A/N: Parallel lives on a lazy Sunday morning, the insatiable appetite (for cuddling) and minty fresh breath of the Boy-Who-Lived, morning fun, and a field trip to Little Hangleton doesn't go unnoticed. Then, the world explodes (sort of)....
Disclaimer: Explosions are not comfortable.--Yevgeny Zamyatin (Russian novelist).
In case anybody's forgotten, I'm still not making any money off of this work (my profit is in warm fuzzies from the reviews, as well as the knowledge that I have fangirls and fanboys), and this should be considered an homage and tribute to JKR and the wonderful world she created.
Chapter 52
Lord Voldemort, aka Tom Marvolo Riddle (or just Master to his friends, er, followers--he really couldn't be said to have any 'friends'), sat in his study, sipping tea, reading the Sunday morning Prophet, and contemplating global domination.
It was his favorite pastime. Well, except for torturing and killing muggles...or torturing and killing blood traitors...and then there was always torturing and killing those who opposed him...or torturing and killing those who supported him...or torturing and killing basically anybody who happened to be in the immediate vicinity if the mood happened to strike him, which the truth be told was quite often...but aside from that, contemplating global domination was definitely his favorite pastime. Okay, definitely in the top five...happy now?
As I was saying...Lord Voldemort sat in his study, sipping tea, reading the Prophet and contemplating global domination.
Things were going rather well from his perspective. The International Confederation of Warlocks, in which he admittedly had few followers despite his best efforts, had finally managed to pry Albus Dumbledore out of the Supreme Mugwump's chair and give it to some slimy little Peruvian that Tom had never met. Tom had been a bit concerned at first that the Peruvian might challenge him, but all signs thus far indicated that he was far too concerned with purging his own enemies in the ICW to worry about what was happening on the other side of the Atlantic.
Yesterday had seen Riddle spend several hours reading and writing owls to various Wizengamot members in several factions. Some of these had been cajoling (he hated that, but needs must), some had threatened, and some few had been direct orders. He fully expected a free-for-all to break out in the Wizengamot within the week. Just let Hogwarts classes resume, tying Dumbledore down in Scotland, and all and sundry would be trying to claim the Chief Warlock's seat for themselves or their faction.
Quite frankly, the Dark Lord couldn't care less who finally wound up with the job. Whoever it was would be so weak from the political bloodletting he was helping to arrange that they would be powerless to do anything. Then, his supporters could easily deadlock the Wizengamot with procedural moves, preventing any decisive action against him when he finally chose to make his move for control. With an impotent Chief Warlock presiding over a fragmented Wizengamot, the Ministry of Magic would be helpless, totally vulnerable to him and his Death Eaters as they swept to power over their worthless carcasses. So long as Cornelius Fudge continued to be...well, Fudge, Lord Voldemort's victory over the blood traitors, mudbloods and muggle-lovers was assured!
And besides, his tea was excellent this morning, just like he liked it!
Ah, life was good.
***
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin (First Class), Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry sat in his office at Hogwarts, sipping tea, reading the Sunday morning Prophet, and contemplating global domination.
It was his favorite pastime. Well, except for manipulating people like chess pieces on a board...or pulling the strings of government from behind the scenes...or running various powerful organizations in the wizarding world...or scheming to amass even greater power...all the while convincing people that they would be better off doing exactly what he told them to do 'for the greater good'...but aside from that, contemplating global domination was definitely his favorite pastime. Okay, definitely in the top five...happy now?
As I was saying...Albus Dumbledore sat in his study, sipping tea, reading the Prophet and contemplating global domination.
Things were going rather well from his perspective. Granted, the International Confederation of Warlocks had removed him from his position as Supreme Mugwump, replacing him with that greasy little Peruvian son of a flobberworm. Dumbledore had been a bit concerned at first that the Peruvian might quickly move to undo Dumbledore's policies, but all signs thus far indicated that he was far too concerned with purging his own enemies in the ICW to worry about what his predecessor had put into place.
Yesterday had seen Dumbledore spend several hours reading and writing owls to various Wizengamot members in several factions. Some of these had been cajoling (he hated that, but needs must), some had threatened, and some few had been direct orders. He fully expected a free-for-all to break out in the Wizengamot the next day, when his surprise resignation as Chief Warlock would be announced. By tomorrow evening, he expected all and sundry to be trying to claim the Chief Warlock's seat for themselves or their faction.
