I've tried a bit of a different style in this chapter, hope you enjoy it! Thanks to everyone who reviewed!
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Chapter 24
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{Enochian Prophecies}
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Energy shot passed his ear and hit the wall behind him.
Sasha jerked and retreated behind a corner. "Damn..." He muttered as he raised his wand in front of him, listening to the sounds around the bend.
"Throw down your wand and come out with your hands up. This doesn't have to end bloody." The Auror said loudly. "We've got you surrounded, there's no way out."
Sasha shook his head. He couldn't give up. He couldn't fail. He would fight—to the death if needs be.
There was a voice in his head, whispering words of encouragement.
Counting to three, Sasha readied himself, gripping his wand tighter. He shifted his weight. Stood on the balls of his feet. Poised.
He kicked off the ground and spun to face the Aurors, a string of dark curses shooting from his wand.
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{Enochian Prophecies}
(One hour earlier)
...
"Are you ready, My Lord?"
Voldemort smirked and looked over at Sasha, his red eyes full of excitement and bloodlust. "More than you know. Nervous?"
"Nervous? For this? I'll be there and back before you know it." Sasha replied as he pat his pocket, unconsciously checking that his wand was present.
Voldemort moved closer. "Then fly," he said, "my forces are awaiting your success."
Standing there in Voldemort's office, the fire roaring and the clock above the mantle ticking, Sasha saw his last moments of peace.
"I won't let you down." He promised his master before disappearing soundlessly.
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{Enochian Prophecies}
(Forty minutes earlier)
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Lucius had supplied the blueprints of the ministry and some advice; don't go straight into the security hub. There were always people present and Sasha could just be unlucky and instead of surprising them, he might find a wand to the back of his head.
Where would he be then?
Lucius didn't know Sasha wasn't human; he didn't know Sasha had an alternative to apparition. But he did know Sasha had some means of entry. He recommended Sasha enter through an abandoned storage room on level four. It was a whole level above where he needed to be, but once Sasha thread carefully, it would take no time at all.
Sasha kicked a broken broom out of the way and sneezed as a puff of dust erupted from the bristled end. He manoeuvred his way around a large, shaking cabinet and stepped over boxes marked 'spare magical threads' and 'Auror uniforms—to be repaired' and 'misc.'. Finally, after clambering through an unnecessary amount of storage, Sasha stood in front of the door. He put his ear to it, listening for any outside movement. As Lucius had suggested, there was nothing. No passage through the corridor. That is what Sasha had hoped for.
He pushed the door forward and, satisfied there was no one there, he stepped outside, eyes scanning left and right. Nature was quiet with Voldemort around, but now he was alone and she had returned. A familiar presence in his head. She murmured to him with words that were nonsensical but comforting nonetheless.
Sasha ran the memorised blueprints through his mind and followed them. Turn left. Walk down the corridor—two hundred metres. Take the first left.
Someone was approaching, Nature alerted him. Sasha found a darkened corner and hid. The ministry worker, busy with studying documents and muttering to himself, failed to notice Sasha's presence.
When the man left, Sasha moved again. He continued. Travel down the corridor. Turn right. Continue. Walk through the door, down the stairs. Nearly there. Sasha looked around, warily now. It was a busier part of the ministry. Not by much. But it would only take one person to spot him.
There was an almost constant stream of people travelling into the security centre and out of it. Even still, the rest of the level was quiet. Sasha moved. Stealthily, he travelled through the area, once or twice hiding behind a corner or in an empty room.
That was where he was now.
"Scrimgeour's got me workin' double shifts fer the next week." A man said outside the door that Sasha was waiting behind.
"For a whole week?" The man's companion asked, "This whole place is going crazy. It's like they're expecting some kind of..." The voice faded away as the two passed the door and out of earshot.
Sasha opened the door and slipped out into the corridor once more. He moved quickly and turned a corner. The last corner. There, right in front of him, was his goal. The security hub. In that room was the centre of the ministry's defences. Feet moving fast, Sasha arrived at the door and, throwing his senses out into the room found four people inside.
He took a steadying breath.
And shoved the door open.
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{Enochian Prophecies}
(Ten minutes earlier)
...
