Disclaimer – I solemnly swear that JKR owns everything Harry Potter. Whether or not I am up to no good with her characters is for you to decide.

-oOoOo-

United We Stand …

Chapter 4

Riddle Manor was an old, old house. Once upon a time, it had held generations of Riddles, the gentry of the Greater Hangleton area. They had owned much of the land between the two small townships of Greater Hangleton and Lesser Hangleton and people would come to them to solve their problems or to ask for help with their businesses.

And then, about fifty years ago, the last of the Riddles had died in mysterious circumstances. All three – Lord and Lady Riddle and their son, Thomas – had died on the same night with nary a clue as to their demise. One day they had been alive, the next, dead. There was no mark on their body and nothing that the constabulary of the time could find to mark as a cause of death. The only noteworthy thing that could be said about their deaths was the looks of surprise that the bodies wore.

Some, indeed most, said that the old caretaker, Frank, was to blame. But there was never any evidence, let alone a motive to link him to the murder. Still, the man had been shunned by the community, not that he let it get to him, he simply continued to perform his duty, caring for the manor day after day, month after month, year after year.

That was, of course, until he himself was murdered in identical circumstances. Not that anyone yet knew about his murder. While Frank hadn't been seen around the Hangleton area lately, his disappearance was simply put down to the strange old man staying close to the only home that he'd known for most of his life.

The reason for old Frank's demise was currently sitting in the manor's downstairs study. By right of birth, he had every right to be there, after all, it was his father and grandparents who had once owned the manor and grounds, not that he'd ever admit to that fact.

No, Lord Voldemort had long since discarded his muggle heritage, taking forevermore his new and preferred nom de plume.

At the moment he was waiting. Waiting for his followers. Once, not so long ago, he had hundreds at his command. And that wasn't adding in the various creatures and beasts that had aligned with his regime. They all had their uses. Uses that he, as their Lord, would be sure that they performed before he dealt with them, too.

Each and every follower at his command had been branded to his cause, they'd given oaths and pledged their lives and magic to him and him alone. They had waged war on magical Britain, on the short-sighted blood traitors who believed that all were equal. Their final lesson was within his very grasp – days or at most a couple weeks away – when everything went pear-shaped.

Potter.

It all boiled down to Potter. Potter and that blasted prophecy. If he hadn't acted so rashly, then everything would have been different. He could have solidified his reign over magical Britain and then sent his most trusted lieutenants to deal with the brat. But in his eagerness and arrogance to do it all himself, he'd lost everything.

Well, not quite everything, but almost. He himself had lost his body, condemned to wander the Earth as a spirit for over a decade, living off of the life force of the lowliest animals. His followers had scattered, either being rounded up and sent to Azkaban or gone to ground, pretending that they'd been 'imperius-ed'.

But now, finally, he'd returned.

He had a body once more. And while it wasn't as powerful as he was expecting, it was one that could perform magic. And what few followers he still retained had returned to him.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts and Lord Voldemort looked up.

"Enter," he called.

With a creak worthy of this old, abandoned manor, the door was opened and one by one, his followers shuffled into the room. He watched them, searching for any sign of anything untoward in them. Luckily for them, he saw nothing. Oh, there was nervousness aplenty, as there surely should be. Wariness, too. And a hint of fear. All to the good.

Finally, the last of them had filed in and they had spread out in a semicircle around him, lining the walls of the room.

Thirty. That was all that had responded to his summons a couple of weeks ago. And unfortunately, they weren't thirty of his best and brightest. No, his very best were either dead or locked in Azkaban.

Lord Voldemort rose from his chair and paced before them, seeing through their silver skull masks to the men hiding behind them.

Crabbe and Goyle had resumed their places to either side of Lucius, his most desperate of followers. Unfortunately, neither Crabbe nor Goyle had two brain cells to rub together between them. But they were muscle and good at what they did, even if they did require more specific instructions than most.

Yaxley and MacNair were further along. Both had retained and even improved their standing within the Ministry. Their contacts and knowledge could be extremely useful, as their appetite for violence was.