Quite frankly, the Headmaster couldn't care less who finally wound up with the job. Whoever it was would be so weak from the political bloodletting he was about to set off that they would be powerless to do anything. Then, his supporters could easily deadlock the Wizengamot with procedural moves, preventing any decisive action against him when he finally chose to make his move against Tom. With an impotent Chief Warlock presiding over a fragmented Wizengamot, the Ministry of Magic would be helpless, totally dependent on him and his Order to save their worthless carcasses. So long as Cornelius Fudge continued to be...well, Fudge, Dumbledore's victory over his enemies in the Ministry, the ICW and the wizarding world as a whole was assured!
And besides, his tea was excellent this morning, just like he liked it!
Ah, life was good.
***
Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Lord and Head of the Most Nobel and Ancient House of Potter, Heir-apparent to the Most Nobel and Ancient House of Black, Heir of Gryffindor, Triwizard Champion and betrothed of Cedric Diggory, himself a Triwizard Champion and Hufflepuff poster boy, was having a bit of a lie-in, cuddled up against his boyfriend and contemplating spending all day in bed, doing nothing but cuddling and being cuddled.
It was his favorite pastime. Well, except for snogging said boyfriend...or playing Quiddich...or flying in general...or pranking...or dueling for fun...or cooking for his family...or just hanging out watching Sirius and Remus insult each other...or flirting with his boyfriend's mother...or getting spankies from Cedric (which was a not-so-secret pervy pleasure)...but aside from that, morning cuddles with his boyfriend was definitely his favorite pastime. Okay, definitely in the top five...happy now?
As I was saying...Harry Potter was having a bit of a lie-in, cuddled up against his boyfriend and contemplating spending all day in bed.
Things were going well from his perspective. His summer had been spent growing, his healer in Paris having given him a series of potions that had corrected the effects of years of abuse and neglect at the hands of the Dursleys. That same healer had also found and removed a pair of blocks on his magical core, which now allowed him full access to his magic for the first time in his life. He had survived the Triwizard Tournament and a duel with the reborn Dark Lord Voldemort at the end of the last school year, and had found his true love in Cedric Diggory, the other Hogwarts Champion and Hufflepuff extraordinaire.
Harry had spent the summer having the best time of his life. He and his boyfriend--now fiancé--had traveled the world: they had seen Paris (more than once), splashed in the Med, sunned themselves on the beaches of Greece, explored tombs in Egypt and been wowed by the exotic wonders of Japan. After returning to England, he had spent the summer with his godfather and friends, seen his godfather proclaimed a free man, fought and destroyed Dementors (twice), held press conferences, attained his legal majority and gotten engaged.
Quite frankly, Harry couldn't care less about the political madness swirling around him, or about the publicity that seemed to dog his every step. He fully expected to face Voldemort in a duel to the death within the next three years, but he had good and powerful people supporting him. Between his friends in the Ministry, his legal team, and his real and de facto family, Harry felt better about his chances than he ever had before. He had learned that Albus Dumbledore was not the benign grandfatherly figure he had been led to believe, but in some ways was as bad as Voldemort. Similarly, his old 'friends' Ron and Hermione seemed more interested in forcing him to fit their expectations rather than allowing him to be himself. So long as he didn't allow them to drag him down and concentrated on doing his best, his victory over the Dark Lord was much more likely than he would ever have thought possible.
And besides, he was curled around his boyfriend perfectly, just like he liked it!
Ah, life was good.
***
Eventually, all good things must end, and Harry's morning lie-in came to a reluctant end when his bladder couldn't be ignored any longer. Disentangling himself from Cedric's embrace, he dashed to the loo, being careful to check before opening the bedroom door. Molly Weasley's unexpected appearance the day before had been an unwelcome surprise, and Harry wasn't sure that the domineering woman wouldn't decide to make another unscheduled visit just to harass him.
In the loo, he reflected that Molly probably wasn't plotting directly against him, but still, her loud opposition to his and Cedric's sleeping arrangements was something that he definitely wasn't up to facing that morning.
His morning got a bit better when he found his boyfriend waiting his turn outside of the loo, and gave him the best grin he could manage at such an unholy hour.
"Mouthwash, Ced," he said, then dashed back for the bed. When Cedric returned, he found a minty-fresh breathed Harry Potter waiting for him with the cover held back.
