Challenge Prompt: Write about Lord Voldemort
Setting: Diagon Alley, summer of 1975
Voldemort stood on top of the Three Broomsticks, disillusioned. The Ministry had just elected a new Minister, one who swore that he would stop "the tide of darkness that threatens to swallow our great people." He looked around, saw that the people in the alley looked happier, more confident than he had seen in a number of years.
He smirked, as he ran through his options. The question was not whether he would win; his power guaranteed that would happen, in time. There were precious few who could stand against him, and none who had the strength to defeat him.
He had heard the whispers among his death eaters. "If our lord is so strong, why does he not simply take control?" some of them asked. The answer, of course, was that he didn't just want to rule. He wanted legitimacy. Most tyrants accomplished that through time, their heirs having stronger claims than they would ever be able to make themselves.
As he intended to live forever, he had no need of an heir. Time would solve the problem eventually, but he had better things to do than to stay idly in power, waiting for the people to forget that there was an alternative to his rule. He needed the people to accept him.
He wasn't foolish enough to think he would ever be liked, or loved, by most people. That wasn't how he intended to make the wizarding world accept him. Once everyone realized he was beyond their power, once they realized that he could crush them at any moment… and once he had killed enough of the muggle-borns and half-bloods for the rest to stop complaining about how unfair it was to single them out… everyone would realize it was better to accept his rule than to die a pointless death.
For that to happen, the people needed to fear him. His death eaters were doing well, but this latest turn of events demanded a more personal touch, something that would remind the people how hopeless it was to oppose him.
So he stood, and watched, and listened. He took great pleasure from being so close to the sheep, knowing he could kill any one of them at any moment, without them ever realizing he was there. This was a good way to monitor the people, to see what would frighten them the most. A supersensory charm allowed him to eavesdrop on the conversations, despite his distance.
"My parents are considering moving to France for a few years, just until this whole business dies down…"
"... can you believe the prices…."
"...Minister said he would hire new aurors…."
"...haven't seen You-Know-Who attack in a while."
"Oh, not you too! I know he's scary, but why are you so scared of just a name?"
Voldemort focused on those last two, girls that looked like they might be graduating from Hogwarts soon. The first was a timid little thing, a blond that looked like she might disappear if you stared at her too hard. The second was tall, black-haired, and dressed in muggle garb. Jeans and a strange multi-colored shirt of some kind.
"You know the things he's done! I just… I know it's silly, but I don't like tempting fate." The blonde said.
"Honestly Karen, what do you think's going to happen, Voldemort's going to appear just because you said his name?"
Voldemort smiled. It was a tad childish, but this was an opportunity he refused to pass up. Focusing, he apparated directly behind them without a sound, and let the disillusionment fade, speaking as he did so. "It is one possibility, yes."
The two girls spun, and stared at him for a moment. As Voldemort raised his wand, they screamed. They spun, trying to apparate away, as he flicked his wand at the black-haired girl. "Imperio. What is your name, girl?"
"Ashley." The girl stared vacantly at Voldemort, smiling. There was no hint of a struggle in her eyes.
"Ashley, would you be so kind as to sit down where you are? I'll get back to you in a minute, but I have some business to tend to. If anyone tries to make you move, kill them."
"Of course." She sat down, staring blankly at the street around her. By this time, his appearance had attracted quite a bit of attention. Most had screamed and fled, but someone had clearly thought to sound an alarm, and he saw a squad of nine aurors running toward him. He smiled as they stopped and drew their wands on him.
"Voldemort, by order…" The auror never finished his sentence, a green light impacting his chest before anyone heard an incantation. A volley of red lights streaked at Voldemort in response, only to splash harmlessly against a shield.
"All shall know my name, but none are worthy to speak it. If you wish to say something else, please, continue."
Another auror stepped forward. "By order of the ministry," his voice was trembling, but he managed to hold his wand firm. "You are to surrender yourself for trial. If you refuse, you shall be brought in by force."
Voldemort smiled and spread his arms. "If you wish to try, you may. I give you leave to attack me."
The aurors hesitated for a moment, before unleashing a fresh volley of spellfire. Most of them were simple stunners, and Voldemort laughed. He weakened his shield just enough for one to get through, allowing it to splash harmlessly against his body before restoring the shield to full strength. "Pathetic. You think you can stun me? Or perhaps that's all the auror corps is capable of? I gave you leave to attack me, and you act like you're back in Hogwarts. Care to try again?"
Two of the remaining aurors stopped firing. The look in their eyes told Voldemort that they were done. They might cast a few spells in panic, but there was no fight left in them. Most of the others kept casting stunners, throwing in a few body-binds. The wizard on the far right, though… Voldemort felt a shift in his magic, saw a new look enter his eyes. "Ossum Liquifes!" A gray bolt of lightning arced from his wand, only to die out on the same shield that had intercepted the other spells. Voldemort turned to face this wizard more fully. Once he saw the dirty blonde hair and the scarred face, he smiled.
"Alastor, I've heard much about your skills from my servants. I'm surprised you would be willing to use a dark spell against me, but it was well cast! The liquefaction variant of the more common bone-breaker, I believe?"
