Voldemort paced angrily in front of the fireplace, which seemingly flared at every one of his steps. Across the room, his most devoted follower, Bellatrix Lestrange, knelt on the ground, her mismatched eyes tracking him with something akin to worship. She remained silent, knowing better than to disturb her lord's concentration.
"My ritual has concluded ... the boy's dreams are corrupted and he will surely come to his godfather's aid." The Dark Lord spoke quietly to himself. "Now Lucius must obey his commands, and lead my other servants to lay the trap at the ministry. The prophecy will finally be mine!"
Bellatrix started cackling madly, only to stop awkwardly as she noticed her lord staying quiet.
"My Lord, the Potter boy will not defy you again," she whispered, barely audible over the crackling fire. "I will see to it ... personally."
"You will. Or I would be most displeased." Voldemort confirmed, sparing her a single glance, promptly sending her into shivers.
"Your power truly is without limits, my Lord. Even within the walls of Hogwarts, the Potter boy is not safe from your might," Bellatrix began. "I cannot comprehend your greatness, for the wards have been erected by Lord Slytherin himself, holding strong for millennia."
The Dark Lord turned around, smiling indulgently.
"Bella. I have gone further in the Dark Arts than any have dared, even my most noble ancestor. My arcane wealth of knowledge allowed me to improve upon an old ritual, found in Lucius' own library."
"My Lord, once again your brilliance eclipses my understanding! I should not have doubted you for even a second!" Bellatrix suddenly cried out.
"Do not concern yourself with these matters, Bella, for they exceed your magical abilities." Voldemort admonished. Actually, I had only to remove a number of useless runes, which only limited the spell. It is almost as if the designers were afraid of powerful magic! He laughed condescendingly. I believe they even have a term for it—limiters. Fools! The only thing they limit is themselves.
Just then, an owl knocked politely against the window. Owls always were on their best behaviour when near dark lords, a survival instinct honed over many centuries of abuse—which indirectly subsidised them, as they could skimp on their Daily Prophet subscription fees.
Bellatrix took the letter and read it out loud, while the owl quickly scurried away. Another instinct.
"'To my master, the most powerful sorcerer to have ever lived, and will ever live, in this world.
Your plan is, as always, full of brilliance, like a sea of blazing stars. It is a product of a supreme intellect, incomprehensible to us mortals as Latin is to ants. Its grandeur leaves—'"
"You may skip this part, Bella," Voldemort said.
"As you wish, my Lord." She put away the first two pages and continued reading. "'We will be meeting at 4:30 pm in the Department of Mysteries, to teach Potter a lesson he will not forget. Your most impudent opponent will not be able to escape. Your—'"
"Moving on."
She once again turned a few pages over, finally continuing with the last sheet.
"'I humbly remind you of the need for secrecy, although it is, of course, laughable that such a reminder is needed for an intellect as sharp as yours. Please burn this letter after reading it, for the enemy has ears in the most unexpected places.
Your most loyal servant, Silvermane'"
"Whose code name is that, Bella?" Voldemort asked, his gaze burning into her mismatched, and slightly displaced, eyes.
"My Lord, it is Lucius Malfoy. But, if I may be so bold—" Bellatrix' voice stumbled and she was looking distinctly confused.
"That is quite correct, my dear," Voldemort cut her off. "I tested you, for I need you to remember them all for tonight's mission."
"Yes, yes, my Lord, I did not mean to presume—"
"You better not. I have gone further in the Arts of the Mind than any have dared, and my memory is without flaw," he threatened. "However, do well in this mission and I may overlook your impudence. The Dark Lord shows mercy to his most devoted followers, after all." Admittedly, those code names are rather stupid. If intercepted, the first line already gives the letter's destination away. He waved his wand, causing the pages to fly into the fire, instantly burning to a crisp.
"I shall not fail you, my Lord!" Bellatrix exclaimed although the effect was slightly ruined by a bit of drool on her left cheek.
