Chapter 15
The Trillenium Stadium was about the only place in England the showdown could take place. The site of the 422nd Quidditch World Cup was immense, easily able to house over 100,000 spectators. Today it would be the site of the confrontation between Voldemort and his new nemesis.
The Dark Lord was not a fool. He had shown up over two hours early to lay his ambush, only to find his opponents sitting on a couch midfield reading a book. They didn't seem to notice he was there, though how they could not have he couldn't fathom as portkeying giants made a LOT of noise. Moving swiftly, he began to cast. Killing curses sped across the intervening space, only to disappear a few meters shy of their targets. More and more spells were cast as his Death Eaters joined in the fray. Blasting hexes, cutting curses, piercing hexes, and killing curses lit the morning, yet none of them landed. The giants strode forward as the spells died off, swinging trees as clubs, only to have them explode on impact with a golden dome around the couple.
This seemed to finally grab their attention.
"Do you mind, we're at the good part. Your appointment isn't until 9am and it's barely half past six," the man stated. "Would you please keep it down?"
Silence.
The pair sitting on the couch seemed to take this as agreement, and went back to reading.
Riddle seethed. They dare defy him? Him? He raged and fired spell after spell at the dome, each disappearing just as the last one had. Giants pounded it with their fists, werewolves attacked it in prodigious leaps. And all for naught.
"Well, if you're going to misbehave, be quiet about it," the man in the dome spoke briefly before a wave of power crashed over everyone in the arena. Voldemort screamed at his minions, but no sound came out. All around him, silence, yet he could see his people moving, shouting, trying to talk, and failing. The little shit had silenced the entire arena.
Eventually, everyone got comfy and waited. It was infuriating, but there was nothing else they could do. Every curse they had tried failed, and the ones they cast around the ward just hurt those outside of it, leaving the pair inside unaffected. The anger in Voldemort stewed and boiled, building over the next two and a half hours until the pair finally finished their book, set it on the couch, and rose.
As the couple exited their dome, he could finally see them up close for the first time. Blue scaled armor with black metal coverings, white cloaks and a sword by each hip. They were tall, both about six feet, and while he knew one was male and the other female, the armor kept him from determining which was which. The calm assurance they projected as they left their sanctuary was disconcerting, yet the simple act seemed to cause the air to build with tension.
A giant stood, his swift steps causing the ground to shake as it approached the pair. It raised its club, intending to smash the small figures who had eluded his kin, then it stopped. The giant strained, grunting in effort, yet he seemed unable to move his club. Finally giving up on the weapon, it moved to stomp on the pair.
Voldemort dove behind another giant next to him as the offending aggressor exploded in a fountain of blood, bone, and gore. Where once the leader of the giants stood, a fifty foot circle of guts remained. Everyone took a step back at the sight, everyone save the pair calmly walking across the pitch.
The one on the left stopped, pulled a verdant brown staff from thin air and began to chant in a feminine voice. They couldn't make out the words, yet everyone present could feel the power surging around her. Suddenly, a cacophony of pops sounded and in each seat a witch or wizard appeared. Men, women, children. The arena seemed to grow as centaurs and goblins began to appear. The far end of the stadium transfigured itself into a giant tank and merfolk could be seen swimming within. House-elves appeared in little floating hot air balloons, flying above the action. The heads of dragons rose above the stands, peering down in rapt attention as a trio of phoenixes joined the hundreds of hippogriffs and gryphons on the edge of the highest tiers. Soon, every single magical being in Britain was present in the stadium, moved to the arena by the figure still chanting.
Hermione finished her little magic demonstration as Harry stopped about ten feet from Voldemort. Everyone between him and the Dark Lord backed out of the way as he approached.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Harry began, his voice reaching every magical being in the place. "You have transgressed against the natural order. You have defied the will of Fate, and you have tainted the magic of this world.
"From your first murder in nineteen forty-three, you have created a taint wherever you went. The horcrux you created, and the others you continued to make..."
Voldemort paled as Harry began to drop each of his horcruxes on the field between them. "They just increased the disease you spread into the magic of the world. For decades you have defiled the Lady Magic and abused the gift she gave you.