"So...I thought you wanted to be up and about first thing this morning," Cedric joked, knowing Harry wanted no such thing. "I was just going to throw on some clothes and get Winky to make my breakfast, then...."
Harry scowled at his misbehaving boyfriend and slapped the duvet for emphasis. "You. Bed. Cuddle. Now," he ordered in his I am Lord Potter And I Am To Be Obeyed voice.
Cedric laughed as he scrambled to comply. "Oh, so fierce! Come here, cuddle fiend!"
And that was the last of the conversation for quite some time.
***
Some time later, Harry and Cedric came downstairs hand in hand, only to find Remus and Sirius arguing with Mad-Eye over breakfast.
"I still don't like the idea of this whole mob jaunting off to Little Hangleton," Moody was insisting. "Merlin only knows what kind of monitoring charms or traps You-Know-Who will have around the place, and each extra body just multiplies the chances that he'll be alerted."
"Well, if that's true, then it's all the more important that whoever goes has backup there with them. Unless you fancy going up against the Dark Lord and a squad of his Death Eaters solo?" Sirius snapped back.
"Unfortunately, I think you're both right," Remus sighed, as usual stuck being the mediator. "Still, going alone is just too risky, Alastor."
"Bah! Bunch of nancy boys, the lot of you." Moody groused, not noticing Harry and Cedric coming into the kitchen.
"Yep, that's us!" Harry called out gaily. "And quite happy that way, thank you very much," he continued, grinning evilly at Moody. "Wanna see?" Turning, he grabbed Cedric and pulled the off-guard boy into a searing kiss.
Cedric, for his part, wasn't going to pass up a good thing, so he returned the kiss enthusiastically. Ignoring the various cat calls, sighs, and Moody's yelped 'get a room, you two," he snogged his boyfriend until air became a serious issue. Breaking apart, he shook himself, then said loudly. "Hullo, there, Green Eyes...I'm Cedric Diggory, pleased to meet you."
"Hullo yourself...you're cute, do you have a boyfriend?" Harry inquired, his face all innocence.
Cedric pretended to look around, then stage whispered, "yeah, but he's a complete berk, and not nearly as cute as you. But, he's insanely jealous, and will probably kill us both if he catches us snogging behind his back."
"Damn right, he will," Harry growled, then pulled Cedric back into another intense snog. Then he pulled back and smacked Cedric on the back of his head. "And that's for cheating on me with just any trollop who comes along and pulls you into a snog," he said, moving to sit down in his usual seat.
Cedric just shrugged. "What can I say...he was much cuter than you are...OW!" he complained, rubbing his now-sore arm. "Prat!"
"OW! You're the prat, prat!" Harry was now nursing his own sore spot. "Okay, have we fought enough to qualify for make-up snogging yet?" he asked, his eyes hopeful.
Cedric pretended to think about it. "Yeah, I guess so...wanna do it on the table here, or go back upstairs?"
"Ah, why bother going back up the stairs...we'll just have to come back down again. I say do it right here on the table."
"Okay by me," Cedric grinned, and went to stand up.
"If you two are quite finished," Remus said severely, his eyes bright with amusement. "Winky has made a wonderful breakfast, as usual, and I for one don't want you two snogging on the toast."
"I'm going to have to buy a new camera," Sirius said thoughtfully. "Just think what the Prophet--or even better, Teen Witch Weekly--would pay for pics of these two going at it like two kneezles in heat."
"Barking mad, the lot," Moody shook his head, working hard to look angry but failing. "Stark raving bonkers, each and every man Jack of you."
"Eye-Man is not to be talking such about great Harry Potter sir," Dobby put in from where he was drying dishes. "Harry Potter sir is a great wizard, and is being kind to all elves and other wretched creatures...."
"Hush, Dobby elf," Winky said firmly. "Maddy-Eye is playing with Master Harry Potter sir and his friends, because he is being friends, too. Maddy-Eye knows he is being just as barking as Master Harry Potter sir." Smoothly, she levitated two heaping plates to their places in front of Harry and Cedric. "If Maddy-Eye isn't being friends, then he is not being always here, eating Winky's cooking."
Having been read off by a house elf, Moody just shook his head and helped himself to another sausage.
"Winky, I'm going to miss your cooking when we go back to Hogwarts," Harry said. "The elves there are good, mind you, but you're a cut above the rest."