"I failed?!" one of the Slytherins cried out, gathering irritated looks from the other students in the fourth-year's Ancient Runes class. He was holding his latest essay, a T clearly visible.
Michael Harper, isn't it? He looks quite unhappy.
Luna watched out of the corner of her eye, while still pretending to look dreamily ahead. She had dropped hers into her bag as soon as she got it, not wanting to draw any attention. While the bullying had gotten better after she publicly made friends with Harry, she did not want to provoke the other girls. At least not now, I may need the distraction in the future.
Their teacher, Professor Babbage, was handing out the last essays and made her way to the front. She was looking at the class expectantly, waiting for them to calm down.
Michael continued loudly complaining to everyone who would listen (and many who did not), while the rest were involved in numerous other discussions. Luna could make out her neighbour Anne Benton, a Ravenclaw girl who used to tease her endlessly, comparing the advantages of European and traditional Chinese cosmetic charms.
After a few minutes, Babbage finally gave up and flicked her wand, causing a loud bang.
In the first row, a boy frantically turned back around, only to topple his chair in the process. Harper stopped in the middle of a sentence, awkwardly closing his mouth and sitting down. Anne jerked around, which Luna used to tip her ink over with a silent Wingardium Leviosa, ruining all her notes in the process. Revenge, sweet revenge.
Finally, after shooting Harper a disapproving look, sending the boy who fell down to the infirmary, and vanishing the ink on Anne's desk (together with her notes), Babbage managed to gain a modicum of control.
"Good morning, class!" she greeted them cheerfully, an act Luna did not buy for a second.
"...good morning, Professor Babbage...," responded an entirely uninspired chorus of voices.
"As you can see, your latest essays have been marked. I do hope you are happy with your grades and continue to work diligently on your studies! Now, it seems that Mr Harper is having a slight misunderstanding, so I think we could all learn a lot from going through his mistake together."
Is she actually so naive as to think we can learn something from that? Or does she only want to publicly humiliate Michael for disturbing his class? Luna wondered. Both, probably.
"So, this was the script you had to research," Babbage waved her wand, conjuring a string of burning letters, Norse runes to be precise, made out of flame.
"Who can tell me what the interaction between Sōwilō and Isaz means?" Pointing her wand at the respective letters, Babbage looked expectantly at the students.
Silence filled the classroom. The people in the front row looked increasingly uncomfortable, although Luna could not decide whether that was due to the Professor's wide smile, which had to be feigned, or the hot flames just a few feet away. We have chalkboards for a reason, don't we?
After a while, Babbage turned towards Luna.
"Ms Lovegood, do you have an idea?" Babbage asked. Again with the smile! This is getting ridiculous.
Luna thought for a second. Obviously we have conflux of positive and negative mana, requiring a band-limiter like Golpalott's. More precisely, the chi-squared density is quadratic, which means we only have to apply the first-order correction. But saying that would blow up my public image faster than this spell would without a limiter, so what to say...
"Oh, the line thingy has lots of fliffily Winklyborks, and the wavy one is full of trombarding Rattlewees." Luna started, looking dreamily towards the ceiling. "And then you have lots of Winklywees swirling around, which is not good at all."
To her credit, Babbage's smile never wavered. "And why would that be?"
And now for the kill. "You see, when a Winklybork and a Rattlewee love each other very much—"
"Thank you!" Babbage interrupted hastily. "I think we all got the idea. Right, class?"
Luna smiled serenely, pretending not to notice the looks sent her way.
"Right," the Professor continued. "Now, as I believe Ms Lovegood was saying, we have positive and negative energy in this spell. So what do we always need? Ms Benton?"
"Uhm ... Golpalott's limiter?"
"Precisely! As anyone who has so much as looked at a textbook knows, a bipolar energy always requires a limiter. Else it will explode faster than you can say exponential breakdown! And if I see anyone forgetting to include it in their essays, such as young Mr Harper here, I will mark it most severely—you are endangering yourself and the people around you should you ever attempt such a spell! Now, any questions?"