"Okay." Sasha muttered to himself, "Okay, okay, okay."
He was trying to figure out how to come around the defences in the ministry. Stepping over the unconscious body for the umpteenth time since he started pacing, Sasha was beginning to understand what he needed to do.
Aware that he couldn't afford to waste time, Sasha turned to his project.
In the centre of the room, a golden sphere. A ball of energy and magic spun around itself, hovering in mid-air. Sasha looked at it critically before stepping closer, raising his wand and muttering an identifying spell.
Nature spoke again, softly, intrigued. Sasha did not understand her and so he ignored her.
On the golden sphere, in response to his spell, a thin string of magic rose and uncurled. Muttering another spell, this time on his hand, Sasha grabbed the string and felt its power in his hand. The anti-apparition wards slowly faded as Sasha clenched his fist and blocked the flow of magic. He felt the strain of the wards trying to right themselves, the defences desperately trying to weave in different directions to displace the obstruction, but Sasha's grasp held strong.
Thirty seconds of withholding the wards.
Forty. Fifty. Eighty. A hundred seconds.
It needed two minutes. Voldemort needed only two minutes to get all the troops inside.
A hundred and ten... A hundred and twenty.
Sasha let go and physically felt the defences sigh with relief. He wasn't finished yet though; he found another string. This time it shone with magic often associated with charms against dark magic. He didn't bother with subtlety this time; he ripped the thread apart. Effectively rendering the charm useless, beyond repair.
His job done, Sasha was supposed to return to Voldemort. He was eager to do so. The battle should be beginning; that would be where the action was. Sasha left the room. He travelled down the corridor.
Nature started to speak again. This time it was louder, more urgent, warning. Sasha still couldn't not decipher her words, but he understood the meaning. Unfortunately, it came too late. He turned the corner. Energy shot passed his ear and hit the wall behind him.
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{Enochian Prophecies}
(Present)
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Sasha's curse hit an Auror. The sound of screaming was gratifying but he didn't have time to enjoy it. He skipped back to dodge a spell fired at his legs. A retaliation was already on his lips as he threw a hex in the general direction of the Auror who had almost hit him.
A spell flew straight for his centre, Sasha hastily through up a shield spell and heard the attack ricochet and hit the wall beside him. The wall sizzled and looked burnt and melting when he glanced over at it.
Nature was once again in his ear. This time she was exciting, invigorated, full of joy and strangely, pride. She seemed so present. Sasha almost thought he would actually find her physically there if he turned around. He wouldn't turn though. Not now.
He had a battle to win. And Nature delighted in that.
She seemed to take a little bit of his consciousness, almost like she was holding his arm and helping him shoot curses and spells. His speed was quicker, his reflexes sharper. Nature stood beside him, promising she would help. She took joy in this battle and Sasha felt that joy reflected onto himself. Despite the situation and the odds against him, he gave a breathless laugh.
Nothing could touch him. He weaved his wand around in complex movements he instinctively knew, but were too fast and near together for his brain to fully understand. The forces before him fell to the ground. But more came. He continued fighting. But more came. It shouldn't be this busy. He had to end this. Now. Nature had her fun, he had allowed her influence. It was his turn now.
"Confringo!" Sasha shouted in response aiming at the centre Auror. It hit. The blast hit all around the target too and the people around him fell to the ground. In the confusion, Sasha took his chance. He dropped to his knees and pointed his wand up at the ceiling.
"Petra Cumulus!" He snarled.
The Aurors hesitated, unsure as to what he had actually done. When nothing seemed to happen, they scoffed and moved to start attacking again. But by then it was already too late. Sasha's spell was activated by movement and these narrow corridors were the perfect environment.
The ceiling rumbled and groaned for a brief second. The Aurors looked upwards, then shouted and screamed when the wall rapidly shot down and crushed every single one of them with the rapid accumulation of stone.
Blood seeped out from under the stone barrier that Sasha's spell had created. Sasha got to his feet and stepped back a little to escape the incoming streams of red. Nature was silent, but Sasha felt her glee, her appreciation, her relief.
