Lord Voldemort ran his fingertips across Hydrus' scar. They came away dark red with blood. "The Aurors… those filthy Ministry urchins... they'll swarm Hogsmeade and close it down in the next half hour, perhaps. You must get going, my water snake. Go back to Hogwarts; you know what must be done."
"Yes, my Lord."
He wiped away what remained of the blood on his forehead, and took one last look at the living room.
They had quenched the fire, the room now filled with darkness. The blinds were drawn, and no one made a sound, as if they weren't protected by the Fidelius Charm. Despite all of that, Lord Voldemort seemed to glow silver.
The professor had stayed silent through it all, staring out the window, a hand on his wand.
Lord Voldemort turned to him. "Quirinus."
He nodded, and opened the door. With the swish of his wand and in a deep, hoarse voice said, "Morsmordre."
There was a clap of thunder, and something appeared in the sky.
Hydrus watched it with disbelieving eyes.
Lord Voldemort leaned in close to his ear. "Go now, quickly, my water snake. Quirinus has distracted the Aurors, but not for long."
His long, thin fingers pulled the Cloak over Hydrus and they gave him a light push to the door.
The night was cool, but the world around him glowed... green.
Voices rose in the distance, and Aurors, with their newly turned moss-brown robes were rushing off in the opposite direction. They yelled words back and forth, lost in the commotion.
He felt his heart beat erratically, a sort of adrenalin, a sort of life bursting through his veins. For the first time, in a very long time, Hydrus Malfoy felt truly alive.
The cobbled streets of Hogsmeade glowed green-and-grey, the colour ever-changing and swirling. Some part of him, growing with every second, wanted to look to the sky and see the great monstrous thing the professor had conjured.
But Aurors were rushing past, their robes swishing by his face.
One came so close if he had moved his arm an inch further, he would have brushed it against Hydrus' Cloak.
His legs were shaking as they ran, his feet pounding onto the road, passing by shops.
The last of the Aurors had joined their compatriots, staring high into the sky.
Hydrus found Honeydukes, and felt the handle with his hand. Locked.
He supposed he ought to know.
The windows were panes of glass, and behind, the inside was dark. The shopkeeper was nowhere in sight.
Hydrus looked at the window. There was no way to enter Hogwarts but from here.
Not for the first time, he cursed himself.
His wand was in the inside pocket of his robe, but knowing him, whatever spell he used would backfire.
There really was one thing to do.
Hydrus ripped off the Cloak, mashed it between his teeth, lit his hands and threw all of his weight into the glass.
It shattered like brittle candy, a loud crash that broke the sudden stillness. Hydrus tumbled through, knocking all sorts of sweets with him to the floor. They skittered across the ceramic tiles, a cacophony of stringent sounds.
There were shouts, as witches and wizards poked their heads through their shop's door. Some were calling for the Aurors, other brave souls approaching the wreckage of broken glass. His flames had caught on one of the wooden shelves.
It crackled merrily, and for a moment, lit him with a golden splendor.
He shook his hands free of the flames and tossed the Cloak over himself.
The rest was easy.
Whoever was the shopkeeper of Honeydukes didn't dare move from his hiding spot. Hydrus crept right past his quivering form, and into the cellar.
Within fifteen minutes, he was back in Hogwarts.
In another five, he was rounding the corner to the Slytherin common room.
The words were running through his mind, excuses, reasons, but most of all, a sort of horrification.
It was all so clear to him now - why the professor had done all of it.
The plan was so very cunning, so very well thought through…
_(O.O)_
Albus Dumbledore looked at him, his light blue eyes peering through half-moon spectacles. Hydrus looked at him and knew, without a moment of doubt, that the Headmaster knew.
He knew why Hydrus had disappeared mysteriously to "grieve over Hermione" as the Dark Mark was cast into the sky. He knew, he knew, he knew.
And he would try and stop Hydrus.
Yet his gaze was calm and respectful as he folded his arms and began to speak. "Why have you called an emergency Wizengamot session, Lord Black?"
Hydrus Malfoy stood tall and lifted his chin.
