Harry Potter and the Fragments Corruption.
Chapter Eight: Late night actions.
Tom sat at the head of a long, circular table, awaiting his loyal Death Eaters. Under a minute after summoning them they began to enter, wearing black robes with hoods up, white skull masks concealing their faces. Tom himself wore the same outfit for the moment.
They shuffled in and sat down around him uncomfortably, waiting silently. Quite a few chairs were empty. "Who summoned us?" one asked. "I haven't felt the marks burn like this in fourteen years. I almost thought the Dark Lord had returned, but if he did so why isn't he here?" another spoke.
"Lucius, do you know whats going on?" another addressed Tom, assuming him to be Lucius considering this was Malfoy Manor and he was the first seated. Tom remained silent, waiting.
"What, do you think this is funny? A joke??" he asked, standing up and tearing his mask away. It was Macnair. "I oughta hex your damn head off, Malfoy! I was about to finish off a hippogryff! Do you know how often those come through my office? Once a year, if that!" he shouted in a building anger.
"Shove it, Macnair! The rest of us weren't just sitting about sleeping you know!" shouted Yaxley in growing annoyance at the other mans ranting. "I was this close," he paused to indicated an inch between his thumb and index finger, "of getting some for the first time in weeks!" he growled.
This ignited comments from the others, but all fell silent at a hissed command in parseltongue caused their marks to burn lightly. They turned towards whom they assumed to be Lucius in questioning.
Tom raised a hand and banished his conjured mask, throwing his hood back. "Few of you under the age of fifty will recognize me. Especially considering the recent ritual taken to assume this body. But rest assured, my loyal Death Eaters, Lord Voldemort has returned on this night. And I have great things planned for us to commence shortly..."
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With the Dementors having fled Azkaban, the ministry was immediately forced to start rotating in Aurors to ensure the rest of the prisoners didn't start formulating plans of escape.
Kingsley Shacklebolt was just finishing up his round when he noticed his replacement for the hour arrive by portkey. "Good to see you're here, Dawlish." he said in greeting. The very walls seemed to have soaked in the prisoners misery and hate, pushing it off on the gaurds and Aurors as they paced the halls. In short, it made for a very miserable shift.
Dawlish nodded his head absently. "Same to you." he responded after a few moments softly. Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "How are your holdings on the Cannons doing? I've heard they might make it to the championship this year." he said.
Dawlish narrowed his eyes in annoyance at the question as Kingsley remained blocking the doorway. "Poor chance of that, Shacklebolt. Move, unless you would like to take my shift for me?" he demanded. Kingsley stepped aside. As they passed he whispered "Johns a fanatic of the Cannons." with that his binding spell slammed into the supposed Aurors backside.
Kingsley calmly approached the downed man and levitated him into the air. "Time to get some answers, whoever you may be, and inform the others we already have a breach."
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While that was going on, a cloaked and masked figure was approaching the grounds of the rebuilt Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. It was a fifth of the size, with only a single tower. The rest of the land was devoted to potions resources and greenhouses for growing the needed plants. The quidditch stadium was downsized to make room for the now smaller group of students.
The gates were still on the edge of the property however, leaving quite a large open space between castle and gate.
The figure reached into their cloak and drew out several shrunken stones, and rolled them along the ground on either side of the gates before drawing out their wand and restoring them to full size. Massive boulders, half the size of Hagrid, were formed, with numerous runes carved into the surface of each.
A spark of white energy flowed off of the boulders and flickered against the wards protecting the property, as that is what these boulders were meant to do, and as the light flickered it established a connection between each boulder and the wards, drawing energy from them at a mild pace.
The figure waited patiently. Close to fifteen minutes later and a visible dome flickered into existence over the property, then dropped with a sizzling snap. The figure raised their wand and shattered the chain locking the gates shut then pushed them aside and began making a swift approach to the front doors.
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Severus Snape paced back and forth as a wave of magic washed through the castle. It sent a tingle down his spine and he knew it was the wards falling. Nothing less could do such a thing. Another moment passed and he suddeny drew his wand and approached the door to his office, beginning to cast every sealing charm he was aware of.
Midway through the fourth incantation and his dark mark began burning for the second time that night. Despite his efforts in the first war, Severus Snape no longer wished to return to the life of spy, or Death Eater for that matter. He longed to simply live out the rest of his life without becoming the pawn of either king in this massive chess match between Dumbledore and Voldemort, throwing away lives without care so long as a goal was met.
As thus he ignored the burn the first time it came to him, summoning all Death Eaters able to do so to come forth. It was tantamount to signing his own death warrant if Voldemort had truly returned. But Severus Snape was not just a pawn. No, he was one of the most skilled potion masters still living, and he held in his hands a weapon that Voldemort did not; the Elder Wand. Yes, he had looked into the mysterious, powerful wand that increased even the simplest of spells beyond their normal might.