Sasha didn't understand the range of Nature's emotionality. He didn't understand why she would feel excitement in a battle or pride that he was in it. No one seemed to be able to answer his questions on it either. No Shira were affected by Balance in such a manner and his great-grandmother's books were so vast that he could search forever and miss it.
It wasn't important, in any case; he had to get to Voldemort.
The stone before him slowly faded away until all that was left was the bloody mush of the Auror's remains. Sasha grimaced. It was a messy spell, but effective in a pinch. He picked his way through the bits of people, wincing while he did. The Petra Cumulus spell was a brilliant idea in theory; its range was large, it worked almost immediately and there was no way to stop it. But it couldn't be used when he was anywhere near his allies in case they too were caught in the spell. As long as you didn't move, the spell was rendered useless, but someone always moved.
Sasha had to move quickly; the smell was sickening.
He was never using that spell again. It had seemed like such a good idea when he made it, but the reality of it was disgusting.
He made his way through the mess and looked back at what he had left. It was longer and larger than he would have imagined; how many Aurors had been there, waiting to fight? There shouldn't have been that many, not at all. So why was there?
Sasha started moving.
It was suspicious. Did they know he was coming? How could they? Lucius had given him the blueprints, he had told him that level four and three were almost abandoned. Sasha had gotten in and out almost without meeting anyone. That was strange, wasn't it?
The Aurors had been waiting for him to come out.
Sasha stopped.
It had been a trap.
They knew he was coming. Which meant they knew Voldemort was coming. Had Lucius betrayed them? No, that wasn't right. There was no benefit to Lucius to betray them. But someone must have, right? How else could they have known?
Sasha shook his head. He didn't need to be worrying about that now; Voldemort would figure it out. Sasha needed to be a warrior now, not a thinker. They'd figure it out later. Not now.
Sasha moved into a jog, leaving the third level and travelling up.
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{Enochian Prophecies}
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Voldemort surveyed the atrium in frustration. Full of warring wizards. It wasn't supposed to be like this. They were supposed to catch the ministry off-guard. It was supposed to be easy and unchallenged. His immediate instinct was to blame Lucius but the man couldn't have known. Lucius was loyal, it wasn't betrayal either. How had they known he would be there?
Moving his arm lazily, Voldemort blocked a spell. He threw his own curse in retaliation. His opponent fell with a cry.
Looking around the atrium, he spotted Bellatrix, cackling maniacally as she cast a Crucio on her victim. She was in her element, enjoying the power of the Dark that she was so gifted with.
Lucius was a little to her left. He was battling with an Auror quietly, grunting occasionally with the force of the spells he was sending. Face hidden behind the Death Eater's mask, Lucius' expression was unseen.
Fenrir Greyback and his dogs were up ahead, growling and howling like the mutts they were, ripping to shreds the delicate flesh of their opponents. Even barbaric as it was, Voldemort could not help but feel a slight appreciation of the power and the efficiency at which they killed.
He moved through the atrium, killing as he went, his cloak brushing over the many bodies that littered the floor around him. He had hoped to have fewer casualties on both sides. He had intended to capture the majority of them but that appeared unlikely to happen. Even his Death Eaters were no longer in the mood for playing nice. Voldemort hoped Sasha remembered he wasn't supposed to be killing everyone he came across, there had to be someone that would remember. Voldemort himself, was guilty of that crime.
He wondered if Sasha was alright. There had clearly been an ambush here but was there where Sasha was? Voldemort suspected there might have been. Sasha had better not have gotten caught—or worse; got himself killed. Voldemort wouldn't stand for it.
The Dark Lord turned to survey the damage once more. He needed to stop killing people in frustration and get his plans back on track. Sasha had made a spell especially for this night; it would be a shame not to use it.
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{Enochian Prophecies}
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"Depulso Magna!" Sasha shouted.
Everyone in the room vanished. Sasha sighed in relief. There had been three Unspeakables in the room and now there was none. It had worked fine.
He was in the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort was still a few levels above but Sasha decided to clear out the bottom levels before returning. He could be more use down there instead of in the middle of everything where all the others were. There was still quite a few Aurors and workers hanging around down this far. It wouldn't do to have them sneak up on the Dark's forces when no one was looking.