He wore a heavy cape of shimmering black-and-purple velvet that hung from his shoulders, attached to his robes by matching crows. Their talons were sharp and pointy, closing in on an invisible prey. Between them were links of silver and bronze, connecting the twins.
They clattered against each other with every move Hydrus made.
Capes hadn't been worn in formal wizarding for a very long time - not since the time where underage wizards could act as their own regents. Some would catch on with the hint.
By regulation, only the Chief Warlock or a Lord of an Ancient and Noble House could call an emergency Wizengamot session. The circlet on his forehead marked him as Lord Black.
Hydrus took a deep breath and spared not a single glance at the people in the room. "The untimely death of my grandmother has left many many loose ends - many questions left unanswered. With the recent affairs… you must understand if I am reluctant to leave the governance of my family to someone else."
"My Lord," the Chief Warlock said, "if I do grasp what you intend to say, allow me to remind you that you are but a boy -"
"Times are changing," Hydrus told him. "Just a few days past, the Dark Mark was seen in the sky. Only a decade past, the Dark Lord ravaged the Wizarding World. There are whispers - people - who suspect that He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named is rising in power -"
"Rumours!" Cornelius Fudge exploded. His lime green bowler hat tottered dangerously on his head. "They were upjumped fanatics, nothing more! The Aurors did an investigation - tell him Madame Bones - tell him about what they found -"
Amelia Bones clasped her fingers together.
Her niece had died at Hydrus' hands.
Yet looking at her, one never would have known.
Her plum coloured robes, emblazoned with the silver W of the Wizengamot, were neat and proper, her greying hair twisted into a bun, a monocle over her right eye. When she spoke, it was in a calm, indifferent voice. "The results of the investigation are still pending. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is not available to make an official statement at such time."
Cornelius Fudge sat back, with a terrible, horribly feigned, calm look to his face. Hydrus studied him carefully. There was a certain worried, fretful look to his eyes, as if his entire career would come collapsing before his very feet.
Hydrus looked to the wizards and witches who sat with their backs ram-rod straight on the velvet throne-like chairs.
They wore the plum coloured robes of the Wizengamot, and stared at him with a combination of pity and muffled amusement.
That's alright, Hydrus told himself. I only need one more than half.
His gaze traveled to the left of the group.
There was his father, Lucius. Beside him was Perseus Parkinson, and onwards were more pureblood fanatics. Some even had the Dark Mark emblazoned onto their skin. They would have felt Lord Voldemort's resurrection, would have known the true reason why Hydrus was here in front of the Wizengamot.
He would have their vote.
His gaze went past the gaggle of dark families, and to Cyrus. His blonde hair was gelled carefully, but they did nothing to make up for his shaky blue eyes. He knew, as well as Hydrus did, that whatever may avail, he would be voting in favour of his words.
That made perhaps a third. Two fifths, if one was being generous.
If he could sway the Minister…
"What motivates him?" The professor's voice filled his head. "Why does he live? How can you use that against him? Or rather, how can you make him spin like a finger puppet?"
Hydrus straightened himself. He could feel the words bubbling at the tip of the tongue, layering themselves with flattery and innocence. When he spoke, it was to Cornelius Fudge, and him only. "You must understand my consternation, Minister. As the Boy-Who-Lived, and Lord of an equally powerful family, I do not intend to wade through this as a minor. It is my status as a prominent… social figure that brings concerns. Perhaps, if we were to reach an agreement… I understand that you're an incredibly competent man..."
Cornelius Fudge straightened once more.
He was a fool.
But even fools could smell opportunity.
After that, it was easy.
Half an hour later, the members of the Wizengamot were dismissed.
The witches and wizards stood, some nodding to Hydrus, others greeting him formally, with the shake of his hand, and a polite "Lord Black".
They looked at him with a new sort of respect.
But when Lucius passed, he said no words and gave no nod.
There was a strange look in his pale grey eyes, an odd combination of anger… and fear.
_(O.O)_
"A most elegant place," Lord Voldemort commended.
