Chapter Twenty-Four
April 1st
The world twisted around them. Roots wound over their flesh and green light surrounded them as if they were encircled by a leafy curtain. It was like lying back in a river. A gentle current bore them onwards, slowly gaining speed as it pulled them downwards into the unknown places of the world. They left the green light behind and swept through caverns measureless to man. They passed ancient towering trees whose skeletal branches hung motionless beneath pale skies that never were.
For a moment Harry thought he saw men, women and children sitting in vast subterranean lands before realising they were nothing more than the swellings and curves of trees. They hung in a shifting net of light. For an instant he saw beyond: a great ash, roots and branches stretching outwards binding everything together as one. It blazed across the darkness and Harry closed his eyes unable to bear the sight, weeping as he was swept onwards.
They appeared with a soft ripple of air. Old, dead leaves swirling upwards from their feet. Harry stumbled. The brittle roots wrapped around his arms crumbled into dust. He leant against a tree, heaving and retching. He slowly gathered himself. Tom turned, dusting himself down, "Thank you Erlking. I trust that now all debts are paid."
There was a soft chuckle. Something shifted in the darkness of the trees and he was gone. Tom breathed out, relaxing marginally. They were standing at the top of a slope, not more than twenty feet from a tarmac covered road which ran over a long, grey, stone bridge. The bridge's arches spread across a dark, shallow river. The stones were dappled in lichen.
"Well, this is a pleasant spot," Tom said, picking up a stone and throwing it towards the road. The air fizzed and buzzed and the stone burst into flames before vanishing. The air rippled, soft blue lines of light shimmered before fading back into nothing once more. "Down the hill then. I would put on that invisibility cloak if I were you. You will not fit in, I wager," he added critically, casting a glance at Harry.
Harry slung the invisibility cloak over his shoulders. He fumbled with the hood for a moment before pulling it over his head, followed by the thin gauze veil which fell down to mask his face. He vanished, entirely invisible. Tom flicked his wand and his robes shifted hue from black through shades of purple before fading into scarlet. A rampant, golden dragon lay emblazoned on his chest. "While I admit it won't be remembered as the fashion statement of the year I think this does not entirely fail to meet my requirements."
There was no reply from the Boy, again. With a small sigh Tom began to pick his was down over the rocks, avoiding the clumps of thin, wiry grass which stuck out from the rocks. Trees overhung the pathways. Branches rattled as they shivered in the wind. Downstream lights gleamed between the trees, unmoving silver globes. A car buzzed by on the road, yellow lights fading away into the night again.
Tom fished inside his robes checking that his notes were still safely stored away and unnoticeable to others before lightly hopping down the rocks. They slipped away from the moss and dead leaves which were piled into the cracks and crevices. Water tumbled, white and foaming over a spur of rock. It curled round before pouring into the pool it had carved. Trees stretched up the bank, roots intertwined over the rocks.
They made their way downstream as the river lapped the rocks beside them, eddies and swirls flicked spray over the granite. Tom tucked himself beneath a wall of regular, clean cut stones which formed a slowly decaying wall. A round dry drain opened in its centre, whilst ferns clung to the cracks. He waited for a few moments, checking for any sign of watchmen. There was nothing and he moved onwards, drifting silently through the night.
A pylon crossed overhead. Wires filled the air with a faint buzz. Tom cast a handful of spells to find any traps or defences which the Erlking had not whisked them past. There was nothing, though the spellwork made the buzzing from the wires jump in fits and starts. Tom stepped out from beneath the wall and slipped onwards through the night.
In the east the faint glimmer of dawn ran over the treetops. Gentle golden light touched the young leaves and branches, gilding them. They moved faster, following narrow stone steps carved into the gorge edge. They passed occasional, wide, flat rocks which stuck out from the cliff edge like ancient, primitive balconies. Tom paused holding up his hand as the sound of footsteps reached them from below. He half turned but thought better of it and retreated to one of the long, flat rocks before standing his ground, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.
Two red robed soldiers rounded the cliff path. Thick brown leather, scored with tiny runes were visible beneath the fall of the clothes. They came to a sudden halt, aiming their wands at Tom's chest. He spread his arms wide in a placating gesture and leaned back against the rock wall.