Michael raised his hand, scowling. "But Professor, isn't it possible that some spell functions without the limiter? Just hypothetically? I mean, there are so many combinations, there's got to be one, right?"
"No! No, no, no! Two points from Slytherin. I'm sorry, Mr Harper, but that is just a stupid question. I would expect my niece to know better by now—and she is four, Merlin! Even the headmaster hasn't seen such a spell, and Albus is always travelling and researching the most arcane of magicks furiously."
Dumbledore was sitting in his office, contentedly sucking on a lemon drop. His spy amongst the Death Eaters, Severus Snape, had managed to get a copy of a secret message sent to Voldemort's headquarters.
His phoenix cawed, and Dumbledore suddenly felt a burst of hot flame engulf his hand. He quickly withdrew it, suppressing a curse. At some point my hand will just be scorched black. That would look quite embarrassing!
"Ahh, but I can tell everyone that was just a Dark curse—no one would question that!" The headmaster chuckled good-naturedly at the complete lack of disbelief that was so widespread across wizards.
Fawkes looked at him amusedly.
"I said that out loud, did I not?" Still rubbing his hand, he turned to look at the letter.
"'To my master, the most powerful sorcerer to have ever lived, and will ever live, in this world.' Why would this letter be delivered to Tom's residence, when it is so obviously addressed to me personally?" Dumbledore wondered aloud.
He heard a snort from one of the portraits. Also, Fawkes was emitting bursts of flame in what could only be called uproarious laughter.
"Calm down, you comedians." Dumbledore was a bit irked at this blatant display of disrespect. "At least some of it is true!"
His phoenix fell off and rolled around the floor.
"Cut the theatrics!" the headmaster huffed. "Now, where was I? 'Your plan is, as always, full of brilliance,'—true, true—'like a sea of ...'"
He continued to read the letter aloud, feeling quite appreciative of the slightly flattering, but nonetheless factual description of himself. His enjoyment was only slightly diminished by Phineas Nigellus Black repeatedly hitting his head against his portrait in a most undignified fashion.
Finally, he arrived at the end. "'Your most loyal servant, Silvermane'—That is most curious indeed, I cannot quite place which one of mine calls himself Silvermane."
Dumbledore took another lemon drop, to help him think.
"Oh, it must be Severus, he was always quite proud of his hair. But why would he intercept a letter from himself? Maybe his intellect is not as sharp as it once was."
"Pot, meet kettle," Black muttered under his breath, but Dumbledore ignored him with the ease of long practice.
"Now, what was the letter saying again?" He turned back a few pages. "... teach Potter a lesson he will not forget ... Severus must be referring to remedial potion lessons! He is always complaining about Harry's performance. Still, why would he hold them at the ministry? That part makes little sense to me."
Meanwhile, Fawkes had stopped rolling on the floor and was now imperiously prancing across his desk. The headmaster paid him little notice and walked to his window, hoping the view would inspire him.
"Maybe he is concerned about privacy?" He nodded to himself. "Yes, that has to be it. Taking remedial lessons would be quite embarrassing to Harry and Severus is trying to avoid making that widely known." Dumbledore felt quite proud, and decided to reward himself with another lemon drop. "Oh, and that is also why he wants me to burn the letter! Everything makes perfect sense."
He then turned around, only to see that his desk had been set on fire.
"Fawkes!" He took a deep breath. "How very accommodating of you to set it aflame, I was just about to do that myself."
Dumbledore gave the phoenix his well-practised grandfatherly smile, trying his best to annoy Fawkes by feigning indifference. His only answer was a haughty sigh, but all the fire vanished in an instant, leaving the smoking remains of his letter behind. Some of Minerva's reports probably are in there too. Alas, I read them only rarely, regardless.