"Then, in nineteen eighty-one, you chose to kill an innocent child just because you heard a few lines from a crackpot. You chose to kill something completely innocent, out of fear and a sense of entitlement." Harry let the power within him release, a corona of power flared and drove over others away from him and his enemy. His cowl flew back, revealing himself to his foe and the assembled witnesses at the same time. "You chose to murder my mother, my father, and me because you feared death."
Harry paused, his eyes blazing with fury as his gaze froze Voldemort in place. "Well, you should."
The gleaming sword by his side appeared in his hand, but he did not strike. Everyone in that arena thought this was the moment, the time when Harry would strike down Voldemort. But instead, Harry raised the sword high above his head, holding it tall as a bolt of lightning struck in from the clear sky. The arc held, feeding Harry raw eldritch power. He then reversed his grip as the light died, drove the point of the sword into the ground and knelt before it.
"I call upon the Judgement of Zir. I call for Judgement upon Tom Marvolo Riddle, the self-styled Lord Voldemort, for abuse and perversion of Magic. By my blood," he gripped the bare blade with his hand, and crimson blood trickled down the metal. "I call upon Zirnitra, God of Justice and Protector of Magic to Judge him."
Every clock and watch struck 9:09 am, the point of perfect Equinox, and time seemed to stand still.
Light flared from the point where the sword met the earth. A golden starburst spread from the blade, runes and other symbols burst forth as well. Soon, a swirling circle of magic encompassed the entire arena, its glow encompassing every creature, every fiber of every being in its embrace. The ritual summoning circle flared with power and Harry fed it, feeling Hermione place her hands on his shoulders as she lent him power to feed the circle as well.
Every being stilled as they felt a presence join them. Power beyond anything they could comprehend, more intense than any demonstration the two armed figures could have made poured over them. The light flared, then coalesced into a luminous being. No, not one, two luminous beings. Immediately, every non-human showed deference and obeisance. The elves and goblins took a knee, heads falling in respect while the griffins, hippogriffs and dragons all bowed. The merfolk seemed to rotate, hovering parallel to the earth in a manor that spoke of reverence. The humans, however, were less than impressed.
"That's a fancy light show, but you are nothing more than a con artist, a trickster," Voldemort sneered, then staggered at the response from the beings.
"I am no trick, Tom Marvolo Riddle," Zir spoke with authority. "My wife and I are here to listen to the arguments, and to pass Judgement."
"You dare to pass judgement on me?" Voldemort was beyond caring at this point. "You dare? I am Lord Voldemort, destined to rule this pathetic world."
"We shall see." A pair of chairs appeared behind the light beings, who slowly reduced their size to a pair of simply dressed folk and sat upon the chairs. "My champion, you may begin."
"Thank you, my Lord," Harry bowed to the couple, before turning to those assembled. "In case you all are wondering, I present to you the Lord and Lady of Magic, Zirnitra and Hekate. They are to sit in observation, to weigh the beliefs and actions of those involved, and then pass Judgement.
"My Lord, by your direction, we have assembled all remaining pieces of Tom Riddle's soul so you may evaluate each piece." He gestured to the assembled trinkets. "Unfortunately, two of them are no longer available on this plane. The first horcrux he made was destroyed almost four years ago, while the second to last perished two and a half years ago."
"You what? How dare you!" Voldemort tried to move, and found himself rooted to the spot he had been in when Zir arrived.
"You shall have your time, for now it is Harry's," Zir chastised him.
"He cannot speak against me, he is DEAD!"
"So are you, technically. Your homunculus body is not the one you were born to, you are nothing more than a parasite," Harry returned. "And while I disappeared two and a half years ago, I never died. This is the body I was born to, the one you tried to murder, and it shall be the only body I inhabit."
"The Goblet of Fire consumed you!"
"No, it transported us to the Lord and Lady of Magic, who graciously offered to tutor me and my wife." He reached out and took Hermione's hand, squeezing it as he gave her a loving look. "They took us in, trained us, and returned us to excise the disease upon Magic that magical Britain has become."