"Who goes there?" The older of the two asked. He was grizzled, his hair a close cropped mix of salt and pepper. His arm bore two vertical stripes, the mark of a veteran solider.
"Thaddeus Sholto," Tom said with a curt nod, "captain in the third. Who would you be soldier?"
The veteran did not lower his wand, "Show me your papers. Now!"
Tom carefully, slowly began to reach inside his robe. There was a flicker of movement and simultaneously a stunner hit the younger warrior dead between the eyes whilst a branch was brought down on the elder's wrist from the thin air, knocking his wand out of his hand. It tumbled down to the river, bouncing over the rocks. The branch lurched upwards. It hit the man a glancing blow on the forehead, forcing him to his knees. Harry whirled, invisibility cloak lifting away for a moment as he vaulted over the man, aiming his wand at the back of his head.
"No sudden moves or we drop you and your friend into the river," he breathed softly. The soldier froze. "Now, we have a few questions for you."
"Which way to Malfoy's tent?" Tom asked.
"Which Malfoy?" The soldier asked tensely.
"How many are there? Draco Malfoy of course," Tom snapped.
"Centre of the camp. You can't miss his pavilion: green and silver. Only bloody one that colour," the soldier replied, knotting his fingers behind his head. 'Livia Malfoy's tent is nearby, pure silver.'
"Of course it is," Tom sighed, "what a prat."
"Who are you? Who are you working for? The French? The Germans?" The soldier asked, curiously, looking up at Tom.
"Think of me as a private, albeit interested party," Tom drawled. "Now speak true, what defences are there?"
The soldier looked up at him and shook his head. The sun was beginning to peak over the treetops. The curve of the red orb slowly mounted into the sky, dawn's fingers stretching upwards. "I don't know anything about that."
Tom fingered his wand, considering, "Silencio. Crucio." Baleful red light wrapped around the man as he writhed in silent agony. Harry's visible wand arm twitched, but without any other objection Tom continued. Eventually he let the spell fall. The soldier lay, curled up on the rocks. Silent sobs wracked his body. Tom bound his hands and legs while he waited. With a flick of his wand he raised him so that he was bound against the rock face, arms spread as if crucified. Another minute passed and Tom released the silencing charm.
"Now are you prepared to cooperate?" He asked coolly. He raised the man's head with one finger gazing into his eyes. The man met his gaze and Tom dove into his mind. He rifled through the soldier's thoughts. He plunged through the defences shattered by the cruciatus and rode the swell of memories. He slipped past one scene of pitching camp after another, searching for the wards and defences. He felt the man's horror, shame and revulsion as he scanned his most private memories and moments. After a minute he slipped back out again. "Well, is there anything you would like to add?"
The soldier let out a small choking noise, apparently unable to speak. Tom rolled his eyes, "Pathetic."
"Avada kedavra," Harry said quietly, and the man's body went limp against the bonds.
"What did you do that for?" Tom asked, head whipping round to look at Harry in anger.
"He wasn't going to give us anything more. You left him unable to even speak," Harry said wearily. "Come on, we're wasting time."
Tom turned to stride down the steps, hurrying onwards towards the main camp which lay between the trees, on either bank of the river. The roots formed a causeway of intertwining roots which stretched from bank to bank. The wooden bridge was almost level, roots plaited together in such a way that they gave an even platform. The land around the river had been stretched, levelled so that a host of tents, pavilions and even small watchtowers could be erected. In the faint light of the dawn they could see the occasional figure patrolling through the tents.
"Why don't you just disillusion yourself?" Harry asked quietly, as they paused beside the first of the tents. Tom's robes blending in to its red cloth.
"If I were them I would have set alarms against such charms. Your cloak is immune to detection, but I suspect that other enchantments of concealment would have had them down upon our heads like an bull erumpent in mating season," Tom answered in a whisper, "now, is the coast clear?"
There was a soft rustle of cloth as Harry moved out around the tent. The only sign of his passage were the slight depressions in the dewy grass. White hawthorn blossoms drifted down from the trees, scattering themselves over the tents and the grass.
"Yes."
They moved swiftly, darting from the cover of one tent to another. They made their way towards the centre of the camp. A great pavilion stretched above the others, two stories in height, it was a deep emerald green with a great black dragon emblazoned upon one side, a silver serpent upon the other. Beneath the figures ran the motto "Sanctimonia Vincet Semper". Tom's lips curled into a smile as he saw it.
