I think I'll like writing this chapter indeed… more evilness and killing to come, I mostly like to write the words Avada Kedavra, just because they sound cool, I'm going to at least twice in this chapter, enjoy.

Chapter 10: Alcohol Poisoning

Fall had ended, and each night the darkness was a blur of falling sleet, each morning the green grass was a crystal white with frost, and in the afternoons light snow fell in the grounds but did not stick. The mountain peaks in the distance were capped white, they gleamed in the noon sunlight, the land would soon be filled with the dazzling beauty of snow. None of this did a thing to calm Harry's mood.

All had been eerily quiet for the past month, absolutely no progress in the Auror investigation, no murders, no whisperings of Death Eaters, nothing, if the perpetrator of these crimes had left the country it was unlikely that they'd ever be found, even if they hadn't left the country it did not seem as though they could ever be located.

Because of his feeling of unease, Harry had upped the security in Hogwarts, yet again, and cancelled the upcoming Hogsmeade trips until further notice. He did not know what else to do, Rita Skeeter continued to viciously attack his every action inside the Auror office, it was as though she didn't care about the goings on in Hogwarts at all, he could be hanging children by their ankles in the dungeon and he doubted she would bat an eyelash. All of her articles focused on his 'inept' leadership skills in the Auror office. But that was nothing compared to all the terrible things people wrote about his job performance in the editorials, some people actually sided with Rita Skeeter…. He had a suspicion it was only about three people writing in, under different names every day, because each of them had horrendous spelling, and one used exclamation points excessively. He wondered how bad the articles were before the Prophet... edited them.

Sadly, whoever those people were, they were right. The Aurors were getting nowhere, and that was unacceptable, there had been too many murders, he had to do something, but there was nothing… the case had gone cold. As terrible as it sounded, to get any more leads to follow, they had to wait for the killers to strike again.

Perhaps this was why Harry insisted that neither Albus, James, or Lily traveled home for Christmas, and that Ginny visit the castle instead, Grimmauld Place was protected by numerous enchantments, many of them his own creation, however he could not help but feel that Hogwarts was safer.

XxX

Christmas Eve day had come, the school was slightly chaotic, no one was happy about there still being lessons today, most especially those who had Transfiguration, it was rumored that McGonagall had called for a one foot report on something, and that she had assigned them to read an entire book with the thickness of Slughorn over the Christmas break. Luckily neither Albus, Hugo, Phil, or Rose had Transfiguration that day, what they did have was a double period of Defense Against the Dark Arts, double period at the very end of the lesson day. They were heading toward the third floor now, it was rumored Smith would be teaching them a new spell, or at least doing some type of hands on work, which wasn't bad. At least no one had complained about homework in DADA. On top of that, they were not with Slytherins today, Hufflepuffs instead, odd schedule change.

They entered the classroom and took their seats, waiting, several of them muttered about a large wardrobe in place of Smith's desk which shook violently every so often.

Smith entered from his office, looking slightly dazed, he had an odd air about him… and he smelled slightly of ale, but then again he usually smelled slightly of ale….

He strode up in front of the wardrobe, pulled his wand, and pointed it like a sword towards the shaking cabinet.

"Can anyone tell me what might be in there?" he asked, a bit menacingly.

To no one's surprise, Rose's had shot into the air.

"Yes, Ms. Weasley?" Smith called.

"A boggart, professor." Rose replied smartly.

"Correct, correct, CORRECT!" Smith shrieked crazily. "Fen… er… ten points to Slyffin—Gryffindor! Yes, well, I'm sure you'll be able to tell me what it is that a doggart boes, er… boggart does, yes Ms. Weasley?"

"Are you alright professor?" asked a slightly plump Hufflepuff boy.

"Oh yes, quite fine, quite fine indeed." Smith replied with an odd waving of his hands. "Now, Ms. Han—Granger, will you please…"

He trailed off and gave a loud hiccup.

"Tell me what a boggart… does… or, what it is, I should say."

"Yes, of course, professor. A boggart has no definite form, it takes the shape of what you fear most if you come face to face with it…"

"Excellent! Um… how 'bout seven points to Gryffindor? Yes?"

"Professor," a Hufflepuff asked. "Why seven? Usually professors add either five or ten points, it comes out better."

"Yes, well that's rubbish, that is. I like the number seven, if you have a problem with that and dend you to setention! Or, send you to detention!"

"Are you sure you're alright professor?" the plump boy asked again.

"Yes, yes, too much tea this morning… fine, fine…. Well, today, I'll be teaching you how to… what's the best word? Stop… a boggart should you… stumble…"

Smith gave another loud hiccup.

"… upon one. Before I say it, do you know the spell Ms. Granger."

"No, there's nothing about it in our books."