Alecto and Amycus Carrow were always useful for a bit of mayhem, as was Avery and Nott.

And then there was Severus Snape. The potions master was a key component of his Death Eaters. His ability to concoct even the most difficult of potions was needed, especially healing potions for the inevitable wounds that his followers were sure to sustain in battle. Unfortunately, his many long years at the side of the old fool made the man suspect at best.

Lord Voldemort vowed to keep a close eye on that one until he could determine exactly where the man's loyalties lay.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," Lord Voldemort purred as he came to stand in the exact centre of the room.

Every eye was on him, just as he liked it. At the sound of his voice, one or two shuffled nervously but a quick glance in their direction was enough to have them still their movements.

"We are few in number, but we are powerful," he continued. "Together, we have the potential to be unstoppable. That is, of course, if you perform to the same standards that you once did. Perhaps your skills have lapsed, become rusty in my absence. Perhaps some of you have lost that taste for violence, for blood that you once had."

"No, no, my Lord."

Protests sounded throughout the room like music to his ears. Lord Voldemort cocked his head, tasting their statements on the air in an attempt to determine how much they meant it.

"We shall see," he hissed.

"The sheep of wizarding Britain know of our return," he said. "That was not my original plan, but when the head of the Minister of Magic had been handed to me on a platter, how could I resist giving it back to the people who had elected him?

"But because of that action, the magicals of Britain know of our return. They know and remember. They remember what life was like when I once disseminated the ideals of the pureblood way through you and your brethren. They remember the deaths and dismemberments and disappearances of the muggles, the mud-bloods and the blood traitors and they tremble in their beds. They know that true might has returned and they are powerless to stop it.

"Regardless of this, some will try."

"They will fail!" a voice to his left called out.

"Indeed they will, Selwyn," Lord Voldemort nodded. "Try they will. It is your job to rob them of their will and hope. To crush their spirits and to destroy their resolve. To that end, I have missions for each of you."

"We're ready, my Lord," Lucius said, emphasising his point with a bow.

"Good. Good," Lord Voldemort replied.

He paced among them, then, deciding how much to impart to these few that remained to him. If only his old Inner Circle was with him …

"Our ultimate aim is to purge magical Britain of the filth, both those of inferior blood and those of inferior ideas," he said. "Only when magical Britain is firmly under our control can the pureblood ideals once more hold dominance in the land. The Ministry will fall; Hogwarts, too. Once those two great bastions belong to us, every other magical enclave will bow to us: Hogsmeade; Diagon Alley; Saint Mungo's, all of them."

"What of the new school? Diricawl?" an eager voice asked.

Lord Voldemort turned a predatory smile on the speaker.

"It will not only fall, Diricawl Academy of Magical Studies will be obliterated. Nothing of it will remain. Not the buildings. Not the teachers. Not the students. And the land itself will become a barren wasteland. This I decree for their arrogance in believing that they are better than Hogwarts and our very culture and way of life."

Malicious chuckles echoed around the room at his proclamation.

"But that is a longer term goal," Lord Voldemort stated. "Before we can launch our attack on them, there are a few requirements that must be attended to first.

"Yaxley, MacNair. I want the two of you to scour the Ministry for information on this school. Find out everything you can. If you can get yourself into it to scout it out, all the better."

"Yes, my Lord," the two men replied.

"We will also need to boost our numbers. Nott. I want you to seek out Greyback. Find him and convince him to join his werewolves with us. Together we can provide them with much sport."

"Yes, my Lord," Nott replied.

"Lucius, my slippery friend," he said, turning to the man caressing his new silver hand. "I want you to tap into your many informants and connections. Find us a way into Azkaban. The Dementors there are potential allies, but we must get to them to offer them food in return for joining us. And too long have our brethren laid chained within the walls of Azkaban. It's time to bring them home."

"As you command, my Lord," Lucius replied.