"Ever bound to a cause they do not believe in," Tom muttered, "how typical."
"It was ever thus," Harry agreed without enthusiasm.
"Once this is over we are going to have to have a talk about your attitude, Boy. You simply killed that man earlier without considering what I could have done, it was very inconsiderate," Tom complained as they crept round the corner of another tent.
"I didn't kill him. Goodness knows you should be able to tell when it's a stasis charm by now. By the time he wakes this will be finished," Harry explained, peering down the pathway between the tents, checking that there was no-one coming.
Tom paused for a moment, "You are right. I should have known. Then again the point is that no-one should know. It is heartening to have another demonstration though."
"Mmm," Harry said. His hand slipped out of the cloak as he gestured Tom forwards for the final dash to Malfoy's pavilion.
The cloth was, of course, bespelled, charmed and warded to within an inch of its life. The air around it fizzed as Tom drew his hand across it. "This might be problematic." The sun was rising and the tents around them seemed to glow as it touched the scarlet and gold. A long, deep note sounded from within the maze of tents a horn was blown, the noise echoing out over the camp. Tom set his wand against the fabric and began to work with feverish speed.
Harry stepped into the tent first. The room was surprisingly plain. The only ornamentation was a single long, black table on which lay sprawled three maps, one of the surrounding countryside; a second of France as a whole, and a third of Europe. The rest of the room was bare save for the two doors which led from it. Tom roughly sealed the rent he had slashed in the wards, allowing the stitching to close.
"Point me." The wand he had taken from the younger soldier spun in Harry's hand and he took the left-hand door.
It opened to reveal a long, low passageway wide enough for five men to walk abreast. The floor was covered with cool, grey, flagstones. Doors led off from either side as it curled round and upwards. Harry opened the first door. It opened onto a garden where starlight shone down on rich purple flowers and the scent of spring hung in the air. There was no-one there, though they could hear a fountain playing somewhere behind a maze of hedges. "Hominum revelio." There was no answering dance of light, Harry stepped back and closed the door.
Tom pushed open the next. The "point me" spell was failing in the corridor, spinning uselessly. The door swung back and the cool spray of the ocean splashed against their faces. Waves roared below a cliff of black basalt and yellowed grasses rippled in a sea-borne gale. "What is the purpose of these rooms? This is strange magic."
Harry nodded and pressed his palm against the brass plate of the next door, "Who knows? Maybe indulgence?" The wood creaked and the soft light of early morning shone down into the cloister of an Italian monastery where red brick walls were flushed with sunlight and thick, dark shadows sprawled over the well-watered grass.
"Onwards and upwards then," Tom said and they passed on, checking room after room for any sign of Malfoy, or any other living person. At last they reached a great door of blackened wood, oddly out of place between the fluttering canvas walls.
They hesitated for a moment and then Harry reached up, grasped the knocker and struck it against the wood three times. The noise boomed and echoed. Tom sneered at the enchantment. They waited in silence and then the doors swung smoothly open.
"Do come in, gentlemen," called a voice. They stepped through, wands rising simultaneously to strike. The footman, dressed in black and silver, froze. His eyes widened as two bolts of light hit him in the chest: one red, one green.
"Was that necessary?" Harry asked, stepping over the corpse. "Once again you've killed someone who could have been of use."
"He might have tried to raise the alarm, or given a warning," Tom said casually. "What would be the point in a hunt when the outcome was certain?"
"Success. This isn't about fun, Riddle," Harry murmured, looking around the room. It was a typical atrium. A small, square pool of rainwater lay between the Roman columns which lined the room. The roof opened revealing a sky where the purple and blue of night were slowly fading. A single rectangular door of bronze stood at the far end. They marched forwards and pushed open the doors as one and into another corridor.
"Hominum revelio," Tom incanted. A spark of light leapt from his wand flowing down the corridor and through a side door. They walked forwards and Harry drew back the cloak's hood and veil, blasted the door from its hinges and strode through the dust into the room.
Malfoy was seated at a desk, quill in hand. A long, ermine trimmed, black cloak wrapped around his shoulders. He looked up, face illuminated in the dawn light shining through a diamond paned window his hand reaching for his wand.
