Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling

Chapter 22 :

It was a lot more difficult for the spirit of Voldemort to enter a human than it was to enter a fox or a weasel or a snake. But he could do a lot more as a human than as an animal. And Bellatrix had begged for the honour, while some of his other Death Eaters in Azkaban were only fixated on him helping them all escape.

He was disappointed to find Bellatrix so weakened in both body and mind. She would not last long as his vessel, and he wondered if she would still have volunteered if she'd known she would die of it. Probably, he thought. Even with her mind disturbed, she was devoted to her master - as she should be. He, Voldemort, was the greatest wizard who had ever lived. He was powerful, and he was not affected by the Dementors as those still fully human were.

If only he had a wand, he could free them all and then he could rise again. There was a ritual, he knew, but he would have to check the details, and there was equipment needed, and particular ingredients required for the potion. But he had to escape, and he had to take his loyal Death Eaters with him. He needed their help. One man, even one as powerful as himself, needed allies.

He wondered how long before Bellatrix would die. Quirrell had lasted a lot longer than he'd expected, but that had been because of the unicorn blood. Even so, he thought it would only have been a few more weeks before he would have died anyway. He wondered if the Potter boy understood that he had killed him. Or maybe Dumbledore would have spun him one of his sentimental yarns.

xxx

Every day, two human warders did an eight hour shift at the prison, checking for deaths, organising meals, and vanishing waste. It was seldom done with any real care and the cells were never clean. It was accepted that the prison would stink and so would the prisoners. One of the prison guards was always an auror, usually newly qualified, as it was such an unpopular duty. The only qualification required of the other was that he could tolerate exposure to Dementors. They worked every second day, as a full day off was deemed necessary to throw off the effects of the Dementors. So two teams of two, alternate days, and the nights spent on the mainland in a comfortable house, a bedroom each and good provisions. While at the prison, every night, there were only the Dementors and their prey.

There was little demanded of the guards, as prisoners stayed in their cells, night and day, year after year. They were supplied with a meagre meal, twice a day, the guards separating in order to get the job done as quickly as possible. And then the guards would retreat to the guard room where the Dementors never went. They all, without exception, loathed the Dementors, though not nearly as much as the prisoners, who seldom had any respite from the monsters.

Voldemort made Bellatrix clean herself up as best she could, and when the human warder looked in, she/he smiled at him and said, "Hello, Kingsley."

Shacklebolt was startled. Mad Bella hadn't said a rational word for years, and how did she know his name? He stared, and Bellatrix/Voldemort said firmly, "You have to give me better food, warm clothing and blankets, and you have to make it warmer. You have to do this, but you must not tell anyone, and you must forget that you did it."

Shacklebolt waved a wand to make it warm for her, and then turned and left. It was nearly an hour before he was back with warm blankets from his own bed, and a warm cloak for her to wrap herself in. And he had food for her, proper food, far better than the trays of tasteless mush that was the usual prison fare.

The other guard noticed the hour's absence, but said nothing. It was not just that the Auror ranked above him, but that he perfectly understood that some men were more affected by the bitter miasma of the Dementors. He'd probably just needed the break.

Voldemort was pleased with himself. Mind Magic was far more difficult without a wand, but if one was sufficiently powerful, it could still work, as he had just proven to himself. Kingsley Shacklebolt was a large and powerful man, an Auror, and yet he'd managed to make him do what he wanted. He would become powerful again. All he needed was a wand and a few loyal followers.

Several days passed. The body of Bellatrix was a little stronger and therefore, so was Voldemort. It was time for him to try the next step. He wanted the cells of all of the Death Eaters made warmer, he wanted better rations for all of them, and he wanted some of the spells dropped so that the prisoners could communicate with each other. Shacklebolt complied, and then forgot he'd done it, just as he'd been told. But the prisoners were still behind bars, and Voldemort had no wand.

Again, he waited. He was able to establish just who were in the neighbouring cells, and there was Peter Pettigrew. A rat could slip between bars, but when he asked, Pettigrew said that there was an anti-animagus spell on his cell.

Shacklebolt resisted when Voldemort demanded that Pettigrew be moved to share his cell, and Voldemort had to use all of his will to force him to comply. Once in the cell, Pettigrew dropped to his knees in front of Bellatrix/Voldemort, and said humbly, "Please, Master. Ask what you will."

"Can you transform?"

Pettigrew hesitated, and then shrank into his rat form.

"Good," said Voldemort. "I am pleased."

He was concerned that Shacklebolt would break free at any moment, and he'd lose those gains he had made. So he gave the rat his orders, and watched as he slipped between the bars and was quickly out of sight in the gloom.

He waited two days before he instructed Shacklebolt to hand over his wand and open the cell doors. But as he had feared, Shacklebolt instead, took a step back, and then bolted, abandoning his duty. Some of the prisoners would miss a meal, but most would not even notice, lost in the sheer misery that was Azkaban.

xxx

Lucius Malfoy was stunned to see the ragged, dirty, cringing figure in front of him. They were in a public place, and he glanced around, hoping he was unobserved. "I bring instructions from our lord," Pettigrew repeated.

Lucius abandoned his plans for the day, and said, "I will apparate you to a private place before you say any more," and added, "Surely you could have washed!"

"He said not to stop for anything."

"Very well," and unwillingly, Lucius took the dirty hand and apparated him to Malfoy Manor, not into one of the reception rooms, but into a bare room deep under the living area.

"And now," he said. "Tell me."

Pettigrew started, reciting as he'd memorised. "There is a certain book I left in your possession. It will help me return to a body. You are to arrange that a child finds it, one old enough to read and write, preferably one at Hogwarts. If you cannot find another child, you are to use your son. You are to do this immediately. Once this is achieved, Pettigrew is to return to me, here, and report."

"And where, exactly, is our lord now?"

"He is a spirit, who now inhabits the body of Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Bella's in Azkaban."

"Yes."

"Does he expect to escape from there?"

"He is our lord. He will escape, and all of our colleagues will be also released."

"But he hasn't managed it yet," Lucius said thoughtfully.

"He gets stronger every day," Pettigrew said.

"And this book will enable him to regain a body and then he will be stronger still."

"Yes sir, that is so."

Lucius stunned Pettigrew, levitated him to a cell next door, and then inflicted a different stun spell, one that would not wear off in a mere half hour. He sent a scourgify at him then, disliking the thought that anything so dirty could be in his home, even if it was the dungeons. It was a long time since they'd been used, though there was a skeleton in the last cell, one that dated from his great grandfather's time as a young man.

After scrubbing himself in a hot shower, vanishing the clothing he'd been wearing - it had come into contact with a filthy rat - he consulted with Narcissa.

It was a short discussion, and he did as she said. The new one rising, Harry Potter, had a power that exceeded that of Voldemort. Lucius returned to the dungeons, killed Pettigrew and vanished the body. That enchanted book - it had belonged to the Dark Lord. It would not be easily destroyed. He took Narcissa's suggestion, to send it anonymously to the Ministry, Department of Mysteries, with a warning that it contained some very dark magic and should be destroyed.

It took a week as certain individuals wanted to study it instead, but when Carl Perlkins checked it, he did not hesitate. He tossed it through the archway into the Veil of Death. In Azkaban, Voldemort screamed in agony and Bellatrix screamed with him, and then died. Again, Voldemort was a disembodied spirit.

xxx