Voldemort had wanted as many prisoners as possible. The Depulso Magna was how Sasha would achieve that. It was a variation of the Depuslo spell which banished objects or people to a pre-arranged place. This time, it was Azkaban; the Dark's last conquest. The prisoners would be sent straight to their cells on the isolated prison island. There, dementors, loyal to Voldemort, would be waiting to guard them.
The Depulso Magna was just a larger version of the spell. Instead of sending a single person or item away, it could send three or four—depending on the sizes and volume. Unspeakables were handy to have alive, in any case.
Sasha gave the room one last look, making sure there was no one hiding. Nature assured him that there wasn't but he wasn't quite ready to trust her just yet. He left the room and moved on.
He travelled quietly, staying alert for any signs of life. He turned a corner and opened the first door on his left.
More than a dozen heads turned to see who had entered. Sasha quickly glanced around the room; it was a laboratory, full of Unspeakables. Thinking fast, Sasha raised his wand.
"Depulso Magna!" He cried out at the Unspeakables, watching as white spheres appeared around the four nearest cloaked figures. They began to scream in terror but by the time they had managed to open their mouths, they suddenly vanished.
The others shouted, getting to their feet and throwing curses over at Sasha mercilessly. Sasha dived out of the doorway, his back plastered to the corridor wall as four or five different spells shot through the entrance and hit the wall across from him.
Erecting the strongest shield he could think of, Sasha spun back around into sight, facing his opponents once more. "Depulso Magna" He said again, pointing in the direction of more Unspeakables. They, like their friends, disappeared in a matter of seconds.
Sprinting into the room, Sasha dodged more oncoming spells and, using worktops as his shields he flung his spell of choice twice more until all of the Unspeakables were gone. Standing in the empty room, Sasha ran a hand through his hair as he puffed out a breath.
Time to move on.
He left the room in search of more opponents.
Voldemort wanted to lead these people once the war was over. He didn't want them all dead. That, Sasha supposed, was the main reason why the Dark Lord ordered as few deaths as possible. The mercy Sasha was showing to the Unspeakables should have been given to the Aurors too, but with Nature influencing him so strangely back on level three, Sasha hadn't thought to do so. It wouldn't happen again. If he could at all, he would only send his opponents to Azkaban from now on.
Voldemort would later allow the prisoners the choice of accepting his rule or rotting within the depths of the mouldy prison, but for now they would be out of the way and alive. That was the reason they had cleared out Azkaban so thoroughly a few months previously; he needed the space. Sasha had to concede that Voldemort was brilliant. Not that he'd tell him though, no, he was smug enough as it was.
He travelled to another room, clearing it out of its inhabitants, and then moved on to another, doing exactly the same thing. He continued down the corridor until he came to one door that, no matter what he tried, stayed locked. Looking around in confusion he spotted the plaque that claimed he was standing outside 'The Love Chamber'.
Scoffing, Sasha figured that Voldemort could figure how to get inside himself later if he was that interested. Sasha, for one, was not. He continued on with his search, fighting off the unfortunate Unspeakables that happened to come across his path. He cleared out the Space Chamber, the Thought Chamber and The Time Chambers.
It was through the Time Chamber that he found the door to the Hall of Prophecies.
Sasha made his way over the black stone bridge cautiously, walking towards the innocent looking blue door on high alert, his footsteps were hollow and loud and echoing around him. He opened it and took the lift down to where the prophecies were stacked high.
It dinged with a strange normalcy as the door opened and Sasha found himself in the midst of endless rows of prophetic spheres. It was quiet here, utterly silent. Not even Nature bothered to sing to him. A rare experience for now, to be so utterly alone in the universe. He shut his eyes, listened to a heart he never realised beat so loud, to his breath that disturbed the air around him, displacing dust spores and stagnant oxygen.
For the first time he knew what it must be like to be insignificant. To be normal, to not have a goddess choose him as her servant. To be bound by the obscurity of Fate. He opened his eyes in realisation that he was half-fearful, half-envious of the feeling.