The gate was black-and-bronze, guarded by dark crows. They were perched on the spires of the gate, their beaks pointing straight ahead, a look of calm indifference upon their faces.
Thousands years ago, they had been carved to stand vigil over the final hiding place of the last exiled Black King.
Today, it seemed, with the fine monarchy now dead, they would, regardless, do their solemn duty.
"Thank you, my Lord," Hydrus said. He tapped his wand to the centre of the gate, and the crows opened their beaks in unison. A deep voice came through their mouths.
"Lord Black," they rumbled. "An honour to serve."
In silence, they made their way into the main courtyard.
There were fifteen house-elves in this Black estate, and it seemed they kept the manor in good care.
The last Black to live in this castle had been Phineas Nigellus, before he had accepted a teaching job at Hogwarts. Since then, they'd lived in twelfth Grimmauld Place, a smaller, but just as grand house.
The trees glowed silver in the moonlight, trimmed with delicate hands. When the wind blew, the leaves rustled and blew onto the cobbled floor.
Black lanterns glowed with yellow light, and a quiet, soft, guzzling grew louder as they approached. Water spouted from the mouth of a scaled fish, tumbling down stone and into a basin. A large crow hulked over the poor animal, a giant looming mass with its wings spread out, beak raised to the night sky in a wordless battle cry. Where his claws punctured thick scales, rivulets of water flowed into the hollow below.
The blood of our enemies, Hydrus thought, looking at the fish.
"Your ancestors," Lord Voldemort said, "they were kings, were they not?"
Hydrus looked back, to where the professor was, walking half a dozen paces behind. Floating in his wake, levitated in a wooden box and subdued by three successive stunning spells, Norberta lay slumbering.
"Yes, my Lord," he said.
They climbed the stairs in silence, what must have been a hundred of them, before they came to the door.
It was a pitifully small thing compared to the rest of the castle, dwarfed by the towers and keeps.
Hydrus tapped his wand onto the door knob.
Lord Voldemort's expression was smooth and impassive as he stepped through, his eyes flowing from the glass chandeliers, to the soft, velvet carpets.
Age could not defy the craftsmanship of magic, it seemed.
The professor and him followed Lord Voldemort's steps in a quiet silence, as he opened doors and inspected tables, and finally, came to a stop on the other side of the Great Hall.
It was at the end of a table, a table so long it might have been able to seat all of Hogwarts and more. The chairs were soft and all matched, but for the one at the very end.
That seat was grand. Black-and-purple, seeming to absorb all the light that came near.
"This is where a king might have sat," Lord Voldemort said at last.
Hydrus did not know what to say. His fingers reached for the circlet at his forehead. The purple crow scratched its beak against his palm.
Blood welled in the cut.
"Where is your house-elf?" Lord Voldemort looked up. His long, thin fingers ran across the edge of the candles. "I want the table gone. Especially the chair."
"It shall be done as you require, my Lord."
"Now, Hydrus Malfoy."
He called for them.
It was done, by a team of dutiful house-elves who bowed as they disappeared.
Lord Voldemort glanced across the empty room. Without the table and chairs, there was nothing to be seen, but a vast emptiness that seemed to go on for miles. "Excellent," he said. Lord Voldemort turned his red eyes to Hydrus. "Have you opened the wards?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Excellent. Your arm, Quirinus."
The professor rolled up his left sleeve wordlessly.
"And so now we shall see… which daring souls shall brave my wrath… and which are fools to stay away."
Lord Voldemort pressed the wand against the professor's left wrist.
His face twisted with pain, and his fingers jerked wildly, but still he stood, until his master let go of him.
And then, one by one, black wisps appeared in the room.
Crack, crack, crack, it went, as a new ribbon of dark smoke assembled, drowning the light of the candles.
They approached Lord Voldemort, mumbling, "Master… master…", kissing the hems of his robes, before forming an odd circle. There were gaps between them, as if more people were meant to show up.
They wore masks of silver and gold that caught the candlelight, shining bright and delicate. And yet, when he saw the terrible carvings on them, Hydrus repressed sour bile.