"Expelliarmus," Harry said, the red spell striking Malfoy in the chest as the elderly wizard's hand began to close on the wand. Harry caught it with ease. He sheathed the soldier's wand in exchange for the blackthorn wand. "Hello Malfoy."
Malfoy made as if to stand up, but his legs failed him and he fell back into his chair, his grey eyes bulging, "You …"
"Draco, it has been too long," Tom purred, his eyes fixed on the Minister as if he were prey.
"Voldemort?" Malfoy croaked, his right hand reaching for his chest.
"In the flesh … what's wrong with you boy? Sit up when I am talking to you!" Tom ordered, before a terrible thought striking him.
Malfoy's lips twitched in a smile. "See you in hell, my lord," he said, voice scratched and rasping before he slumped forwards over his desk, hand over his heart.
Tom stared in shock, "He just died?"
Harry cast a diagnostics charm. "It would seem so."
Tom's face twisted in a snarl, "Avada kedavra!" The green light hit the body without any effect. "I can't believe it. How dare he?"
Harry chuckled. The laughter rose, until he was panting, kneeling on the floor, tears rolling down his face. Tom stared at him in concern. At last the giggling subsided and Harry wiped away the tears. "Everything ends. Let us go."
They left, crossed the atrium and began to spiral back down the corridor between the flapping canvas walls. Then door swung open and a tall, middle-aged blonde lady strode in, soldiers surrounding her. They skidded to a halt, wands poised. There was a thumping from the other end of the corridor and a fresh group of warriors filled the other end of the corridor.
"Good morning," Tom said with a faint nod towards her, "I do not believe I have had the pleasure."
"Livia Malfoy. I suggest you, and your companion surrender your weapons now," she said, her voice flat and without inflection. "Don't try and fight Mr Potter, you can't win."
"Madame Malfoy, such a pleasure, I should have recognised you. If only the circumstances could have been less unpleasant," Tom replied smoothly. His eyes scanned the corridor for possibilities as the soldiers lined up around her. The first rank knelt, the second and third aimed through the gaps between one another.
"Who are you? I would know before you die. I do not suppose you wish to deny assassinating my grandfather."
"Not my doing. I would have been delighted to, but he died, tragically, of a heart attack," Tom said, before pausing for an instant, "You are the inside source! This was a coup! No wonder you are hear so fast. I should have guessed. Congratulations."
"I ask you for the last time, who are you?" She demanded, pale skin flushed with pink for an instant.
"I am Lord Voldemort," Tom said as he backed slowly towards one of the doors.
Livia smiled thinly, "Grandfather would be glad to hear that his sacrifice brought you to your long awaited end. Kill them."
Harry and Tom leapt sideways, rolling through the door to their left. The waves roared below them. The wind tussled their hair as they landed on the cliff top. "Colloportus!" Harry cried, and the doorway flashed for an instant before the air around it ripped open and the soldiers poured through. Livia stood some way behind them.
Harry and Tom retreated, back to back, wands drawn. The soldiers fanned out around them. Tom reached up, but his hand brushed against the ceiling. The sky was merely painted on to the canvas. He flicked out his wand, and a jet of fire leapt outwards. The soldiers summoned shields and water, cancelling out the blast with ease. Jets of light shot towards them. Tom raised a shield as Harry struck. Spells flew to and fro, blistering the air.
Tom harnessed the wind. It bowled over a handful of the red robed soldiers. Then he let the spell fall as a handful of killing curses forced Tom to rip clods of earth from the ground to block the attack. Harry slashed his wand and the fallen clumps of earth and grass transformed into ravens that blocked the soldiers' line of sight for a moment before they were struck down by bolts of blue and red light.
A soldier screamed as he was thrown over the cliff and down to the rocks far below. Tom began to edge sideways, intending to use the power of flight. Livia's wand flicked out and the sea rose in a giant swell to just below the lip of the cliff, blocking escape. He threw a severing charm out over the water, hoping that it would cut a hole in the tent. The spell rebounded, before being suppressed by two of the soldiers.
"Surrender. Face the end with dignity," Livia called out triumphantly, above the howling wind. She held up her hand to stop the attack. "Your time has passed, my lords."
"Not bloody likely," Harry spat, "not to you."