Now, three years after besting its master, he knew its loyalties lay to he and he alone. Ofcourse it was also a matter of skill and luck that would determine the outcome when, not if, Voldemort broke through the wards protecting his doorway. The first of these he did not lack in, but he was certainly not one of the top-duelests in scotland, either. As for the second...
He reached into a pocket and drew out a tiny bottle filled to the cork stopped with a molten gold potion. He paused just long enough in his ward casting to uncork it and down a mouthful.
Severus grimmaced afterwards, yet with a hint of smugness behind it. 'I have felix felicis backing me on this night.' yes, the former potions master and now headmaster of the new age Hogwarts was quite sure the field of battle would be leveled on this night. The scales had become balenced.
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The figure stopped before a certain wall, running his hand along it. Strong magic pulsed behind this wall, of that the figure knew. He drew a wand and began silently dismantiling the wards. However, with a sudden surge of magical energies, the figures wand exploded in his hand, raining shards deadly wood down onto his arm and chest.
The figure did not acknowledge the pain this would normally cause. Instead they drew out another wand and continued. For the better part of five minutes the wards combated against the figure, destroying this wand as well as the third the figure drew out afterwards.
Shortly, as the many layered wards collapsed onto one another in a chain reaction, the wall imploded inwards, showering Snape in a mixture of different shaped rock and fine gravel. He was burried beneath half of it up to his waist, trapping him against the desk as the figure stepped inside, hood still raised and wand in a very bloody hand.
Snapes eyes widened as he expected the killing curse to fall down upon him at any moment. Instead a petrification spell hit him, just prior to the figure reaching up to draw their hood back, prying the Death Eater mask off and dropping it to the floor with a crack. Snapes blood ran cold for several seconds at the sight of his godson, Draco Malfoy, apparently fed quite a dose of aging potion and under the control of an Imperius curse.
From behind Snape the sound of soft boots landing on the floor alerted him to another figure. "Well, well. Severus Snape, potions master extraordinaire, now living the life of luxary as the headmaster of a ruined school." the voice was soft, carrying a whisper of vengence with it soon to be extracted.
Tom himself walked around the side of the desk, leaning down to prise the Elder Wand from the younger wizards limp hands. "Perhaps you are wondering how this occurred, despite taking a heavy dose of felix felicis? My young turncoat, you should have learned by now to triple check your ingredients before adding. Mr. Malfoy was able to switch out a very precise item needed to ensure the potions proper mixing." Tom paused to laugh at the expression on Snapes face.
"You should have heeded my call this night, Severus. I did not wish to kill you, even when I could easily replace you with Horace Slughorn." With a dramatic sigh Tom stood up and walked away, having Draco release the spell holding him still and silent.
Instantly Snape shouted "Life debt! Potters life debt!", skin chalk white and eyes widened in fear of his possible impending doom. Tom stopped, turning to face him. "Explain." he demanded. Snape swiftly told him of James Potter saving his life from the werewolf Lupin when they were still in school.
Toms eyes narrowed with more and more of this unfolding. Still Snape continued, explaining how the life debt fell to their only surviving blood line, Harry Potter, when James was killed, of how it forced him to try and save the boys life if it could be done by turning him in to Dumbledore.
Atlast Tom held up a hand, and Snape fell silent. "Is your life debt concluded, Severus?" he asked. Snape considered it. The nagging feel to protect the Potter child was no longer there, unlike several hours ago. "No, my master." he responded, determined to atleast live through this night until, perhaps, somewhere down the line he could be free.
Tom nodded his head. "So be it. I have much understanding of the ways of which life debts work. To think that you feared death more than my wrath.. you have more spine than I could imagine, after all these years in peace, Severus. But I can see in your eyes the way you follow this wands movement, and not just with the usual terror of death to come. You know what this wand is, do you not??" he questioned.
Snape almost said no, but in this situation could not manage it. "Yes, I know that it is the Elder Wand." he answered. "Then you know that it is but one of three hallows. I must collect them all, Severus. Perhaps you can redeem yourself on this night afterall."
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Dumbledore finished putting the fiendfyre out and looked at the ruins of the Gaunt Shack. If a horcrux was in there, it would have been destroyed. This left only a couple left; the locket and the cup. For Dumbledore was never made aware of the diary, nor the diadem, and he could not be aware of Nagini considering the snakes short life.
And ofcourse, the fragment lodged within young Harrys skull in plain sight did not occure to him, atleast not yet, to be a possible fourth horcrux.
With a sigh of exhaustion, Dumbledore focused on his destination, spun on his heel, and apparated to the next location; a lone, rough rock cliff on the outskirts of the sea, where Voldemort had come as a mere child some sixty, seventy years before and tortured other children.
The locket was his current agenda, and the aging wizard was confident he could obtain it and destroy it before needing to rest. But something else was currently on his mind; who had stood there, watching him fight off the fiendfyre? Could it be not just a simple Death Eater, but perhaps one housing Voldemorts phantom-like spirit, as Quirrell himself once had?
It was a question that would take him some time to figure out, if ever.