They were faces, solemn yet vengeful, apathetic yet filled with fury. There were slits for eyes, and a gridded hollow for a mouth. Jagged lines ran across them all, their shadows accentuated from the candles.
Hydrus raised his chin and forced down his terror. He counted a dozen, perhaps more, blanketed shapes, faces turned to the ground, and a smell of culpability to them.
My father is one of them.
Which one was him?
It was impossible to tell.
"And so here we are, reunited at last. The family of Death Eaters, the family who swore unending, unterminating, forever loyalty." Lord Voldemort stared at each figure in turn. His face was pale and thin, his cheekbones like stiff knives that jutted outwards. The red in his eyes seemed like liquid fire, swirling with furious anger. "Ten years you have had… ten years to find me… to search for the Dark Lord. All of you are cowards."
Hydrus shivered.
You are Lord Black, not some filthy muggle. Raise your chin high.
"My - my Lord," someone stuttered. His voice was hoarse. "We - we couldn't be sure -"
"SILENCE!" he roared. Lord Voldemort pointed his wand at the trembling figure. "Ten years you have had, Avery, to search for your rightful master. You were sworn to me, were you not? Loyalty, unquestioning, unending, loyalty until your death. Perhaps you truly never were loyal. Perhaps you deserve to die."
"Please my - my Lord… anything… anything… I - I shall do -"
It only seemed to make Lord Voldemort more angry. "CRUCIO!"
He twitched and writhed on the floor, his arms and legs flailing wildly as if an invisible hand were pulling them in all directions. A scream erupted from his throat, wracked with pain, wracked with suffering, a wordless cry to be killed, to have his agony forever terminated.
Hydrus did not move.
His eyes were fixed on Avery, watching as his head jerked back, as if trying to sever it from his neck. They watched as his limbs were slammed to the floor, watched as a horrible cracking sound was heard. Something protruded from his right ankle; shiny and white.
Blood leaked all over the floor, seeping into the carpet, pooling all the way to his head. With every tremulous thud of his leg, more seeped through.
He'll have to stop, Hydrus thought desperately. Before Avery kills himself.
Lord Voldemort lowered his wand.
Avery whimpered, his limbs drooping to the ground, lifeless and dead. An inch of bone, jagged and sharp, stuck out from his ankle.
Paying him no attention, Lord Voldemort began to circle his followers, leaving Hydrus and the professor to stand in the middle, one clutching his arm with poorly concealed pain, the other pretending he was a mighty Lord.
"Lucius, my slippery friend," he said, stopping before the nearest figure cloaked in black. Hydrus stiffled a gasp. "Fifteen years ago, you swore me your life. Where were you ten years ago? On that fateful night of nineteen eighty-one? I did not die, Lucius. I cannot die. Instead, it was pain… pain like never before. Having your soul ripped from your body is agony. But perhaps the worst part was knowing that no one even tried to search for me. We are family, Lucius. We are kin."
"My Lord," he whispered. "I searched for you… any sign, and I would have arrived, as today… my Lord…"
"And so you came," Lord Voldemort agreed. His finger reached for Lucius' chin. "Quirinus has told all about you. A respectable pureblood, a high-standing member of society. You have not renounced the old ways, have you?"
"No my Lord. Never, my Lord."
"And I can see as much. Your son, Lucius, a wonder of nature. A natural prodigy. When the time comes, I shall delight to have him enter my services."
It was impossible to gage his reaction behind the mask. "My - my Lord?"
For the first time, it seemed he saw Hydrus, standing in the middle of the circle, the purple crow on his forehead cawing majestically.
"Your son," Lord Voldemort said. He turned to face the centre of the circle. "Approach, my water snake and forgive your father for all that he has done."
Hydrus raised his chin for the hundredth time and walked towards Lucius.
The cloak brushed against the carpet as he walked, sweeping through Avery's pool of blood. He could feel the extra weight, the dark red staining the black-and-purple velvet, dulling the bright sheen.
It was the same outfit he wore at the Wizengamot. The silver and bronze chains tinkled against each other, a soft, high-pitched sound that rang over and over.
Hydrus stopped before Lucius.