Alastor Moody snarled. "No harm in using a spell like that against you, and no point wasting our time with kid stuff." The last bit he screamed at his squad as much as he did at Voldemort.
"No, there's not. Care you try your skills against those of Lord Voldemort?" Voldemort assumed a dueler's stance. "Your friends have already demonstrated their ineptitude, but I'd be curious to see what you're truly capable of."
Alastor didn't hesitate. He opened with a cutting curse, the first of what quickly became a barrage of spells, ranging from simple piercing hexes to some very vicious curses designed to dismember, boil blood, shatter bones… not a single spell was repeated, and Voldemort felt a surge of adrenaline. It had been a long time since he'd faced an opponent with teeth!
With a roar, he darted forward, batting away a sickly green curse (an acid bomb, judging by the sound behind him as the spell impacted), and began to answer Moody curse for curse, hex for hex, starting with an acid bomb of his own.
Alastor began to fall back, desperately shielding and deflecting, as Voldemort used against him every spell that he had fired. When the spells stopped for a moment, he stopped to assess his foe, only to see a cold smile on that face. 'He used every spell I did, in reverse order, right down to the cutter. Wait… that wasn't the first spell I cast, the first one was…'
'There it is!' Voldemort knew Alastor wouldn't take long to figure out the game. The moment he saw his foe's eyes widen, he knew Alastor had figured it out. 'Just enough time for him to feel the fear, not enough time for him to do anything about it.' He brandished his wand again. "Ossum Liquifes!"
'I won't be able to stop it, but maybe…' As the thought crossed his mind, Alastor cast a grounding spell on his right leg. The gray lightning of the bone liquefier poured into his right leg. Alastor screamed as the pain of it drove him from his feet, but he maintained his spell even as the lightning continued to come. After what felt like an eternity, he realized the lightning had stopped, and he released his spell.
"Impressive. You didn't manage to stop my spell, but you did manage to confine to just the one leg, and in the process saved your life. I wonder how long that will last…." As Voldemort started to walk forward, he heard a female voice behind him.
"Avada Kedavra!" He spun to see Ashley, still sitting where he had left her, killing an auror who had managed to find enough courage to try and take her off the street.
Voldemort laughed. "Well done my dear." As he spoke, he saw two more squads of aurors coming, and for a moment, he was tempted to cut them all down. No, that could wait for another day. Instead, he turned to the six aurors still standing. "Avada Kedavra." A quick gesture, and another auror fell. The other five broke and fled, as Alastor continued to scream in the street.
Voldemort walked back to Ashley. "Stand up, we're leaving." Ashley stood, and Voldemort pointed his wand to the sky, painting it with the Dark Mark before grabbing his prisoner and apparating away.
Five days later
Bartemius Crouch walked into the severe trauma ward. He'd just left Alastor's side, where the medi-wizard on duty had told him the leg was a lost cause. Alastor may have managed to survive Voldemort's attack, but his body could no longer support the leg. He would be walking on a prosthetic leg for the rest of his life.
Now he was headed to talk to the girl that Voldemort had taken with him. As much as he wanted to arrest her, witness accounts had shown that she was under Voldemort's Imperio, and had no control of her actions. He had already implemented new protocols for handling hostage situations, in case that became a standard trick of the death eaters.
As he walked into the hospital ward, he was struck by how healthy the girl looked. She was clean, and as far as he could tell she didn't have a scratch on her. He looked over to the medi-witch. "Was she working with him, then? Never seen a prisoner looking so good after coming back."
The medi-witch shook her head. "She was a mess when she showed up, but none of it was dark magic. All of it healed without leaving a mark. Strangely, she hasn't said a word; my scans don't show any sign of mental magic or tampering, aside from residual influence from the Imperius she was hit with originally."
Crouch walked over to the girl. "Alright, I know you've been through a lot, but we need to know everything that Voldemort…"
Ashley began screaming. Crouch spun to the medi-witch. "You didn't give her a calming potion?" He had to scream himself to be heard.
"Of course I did! She was fine until you said that monster's name!" She screamed back, as she ran over and began casting a bevy of calming spells.
A few minutes later, Ashley had been forcibly calmed enough to stop screaming. "Not…. can't use… You-Know-Who…. Not worthy…" She was mumbling as her eyes began to close.
Crouch sighed. "I probably shouldn't have been so blunt, I'm just… this has to stop. Will she be alright?"
The medi-witch shrugged. "Physically she's fine. Emotionally… we'll see."
Voldemort was standing on top of Ollivander's this time. The sheep were frightened, subdued. The Daily Prophet had carried the story of the aurors' crushing defeat. Alastor Moody, widely regarded as one of the best, had been very publicly defeated, and his missing leg would be an eternal reminder of Voldemort's power.
The sheep were talking again. Quieter this time, but still they spoke.
"... did you see what he did? Ignored the aurors…"
"...like they weren't even there, like they were just harmless lights…"
"... yes, it was Vol-"
"ARE YOU CRAZY? DON'T SAY HIS NAME"
"Right, right, sorry, but yes, it was him!"
Voldemort smiled to himself as he apparated away.