"If I will be at the ministry for these remedial potion lessons, I might as well meet with Cornelius. Maybe he will finally accept Tom's return," he mused. "Fawkes, could you take a letter for me? Do not look at me like that—you just burned a stack of Minerva's reports, and you know how important those are."
He wrote the letter and gave it to Fawkes, who vanished in a burst of flames.
Ten minutes later, he was receiving a call on the Floo.
"Hello? Albus, are you there?" the distinct voice of the current Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, called out.
"Cornelius, what a pleasant surprise! What can I help you with on this splendid evening?" Albus walked to his fireplace, his eyes twinkling merrily.
"Look Albus, I know we are not on the best of terms right now ... " Dumbledore could just make out Black suppressing a snort. " ... but why in Merlin's name are you sending your phoenix to deliver a steaming pile of ashes to my desk?!"
Oh right, I forgot phoenixes do that. There is a reason they have never replaced post owls and it has little to do with their manners. "My apologies, Minister. It seems my familiar has a crude sense of humour. Now, I wanted to talk to you this evening if your busy schedule allows for that?"
"See that it does not happen again! And do you even realise that I'd arrest you right now, if I could?!"
The reason I have to lock my own office and have Fawkes take me whenever I go outside. "Most certainly! Alas, you cannot—so let us meet at seven, if that is fine by you?"
"Fine," Fudge grumbled. "But you better believe my extremely talented and very capable aurors will be there as well!"
"Splendid! I already am looking forward to it." Dumbledore once again gave his best grandfatherly smile, complete with twinkling eyes. It did not have the desired effect, however, as Fudge just huffed and closed the call.
"Luna, you have to help us!" Ginny found her after her lesson. "Harry needs to talk to someone, but only Umbridge's floo isn't monitored, we've got to break into her office!"
What a monumentally stupid idea. Not that it would be at all difficult, of course, Luna thought to herself. But I guess Harry has a plan, and those Gryffindors are hopeless without my help. "So very exciting! I always wanted to study the blibbering Humdinger she must keep in there."
She leaned in and dropped her voice conspiratorially. "You know, I believe the Rotfang conspiracy has already infiltrated them and placed a few deep-cover spies."
"Maybe another time," Ginny continued, unperturbed. "We need to create a distraction, so that Harry can get in there."
"Sure, why not?" It's not like I had anything important to do today, anyways.
"And this is why you never cross the Inquisitorial Squad!" Draco sneered at Luna, Ginny, Ron and Neville, who were currently sitting gagged and with their hands tied up behind their backs on the floor in Umbridge's office. They were being guarded by the members of the Inquisitorial Squad, consisting of Draco Malfoy, his two goons, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode and a two other Slytherins Luna did not recognise.
"I can't believe Loony actually got her head out of the clouds long enough for that," squealed Pansy, giggling inappropriately.
Luna did not dignify this with a response, not that the gag would have let her. Those incompetents didn't search us properly, they even missed my second wand! And that's the obvious one, only there to provide cover for my third, fourth and fifth. Silently laughing at their stupidity, she inconspicuously touched the wand hidden in her back pocket and levitated one of her hairpins down to her bound hands. They were all sharpened, as usual. You never know when you might want to cut something. Or someone. This was all happening behind her back, so the Slytherins watching her did not have a clue what was going on.
"Oh, Blood has a way of showing, Pansy," snarled Draco. "Isn't that right, Weasley? Your despicable family of blood-traitors would know all about it."
While Ginny trashed around angrily (and uselessly) and Ron looked ready to kill (and also quite useless), Luna had managed to weaken the ropes enough that a strong pull would get her hands free. Now she was concentrating on lifting some of Umbridge's heavier porcelain over Draco's head, who was still trying his best to insult them. No one ever looks upwards. It's embarrassing, really.
"But Longbottom as well? I'd have expected more out of him. I mean, of course, he's a failure and can't do any magic—"
"Except potting plants, you mean!" interjected Pansy, loudly laughing at her own joke.
"Still, the Longbottoms are old and well-respected, some of that should have trickled down is all I'm saying."