Shaking his head, Sasha started to walk further into the depths of the Hall of Prophecies. He knew by this point, with the room being so quiet, that no one was here. Still, he continued walking through it, distracted by the intrigue of each prophecy. Sasha couldn't resist the urge to run his fingers over the nearest prophecies as he passed. Each one broke the intense silence and their voices trailed after in his wake, revealing their secrets to no one as he went.
"And the dark shall pass over the light and all will..."
"The power of the fifth moon brings..."
"Neither will survive..."
"... and bring peace to their people."
Each prophecy voiced by a different Seer, each warning of some unknown future. Sasha didn't pay any great attention to them, his mind wandering unconsciously.
He mused on the nature of prophecies.
Seers saw prophecies, wizards captured them in the tiny glowing spheres, keeping them forever contained and therefore restrained to that future. Shira had prophecies, they came in the form of the Well of Balance, there was nothing done to keep them because the Shira understood the nature of the future, they understood that it was always liquid and ever changeable in its constant churning. Just because the future was going one way that day didn't mean it would be anything like that the next.
Scions had different prophecies. He saw living prophecies; futures that were not so much possibilities, but those that had the capability and the probability to come about, to become realities, the ideal realities that Nature desired. Like the prophecy of him befriending the Basilisk in Hogwarts. Or that of him finding Fenrir Greyback. These were self-fulfilling prophecies.
He wondered how valuable he would be to the current ministry if they knew that; war criminal that he was or not. Would they capture him and try to utilise that power? Human Seers had one, maybe two significant prophecies in their lifetimes; Sasha had two a penny and he was immortal. From a business perspective, that was a good investment.
Sasha shook his head and continued through the darkened place.
Time is hard to judge in the darkness and Sasha wasn't sure how long he had spent in the Hall of Prophecies, before eventually, he made it to the end. There, built quietly into the wall, was a door. Open and ready for him.
Walking over to it, Sasha saw the drop and, having faith in the ministry to not put something that was a health hazard in, he jumped and fell and landed on his feet gently a few seconds later, having dropped into another room entirely.
This, like the last space, was uninhabited.
It was huge, and reminiscent of an ancient gladiator arena, only it was square and clearly made for another purpose. Rough, uneven stone made up the ground, surreptitiously seeping a deep coldness through his shoes and up his legs. The rock rose unevenly into a huge dais and peaked in the centre of the room where nothing but a giant stone arch stood ominously. A thin, transparent veil fluttered delicately in a non-existent wind between the aged stone pillars.
Sasha had heard about this.
He cautiously approached it, as if he was afraid The Veil might attempt to pull him inside. But it did not. He stood a few feet away. His eyes looked into it and through it, to the other end of the room where occasionally, a spectral image would flicker by his line of sight, arms outstretched and mouths wide, but voices missing. And there was no way to know what they might have shared with him.
He closed his eyes. And Nature was once again with him. Her voice, soft and gentle, yet with traces of cold and sternness, warning him to stay away. It was not his place to consider such things. Things that died were meant to stay dead. This, Nature agreed to when she rallied her siblings and created this world.
Do not disturb the cycle...
The sum of Nature's voices whispered to him. Yet she was not angry, there was intrigue there, intense curiosity. Sasha could feel it ghost over him, a trickle of warm air through his spirit. She was studying her latest acquisition up close. Sasha wondered how it hadn't occurred to him before but Nature would of course be more present in a place like this. For did she not utilise Death? And didn't Death become a part of her, as Life was also a component of Nature? She had assimilated their meaning and now she was curious as to his interest in her significance.
The cycle was not meant to be disturbed...
A sudden epiphany rushed through his consciousness and threatened to topple his mind. He understood. Finally, he understood.
Things would die and then, from the life force left behind, something else would be born; a tree, a person, a stone, a blade of grass or hydrogen atom. Energy could not be created or destroyed, wasn't that what the muggles said? If that was true, then everything living was once a part of something else and everything's essence was in some way connected to another's, always existent, circulating in the universe.
No wonder the Shira accepted Death and returned to the Cycle. There was nothing to fear. Immortality came in more than just a body. He understood now. He understood completely. And the world seemed smaller with that comprehension and somehow, more personal, as if to look at his arm he would see elements of another being.
How could he hate his enemies when they were as much a part of him as he was of Nature? Sasha suddenly wondered how he could have lived in such ignorance before.