The irrepressible elf beamed mightily at the praise from her master. "Winky is wanting Master Harry Potter sir to be knowing that all he...or his Ceddy...is having to do is calling Winky, and she is coming, even at Hogwarts."
"Dobby elf is coming, too!" Dobby put in.
"Kreacher is bound to be serving the Black family," the old elf said, coming around to stand between Harry and Cedric with a carafe of pumpkin juice. Then, he looked around conspiratorially and whispered, "but Kreacher is coming too, if Harry Potter sir be calling him."
Sirius started at the old elf's declaration, then shook his head. "Now I really have heard it all," he said in wonderment. "Harry, you have got to teach me that house elf charming spell."
"It's not a spell, Sirius," Harry said, casually reaching down to scratch Kreacher behind his ear. Unfortunately, the old elf liked it so much that he passed gas as he wriggled with pleasure, causing Cedric to hurriedly cast an air-freshening charm. "You just have to know how to treat them."
"Well, whatever it is, it works," Sirius nodded. "Kreacher, I just want you to know that I'm very happy that you'll go to my godson when he calls you."
"Master Sirius is being good for making Harry Potter sir happy, so Kreacher is being happy Master Sirius is happy," Kreacher answered, making the rounds of the table with his juice. "Master Harry Potter sir is being the greatest, most kindest wizard in the world, and all elves is being happy to serve him."
"Dobby is telling Kreacher that, but Kreacher is not believing Dobby at first," Dobby piped up.
"All right, you two, enough," Cedric said firmly. "You're making great Master Harry Potter sir blush all over, not to mention get a swelled head that I have to live with."
Obediently, both elves quieted down, but both of them were still smiling as they bustled about the kitchen. For a time, the only sounds in the room were the sounds of large quantities of breakfast being consumed.
Eventually, Harry was finished. Cedric continued to be amazed at the sheer amount of food his slender boyfriend could put away, but he certainly wasn't going to quibble with the results. Once again he mentally compared the tall, muscular young man at his side to the short, scrawny (but still horribly cute, both before and after) boy that he had entered the maze of the third task with. Harry would never be a giant--he was still a good inch shorter than Cedric himself--but Cedric could not be happier with the healthy glow Harry now radiated. And, he reminded himself, they both had a bit of growing to do yet.
"Oi, prat...I can hear the rocks grinding against each other in your otherwise empty head. What are you thinking about so hard?" Harry asked.
Cedric affected a nonchalant air. "Oh, nothing...you, mostly. Nothing worth mentioning."
"Um hum." Harry made a noncommittal sound. But, before an insult or hex war could break out, Remus cut in.
"Harry, Cedric...we need to talk about retrieving Marvolo's ring from Little Hangleton." The werewolf's voice was gentle as always, but laced with an undercurrent of urgency.
Harry sighed, gave Cedric an 'I'll sort you out later' look, then became thoughtful. "I'm not sure that it's the best course for all of us to go looking for the ring at once. I think Moody was making some valid points just as we were coming in." He rotated his head as Cedric's hand appeared out of nowhere to begin rubbing his neck. "Mmm, bestest boyfriend ever," he purred, then continued, his eyes closed in pleasure. "At the same time, I don't want anyone to go it alone...mmmm, nice...Sirius is right it's just too dangerous."
"So, lad...aside from sitting here all day getting a massage, how do you want to manage this?" Moody asked.
Both Harry and Cedric ignored the massage comment, continuing with what they were doing.
"I don't especially want Harry to go," Cedric said. "Although, we may need him and his scar to find the bloody thing, if it's hidden as well as we suspect."
"Scar still bother you, lad?" Moody asked, his voice surprisingly gentle and very much out of character for the grizzled old auror. "It's a rum job, it is."
"Yeah, but I can't deny that it might be useful," Harry said. "I didn't say anything about it, but my scar did bother me when the other horcruxes were around. Not nearly as bad as it has before, but I can still 'feel' other bits of Tom's soul."
"Well, that means that we'll just have to make sure that Harry gets there and back in one piece," Sirius said. "So, all that leaves is to work out just how we're going to accomplish that little thing."
***
The plan that finally evolved struck Harry as overly complicated, but it was the only way that the people around him would agree to let him anywhere near Little Hangleton.