"Ha! Of course not!" Smith screamed madly. "No, no, no, no, no! You know why? Because I thought this might be a fun lesson, before the break, eh? Yes? Well, anyway, I'll tell you the spell, just point your wand at the boggart when I let it out and say Riddikulus!"

"Excuse me," Hugo gulped. "Did you say, let it out?"

"Why of course! How do you expect to learn Mr. Weasley?! Well, for that outburst, you face it first. Remember, wand point… Riddikulus!"

"He's mad, he's completely mad." Hugo muttered into Albus's ear as Smith made his way to the cabinet.

"Actually," Albus replied silently. "I think me might be drunk."

"What?!"

"WHAT? WHAT!" Smith cried. "What?!"

"Nothing," Albus and Hugo said in unison.

"Good! See that it stays that way."

"What… the… bloody… hell?" Phil breathed.

"Alright!" Smith said, hiccupping. "All of you, form a straight line in front of the… bordrobe—wardrobe—Mr. Weasley first, and then I'll let you practice."

Hugo gulped as he took head of the line, everyone fell back behind him uneasily, not sure what to expect. Smith waited until all their eyes were fixed on the red head, before calling him near the wardrobe. Hugo apprenhenisvly started forward.

"Stop right there!" Smith bellowed, belching loudly, he stood beside the wardrobe. "Right then, remember Mr. Weasley, Riddikulus!"

Hugo nodded and drew his wand.

"One count of four then," Smith began.

"Shouldn't you count to three, professor?" Phil asked.

"I say four! I'll count to for then! Another outburst like that and you'll receive detention!" Smith cried furiously. "Alright… one… two… three!"

He threw open the wardrobe doors and a massive spider, that looked as though it was ten times too big for the wardrobe, crawled out. Hugo froze, he dropped his wand, and stood, petrified as the spider flourished its dripping fangs and came forward. Then, quite suddenly Hugo cried at the top of his lungs and took off toward the door. Smith waved his wand and they heard a lock click into place, all heads turned Hugo's way, once he realized the door was locked he began to bang on it furiously.

"Honestly Mr. Weasley, that is no way to behave!" Smith shrieked whilst aiming his wand at the giant spider. "Riddikulus!"

It turned into a large toilet, flushed itself, and then flew back into the wardrobe with closed with loud bang.

"Mr. Weasley! To the back of the line with you!" Smith shouted. "Thirteen points from Gryffindor, for your serious lack of control, I ought to…"

He hiccupped.

"Oh, on with it!"

This process repeated again and again, though no one reacted as Hugo did, most of them succeeded in deterring the boggart. Rose flawlessly turned the large report card marked with nothing but T's into a cackling weasel. Phil's boggart was much more frightening, the slightly deranged form of Bellatrix Lestrange, accompanied by Neville Longbottom strode from the wardrobe, Phil cast away the boggart before Bellatrix could finish the words Avada Kedavra….

Thankfully no one else's was that terrible.

The line dwindled down quickly until there was only the plump Hufflepuff, and Albus. The Hufflepuff's boggart morphed from a massive cobra into a snarling wolf before he transformed it into Slughorn wearing a pink lacey dress. Everyone was slightly shocked to see that. Smith laughed aloud and did not stop for ten full minutes, prolonging Albus's time before the boggart emerged. He stood there with sweaty hands, once clutching a wand, the other curled into a fist. He contemplated what he most feared… he knew he did not like snakes very much, and spiders slightly frightened him as well…. But what was it that truly terrified him? He'd heard stories before, about the downfall of Lord Voldemort, how his own curse…

He did not have time to finish his thoughts.

With out warning, Smith threw open the wardrobe and a younger version of Harry Potter stepped out, followed by a bald man draped in long black robes, he had chalk white skin, serpent-like nostrils, and piercing crimson eyes. Albus let out a gasp as Lord Voldemort pointed the Elder Wand at his father.

"Avada Kedavra!" he hissed, a jet of green light, a whooshing sound and Harry fell to the floor, dead. Voldemort cackled endlessly into the air, everyone started at him, some whimpering in fear, other convulsing as though they were freezing cold.

"Riddikulus!" Smith growled after snapping out of his own spell of fear. However, the spell missed its mark and Voldemort turned to face Smith, before morphing into a large bottle of liquor.

"NOOO!" Smith cried hysterically. "NEVER AGAIN! NEVER! I MUST NOT!"

"Riddikulus!" Rose shrieked, the bottle turned into several popping balloons before the boggart flew back into the wardrobe. Smith stood transfixed at where it had been, clutching his heart.

"Leave," he hissed, shocking several people out of their own states of shock, though undoubtedly from seeing Voldemort, Albus felt a cold sweat trickle down his neck….

"Professor, it's five minutes until—" Rose began.

"LEAVE!" Smith cut her off.

No one waited to be told again, everyone, including Albus, Phil, Hugo, and Rose promptly left Smith to contemplate what he had just witnessed, many, long, quiet moments after the door had closed Smith treaded up to his office, brushing the slight bit of ash away from his feet as he stepped on a small pile near the fire place.