"We shall get to that in time, begin your argument," Zir commanded, and Harry bowed.
"Yes my Lord. On the last day of nineteen twenty-six, Tom Riddle was born to Tom Riddle senior, a non-magical human, and Merope Gaunt, a witch of measurable but untrainable power. Merope used potions to ensnare Tom Sr. and Tom was the result. When Merope died in childbirth, he was left in the care of an orphanage. Eleven years later, Albus Dumbledore arrived to take him to Hogwarts, to educate him as a wizard. At that time, Dumbledore saw the evil growing within him, yet ignored it. Tom had become a thief and a bully, torturing other orphans and terrorizing everyone. As he learned magic, those traits never left him, and he only grew more cunning and stealthy in their execution.
"In his fifth year, he gained access to Slytherin's chamber of secrets and the basilisk within. Using his abilities, he began to terrorize the school with the creature, perverting her and twisting her instincts with dark magic. He used this being, and other dark knowledge he had acquired, to kill Myrtle Warren and create his first horcrux."
"The next year he found his legacy, his family, and the result was yet another horcrux," Hermione took over. "He found the Gaunts impoverished and his father a muggle. He killed his father and grand-parents, then framed his uncle. We believe he used his family's death to create the horcrux within this ring, the Gaunt family ring and an artifact from Death. We return it to you, so you may Judge it and if you desire, cleanse and return it to its rightful owner."
The ring floated over to Zir and he held it for a long time before he nodded. Light pooled in his cupped hand and a black ghost screamed as it was forced from it. A cage of light appeared around it, trapping it while the ring disappeared. At Zir's nod, Harry continued.
"After school, he stole several other items, ancient treasures, and with malice of forethought he began turning them into horcruxes as well. Each death, often the previous owner of the item so its history was lost, created more splits in his soul and further spread the malignancy of the corruption of Magic. The healing chalice of Hufflepuff was once owned by Hepzibah Smith. Her house-elf Hookey was framed by Tom Riddle for her murder. The diadem of Ravenclaw, the location of which he tricked the Grey Lady Helena Ravenclaw into revealing. We are unsure who he killed to create this horcrux, but their blood still stains a few of the gems. The locket of Salazar Slytherin, last known to be owned by Borgin and Burkes, a shady dark artifact shop in Knockturn Alley where Tom once worked. His mother had sold the locket when she was pregnant and alone in London, and Tom recognized the family heirloom. His familiar Nagini, a Maledictus whom he possessed to survive, and later used the death of Bertha Jorkins to create despite possessing a homunculus created in dark ritual at the time.
"But I'm getting ahead of myself. After he graduated and went on his spree of murder and theft, he left Britain for a time. Traveling the world, he pursued every dark ritual and path to power, and performed all he was able, regardless of how perverted it made him. He sacrificed his ability to have children to extend his life, and his human form in an attempt to increase his resilience. In the mid-sixties he returned, and after being denied the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts in sixty-five, began a fifteen years reign of terror."
"During that time," Hermione picked up. "Seventy-eight families went extinct, and twenty-six others were reduced to a fraction of their previous size, often less than half a dozen remaining members. Of those, seventy-two of the extinct families and nineteen of those almost killed off were victims of Tom Riddle and his followers. It was expected that he was less than a year away from outright victory when he was banished. Banished because he took the word of a traitor, he believed his choice for the subject of a prophecy was a mere baby and chose to kill him before he could become a bigger threat. He tried to murder a fifteen month old baby out of fear."
"That night, my mother saved the wizarding world and one of the greatest lies of our age began." Harry looked around at the watching magicals, then shook his head. "That night I was given the moniker of The-Boy-Who-Lived, and that is nothing more than an insult to my parents. My father crippled the Dark Lord. Yes he died, but before he was defeated he had inflicted enough damage that had he survived, Lord Voldemort would have been forever crippled. My mother… My mother was a genius, and created in that time my father gave her a sacrificial ward of unprecedented ability. It was that ward, powered by her sacrifice, that defeated the Dark Lord, not me. What do you think I did, hit him with a bad pair of nappies?