They would all be flying to Little Hangleton via carpet, with Cedric and Harry's Firebolts on hand in case they might be needed. A reverse portkey, exactly like Sirius had prepared before going to Malfoy Manor was made by Harry, who complained mightily about the Black family blood quill cutting into his forearm as he drew the runes. Once in the area of the target, Point Me and other locating spells would be used to narrow their search area before Mad-Eye would go in, backed up by Sirius, to try to retrieve the ring.
The concealment and notice-me-not charms on the carpet made their trip to Little Hangleton fast and easy. Unfortunately, it was then that things began to go down hill.
Point Me caused everyone's wands to spin uselessly on their palms, as did all of the other 'easy' location spells. Just to try, Harry cast Accio Marvolo Gaunt's ring using as much power as he could, focused through his new wand and bracelets...with no joy. A rather complicated location ritual generated a foul-smelling cloud of smoke over the cauldron Sirius and Remus brewed the base mixture in. After much coughing and gagging, this cloud eventually settled over an area roughly the size of a Quiddich pitch.
It finally came down to Harry having to sweep back and forth over the area covered by the smoke cloud multiple times on his Firebolt until he finally settled on what appeared to be the ruins of a smallish house.
Circling back to land by the carpet (which was concealed by a convenient copse of trees) Harry dismounted and shrugged.
"Best as I can tell, the ring's somewhere in what's left of that old house."
Mad-Eye stepped off the carpet and squared his shoulders. "That's good enough for me, lad. We'd be looking for weeks without you here, and that's Merlin's own truth. Now, stand back and let this old man do his bit." Quietly, and with much more grace than his old peg leg had ever allowed, Moody moved out.
The old auror had insisted on wearing his old coat--'It's lucky, don't ya know'--but he quickly vanished into the underbrush as the camouflage charms he'd put on it years ago let him blend in easily.
"Damn," Remus muttered softly. "Sirius, I think that you'd better follow him as Snuffles...I've already lost sight of him." He lowered the omnioculars that he was holding to his eyes and grimaced.
"Right you are, Remus," Sirius said, quickly doffing his outer robe before transforming into his animagus form. He took a moment to nudge Harry's hand before bounding off after Mad-Eye.
"Bark if you need us," Harry called softly after his godfather, who turned, wagged his tail, then disappeared himself.
For the next several minutes, nothing happened. Remus kept watch on the house with the omnioculars while Harry and Cedric stood astride their Firebolts, ready to launch themselves into the air at a moment's notice.
"Nice broom," Harry remarked to his boyfriend, trying to lessen some of the tension they were all feeling.
"Oh, you like it? My boyfriend bought it for me," Cedric grinned back.
"Oh, you must have a wonderful boyfriend," Harry snarked. "Caring, considerate...rich, too."
"Oh, he's rich, all right, and not bad looking, either," Cedric allowed. "Too bad he's a great thumping prat with enough cheek for a zoo full of monkeys," he grinned.
"Hey! Who's the prat, prat?" Harry pretended to be highly offended.
"You're the prat, prat...my prat," Cedric said warmly.
"Well, okay, then," Harry smiled back, just as warmly.
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you two were dating," Remus said, which (of course) caused a round of vigorous denials from both boys, even as they shifted closer together so that they could stage a nudge-war back and forth.
After an interminable time of just standing there, waiting--the nudge-war had played out after just a couple of minutes--a series of pops rang out from the direction of the wrecked house.
Remus had the omnioculars to his eyes while the first pop was still echoing off the distant hills.
"I can see Mad-Eye...it looks like he was thrown back against a wall, but I can't see Padfoot," he said urgently.
"We're on it," Harry barked, then he was gone, streaking towards the stricken auror with Cedric right behind him.
As they closed in, they saw Padfoot limping up to Moody, who was obviously stunned. Landing, Cedric began checking the one-eyed man for wounds while Harry tried to do the same for the large black dog. Snuffles was favoring his left foreleg but otherwise seemed fine, if his licking of Harry's face was any indication. Moody also seemed to be all right, just shaken up a bit.
"What happened, Moody?" Cedric asked quietly.
"Bloody booby-traps, that's what happened," Moody snarled. "I was working my way through the chain, disarming as I went, but one of them triggered before I could stop it."
Sirius had transformed back to his human form and was now sitting on the ground, holding his left wrist and laughing at Harry's attempts to wipe doggy-drool off of his face.