In his head, Nature laughed delightedly; her servant had gained the necessary understanding. Sasha felt their bond solidify just a tiny bit more.
He turned his attention back to the Veil. He could hear the faint whispers coming from it, but they meant nothing to him. Merely noise. He knew the sway the Veil could hold over people. Death was, after all, always ravenous, and his Veil was as much a servant to him as Sasha was to Nature. Death would not find his next victim in Sasha.
"It is a dangerous thing, to stare too long into the Veil; one can get caught up with very dark thoughts."
Surprised, Sasha turned to the sound of the voice. Albus Dumbledore was in the room now, approaching him with a slow, steady gait, hands clasped behind his back, wand poking out of his pocket.
Sasha didn't take his wand out as he watched the man advance, but he tensed up nonetheless, watching warily. "You knew I'd be here?" He questioned with suspicion. He wasn't sure if Albus Dumbledore was going to be hostile or not, but he would wait and see how things panned out. If there was trouble, Sasha would just get out of there; anti-apparation wards or not, he would get out through his ability to travel cross-dimensionally.
Dumbledore moved up to stand beside Sasha, in front of the Veil. "No," He admitted, "Though I did hope I would find Tom."
Sasha sent his senses out to the room. There was no one else there. Just him and Dumbledore. The man had come alone. Trying to make sense of the situation, Sasha wondered what the old man had come for. Voldemort and he were certainly not on speaking terms. From what Sasha knew, they had never been particularly close—but especially since Dumbledore killed him. That was bound to put a crimp on anyone's relationship.
"Voldemort has no reason to be here," Sasha replied softly, "You have wasted your time."
A subtly critical eye was cast in Sasha's direction. "Tom has long been obsessed with death. Even as a child I could see that fascination festering within him. I tried to stop him, you know, dissuade him from continuing down that dark path." Dumbledore stopped, frowning, the weight of his years resting heavily on him, "But I cannot say that I succeeded. Now I fear he has split his soul too thinly. How many Horcruxes does he have? How far gone has he become?"
"I wouldn't know." Sasha said.
"No, of course not..." He sounded strangely grim, as if he had hoped Sasha might divulge. He seemed to retreat into his head then, gazing at the Veil vacantly. When he spoke again, his eyes stayed on the fluttering shroud. "Many have lost themselves to the Veil. It can pull even the strongest wizard in with its sway, whispering promises, peace, quiet. Tell me, do you hear it?"
Over Nature's quiet murmurings he heard the voices through the veil, their mouthless mutters moaning over at them. "Yes." He said simply.
"I came here in hopes of finding Tom, to talk to him, give him one final chance to repent and end this madness. Instead, I find his young servant. Following in his footsteps." It was said almost mournfully, as if he cared for Sasha, "It is not something I would recommend. The path Tom chose to walk is a soulless one. It will bring nothing but pain, to yourself and those around you. Do you really wish to be like him and hurt innocent people, men, women... children?"
Sasha knew what Dumbledore was talking about; Hogwarts. "I don't regret what I did." He said.
The old headmaster raised a brow. "Oh?" He asked.
Shaking his head, Sasha continued. "I did what was necessary to complete my mission. Without using the Basilisk as a distraction, I would have failed. I could not let that happen. It was about survival. Me or them. I'm not sorry those students are dead." He stopped, frowning deeply as he added in a mutter, "Though I can't claim to be apathetic to their families and friends. It is... unfortunate that they must deal with that loss."
He couldn't quite go as far as to say that he was guilty at having caused such pain; those people were too far removed from him, he had never met them or heard of them. But he understood the pain of loss. He thought briefly about what it would feel like to lose Diana or Voldemort or even his father. His gut wrenched at the prospect.
"You would mourn, not for those who are dead, but those that are alive?" Dumbledore questioned.
"Death," Sasha said, drawing from his newfound wisdom, "Is natural. As natural as the beat of a heart or air rushing through lungs. The ones who died, they've entered something else—I don't know what it is, but it isn't a silence; it's... a reunion. With the world, the universe, the very essence of everything that is real and ethereal, physical and metaphysical. And you're right; there is peace there and solace too.