"Amycus, Alecto. I want the two of you to take everyone else except for Crabbe and Goyle. Divide yourselves into teams and strike fear into the populace. Target the muggles, mudbloods and blood-traitors. I'm sure that I don't need to tell you what I want of you."

"No, my Lord," said Alecto.

"It shall be our pleasure, my Lord," Amycus replied.

"And once you have done that, find me some new recruits, some young blood willing to do what is necessary for the pureblood cause. Our numbers are far too small and we need to remedy that."

"What of us, my Lord?" Goyle asked.

"Yes. Crabbe and Goyle. I have a special mission for you," Lord Voldemort stated. "You will both accompany me. We have a very special person to visit. And a Wizengamot election to ensure the outcome of."

-oOoOo-

"Good morning, Mister Yaxley," the young woman behind the counter said as he walked through the door.

Yaxley nodded at her before raking his eyes over the Department of Magical Education. The small waiting area was vacant, as was the long corridor that led off towards the back offices. Whether or not there was anyone in any of those offices, Yaxley had no way of knowing. Not that it mattered, he could do what he needed to do in the blink of an eye.

As he approached the counter and the waiting girl, Yaxley allowed his wand to drop into his hand.

"Imperio!" he hissed.

Instantly, the girl's eyes turned glassy and her face went slack. Yaxley smiled to himself. It was always so easy to get people to do exactly what he wanted. And he was sure that this girl could provide him with quite a number of services. Unfortunately, he hadn't the time to indulge himself, especially not while on a vital mission given to him personally by the Master.

"Find all of the records for Diricawl Academy of Magical Studies," he instructed. "Make a copy of those records and then give me those copies."

Without even acknowledging her orders, the girl turned and trotted off down the corridor. Yaxley watched as she disappeared into the door second on the right. As the time that she was gone began to increase, his foot began tapping. Finally, she emerged, only to then disappear into a second door.

This time, she was much quicker. When he next saw her, he allowed the corners of his mouth to turn upwards – she was now carrying a stack of parchment. He watched as she returned to the front counter before placing the parchment in front of him.

Yaxley quickly flicked through the sheets, finding exactly what he was after: lists of teaching staff; lists of students enrolled; basic information about the location of the school. It was too much to read through just then, but he was positive that he had what he had come for.

"Excellent. My thanks," he said. Then, lifting his wand, he cast one final spell before taking his leave. "Obliviate!"

-oOoOo-

Alecto Carrow surveyed the six Death Eaters around her. All were robed in their proper regalia, black robes and silver masks.

In front of them stood the home of Kevin Patton, a mudblood that Alecto had known of for more than two decades. Back in the good times, back during the war, Patton had managed to stay hidden, but Alecto had never forgotten the young man that had spurned her advances before she'd realised his blood status.

She'd bided her time during this peace, but now, now with the Dark Lord back, she could finally take her revenge.

"Seal the windows and doors," she commanded. "Just leave the front door."

At her words, the six split off, their wands raised, spells firing. A loud gong resounded off of the house at the first spell, not that it stopped the Death Eater's intensions. Half a dozen spells were all that it took to take down the Patton's wards and then the windows, doors and walls were sealed. All except the front door. And that was where a shaking Kevin Patton stumbled from.

"Please, no. Please, don't do this," the man said, falling to his knees in front of them, his hands clasped before him.

"Throw down your wand!" Alecto demanded.

The clatter of wood on stone announced the compliance of her order.

"Please. Please, I've done what you asked. Let us alone," Patton nearly cried.

"Us?" Alecto smiled. "What others are you hiding in there?"

"Just … just my wife. A-and s-son," Patton whispered.

Alecto spun in a circle. This was going to be a lot more fun than she'd thought.

"Alright. Alright," Alecto said, whirling back at towards him. "I'll leave them be. They can stay inside the house, perfectly safe. You however, you won't be so lucky."

She turned to the nearest Death Eater.

"Seal the front door and fire the house!"