"Don't blame yourself, Mad-Eye. Just before it blew, I got a look at it...disarming that last one set off the first in a second string. Somebody has a wicked sense of humor...the second string detonator had been activated then stopped by the trapping spell on the end of the first string," he said.
"Dead man's switch, then," Mad-Eye growled. At Cedric and Harry's look of confusion, he explained. "Comes from an old muggle trick using a hand-sized bomb called a 'grenade'--damned things have a trigger that has to be let go, usually when you throw it at an enemy, before it blows. Normally, the trigger is held in place by a pin that you pull, then toss it. The trick is to pull the pin then put it under a dead body so that the body's weight holds the trigger down. Your enemy comes along, rolls the deader over and 'boom'! Dead enemy."
"Nasty," Cedric said, and Harry nodded.
"Yeah," Moody said.
"Huh," Sirius said thoughtfully. "I've used, er, read about something similar...Adcock's Popping Pustules uses that very kind of thing to set off the prank. The pustules come up but then just sit there until some poor berk tries to banish them, then off they go!" He grinned, obviously remembering just such an event. "Not that I would know, of course," he said innocently, which got him three sets of eyes rolled at him for his trouble.
"That's all well and good...and by the way, you're teaching me that hex this evening, Sirius," Harry said firmly. "But that noise could be heard all the way to the village. You've obviously found something valuable enough to protect with magic...now, what's left between us and what we came for?" He made Sirius give him his wrist so that he could cast a healing charm on it.
"One minute, lad...let me get my breath back." Moody shook his head, trying to clear it.
Cedric had already moved off to a spot in the center of an open area where several fresh scorch marks showed where the trap had gone off. Holding his wand ahead of him, he concentrated intently for a moment, then swirled the tip of his wand back and forth in an intricate little pattern.
"Ostendo laqueum," Cedric said softly, then stood shock still as a silvery vapor poured out of the end of his wand, seeking the scorched area unerringly. In seconds, it had outlined a small rectangle on the dirt-covered floor of what once was probably a sitting room. As Cedric continued to concentrate, a series of circles, runic figures and other symbols were outlined by the vapor until finally a circle some ten feet across was liberally covered. Cedric took a deep breath and stepped back carefully, not taking his eyes off the vaporous shapes. He shivered as he realized that his feet has just barely been outside of the circle of traps.
Harry came to stand beside his boyfriend, his arm going around Cedric's waist. "Sweet Merlin," Harry breathed. "How are we supposed to get through that without blowing ourselves to Scotland and back again?"
Moody was looking at the shapes from his place by the wall. "Modred's swinging stones," he cursed. "None of that was there when I checked it."
Cedric had been looking at the various designs carefully. "That doesn't surprise me, Moody. Look here," he said, pointing to the center area. "There's another trigger hex there, all by itself. I'm betting that little tendril I can see going under the floorboard there connects it to another complete set of traps, all of which won't set themselves until it's triggered."
"Well, bugger me for a lark," Sirius said, impressed despite himself. "Set one trap that automatically goes off while you're working on dismantling it...then use that to arm a second triggering hex which is controlling a set of automatically-deploying curses." He looked around at, shaking his head. "There's probably a practical upper limit of just how densely you can pack those little goodys into that small of a hole, but it could be one or a dozen."
"And no way for us to know except to wade through the lot," Cedric nodded. "Meanwhile, I'll bet my new Firebolt that You-Know-Who tied a notification hex into that first chain."
"No takers, love," Harry said, shaking his head. "So, what do we do?" he asked.
"We do this," Sirius said. "Duck!" he called, conjuring a largish boulder over the center of the trap area.
"Sirius, you idiot," Harry snapped as he raised the strongest Protego he possibly could over himself and Cedric.
"Black, no!" Moody called, but by then it was too late.
The boulder crashed to the ground, and the world exploded.
***
Lord Voldemort was strolling in what passed for gardens at the new 'Riddle Manor'--actually an ancient manor house that he had appropriated after killing the old recluse muggle who had made it his home. Years of neglect had allowed the well laid out English country garden to run amok, and the tangled vines and branches had required some rather significant pruning, cutting and slashing hexes before it was even remotely passable. The Dark Lord had been using his campaign against the foliage to rebuild his strength, and was actually becoming quite fond of the work. So much destruction, clearing away the overgrowth so that he could begin taming the garden, forcing it to adapt to his will! At times, he laughed at himself for his sentimentality, but then consoled himself with the reminder that he only allowed it where his garden was concerned--never around his followers. If only there were plants that would respond more interestingly to Crucio....