"Focus, Draco—we aren't here for fun," grunted Millicent.
"Bah, what are you afraid of? It's not like the sky will suddenly decide to fall down on our—"
Sadly, Luna was not yet ready to drop the plates on his head and so had to let this golden opportunity pass.
"—heads. We could go to the common room, finish our Potions homework, and they'd still be here afterwards!"
"If you say so," said Millicent, sounding entirely unconvinced. Though which part she has problems with, I'm not sure.
Finally, Luna was ready—and with a loud crash, Draco went down, together with the remains of several of Umbrigde's former decorations. That must have hurt, Luna noted dispassionately.
She wasted no time and brought up her wand, snapping the ropes which were holding her hands in the process. Shooting a silent stunning spell to the girl on the right, she immediately followed with an overpowered Expelliarmus, knocking the boy next to her into a wall. Take out the unknowns first, you never know how capable they are.
Her moment of surprise was quickly wearing off, however. Millicent was the first to regain her bearings, shooting a sickly brown curse into her direction. Quickly Luna rolled out of its way, recognising it as a vomit-inducing spell. In one smooth motion, she took out her gag and levelled her wand at Millicent.
"Ossifrango!" she shouted. But the girl swiftly sidestepped the bone-shattering curse, causing it to hit Pansy instead. She started screaming and dropped her wand in favour of clutching her sides.
Not stopping to look, Millicent advanced on Luna, sending a flurry of minor hexes and jinxes her way. Luna answered with a quick Protego, deflecting them. Still, she was on the ground against an opponent who would not give her the time to get up. Her shield was already battered, it would break any moment now. Lowering her wand, Luna softly closed her eyes.
"Giving up already, Loony?" taunted Millicent. "Not much of a fighter, are we?"
Don't taunt your opponent while they are still alive, stupid. Typical rookie mistake. Just before her shield was about to fail, Luna brought her wand up sharply.
"Lumos Maxima!" she shouted, putting all her energy into the spell. A blinding light erupted from her wand, causing her to flinch even through closed eyelids. She cancelled the spell right away, not wanting to waste any energy. Getting up to her feet while Millicent was still blinking furiously, she once again made use of her silent stunner. No use in giving my position away. Finally, the Slytherin girl went down and Luna took a moment to look over the scene.
Neville, Ron and Ginny were still on the ground, rolling around aimlessly. They had been hit with the brunt of the Lumos and would be practically blind for a while. Pansy was also on the ground, having fallen down at some point. She was quietly weeping and rocking back and forth, likely because of her broken ribs. That one won't be a problem. More worryingly, Crabbe and Goyle were finally breaking out of their stupor and pointed their wands at her.
"This fancy wand-waving won't save you, stupid girl." grunted one of them. (Luna could never tell which one was which, they were just so unimportant.)
"That's right, we're not that easy!" the other one added. They both cast shielding charms and cautiously walked towards her. "Confringo!"
Luna dodged the hex easily. It hit one of the shelves behind her, causing some shards to hit her painfully in the back. She tried a bone-shattering curse, but Crabbe (or Goyle) just let it crash into his shield, taking the hit with a grunt. Another blasting curse was sent her way, demolishing Umbridge's desk.
I'm in trouble, Luna realised. Together they're stronger than me, and quick thinking won't help me—they're used to fighting more intelligent opponents. After all, they do it all the time.
"Starting to get it, aren't you? Bombarda," the left one said. Let's just call him Crabbe.
She took another step back, twisting out of the way of that curse. It clipped one of the dirigle plums she wore as earrings, tearing it off painfully. She flinched involuntarily, just as the explosion hit her, making her stumble to the right. Luna quickly went through her options. The flash-trick won't work again, even they aren't that dumb. Overpowering them is right out. The other three can't help me, they're still tied up. She experimentally fired a stunner at Goyle, but it just bounced off his shield and hit Ron instead.