Somehow, the words came to his mind, forming in his mouth.
"Lucius Malfoy," he said. His voice was strong and powerful. That was good. "There is much to be done in the world. Muggles… muggles and -" he faltered "- mudbloods… abominations still walk the earth. Until they are all gone, until there is no more filth to stain our eyes, can we rest. Rise, Lucius Malfoy, for our master needs you more than ever."
He rose shakily, his legs trembling underneath him. "Thank you… my son."
Hydrus raised his chin high.
"Your future is strong, Lucius," Lord Voldemort said. "Who knows? Perhaps in a year or two, your son may become the youngest member of the inner circle."
"You honour our family beyond words, my Lord."
"And so I shall continue to, should you serve me well. You have not lost faith, Lucius Malfoy, and for that, I will forgive you."
"Thank you my Lord," he whispered, relief staining every word. "Thank you, thank you…"
Lord Voldemort ran his thin, long fingers through Hydrus' hair. "Go back to the centre, my water snake."
"Yes, my Lord."
He continued his way around the circle, passing by some of the Death Eaters, speaking to others. "Macnair," Lord Voldemort said. "Destroying beasts for the Ministry, are you? Under my service, you shall have better, more worthy victims. The Dark Lord always provides."
"Thank you… thank you my Lord."
He continued on. "And here. Crabbe, Goyle. Are you prepared to serve?"
"Yes, my Lord," they whispered, raising their heads hesitantly. "Yes… of course…"
"And that goes to you too, Nott."
The robed figure lifted his head and kissed the hem of his master's robes. "Of - of course my Lord. I prostrate myself before you -"
Lord Voldemort looked at him with a sneer on his lips. He moved on, walking past each of the Death Eaters, watching as some squirmed away in fear, stopping to allow those who dared to kiss the hems of his robes.
Until finally, he stopped before the professor. His eyes grew to a bright red, almost appraising as they studied him. "You were an unlikely ally, Quirinus. A fanatic, and a fool, but loyal nonetheless. When I chanced upon your encounter, deep in the forests of Albania… I never would have thought the sheer amount of opportunities it brought. You brought me to life, you brought me my body, and you brought me the greatest treasure of all."
The professor was kneeled on the carpet, his arm marred by the black skull-and-snake, but his pale face devoid of any silver-and-gold mask. "It was all for you, my Lord."
"It was," he agreed, his voice light. "I thought you a true fool when you believed the illustrious Harry Potter might one day enter my services… of course, I see now how I might have been the fool. All those years ago, on the fateful night of nineteen eighty-one, Harry Potter ripped my soul from my corpse… for he was too powerful for this world. I should have known. Of course… I was blinded… by madness, by anger… even a man as great as I must be excused for my occasional flaw…" Lord Voldemort looked to Hydrus. "But his power was honed by you, Quirinus, and for that you must be given credit. To sense such talent, such skill… show them, my water snake. Show my inner circle all that you can do."
His hands caught fire.
They were red and orange, no longer the splendid light blue at the base, dancing across the tips of his fingers, twisting over his palm. Hydrus frowned. How could that be?
Murmurs rose. Voices of agreement, voices of obedience, voices of ascent, praising his magical prowess.
Hydrus shook his hands free of the light.
Lord Voldemort continued walking around the circle. "There are eight empty spots tonight," he said quietly. "The Lestranges should be here. Instead, they are chained in Azkaban. Bellatrix, Rabastian and Rodulphous. Truly, and forever loyal. Beside you, Avery, should be the Carrows. Alecto and Amycus, spirited wonders, and have proven to be one of the most devoted Death Eaters to my cause. And yet there is more: Jugson, Crouch… loyal followers, loyal to the bone. When the time comes, they shall be rewarded beyond their greatest dreams…"
He stopped beside Lucius, and stared at the emptiness. "There should be one of them. A defector, a traitor. He shall be killed of course, along with the other. A spy, he told he was. A loyal Death Eater until his death. Where is he now?