He glanced around as he approached his locked, and magically protected cedar chest, no one was watching, with a wave of his wand the drapes flew shot, another flick and the trunk lid flew open, he dug through the large stack of papers, down to the very bottom which was wet with ale… they must've broken… he cleared away the shattered shards of glass, reaching for his last two bottles which remained untouched, not pausing to think how odd it was that seven other bottles had suddenly, and spontaneously broken in a chest that did not move.

It didn't matter. He opened the first bottle, poured himself some ale and drunk.

XxX

Another glass of alcohol still did not kill the pain, it made his sister's death hazy in his mind, but did not diminish it… he could so clearly see it happening in his mind. His dear friend and partner at the Auror office… in his home… an argument… it turned into a duel… his sister came… a witch, only just graduated from Hogwarts… she attempted to stop the two quarreling friends…. Her efforts were futile… the duel escalated into a death match… the Killing Curse shot from the tip of his dear friend's wand… it flew… straight past his ear… he heard it clearly… and he turned… as it… hit his sister square in the chest… she fell over… dead.

He killed his partner after that and disposed of the body… no one ever solved that murder… and he played as though his sister had been killed by some Dark Wizard, alone. He could not bear anyone to know the truth, because, even though it was his friend that cast the curse… it was his fault the argument took place.

Avery Smith shook the thoughts from his head and stood up from his chair, vacating his office and headed to his secret cache of ale. No one saw the half drunk professor as he exited the castle and made his way toward the Shrieking Shack, no one noticed him enter, or ascend the dark staircase into a room with a dead fire place, bottle upon bottle of ale stacked near one wall. He ran to one and opened it, drinking as he fell upon the old bed.

He did not know how long he sat there, trying to rid himself of the pain. All he knew was that the world was steadily growing… loud. He dismissed it as the ale, playing tricks on his mind, perhaps a shadow. But then he saw the face of Bellatrix Lestrange before him. The fire place suddenly was alight with green flame; a spinning figure appeared, exiting briskly, Lucius Malfoy. The bottle of ale shattered on the floor, Smith pulled out his wand, but was too drunk to use it.

"Expelliarmus!" Bellatrix shrieked, his wand flew from his hand. He reached for it.

"Don't move," the Death Eater hissed, aiming her wand at his face. Smith froze, Lucius seemed to glide up beside her, but his eyes were not his own… they were a piercing crimson, those of Lord Voldemort.

"Avery Smith," the cold, silky voice of Voldemort hissed.

"L-Lucius Malfoy, I though' youwere ill!" Smith slurred.

"Lucius Malfoy is dead, he has been for a long while now, fool. I, Lord Voldemort, have taken his place, soon I will discard his body and have my own, but I need something to obtain one, the fragment of my soul inhabiting dear Lucius's body is too torn, to weak, I seek a stronger part of my being, if you will. My last Horcrux."

"I'm drunk!" Smith shrieked. "I'm verydrunk! Ain'tnon 'o this reeeeeeel! None! Too much ale!"

"No, you fool; we are not illusions of your alcohol influenced mind." Lucius hissed in the voice of Voldemort.

"You are Luci! Youareafigment of my imaaaaaaagination!" Smith cried, flailing his arms crazily. "Voldymont ain't 'live nomore! And if he washe wouldn't be telling meeee his plan!"

"Well, you're sadly mistaken my friend," Voldemort said quietly. "Lord Voldemort is alive… though you are correct in one matter, I would not tell you any plan of mine, unless it was my intent to kill you, and I knew you would never be able to utter a word to anyone… ever again."

"Wha'?!"

"Indeed, farewell Avery Smith, know that your sacrifice will be part in insuring the return of Lord Voldemort! For that, you will receive a great honor." Lucius's hand drew a long yew wand, which was pointed like a blade at Smith.

"Noooo! Leave! Youall is a damned hallucination! Damn ale!"

"As I've told you before, Professor Smith, we are entirely real. And now, you shall have your great honor. Avada Kedavra!"

Voldemort's eyes watched the light leave Smith's, and followed his body as it fell from the bed and onto the wooden floor, his face hit the puddle of ale where the bottle had shattered, and he moved no more.

"Congratulations," Bellatrix hissed. "You've had the great honor of being killed by the Dark Lord."

"Come, dear Bella, let us leave this place." Voldemort said.

"Of course, my lord, of course." Bellatrix replied. "Too bad about that one though… the Auror Office is a sad place now... they might consider that he died from alcohol poisoning!"

She burst into hysterical laughter and stepped into the emerald flames after her master.

Oh no! Now who's gonna take up the DADA post?! Umbridge?! No, of course not, I suppose you'll just have to wait and find out…. Anyway, don't forget to comment.