Suddenly, an odd feeling swept over him. It took him several long moments to place it. After all, it had been many years since he had made and concealed his 'insurance policy', smiling as he recalled how his own personal name for the source of his immortality was stolen from the muggles he so despised.
Then, another sensation similar to the first struck him. Someone was attempting to breach the traps around one of his horcruxes.
"Wormtail!" he called, then waited impatiently for his servant to answer his call. While he stood there, he reached out with his senses...yes, it was coming from Little Hangleton. Who could have discovered his secrets, he wondered? Who would actually dare to challenge him so. Even more importantly, how in Merlin's name had they discovered the hiding place of his most valuable relic?
His irritation spiked when he realized that Pettigrew should have already arrived. "Wormtail!" he screamed, beginning to plan the punishments he would inflict on the rat-man for being so tardy.
Finally, Voldemort reached the end of his patience. "Accio Wormtail!" he called, his wand held high.
Presently, he heard the sound of screaming coming through the tangle of rose vines which stood between himself and the Manor. As his magic dragged the hapless animagus to his master, Wormtail had all that he could do just to protect his eyes from the thorns which menaced him.
"You called, Master?" Pettigrew fell to the ground, groveling at the Dark Lord's feet.
"Yes I did...why didn't you come immediately, Peter?" Voldemort asked gently.
"Master...I was preparing your meal, and..." Pettigrew tried to explain, before the Crucio washed over him.
"In future, I suggest that you come more promptly," Voldemort said calmly, before reaching down and grabbing the sobbing man's arm. Pressing his wand to the mark on the inner forearm, he sent out his call to his followers.
***
Severus Snape cursed as pain shot up his arm from his Mark. Immediately he stood, dropping the journal he was reading; summoning his robe and mask, he slipped into his garb and apparated away.
***
In Malfoy Manor, Lucius bit back a curse and grabbed his arm. Nodding at his wife's wide-eyed look, he transfigured his robes and a handy book into Death Eater regalia, then disappeared.
***
Within moments of the summons, over a dozen Death Eaters in various degrees of their usual costume appeared around Voldemort. Generally, it was accepted that you could come only partly 'put together', as long as you responded promptly. Since every Death Eater was expected to be a competent wizard, transfiguring yourself the appropriate garb once you arrived was considered to be fair game.
Voldemort looked around, officially not noticing that Porliss Parkinson's robes were several inches too short, revealing a pair of hideous argyle socks and skinny, hairy legs.
"Well met, my Death Eaters," he said, while Gaynor Goyle struggled to remove the harlequin pattern from a mask he had obviously snatched up--probably from a wall decoration, if the gaily colored ribbons hanging on it were any indication. "I have need of a group to go immediately to Little Hangleton and deal with interlopers who seek to steal from your Master."
Yaxley bowed, then spoke. "We live to serve, My Lord...those who would steal from you will soon be dead, if it is your will. May we ask what it is they are trying to steal, the better to protect it?"
"You may not," Voldemort answered, and toyed with the idea of giving the man a touch of the Crucio for his cheek. But, it was a reasonable request, more the pity. "Suffice it to say that it is a magic item of rare and wondrous potency, which I personally have warded beyond all possibility of recovery. However, my alarm wards have alerted me to the attempt, and such temerity must not go unpunished. You, you, you, you and you," he said, selecting Yaxley and four others at random, "take this portkey, and go to do my bidding! Leave no one alive, and return here when you are finished." Taking a length of rose vine, Voldemort concentrated on the location of his mother's old home and turned the vine into a portkey. As he turned to hand it over, he felt a tremendous wave of magical energy assault him and collapsed to the ground unconscious, like a puppet with his strings cut.
A/N: Ostendo laqueum--reveal the trap. And just so you'll know, I'm working on the last chapter for this story, and hope to have it finished by the time many of you read this.
This was both a terribly fun and terribly difficult chapter to write, and I'm glad to finally have the chance to post it. Hope you like it.
Next Chapter: Who knows? But yes, there will be a next chapter. *insert maniacal laughter here* I am feeling EVIL beyond belief today...but I feel good about it, so it's okay!
Remember, reviews make the pain of cliffhangers easier to bear...and might actually make me post the next chapter sooner.