Lord Voldemort turned his head to Hydrus. "Lying beside the wretched muggle-lover, Albus Dumebledore, I do not doubt. His life, I shall give him the honour of ending… The other… alas… when the time comes, my water snake, it shall be you who will do the deed."
The blood had almost dried on his forehead.
I have already taken five. What is another more?
Lord Black raised his chin. "I shall be honoured, my Lord."
_(O.O)_
The house-elves had fixed Avery's leg with a snap of their fingers, and a scream on his part. His face pale white, he had nevertheless kneeled before his rightful master and kissed his robes so many times his lips might have turned black.
The plan had been polished, the refreshments served when Severus Snape came, apparating into the Main Hall, ribbons of black smoke trailing after him.
Lord Black watched him on a seat of fine velvet, his bloody purple-and-black cloak falling from his chair, shimmering like the pelt of a long-dead dragon. A look of polite wonder made his chin raise. The Death Eaters circled the table, with their master seated at the very front, glasses of rose gold champagne in their hands, a wooden surface cluttered with scrolls and quills and pots of ink before them.
Severus Snape hurried across the floor, and shoved his greasy nose into the hem of Lord Voldemort's robe. "Master…" he whispered. "Master… master…"
"Severus," he hissed. His red eyes were a swirl of fire, glaring down at him. "I missed you at the summoning."
The black snake-and-skull on his arm could be seen for the briefest of moments, but there was no silver-golden mask on his face. "I would have come, my Lord… the Headmaster… he was watching… I could not come…"
Lord Voldemort stared at him from atop his throne. "The fear comes off of you in droves, Severus. It smells of dread and cold sweat. Why are you scared, Severus? Why do you fear?"
He raised his head slowly. "My Lord… I am loyal… I have always been loyal…"
Lord Voldemort tilted his chin and looked into Severus Snape's dark eyes. Thoughts passed between them, questions and answers, a thorough probing of his servant's inner mind, stripping of all his secrets, raping his consciousness until there was nothing but the truth left in his pupils.
"You're weak, Severus," Lord Voldemort said quietly. "The filthy mudblood you asked me to spare? Her son sits at my right hand side. Time has only made you more sympathetic to the cause of the light."
Severus Snape looked up wildly, his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets when he saw Lord Black. "Master…" he mumbled, a look of horror writ upon his face. "Never… never… I have collected research… notes on the Headmaster - Albus Dumbledore - extensive things you should know… master…"
Lord Voldemort waved his hand and turned to the ensemble of his kin. "Death Eaters. Know that you are all on the path to redemption. Leave me now, with my guest. Return to your families, and remember all that we have discussed."
They rose, one by one, bowing before their Lord, kissing the hems of his robes, before leaving the room.
Lord Black stood from his seat.
"Stay, Quirinus, my water snake," his master said.
He sat back down.
Lord Voldemort turned his attention back to Severus Snape. "Take a seat, Severus. Tell me of all of what you know. Should you try to lie, a worse fate shall be dealt to you."
His face was oddly calm as he spoke, his voice the same hoarse growl that would often lecture misbehaving students. "He suspects of your return, master. He has been increasing security around Hogwarts, checking the secret passages… my Lord… the Ministry will never believe it -"
"Lucius has told me of as much," Lord Voldemort said icily.
"Of - of course, master. He… he has reinstated the Order."
The news brought no amount of surprise to Lord Voldemort's face. "Is that all you're good for? Common knowledge? I had hoped for better. Crucio!"
Severus Snape jerked in his chair, his head lolling backwards, his limbs flexing and twitching. Lord Black watched with a morbid fascination as the Potions Master fell to the floor in a twitching heap.
"Whose servant are you?" Lord Voldemort snarled. He lashed his wand, and Severus Snape let out a shriek. His dark, oily hair was sent into a swirl as his mouth opened and closed, trying desperately to answer the question. "Tell me, Severus. TELL ME!"
"Your - yours my Lord," he cried. "I am yours. I have always been yours -"
His head twitched backwards as Lord Voldemort ended the curse. "Stand up, Severus," he said quietly.
He did, his arms and legs trembling violently. It was barely a second, before his master pointed his wand at his eyes and yelled, "CRUCIO! LEGILIMENS!"