"That night he should have died, actually he should have died long before that but the people of Magical Britain are sheep. Look at you, there are almost a hundred thousand of you, and Voldemort's entire army numbers less than a thousand if you include his giants, werewolves and mercenaries. Actual British witches and wizards? Less than two hundred. And he almost toppled your government.
"No, I'll take that back. He did topple it, you are just too stupid to realize it. Five months ago we presented a mountain of evidence of bribery, extortion, illegal dark artifacts and malfeasance, yet every one of those who were guilty of crimes are still free. We proved Albus Dumbledore deliberately sent me to be abused by my muggle relatives, that he knew I was beaten and starved, and still sent me back there. Yet he still presides over the Wizengamot. And everyone accepts it. The upheaval resulted in the Minister, and his undersecretary, dying. And the new regime is led by none other than the man they still claim has not returned."
Harry waved at the snake-faced man before him. "Well, here he is."
"Tom Riddle, do you have anything you wish to add to this narrative?" Zir asked evenly, his voice calm and collected.
"Do not call me by that name, I am Lord Voldemort, and every one of you should be on your knees before me. You!" he pointed at Zir and Hekate. "You are relics of a bygone age, a myth. You have no power over me, I am beyond your purview and deny your right to judge me. You are insignificant, powerless before the might of-"
"Enough!" Hekate stood, her eyes lit with rage as Voldemort continued to spew vitriol at her despite no sound coming from him. "I have tolerated you long enough. For too long have you abused and corrupted my gift. I am sorry husband, you may be the judge but it is my gift he is abusing. Today, I correct that. I recall my gift, Tom Marvolo Riddle, and strip you of your magic."
Thunder crashed as Hekate made her decree. Every being in the arena cringed at the coldness of Hekate's tone, and then many had to hold their bile in as her edict took effect. Tom Riddle stood, his motion suddenly frozen as each of the objects he had made into horcruxes seemed to explode with light. From each, a dark ghostly image was ejected, hesitating only moments before dissipating like dust in the wind. Finally, the snake Nagini seemed to scream as Tom's essence was exorcised, then all that was left was him.
Unfortunately for Voldemort, the body he inhabited was not natural but a magical construct. He felt the power leave him, power he had spent decades accumulating. It departed and with it the very thing that was holding his body together. Slowly, ever so slowly, that magic unraveled. As it left him, so did his body, turning to ash as it slowly disintegrated and the wind scattered it. Soon, all that remained of Tom Riddle was the black ghost of his spirit.
"So ends Lord Voldemort," Harry said solemnly. Then looked at his followers. "And so ends the Death Eaters."
Confusion seemed to linger for a second before the first of his followers grabbed their arm in panic. Pain erupted from throats as the effects of Voldemort's demise spread. Some tried to run, others to disapparate and flee, but none were able to. One by one, the pain took them, drawing their magic to Voldemort's spirit as it tried to remain, using his followers as anchors. Soon, the only ones standing on the field were Harry, Hermione, and the black ghost of Voldemort.
"Tom Riddle," Harry spoke evenly. "Your life has been found forfeit by Lady Magic herself But you shall not pass on, for your very spirit is still tainted by the evil you propagated. Your very being is a disease to Magic, and you shall never touch her again. There are few laws that are universal, that is to say exist in every culture. You, however, have found one. The creation of a horcrux, or more accurately, the splitting of your soul.
"This," he hefted his sword, and the glinting teel shone bright. "Is light-drinker. It is a unique sword, for it has the ability to destroy a soul. It was gifted to me to use by my Lord. He used it to destroy souls so corrupted, so detrimental to the health of Magic that they must be destroyed. It has not drank the light of a soul in centuries, but tonight its thirst shall be sated.
"By the judgement of Zir, for the Protection of Magic, you are hereby condemned to your final death, never to be reborn."
Every eye watched as the sword cleaved the spirit in two. Every being in Britain would remember the screams as the soul of Tom Marvolo Riddle, self-styled Lord Voldemort, shattered.
"Now, my Lord," Harry spoke into the silence that followed. "I beg your indulgence as I call on your Judgement of the humans of Magical Britain."