Having an idea would be excellent, right about now. She narrowly avoided another hex. No? Oh, come on!
Seeing the resigned look on her face, Crabbe started grinning victoriously. He doesn't, however, stop his assault to gloat about whatever. See, Millicent, it's not that difficult.
They were now closing in. A couple of feet more and she would be up against the wall, with no possibility of escape. And they knew, going by the smug looks they were giving her. Goyle raised his wand once more—
Finally, Luna had enough and whispered, "Imperio." The spell cut through their shields like butter, hitting a gobsmacked Crabbe square in the chest. Suddenly, she could feel her will intruding into his mind, easily suppressing the meagre resistance it encountered.
Attack him, she commanded immediately, watching as Crabbe headbutted Goyle with all his power. Both fell to the ground, unconscious.
Silence. Well, except for Pansy's whining. Luna fixed her with a quick Stupefy and then went to Neville and Ginny. Both looked at her with equally disbelieving stares, although Neville was grinning from ear to ear. Ron was slumped down beside them, her stunning spell still taking its toll. She carelessly waved her wand and mumbled, "Accio Gags."
Now free to speak, Neville immediately blurted out, "That was sick, Luna! You didn't even break a sweat. No wonder you were kicking my ass in the DA!"
"No, that was sick," Ginny sputtered. "Are you out of your mind?! You used an unforgivable, those will land you in Askaban!"
Sighting, Luna picked up their wands from Draco, who was still lying under the pile that knocked him out. "Are you going to turn me in, Ginny?" she wondered.
"I should! Those spells are banned for a reason," Ginny answered defiantly.
Apparently she is forgetting which one of us is holding her wand. Luna turned to Neville. "Sorry, but I can't leave any witnesses. Obliviate."
"Are you crazy?!" Ginny screamed. "Do you even know how to cast this spell?"
How do you think I learned the Imperius, silly? You can't just go around practising on Mrs Norris, even if it helps getting started. But Luna was not nearly foolish enough to admit her crimes out loud, even if she would be the only one remembering the conversations in a few moments. "Obliviate," she answered instead.
Now, let's just come up with a crazy story that has us winning while both outnumbered and outclassed, using nothing more than school-yard jinxes. It does not even have to be plausible. Wizards will believe anything, no matter how far-fetched.
After obliviating all of them and implanting the fabricated memories, Luna threw Pansy out of a window, as a plausible reason for her broken bones. (In the memories she jumped out voluntarily, fearing a snake conjured by Draco.) For good measure, she had Goyle remember picking up her wand and trying to cast the Imperius curse, to give her an alibi in case someone cast Priori Incantatem on it.
Luna sighed, regretting the necessity of her current activities. Cleaning up witnesses is always such a bother.
Voldemort was annoyed. He was currently searching through Lucius' private library, trying to find a spell he could use to finally defeat Dumbledore once and for all. The 'once' part would already be an improvement. Especially considering he might try to foil my plan. I must have the prophecy, failure is not an option today.
The old man was becoming more senile every day, but that made his magic more dangerous as far as Voldemort was concerned. After all, only fools would dare to mess around with ancient magicks without understanding their principles fully.
And Dumbledore always seemed to have the right spell at hand, having forgotten more about magic than others learned in the lifetimes. He probably forgot the parts that made the spells safe! Voldemort complained to himself. It's not fair. How am I supposed to compete with this?
Finally, he hit upon a spell that sounded useful. 'Impetus glaci' Crystallises the air around the caster and shoots a few hundred shards of ice towards the target.' Well, that might come in handy, provided I am able to increase its power by an order of magnitude or two. He turned the page to look at the arithmantic expansion. 'Isaz, þurisaz, Raidō, Ehwaz'—wait, Ehwaz?! What's that doing in here?
Voldemort tried to remember his Ancient Runes lessons. And failed miserably, as they were half a century ago and he died twice since then.