"But their families?" Sasha shrugged "They can't transcend this world. Pain will follow them for a very long time, a fact that they must wallow in. And I'm very much sorry about that."
For a long time, Dumbledore was quiet. He watched Sasha with an unreadable expression. Sasha's fingers twitched, but he didn't move otherwise. Eyes trained on The Veil, he wondered what Dumbledore might do next.
The headmaster made a huffing sound. It could have been a laugh without humour, or a snort without complete distain. It was impossible to tell.
"Tom Riddle has always surrounded himself with people who were vulnerable, power-hungry, or..." He sought for the best word, "unstable. Even as a child he attracted that sort of person. The only exceptions to that rule are the people who think like him; those who believe his views are correct. You... do not fall into any of those categories. I have long wondered why it is that he keeps you so close."
Unsure as to where Dumbledore was going with this, Sasha's eyes narrowed, "And what did you conclude."
"I always suspected it was somehow Voldemort who let the Basilisk out. I now know it was you. That is why he wants you, isn't it? You are a parselmouth."
A smile touched the edges of Sasha's lips; he rocked his head down to hide it. "I am not a parselmouth—much to Voldemort's dismay, I might add."
"How did you control the Basilisk? Only a parselmouth can control Slytherin's snake."
Sasha grinned softly, "Sometimes Fate has a manner of waylaying those obstacles." He replied, knowing full well that his answer was cryptic and unhelpful, "But you can't expect me to reveal any more than that."
Dumbledore sighed wearily. "It's not too late." He said softly, "You can still turn back. No one would blame you for siding with Voldemort; he can be...threatening or charming. People are drawn to him when he starts to court them. But you don't need to stay there. You aren't like the rest of them, you don't belong there. Come with me; we can keep you safe. You won't have to hurt any more people."
Running a hand through his hair, Sasha shook his head. "I don't hate you." Sasha said, "But I will never side with you or yours. You were right in saying that I am not like the others; I don't wish for power, I'm not crazy and" A breathy laugh, "I certainly don't believe what the others do." He thought of Diana then, of how Voldemort sneered every time Sasha mentioned her or went to her.
"But you would still call Voldemort your master? You would willingly kill those who have nothing to do with our world?" There was an odd note through Dumbledore's voice that Sasha didn't quite understand. Almost desperate but not quite.
Sasha breathed a laugh, taking unexpected amusement from this meeting, "Yes. Because I am not like the others; I do not follow the power or the ideals or the protection. I follow the man. I am loyal to Voldemort. And that is why I will never side with you. Had I not been loyal to him, my presence would absent in this war; we are fated to never be on the same side."
Dumbledore stared at Sasha. "I fear Voldemort is using you, m'boy, he will throw you away when you cease to be useful to him."
He said it so solemnly that Sasha had to laugh. "So I'm told." He said and looked away, spotting a door on the other side of the room. "I will not fight you, Dumbledore; you are not destined to die today—and certainly not by my hand. I've said all I'm willing to and you can't tell me anything I don't already know. If you still wish to approach Voldemort, he'll be up on the upper levels. Good luck."
Sasha did an extremely risky thing; he turned his back on his enemy and made his way to the exit.
"Before you go," Dumbledore's soft words reached him despite the lack of proximity, "Answer me just one question."
Sasha stopped walking and turned around, quirking his head to the side with curiosity. "Go on."
"Why Voldemort? Of all the people you could have given your allegiance to, why him? What could he possibly have done to deserve such unwavering loyalty?"
Smirking, Sasha turned back on his heel. He thought about the day they had met, on the streets of London with him running away from a pick pocketing gone wrong. Before that moment, life had been dull, a succession of brief moments, jumping from one trial of survival to the next. He had kept his head down and stared at his feet until that moment.
Voldemort had awoken something within him. Sasha remembered returning to his den and leaning up against the wall, hands placed over his heart, feeling the resounding 'thump, thump, thump' he had never noticed before then. The blood pumping through his veins, the adrenalin in his system. A tiny part of him awoke that day.
It was the first time he noticed the sky.
"He saved me." He replied as left the Chamber of Death and a confused Albus Dumbledore.