Two different coloured spells flew at the double story house. One sealing the last entrance to the house, the other lighting the thatch roof on fire. As smoke began billowing upwards, screams began to sound from the inside along with the sound of the rattling door.

"NO! No, please!" Patton begged, crawling towards the door, tears streaming from his face.

Alecto smiled and raised her wand at the man.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to let you see them die," she said, raising her wand to point at his mid-section. "Exta vehementer expellere!"

Instantly, a wet ripping sound exploded from Patton's gut and blood and white ropes of flesh sprayed out, splattering on the ground about him. A gurgling noise bubbled from Patton's lips as he tried to scamper backwards. He only made it half a foot before his eyes glazed over and he slumped to the ground, blood trickling from his mouth.

Alecto grinned widely behind her mask. Then, raising her wand, she cast one last spell into the dark.

"Morsmordre!"

-oOoOo-

"Graham Montague?" Alecto Carrow asked the young man standing in the doorway of the modest townhouse.

"Yes," the boy replied, uncertainty lacing his voice.

Alecto studied him. He was taller than her and built with muscles that only a beater could have. His dark brown hair and beady brown eyes were lank and greasy. There wasn't much intelligence in the boy, from what she could see, even though he'd supposedly just graduated from Hogwarts.

But that was neither here nor there. He had the attributes that the Dark Lord was looking for. He was pureblood with the arrogance that only a pureblood deserved. And, from what she'd heard, he despised mudbloods and blood-traitors, just like a proper Death Eater should.

"I have a message for you," Alecto said. "A message from the Dark Lord."

"The Dark Lord?" Montague replied, eagerness clear in his voice and eyes.

Yes. Yes, this would be the first of the new recruits that she would bring to her Lord.

-oOoOo-

"Avada kedavra," Amycus snarled.

The green beam of light shot from the Death Eater's wand across the room to slam into the man, immediately dropping him. The blood-traitor even slid an extra two meters across the floor with the momentum that he'd had by running away.

Looking around, Amycus surveyed what was left of the room. Dark swatches criss-crossed walls at irregular heights where misplaced spells had hit. Four bodies, three of them smaller than Amycus would ordinarily feel comfortable being anywhere near, lay scattered about the floor.

Unfortunately, this particular mission hadn't been a complete success. Three members of the Lawnton family were out. At least they'd have something to find when they came home.

"Time's up, my friends," Amycus called. "Darien, cast the mark and let's move on to our next target."

-oOoOo-

The wards were so poor that a half-dead flobberworm could easily bypass them, at least, that was Lord Voldemort's assessment as he twisted and turned his wand, channelling power to simply collapse said wards. It barely took the Dark Lord a minute to completely strip them away.

That done, he, with his two Death Eaters at his back, strode down the garden path to the door of the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic.

Lord Voldemort tipped his head to the side as he considered the door before him, deciding on the best way to conduct this particular event. Finally, he decided upon the unconventional and rapped on the door with the handle of his wand.

A light pattering of feet heralded the lady of the house approaching before the door was opened and a gasp was heard.

Lord Voldemort turned the corners of his mouth up as he looked down upon the short woman. She was wearing a horrid pink jumper and he was sure, at first, that she was the result of some demented spell that crossed the woman with a toad. Endeavouring to ignore her appearance, he focussed on her usefulness.

"Delores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, current Acting Minister of Magic," he purred.

He watched, amused, as the woman's mouth moved, opening and closing several times before she finally, simply, nodded her head.

"I'm sure that you know who I am?'

Another nod, this time accompanied by her entire body beginning to quake.

"There is no need to fear, Acting Minister," he reassured her, "assuming, that is, that you agree to the very wonderful opportunity that I am here to present to you. I'm sure that we would all be much more comfortable discussing this inside, don't you?"

Once again, the woman failed to make a sound. Instead, she hesitantly shuffled backwards, the door opening further as she clung on to it for dear life. As soon as it was wide enough, Lord Voldemort strode in, his gaze never leaving that of the woman's.

"Shall we adjourn to your sitting room?" he asked.