Lord Black watched as they stared at each other, one with his limbs spasming terribly, the other with a horrific smirk on his face.
There was a jagged red line on Severus Snape's cheek, and with every gasp-like breath he took, more blood pooled out, running in rivulets down his chin, staining his dark robes. A moan escaped from his lips and his legs would turn to pudding.
Yet somehow, twitching on the floor, their eyes never lost contact, as if they were lovers, meeting after a long journey apart.
How long it was, Lord Black could not gage. He sat so still, that his back began to ache. He sat so still that even the mighty chick atop his circlet cawed with impatience, digging its invisible claws into his forehead.
Finally, Lord Voldemort twitched his wand, and Severus Snape collapsed, his head thudding on the carpet. "Go, Severus. Return to Hogwarts."
His arms were shaking as he kissed the hems of his master's robes. "Thank you, my Lord… thank you…"
When he disapparated, a lock of black hair was left behind.
Lord Voldemort stared at the place where his servant once lay. "Do you know why I pardoned all of them, Hydrus?"
"If you hadn't pardoned them, you would have no Death Eaters," he said. His voice was calm and steady, that of a noble born Lord. "Without Death Eaters, you can't destroy the muggles."
"Precisely," Lord Voldemort said. "One wizard can only do so much. A true ruler knows when to punish, and he knows just as well when to forgive. I tortured Avery, but only him. Do you know why, Hydrus?"
"No, my Lord."
"He is weak, my water snake. Of all the Death Eaters of my inner circle, he is the weakest, the most vulnerable, and all of them know it. Thus, he can be punished without fear of retribution."
A true ruler, he thought, looking at his virulent eyes. A violent, cruel and calculating ruler, but a true one nonetheless.
A/N:
This has been a slow chapter... definitely different from the last couple of ones that I've written. I like to think of each 'Part' of this fanfic as a separate story arc, with their own themes and moods and - you get the point. So now that we're back at square one, the tension is gonna have to rebuild and yeah.
You might have noticed that Lord Voldemort is a significantly saner and more reasonable person(?) in this. I kind of imagine him not just as a murdering psychopath, but as an actual human character with some sort of moral compass (if a bit vague). He hates muggles and mudbloods, but understands that if he kills everyone off, he'll have no one to fight for him.
Special thanks to WingsFlockFromAbove and (my regular reviewer) KingZeRopL, for taking the time to write a review for my story!
To WingsFlockFromAbove - thanks you so much for your kind words! I will say, I actually wanted to split up Chapter 22 into two chapters because of how much longer it was than the rest... but I'm definitely super happy you enjoyed my ending!
And to KingZeRopL - haha Quirrell... isn't evil exactly... he's... I should probably stop before I spoil something. Yeah, I read the last bit of Goblet of Fire, and Lord Voldemort's resurrection takes an entire chapter while mine... about two pages? The chapter was getting very long, though, so I didn't want to drag out the ending too much. Part of it is, however, covered in this chapter, near the end. Now as for what Lord Voldemort did to Harry, it's not supposed to be important, it's just like his way of acknowledging that "we're on the same side". I like to think in the books, a reason why Harry's scar hurt so much was because he was actively fighting against Lord Voldemort's intrusion, and Lord Voldemort was actively fighting against Harry's mind. That kiss is 'cause Voldie doesn't do things halfway.
Now... for the last bit of your question... I will say... I've never read Lord of the Rings... I've been told many, many, many people to read it... I just haven't had the time recently to do so. Maybe come the summer I'll do it. As for writing a HP and GoT crossover fanfic, I actually really like the idea... I just have no idea where to start. Game of Thrones is complicated - my mind is not. If one day I could ever think of a plot that would be logical and reasonable, then yeah sure, why not. I could, I dunno, make Voldemort the Night King, have Harry Potter be Azor Ahai and have Mel be... confused. What the hell, if only for the laughs.
Well wow this has been a really difficult chapter to write - and I have no idea why that is. Regardless, I'll hope to see you gues next week!
Cheers