I think it's a limiter. Those are always about throwing in something nonsensical, just to make the spell less powerful. It probably was designed by some ice cream merchant, and whoever weaponised it was an amateur.
He shrugged. Theory was never my forte anyway. Let's just try it without Ehwaz. He spent a few minutes figuring out the wand movements, until he finally decided to simply cut the final wiggle out. What's the worst that could happen?
He positioned himself in the centre of the room, and then decisively moved his wand in the modified pattern. "Impetus glaci!" he called out.
Nothing happened. Voldemort looked around in confusion—usually, things tended to go either quite well or catastrophically badly when experimenting with magic. Ah, maybe the spell was incomplete, he thought.
At least until he looked down on his wand, where a sizzling black sphere was slowly getting bigger.
Uh, oh...
Quickly, and with reflexes trained from decades of doing experimental spell crafting, he darted to the door and yanked it open. One of his newer recruits—he could never remember their names—was currently walking past, and Voldemort shoved his wand into the boy's hands.
"Hold onto that for a moment! And run!" he commanded, not bothering to wait for a response. He slammed the door shut and then jumped away, assuming a protective position on the ground.
This was not a moment too early, as suddenly a huge explosion shook the manor to its foundations. Afterwards, there was a moment of silence, quickly disturbed by the sounds of breaking glass. Also, the door was now sporting a rather large hole.
Shaking his head to get rid of the ringing, he carefully took a few steps outside into the corridor. It was completely devastated, with nothing remaining but the sturdy stone walls. They were looking quite nice, in fact, having been burned sparkling clean.
Eventually, he spotted his wand lying on the floor, although no signs of its temporary holder could be found. Maybe he dropped it and ran away, Voldemort guessed, not really caring. Well. This is embarrassing. I sure hope no one is here to find out.
With the ringing now starting to recede, Voldemort could make out steps coming his way. He sighed, No such luck, it seems.
Another two of his recruits came running around the corner, only to promptly stop as they recognised their lord. One was not quite prepared for that and fell flat on his face. The other stared blankly for a few seconds, then seemed to catch himself and knelt down on the ground. "My lord, we—"
"I have no time for pleasantries!" Voldemort interrupted him. And also I have no clue how to explain this adequately. "Report."
"Uhm...," the one on the right said intelligently. Meanwhile, the other had managed to get up, and also assumed a kneeling position.
"We were just looking for Trevor, my Lord," the other one continued. "Then everything just went 'Bang!', so we came to investigate."
"Naturally."
"Could you hear it, too? It was pretty scary," the first one added.
Sigh. Why can't I have more intelligent minions. "My hearing is perfectly fine," Voldemort drawled. At least it was a few minutes ago. "I have gone further in the Mastery of Senses than any have dared."
"Yes, my Lord, of course!" the first one grovelled.
"What happened down here?" the other asked. "My Lord?" he quickly added.
"There was ...," Voldemort began. He then paused, looking away. "Uhhh—," he continued, making full use of his extensive vocabulary. "—... an attack."
"An attack?!"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Are you questioning me?!" Voldemort let a threatening undertone creep into his voice.
"No, no, of course not, my Lord!"
"Actually, you kind of were." his partner added helpfully, only to shrink under the two withering glares sent his way.
"You fools have wasted enough of my time," Voldemort declared. "Warn the others not to come near this section, I will handle it personally. Is that understood?" After receiving two acknowledgements, he turned to leave. "Oh, one other thing. Your friend may have died in the attack."
"He died?! My Lord?"
"Yes, yes. Very heroically. Now move along." He made a shushing motion with his hand and went back to his former study.
Surveying the damage, he let out a heavy sigh. The floor was littered with debris, shards of the door were lying all over the room, and a few dozen vases had fallen from their stands and shattered. Lucius will be quite displeased with the destruction of his property. He swung his wand in a wide arc. "Reparo."
A single vase fixed itself, jumping back onto its drawer.
Voldemort grumbled. More is always more. "Reparo," he paused for a second. "... Maximus!"
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