"While my colleague is a touch uncouth I fear I must agree with him," Tom said taking the opportunity to let his robes fade back from red to black. He plucked a few strands of the wind letting them billow around him under the dark sky. "You have betrayed your Grandfather. Do not raise your hand against the only ones who can help you keep your new throne."
Livia laughed, a deep, rich, intoxicating sound. "You couldn't keep your own throne. Don't presume to lecture me." Tom flung a bolt of eldritch fire towards her. The soldiers turned it aside and it burn into the grass, purple tongues lapping over the yellow blades.
Tom raised his hand and warriors of fire strode from the spell. They carried flickering blades and they stood side by side with the two wizards. "I will not die. I will not fall. I AM Lord Voldemort!" He almost screamed the words. His eyes flashed red as he flung himself back into the battle. Killing curses flashed from his wand as he scythed down soldiers like wheat before the reaper.
Harry spun around him, on all sides at once. His shields blocked spells that would have torn through houses. Volleys of spells hammered against silver defences. Still he was slowing. Blood trickled from a gash which ran down his chest, staining the shirt. It had been made by the remnants of a spell which had sliced through a solid lump of basalt summoned from below the cliff.
Tom launched an imperius at a soldier, but the man was petrified by his companions before he could do any harm. They rolled him to one side, earth flew up from blasting curses cast by a tight-knit knot of soldiers. Three soldiers were chanting, wands touching as water flowed towards them. It gathered into a seething mass of liquid tentacles.
Harry drew a circle in the air. A wall of earth froze in place between them and the main body of the soldiers. Tentacles lashed out towards them only to be cut down with fire before Harry landed a hit: a flesh eating curse burnt away a soldier's face. The wall fell under concerted blasting hexes, but the swirling water was formless once more.
Pale warriors of fire hacked and slashed their way among the soldiers. For a time it seemed that the tide might be turned, but it was the last flickering of a candle before the night swamps all. Tom and Harry spun around one another; cloak, coat and robes billowed. The air rippled under the spells. Then Harry ducked under Tom's arm to deflect a blow. His hand brushing on Tom's arm and Tom whipped round.
"Avada Kedavra!" Time slowed as the green bolt of light left Tom's wand. Harry turned, eyes closing as the spell approached. Peace falling over his face. It struck him just below the heart and he fell backwards, crumpling to the ground. The air flashed, green light exploding outwards and Tom fell beside him, frozen in the moment.
There was silence. The flaming figures curled inwards upon themselves, vanishing. The soldiers stood still, hardly daring to breath. Many lay groaning staining the earth with blood. Livia was the first to advance and the soldiers followed her lead.
"Check them," she ordered one of her followers, keeping her wand trained on the bodies.
One of the red robed warriors, a man with a mane of golden hair, cast a series of charms, "Nothing ma'am. They're dead."
"It goes against the legends though … that wand, give it to me," she ordered pointing at the wand Harry still clasped. The man handed it to her and she turned the blackthorn stick over in her fingers, "this was my grandfather's check him for any other wands, he would not have come here unarmed."
They rifled through his pockets at last drawing out the holly and phoenix feather wand, she examined it slowly. "According to the old stories this wand protected Potter from attempts to harm him by the dark lord … why wouldn't he be using it? Particularly this time?" She frowned. "There is something about this I do not trust."
"We could cut their throats if you're not certain, ma'am," one suggested.
She shook her head, "They were great once. Take them back to Britain. Send them to the Department of Mysteries. Tell them to dispose of the bodies with all due honour. They will know what to do. Grandfather long planned for this. Even if they have planned some way to guard against bodily death that should dispose of them for good."
She turned away, striding back towards the doorway into the rest of the pavilion. "Get me the High Council on the mirrors, and Stuttgart too. We have a war to stop before it gets us all killed." She ran a hand through her hair, turning to the lieutenant in charge of the unit, "Let them know we will not back down. We are negotiating from a position of strength. Let them know we will co-operate with them to destroy the goblin armies."
The Department of Mysteries
The two, black biers were carried slowly down the long ebony corridor towards the turning chamber. The bodies upon them were clad in simple, black robes, wands laid upon their breasts, clasped in cold, stiff hands. The lilting music of panpipes filled the air, driving back the spirits of the dead. Blue fires burnt along the walls. The head of the department led the funeral procession of Britain's one and only king and his nemisis towards the chamber of the Veil.