out loud. "You, oblivious old man. Can't you see it? You and I are the same."
"No, Tom. We are very different from each other." Dumbledore replied shortly. "Maybe once we had things in common but that was a very long time ago. You and I both know that."
"Are we really?" Voldemort taunted. "Humour me, old man, and consider this. We are both guided by our principles and can agree that human sacrifice is a means to an end. You are in other words no better than me, or Grindelwald."
Dumbledore flinched and the movement, which didn't go unnoticed by Voldemort, seemed to strengthen him and make him more convinced of his words. "Does it hurt when I remind you of your old friend? I can understand if it does. You see, I have too lost a person very dear to me. In fact, I have lost every person dear to me ever. Do you know what that's like? Being alone in the world, sir?"
Dumbledore didn't tell him yet. But then again, he didn't have to. He didn't need to say anything.
"That has nothing to do with the matter at hand, Tom." Dumbledore replied shortly. "And you're wrong. All the things you just said is arguments shaped to convince yourself that you are doing the right thing. It is the actions from a scared young man who knows that he is doing the wrong thing but wants to change."
"You, stupid old man. I know I'm doing the right thing. The only one of us who is in denial is you." Voldemort snarled and glared at him. "You still believe your cause for fighting is better than mine. Well, sir, you are wrong. So very wrong."
The fight continued with brightly coloured sparks shooting from one side of the street to the other. Dumbledore didn't think his actions through, he merely moved with a grace and dodged the curses in a way that could only come from experience. He couldn't tell how long it took but eventually the street became quiet and the only thing he could hear was the sound of his own breathing. Voldemort had fallen. Tom Riddle was dead. And Dumbledore realised something standing above the young man's body.
He had been right. Evil could take various different forms within various different human beings. Three things these three forms of evil all had in common was their belief that they were fighting for the greater good, they believed to a certain extent that human sacrifice was needed to win and their principles were correct. Voldemort had portrayed one form of evil, Grindelwald the second and Dumbledore the third.
The end